phil*2070 notes on environmental aesthetics linquist feb...

PHIL*2070 Notes on Environmental Aesthetics Linquist Feb 03 and 05, 2014 www.biophilosophy.ca

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1. Intro

Over the past few weeks we have been searching for reasons why someone should value nature, even

when doing so requires personal sacrifice. Leopold proposed an ethical solution to this problem.

However, as we have seen, it is not easy to construct a rationally compelling moral argument for the

Land Ethic. At this stage it is worth exploring alternative options.

Leopold also identified beauty, in addition to stability and integrity, as a property that ought to

be promoted in biotic communities. Up till now I have set questions of aesthetics aside. But we are now

in a position to tackle this issue of whether the aesthetic value of something provides sufficient grounds

for conserving it, and how one might convincingly defend such a claim.

In what follows I draw a basic distinction between experiential and conceptual aesthetic value. I

will argue that both forms of aesthetic value are legitimate, even though our ways of identifying and

relating to them are quite different. I’ll also consider how each form of aesthetic value is associated with

a different norm or principle outlining why one ought to conserve aesthetically valuable objects of a

given type.

2. From beauty to duty: Landscape aesthetics and the greatest pleasure principle

In his lecture on landscape aesthetics, Nate Perkins defended the claim that people, in general, derive

pleasure from viewing landscapes. He began by inviting us to reflect on our most cherished encounters

with nature. We value these natural places because they make us feel good.

Dr Perkins noted that over the past half century there has been growing psychological interest

into the specific features of a landscape that promote positive feelings. For instance, prospect/refuge

theory claims that people tend to like enclosed (safe) places from which they can peer out over a broad

expanse. Let’s set aside the details, for the moment, about which exact elements humans (generally),

tend to enjoy. The basic idea is that there are certain features of landscapes that are inter-subjectively

shared.

Now, in order to draw the conclusion that people ought to preserve these special areas, we

obviously require a normative premise. Dr Perkins must have been relying on an implicit normative

assumption in order to derive “duty” from “beauty” – so to speak. I suspect that the operative premise

in his argument is, in fact, one that we have already encountered in our discussion of welfare ethics.

Recall Peter Singer’s argument for why we should care about sentient organisms. He claimed that, at a


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very basic level, pleasure and pain are morally significant experiences (we value them in ourselves, so it

is inconsistent not to value them in others). Some people call this the greatest pleasure principle: an

action is right to the extent that it promotes positive (enjoyable) experiences in sentient creatures.

I take Perkins to be assuming this principle because he thinks that the fact that certain

landscapes tend to induce pleasure provides a reason for conserving them. Objects are then valued

according to the extent to which they induce those positive experiences. For example, one looks at the

Grand Canyon and feels a sense of awe and grandeur that is rarely matched. Insofar as this response is,

demonstrably, a widely shared, and since these feelings are inherently valuable, one ought to preserve

the region that is so effective in generating them. We can thus reconstruct the argument from landscape

aesthetics as follows

2.1 The experiential argument for conserving landscapes

P1) Some landscapes are inter-subjectively valued, that is, they are especially effective at

invoking pleasurable experiences in most people.

P2) Anything that is especially effective at generating pleasurable experiences in most

people ought to be conserved.

__________

C) So some landscapes should be conserved.

Now, in one respect this is a strong argument. Landscape architects and psychologists have accumulated

considerable experimental support for P1. They can even tell you why certain landscapes are so

appealing. Likewise, P2 is a fairly well established normative principle. To be sure, the pleasure principle

has its detractors. But on a practical level it is something that many people can accept as a reasonable

basis for developing policy. You might not think that producing pleasure should be the ultimate goal of

all policy decisions; but at the very least it is a good starting point that most people can agree upon.

On the other hand, many environmentalists will find this argument is too limited. Let me point

out three standard sorts of objections typically raised against this line of argument from beauty to duty.

I do not think that these are all are knock-down arguments. But it is worth considering them, because

they often arise in this context.


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Objection 1. Current landscape preferences are culturally specific. They are informed by Romantic

theories of landscape painting. But this is an arbitrary reason for conserving those landscapes – just to

satisfy our culturally and historically contingent whims.

