Andrew Light

This chapter discusses the methods of studying the nature of time, particularly the story method. It presents a discussion of time as related to identity and tells the story of a person put on trial for committing a murder five years ago who puts forward an unorthodox defense. The accused person claims to remember committing the murder, but argues that “the murderer is not the same person as me, for I have changed. I am not the same person as that murderer of five years ago. Therefore you cannot punish me, for no one is guilty of a crime committed by someone else.” This defense, though not accepted by the court, raises the question of whether a person who changes over time, either physically or psychologically, remains the same person.

Robert Elliot's 1982 “Faking Nature,” represents one of the strongest philosophical rejections of the ground of restoration ecology ever offered.1 Here, and in a succession of papers defending the original essay, Elliot argued that ecological restoration, the practice of restoring damaged ecosystems, was akin to art forgery. Just as a copied art work could not reproduce the value of the original, restored nature could not reproduce the value of original nature, conceived as a form of nonanthropocentric and intrinsic, as opposed to merely instrumental, value.2 Eric Katz's 1992 “The Big Lie: Human Restoration of Nature,” extended this claim by further arguing that whatever was produced in a restored landscape it certainly could not count as having the original value of nature, particularly wild nature, and necessarily represented a form of disvalue and domination of nature.3 Elliot has continued to press his argument forward since the original publication of “Faking Nature,” augmenting and some would say softening his critique of restoration, in a book also called Faking Nature.4 Perhaps because both Elliot and Katz rest their claims on the defense of a strong nature-culture distinction, the two arguments are often lumped together as the Elliot-Katz rejection of the value of ecological restoration. Nonetheless, Elliot has made it clear in his recent book that his view is distinct from and even at odds with Katz’s views. In previous papers I have criticized Elliot and Katz’s work as an unhelpful philosophical contribution to the literature on restoration ecology. To my mind, restorationists are ultimately up to more good than harm, and whatever the..

The writings of William H. Whyte do not loom large in the literature of my field: environmental ethics, the branch of ethics devoted to consideration of whether and how there are moral reasons for protecting non-human animals and the larger natural environment. Environmental ethics is a very new field of inquiry, only found in academic philosophy departments since the early 1970s. While there is no accepted reading list of indispensable literature in environmental ethics, certainly any attempt to create such a list would begin with Henry David Thoreau, John Muir, Aldo Leopold, Rachel Carson, and a more recent handful of senior scholars who had been writing on these topics early on, such as J. Baird Callicott, Val Plumwood, Peter Singer, Richard Sylvan, Tom Regan, and Holmes Rolston III (for a review of contemporary environmental ethics, see Light 2002, Palmer 2003, and Wenz 2001).

It is an old wag among environmentalists that humans have become disconnected from nature. The culprits for this conundrum are various. If it is not our addiction to technological enticements then it is our life in big cities which alienate us from our “earthen elements.” The presumed result of this disconnection is that we do not respect the land anymore and turn a blind eye to the environmental consequences of our collective acts of consumption and pollution. Various bits of evidence are produced to prove this point – mostly anecdotal – such as the claim that many city-dwellers, when asked where their food comes from, will respond blankly, “from a grocery store.” What is the curative for this ailment? Surprisingly, it is not that we should send urbanites out to the factory farms, county-sized feed lots, or flavor factories in New Jersey, which actually put most of the food on the shelves of neighborhood markets. It is instead usually suggested that we should send people to wilderness areas, that we should become more connected with nature in the raw, as it were. E. O. Wilson’s “biophilia” hypothesis is a good case in point. Defending a sociobiological account of why humans are innately attracted to living things, Wilson suggests that this connection is best realized in the residual attachment of humans to wild nature. This grounds a claim that the most important task at hand is to focus on “the central questions of human origins in the wild environment” (Wilson 1992, 351). It is probably unfair to suggest that Wilson thinks that we should all go to the wilderness in order to be better connected with nature, and implicitly, to then..