This objection is based on the idea that, during the Romantic period in Europe, people seem to

have placed considerable value on landscapes that are Picturesque. This is a technical term referring to

a particular set of properties. A Picturesque scene is one in which the sky, mountains, and foreground

are in harmony. One should find a certain hint of wilderness, but not too much. Ideally, there should be

evidence of human control over the landscape, but not too much. For reasons that one might question,

this aesthetic ideal became highly idealized during the European Romatic period. Some people claim

that our current preferences for certain landscapes are a hangover from this period.

Well, so what? Suppose that this is true. How would this story about the supposed origin of our

landscape preferences undermine the fact that those preferences are widespread today? I suppose that

one might argue that if our preferences are malleable, they might change again in the future. If we

select certain parks based on current, malleable preferences because we currently find them beautiful,

and if those preferences change, then the justification for those parks might dissolve.

Now, I confess that this whole line of objection seems, to me, a bit overblown. It would be hard

to know for certain that current preferences were in fact established a few centuries ago. Certainly they

became popular during this time. But perhaps they are more ancient and less malleable than is being

assumed. Moreover, this argument seems to lead to an absurd conclusion that people should never

attempt to achieve beauty because popular taste might one day change. To take this idea seriously

would be to reject the idea of beauty altogether. Hence one is in the absurd position of denying the

pursuit of beauty in the name of beauty. That seems somewhat self defeating.

Objection 2. The focus on beautiful landscapes is highly exclusive. It ignores all sorts of entities that

seem to have aesthetic value and which also deserve conservation. So although the argument has merit

it is too limited.

This objection is more compelling in my opinion. As much as I can appreciate a beautiful

landscape, it seems that many other things in nature are likewise beautiful. I personally feel that a

theory of aesthetic value should account for these objects that do not feature prominently in

landscapes.


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Objection 3. A third, related, objection complains that Landscape Aesthetics are too closely bound to a

specific, visual orientation. We are often placed in the position of the somewhat removed observer,

casting a long eye across the scene. As Yuriko Saito notes, this approach “has led us to regard nature as

a series of scenes consisting of two dimensional designs” (p. 101). Many Deep Ecologists, for example,

argue that one should immerse themselves in a forest and embrace it with all the senses. For that

matter, what about ocean or lake environments that are impossible to view as one does a landscape.

Surely, some room should be made to allow for the aesthetic appreciation of these environments.

3. Should conservation efforts focus on charismatic megafauna?

There is an easy way for the proponent of conservation aesthetics to respond at this point. She

might simply extend the argument beyond landscapes to include all sorts of entities that people inter-

subjectively value. This would certainly extend the conclusion to include a much broader range of

animals and perhaps even a few plants. And, again, the argument is fairly strong. That is to say, both the

descriptive premise claiming that such entities are subjectively valued and the normative premise that

they ought to be conserved are rationally compelling. One is sure to motivate a certain level of

conservation using this line of argument.

But is it the right sort of conservation? Consider the sorts of organisms that tend to generate

positive feelings in most people. These are the large, cuddly critters that lend themselves to

anthropomorphic description. The otters. The marmots. The Owls. The beavers... Conservation

biologists have a catchy name for these objects of popular concern. They are Charismatic Mega-fauna.

The term “charismatic megafauna” (fauna= animal) refers to those large, compelling creatures most

often used to convey an environmental message, to attract visitors to a zoo or aquarium, to inspire

people to donate money to a cause, or in various other forms of advertising. It seems to be a brute fact

about human psychology that we are moved by the sight, and especially the plight, of organisms like

these:


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So strong is this association between charismatic megafauna and the conservation movement that

many people view the preservation of these organisms as a top priority. The loss of many insect, fish and

plant species can be of a much greater concern, ecologically speaking, than these more appealing

organisms. Yet, there is a strong aesthetic tradition that ranks these charismatic animals at the top of its

list. Some environmentalists view this in itself as a reason for rejecting aesthetic arguments for

conserving nature. They argue as follows:

1) According to aesthetic argument for conserving nature, an entity should not be harmed for

economic gain if it is high in aesthetic value.

2) Charismatic megafauna are the most highly aesthetically regarded entities in nature.

3) However, charismatic megafauna are often ecologically trivial and a conservation policy that

privileged them would be superficial.

___________

C) Therefore, the aesthetic argument for conserving nature is trivial and superficial.

There are two ways of responding to this argument. The first option is to reject premise 3. After all, who

says that we shouldn’t be protecting charismatic animals at the expense of other creatures? If a central

reason for conserving nature is to preserve aesthetic value, and if charismatic megafauna are the most

aesthetically valuable entities, then they deserve priority. The fact that some environmentalists are

unhappy with this outcome, presumably because their favourite species or habitats do not come out as

high priority items, is perhaps not a sufficient reason for rejecting this tradition. Or, so one might argue.

Before biting the bullet on this one, it is important to determine whether there are any other

options. A second response challenges premise 2. That is, it claims that as a matter of fact charismatic

megafauna are not most aesthetically valuable creatures. This is the position outlined by Yuriko Saito in

her defence of the scientific approach to aesthetically valuing nature. She attempts to show that real

aesthetic value stems from a deeper, scientifically informed appreciation of nature. When one adopts

this approach they will see past the initial appeal of charismatic megafauna.

Let me be clear about Saito’s position here, because I want to suggest a slightly different kind of

response to the objection under consideration. Saito seems to assume that there is a single correct way

to aesthetically appreciate nature. It is the scientifically informed way. I want to suggest that there are

two very different modes of aesthetic appreciation. In fact, we find these two modes already at play in


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the aesthetic appreciation of art. I call one the experiential mode and the other the conceptual mode.

Landscape Aesthetics and other similar forms of aesthetic appreciation adopt an experiential mode of

appreciation, but this is not the only way that one can appreciate an object.

4. Two modes of aesthetic appreciation.

Let me begin by suggesting that some objects have aesthetic value even if they are not pleasure-

inducing. This point is easier to grasp in the case of art than it is in the case of nature. Think of a great

but disturbing story or movie. In many cases we value these as great works of art even though they are

unpleasant. The same principle holds for certain photographs or paintings. Some works of art are

moving, and genuinely aesthetically valuable, even though they are not beautiful in any conventional

sense.

Now consider a work of art like Duchamp’s Fountain. This piece is widely recognized as one of

the most important artworks of the 20th Century. Whether one finds it beautiful or pleasing to behold is

entirely beside the point. The significance of this important work of art (a urinal placed in an art gallery)

can only be understood in relation to certain artistic traditions. One must understand the tradition of

modernism that Duchamp was retaliating against. This tradition held that good art consists in the

creative, technical skill of the artist. Duchamp sought to challenge this idea by placing a found object (in

this case a urinal) in a gallery. It was originality and boldness of this concept that made his piece a work

of art, not the technical skill involved in creating it.

Amazingly, Duchamp’s piece continues to generate controversy even a century after it was

created. It is not my aim to wade into the debate over whether Duchamp’s fountain is a good work of

art. My purpose in choosing this example is because it nicely illustrates the importance of locating an


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artwork within a tradition. If you were totally unaware of the tradition that Duchamp was opposing, it

would be impossible to appreciate this artwork. I take this to suggest that the aesthetic value of this

artwork is determined by its relation to a certain tradition – in this case, the artwork is both retaliating

against one tradition (Modernism) and at the same time giving rise to another tradition (Readymades or,

more broadly perhaps, to Conceptual Art).

How are we to understand works of art like this? I propose that there is a useful distinction to be

drawn between experiential and conceptual modes of aesthetic appreciation. We can define these

roughly as follows:

experiential: an item is aesthetically valuable insofar as it generates pleasant thoughts and

feelings in most people.

conceptual : an item is aesthetically valuable insofar as it commands the admiration of

competent judges.

Note that these two modes are not mutually exclusive. Something might be both experientially and

conceptually aesthetically valuable. Many things possess only one form. And I suppose that some things

possess neither (moss, is my guess).

In a moment I will consider what it might mean for nature to have conceptual aesthetic value.

But before doing so let me come clean with a certain reservation that I have with this concept. I worry

that this idea is exclusive. Some people are (justifiably) suspicious of the claim that some expert is going

to tell them what is aesthetically valuable. Who are these experts? Why should we trust their opinion?

Aren’t they just imposing their personal taste on the rest of us? These are legitimate questions. They

seem especially salient if one is used to thinking about aesthetic value only in the experiential mode,

which many of us do. Thus I sincerely worry that conservation aesthetics will be rejected by popular

opinion before it even gets a chance to defend itself.