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Ethics & the Environment 7.1 (2002) 102-108 [Access article in PDF] Symposium IntroductionEric Katz's Nature As Subject Andrew Light Can and should we distinguish between nature and culture? The question has become a perennial one in environmental ethics, as well as in allied fields in environmental history, sociology, and politics. And just when we think it is settled—as many did after William Cronon's famous deconstruction of wilderness in 1995—and it feels safe to go back into the metaphysical waters of environmental philosophy, such issues pop up again to send us running.What follows extends this debate in the context of Eric Katz's well-known work in environmental ethics. Brought together here are Katz and two critics sympathetic to his positions, Wayne Ouderkirk and Ned Hettinger. While the occasion for the exchange was the publication of Katz's book, Nature as Subject: Human Obligation and Natural Community (1997), which collects his papers from 1979 to 1996, the focus quickly became somewhat narrower, centering on possible problems with Katz's ontological dualism between natural and artifactual entities.Katz has exerted a strong influence on the development of environmental ethics, particularly through his persistent arguments for a distinction between individualist and holist approaches to obligations to the nonhuman natural world and his metaphysical and moral critique of attempts [End Page 102] by humans to create, repair, or restore nature. While these positions continue to be on display here, there is also something more. In this exchange Katz throws down the gauntlet on his nature-culture dualism, admitting at the start that the accusation is true. Like the Protestants in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life, he is a dualist—and fiercely proud of it! Despite whatever misgivings I or others may have about this position, I believe that in making this claim, Katz, similar to David Chalmers's open embrace and resuscitation of dualism in philosophy of mind, has done us a great service. For it is arguably true that many environmental philosophers, along with other academics, have settled into a complacent "labeling as argument" pattern. If we can label a position as "dualist" or "essentialist," then our work is done. But surely not every form of dualism is necessarily wrong, even if, as Ouderkirk reminds us in his reading of Val Plumwood's work, the logic of many forms of dualism has tended toward a pernicious pattern. Arguments are needed in both directions. If nature-culture dualism is mistaken or wrongheaded, or leads to unfortunate conclusions, then we must know why; if dualism is the only way to make sense of the hurdles presented to us in coming to a better understanding of the value of nature and culture then we must know why as well. And further, because many in the field have assumed a nature-culture dualism without admitting to it, we can admire that Katz chooses to "fess up" and finally put the issue squarely on the table.If this is the road we are heading down with this particular exchange, then we are off to a good start. Both critics of Katz do a thorough job of pressing home their arguments, rather than only pointing accusatory fingers. Ned Hettinger, in "The Problem of Finding a Positive Role for Humans in the Natural World," avoids using the term "dualism," but nonetheless argues that Katz has a tendency to "rigidly dichotomize the natural/artifactual distinction." Additionally, Hettinger argues that Katz tends to overlook his own admission that the differences between nature and artifacts admit to degrees rather than a strict dualism. Hettinger focuses the bulk of his critique on the unfortunate upshot of such a position: given such a distinction, there is little if any place for a positive role for human intervention in nature, or for a philosophical contribution to the formation of better environmental policies.Wayne Ouderkirk, in "Katz's Problematic Dualism and its 'Seismic' Effects on His Theory," is sympathetic with Katz's intuitions that some distinction is needed between artifacts and natural entities. The problem [End Page 103] he sees is that such...

A growing literature testifies to the persistence of place as an incorrigible aspect of human experience, identity, and morality. Place is a common ground for thought and action, a community of experienced particulars that avoids solipsism and universalism. It draws us into the philosophy of the ordinary, into familiarity as a form of knowledge, into the wisdom of proximity. Each of these essays offers a philosophy of place, and reminds us that such philosophies ultimately decide how we make, use, and understand places, whether as accidents, instruments, or fields of care.

Can we use technology in the pursuit of a good life, or are we doomed to having our lives organized and our priorities set by the demands of machines and systems? How can philosophy help us to make technology a servant rather than a master? Technology and the Good Life? uses a careful collective analysis of Albert Borgmann's controversial and influential ideas as a jumping-off point from which to address questions such as these about the role and significance of technology in our lives. Contributors both sympathetic and critical examine Borgmann's work, especially his "device paradigm" apply his theories to new areas such as film, agriculture, design, and ecological restoration and consider the place of his thought within philosophy and technology studies more generally. Because this collection carefully investigates the issues at the heart of how we can take charge of life with technology, it will be a landmark work not just for philosophers of technology but for students and scholars in the many disciplines concerned with science and technology studies.

There are many ways to describe cities. As a physical environment, more so than many other environments, they are at least an extension of our present intentions. But cities are not confined to the moment. Built spaces are also in conversation with the past and oriented toward the future as physical manifestations of our values and priorities. But even with all of the ways we have to describe cities we do not normally think of them as in any way akin to the “natural” environment. City and country, nature and culture, are opposed. We move through cities differently, with a different set of values, whether articulated or not. Consider just one small example: Even the most jaded urban dweller may hesitate to sully the environment around him when he perceives it to be something other than a product of the human community. Though we have all seen trash in a national park, we suspect (or at least hope) that there is a kind of hesitancy that occurs with a person wondering what to do with her candy wrappers on a trail in Yosemite. On the other hand, a visitor to my home, Greenwich Village, will usually not think twice about tossing his cigarette butts on the ground as he walks toward his next destination.