In responding to this worry, let me first make clear that I am not suggesting that the assessment

of competent judges is what determines the value of an object. Their thinking that something is valuable

does not make it so. Rather, I am assuming that there is an external fact of the matter about whether an

artwork or item in nature is particularly aesthetically valuable.

What sort of fact is this? Some clues are provided by the Duchamp example. If I was to install a

toilet in a gallery today, it would not count as a masterpiece. It would seem rather pathetic because this

has been done and the art world has moved on. I take this to suggest that facts about aesthetic value


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are relational facts. That is, they are true or false in relation to some historical tradition. This is an

important difference between experiential and conceptual aesthetic value. In the experiential case, one

is able to determine the value of an item by considering its impact on observers independent of their

particular cultural or historical context. This is what it means to be inter-subjectively valued. People

from all sorts of backgrounds respond similarly to certain landscapes. In the case of conceptually

valuable artworks, one cannot begin to grasp their aesthetic value unless one understands the tradition

to which they belong or are responding to.

What then do we say to the skeptic whom is suspicious of the authority of experts? First off, I

think it is important to recognize that experts often disagree and they can be mistaken. We all know that

some great artists are not recognized in their lifetimes. The second thing to do is explain why some

experts might hold a certain work to be particularly valuable. I don’t think that conceptual aesthetic

value has to be exclusive just because it requires knowledge in order to appreciate. That knowledge

should be obtainable, and people should be free to weigh in and challenge the experts is they see

grounds for doing so1.

5. Does nature have conceptual aesthetic value?

In the previous section I argued, on the basis of an analogy to art, that some items in nature

might have aesthetic value despite their lack of popular appeal. This could make room for the idea that

other items besides charismatic megafauna and appealing landscapes should be conserved because they

are valuable in this way. But there is a potential disanalogy between art and nature that threatens this

whole line of thinking. We have seen in the case of artwork that there is often a cultural tradition in

relation to which conceptual aesthetic value is determined. Duchamp’s Fountain is valuable as an

artwork in relation to the Modernist tradition that he was reacting against. Notice that in such cases

there is also an artist of creator whose intentions and actions situate the work in relation to a given

tradition. By contrast, the case of natural objects there is no creator. Nor is it clear that there is a

tradition according to which they can be assessed. So how then does one determine the conceptual

aesthetic value of an item in nature?

1 On a terminological note, I suggest not using the term “beauty” synonymously with “aesthetic value.” Otherwise

we run the risk of suggesting that all forms of aesthetic value are experiential. Conceptual aesthetic value is not necessarily beautiful. Some items are rather unappealing but nonetheless aesthetically valuable. Our use of terms must not exclude this possibility or make it difficult to comprehend.


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One kind of response to this worry is outlined by the philosopher Yuriko Saito. As she puts it:

“Scientific knowledge about a natural object’s own structure, history and function will facilitate

the most correct and rewarding appreciation by suggesting the best approach to each of the

diverse environments. (104)

It is worth taking a moment to read this passage carefully. Notice that Saito is appealing to the natural

object’s ‘own’ biological properties (structure, history and function) as the relevant aesthetic features.

According to Saito, it is not the context that we as humans place the object into, but rather the actual

biological details belonging to that object that are of aesthetic significance.

Furthermore, she claims that the appreciation of these factual details will provide the ‘most

correct and rewarding appreciation’ of that object. This is just to say that the scientifically informed

perspective is superior to any other (such as the scenic or charismatic traditions). I personally could

imagine taking issue with this suggestion. As I mentioned earlier, she seems to assume that there is a

single best way to understand aesthetic value and it involves employing science. I prefer to identify two

distinct approaches which may or may not overlap in their assessment.

Saito argues for this claim by drawing a comparison to certain kinds of ‘higher’ artistic

appreciation. In lecture, I noted that the development of aesthetic appreciation often requires certain

kinds of information or knowledge. Duchamp’s fountain likely held no significance for you prior to

learning about the aesthetic tradition that it responds to. Saito takes this idea a step further. She sees it

as a requirement of morality (or what I would describe as good character) that one must open

themselves up to the possibility of aesthetic value in an object. She states that,

Our refusal to experience an art object on its own terms, that is, within its own historical and

cultural context as well as by reference to the artist’s intention, indicates an unwillingness to put

aside our own agenda... Similarly, in the case of nature, our effort at understanding its origin,

structure and function indicates our willingness to recognize its own reality quite apart from us

and to suspend our exclusive pursuit for entertainment in nature” (102).

Consider an example. One might initially be repulsed by the image of a rotting racoon carcass full of

maggots and bacteria. Yet, by becoming open to the evolutionary history and function of these

organisms, one might come to recognize their aesthetic merit.

I find this to be an interesting proposal. On the one hand, it seems true that the acquisition

scientific knowledge can lead people to aesthetically value new things. People often discover a new


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respect for a certain organism after learning some feature of its evolutionary history, behaviour,

physiology or ecology. Moreover, it seems correct that by ‘intellectualizing’ one’s initial response it is

possible to sometimes overcome or control it. So I can grant that there is some basis in daily experience

for thinking that scientific knowledge forms its own aesthetic tradition. Saito seems to be on to

something here.

In a moment I want to consider what I take to be the most problematic obstacle for this view of

aesthetic appreciation. Before doing so, let’s follow through with the argument for conserving nature.

We can summarize our discussion in the last two sections with the following premise.

P1) Some items in nature have conceptual aesthetic value. That is, they are aesthetically

valuable regardless of whether they invoke pleasurable experiences in most people.

The thing to notice here is that we cannot use the same normative premise in this argument as we did in

the argument for experiential aesthetic value. At least, we cannot do so if the aim is to draw a

conclusion in favour of conserving aesthetically valuable entities. Recall that the premise in question

held that an item should be conserved to the extent that it promotes pleasurable thoughts and feelings.

Since items of conceptual aesthetic value do not necessarily have this property, and arguably often lack

it, these items will not deserve conservation under this normative framework. Thus, we require some

alternative norm or principle that explains why an item of conceptual aesthetic value deserves

conservation.

6. Why conserve great pieces of art or architecture?

I suggest that the place to look for such a normative principle is, again, in the art world. In this section I

defend the claim that works of art command what I call an intermediate degree of protection. Their

standing is somewhere above the selfish or economic concerns of individuals, but below the importance

of basic human needs and human life. I attempt to defend this idea with a series of thought

experiments.

Suppose that you are in a museum when a serious fire breaks out. People are scrambling for the

exists. You are looking for the nearest way out. Hanging on the wall in front of you is an undisputed

masterpiece that will surely be burned to a cinder, unless you save it. Just as you go to grab the

masterpiece, you see a lost child whom everyone seems to be ignoring. The only sure way that the child


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will escape is if you carry her with you to safety. But you can’t take both the child and the artwork.

What is the right thing to do in this case?

Most people, I think, would agree that the child is more morally significant than the artwork. If

you emerged from the building with the artwork instead of the child, chances are that you would be

haunted by guilt – and rightfully so. Objects of aesthetic value are extremely important to society.

However, it seems that society also recognizes their value as secondary to human life.

Now consider a slightly different case. Suppose that you own an old building that has been

approved for demolition. This development could earn you a considerable amount of money if it was

turned into condos. However, on one of the walls of the old building is a very rare and unique mural by

the master artist Jean-Michel Basquiat. Is it acceptable to tear down the building, destroying the mural,

for the sake of personal economic gain? Obviously this is not morally acceptable. Society would

condemn anyone who behaved so selfishly.

These simple thought experiments suggest that the normativity of art lies somewhere below

human life but above economic gain. Several philosophers have argued that nature demands a similar

level of consideration. As Elliot Sober observes, “It would the height of condescension to expect a

nation experiencing hunger and chronic disease to be inordinately concerned with the autonomous

value of ecosystems or with creating and preserving works of art” (1986, p. 191). The normative status

of aesthetically valuable objects is secondary to certain basic human needs. A society must have enough

food, water, shelter, and freedom from war before it is reasonable to expect them to conserve nature.