The North American environmental movement has historically sought to redress the depletion and degradation of natural resources that has been the legacy of the industrial revolution. Predominant in this approach has been the preservation of wilderness, conservation of species biodiversity and the restoration of natural ecosystems. While the results of such activity have often been commendable, several scholars have pointed out that the environmental movement has inherited an unfortunate bias against urban environments, and consequently, a blind spot to ways in which densely populated built spaces can serve to enhance rather than degrade efforts to achieve sustainability. After exploring this concern we argue that environmental architecture can serve as a counter-balance to this bias, focused, as it is, on the ways in which the construction and organisation of built spaces for humans can help or hinder the pursuit of environmental priorities. But if environmental architecture is to take this role then it must be understood in a broader context, one which does not exclude other moral, political and aesthetic values in the production of human environments. We will highlight several examples of how environmental architecture has combined success and failure at taking a broader view of environmental questions, with a specific focus on one green skyscraper that may be good for the natural environment but not necessarily for the human environment of the city

J. Baird Callicott has thrown down the gauntlet once again in the monism‐pluralism debate in environmental ethics. In a recent article he argues that his ‘communitarianism’ (combined with a limited intertheoretic pluralism) is sufficient to get the advantages of pluralism advocated by his critics, while at the same time retaining the framework of moral monism. Callicott's attempt to set the record straight on the monism‐pluralism debate has once again derailed us from answering the most important question in this discussion: how do we achieve a compatibilism among ethical theories which will inform better environmental practices? But if Callicott got it wrong, then who is getting it right? Arne Naess, whose work has heretofore been excluded from the mainstream discussion of this issue, has all along understood the heart of the monism‐pluralism question. This paper updates the current state of the monism‐pluralism debate, provides an answer to Callicott's latest challenge, and advances the thesis that all involved in this argument would do well to take a look at what Naess has to say on this issue.

The philosophy of deep ecology originated in the 1970s with the Norwegian philosopher Arne Naess and has since spread around the world. Its basic premises are a belief in the intrinsic value of nonhuman nature, a belief that ecological principles should dictate human actions and moral evaluations, an emphasis on noninterference into natural processes, and a critique of materialism and technological progress.This book approaches deep ecology as a philosophy, not as a political, social, or environmental movement. In part I, the authors compare deep ecology's philosophical ideas with other positions and debates in environmental philosophy and to other schools of thought such as social ecology, ecofeminism, and moral pluralism. In part II, they investigate the connections between deep ecology and other contemporary world views, such as continental philosophy, postmodernism, and non-Western philosophical traditions. The first anthology on deep ecology that is not primarily the work of the movement's followers, Beneath the Surface offers a rigorous assessment of deep ecology's strengths and weaknesses as a philosophical position.Contributors : John Clark, Deane Curtin, Arran Gare, William Grey, Mathew Humphrey, Knut Jacobsen, Eric Katz, Andrew Light, Jonathan Maskit, Val Plumwood, David Rothenberg, Ariel Salleh, Bron Taylor, Michael Zimmerman.

_The Routledge Companion to Environmental Ethics_ is comprised of sixty original essays, which focus on how ethical questions intersect with real and pressing policy issues. Rather than overviewing abstract conceptual categories, the authors focus on specific controversies involving the environment. Clearly written contributions on Fossil Fuels, Urban Sustainability, Novel Ecosystems, and many other subjects make accessible these issues‘ empirical and political dimensions as well as their theoretical underpinnings. Written to be accessible for undergraduates and general readers, but comprehensive enough to be a useful reference work for researchers in a variety of related fields, it promises to be an invaluable resource for better understanding the ethical landscape of our environmental world.

The aesthetics of everyday life, originally developed by Henri Lefebvre and other modernist theorists, is an extension of traditional aesthetics, usually confined to works of art. It is not limited to the study of humble objects but is rather concerned with all of the undeniably aesthetic experiences that arise when one contemplates objects or performs acts that are outside the traditional realm of aesthetics. It is concerned with the nature of the relationship between subject and object. One significant aspect of everyday aesthetics is environmental aesthetics, whether constructed, as a building, or manipulated, as a landscape. Others, also discussed in the book, include sport, weather, smell and taste, and food.