Likewise, it is objectionable when nature is destroyed simply for the sake of personal economic

gain. Let me be careful in explaining what I mean here, because this point is somewhat subtle. I am not

arguing that every time that nature is destroyed, someone has done something wrong. Not all artwork is

highly aesthetically valuable (The world not miss my water colour paintings). Presumably, some parts of

nature are of only minor, or negligible aesthetic value as well. Another important qualification is that

not all destruction is done for personal economic gain. Some development projects benefit society in a

way that is analogous to saving the child from the museum. Adequate shelter, electricity and other

basic requirements are arguably more important than, and perhaps even required for the aesthetic

appreciation of nature. However, in some cases aesthetically valuable nature is destroyed for economic

gain that does not raise the basic standard of society. These cases appear to be similarly objectionable

to the destruction of a unique artwork simply for the sake of profit.


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We might summarize this principle as follows:

P2) If an item is particularly aesthetically valuable, then it deserves an intermediate degree

of protection.

From these two premises one can conclude that,

C) Certain aesthetically valuable items in nature deserve an intermediate degree of

protection, regardless of whether they invoke pleasure in most people.

On this view, certain items in nature are on par with culturally significant artifacts whose protection

often demands a certain degree of sacrifice and resources. They might not be ethically on par with

humans or even sentient creatures perhaps. This “demotion” will trouble some environmentalists who

hoped for a morally compelling reason that would require people to modify their behaviour. But others

will find this conclusion appealing. It seems to afford the right amount of consideration or protection to

nature: more important than petty economic concerns, unless they are fundamental to basic human

needs or survival.

7. A lingering problem with the scientific approach

Some philosophers might accept the argument that has just been outlined, but take issue with

the idea that science the appropriate place to locate the conceptual aesthetic value of nature. Here is

what I consider to be a lingering problem for this suggestion. It seems that all natural objects have a

scientific story to tell. As Saiko herself notes, “I cannot think of any stories in nature that are not

uninteresting or trivial. As Leopold states, ‘the weeds in the city lot convey the same lesson as the

redwoods” (p. 105). But if all organisms have an interesting scientific story, then it seems that the

scientific tradition does not enable one to rank some items as more valuable than others. I see this as

problematic both on practical and conceptual grounds. Practically, the aesthetic approach was invoked

as a basis for making conservation decisions. Minimally, it should help us discriminate among the

habitats that are okay to remove for development and the ones that are too valuable. If everything in

nature has aesthetic value, such decisions are impossible and the aesthetic approach fails to meet the

demands of conservation. On a more conceptual level, what does it mean to say that everything has


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aesthetic value? I am reminded of Andy Warhol’s joke that everyone will one day receive 15 minutes of

fame. The joke is that if everyone is “famous” for a set period, in fact no one is famous: it is in the very

nature of fame for some people to have more than others. Much is the same with aesthetic value. If

everything is equally valuable, then nothing is.

Let’s consider why this is perhaps a serious issue. It is possible to give a scientific description of a

clear-cut logging operation, an open-pit mine, or any number of environmentally destructive activities.

Such a description would undoubtedly be captivating and accurate. Hence these activities would be

revealed as aesthetically valuable, according to the scientific tradition.

Saiko does not resolve this issue. Instead she focuses on large scale natural events, like

hurricanes or tornadoes, as entities that might have interesting scientific descriptions but should

perhaps not be valued. She argues that these entities are not aesthetically appealing in cases where

they cause harm to people. She bases this claim on the idea that aesthetic value and moral assessment

are closely linked. I think that, for her, the fact that an event is harmful automatically trumps it from

being regarded as aesthetically valuable. The view that I am advocating is similar to this. I have

suggested that all objects no matter how aesthetically valuable deserve an intermediate level of

protection. This guarantees that they will not be promoted if they are harmful to human life. Yet, unlike

Saito, I would suggest that an entity the same degree of aesthetic value regardless of its consequences.

Our two views are theoretically different but I doubt that they diverge on a practical level.

Let me conclude by saying that I do not think that the objections raised against the scientific

tradition are insurmountable. Perhaps it is possible to refine this theory so that it is more restrictive in

the kinds of entities it identifies as aesthetically valuable. There is a prima facie reason for thinking that

such a theory could be developed. Intuitively, it seems that some organisms have more interesting

stories to tell than others. The predatory habits of the jumping spider are, in my opinion at least, more

interesting than the feeding behavior of a cow. It seems possible to come up with a more precise

account of what these differences consist it. I am not sure what such a theory of scientific aesthetics

would look like – this is an area for future philosophical research. However, it strikes me as plausible

that such a theory might be developed.

phil*2070 notes on environmental aesthetics linquist feb...

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