Ought we particularly to respect nature?

Respect for nature, according to Taylor, is "to regard [it] as possessing inherent worth" [p241. It is to regard the flourishing of nature to be an inherently good thing, not good because it in some way benefits us. It also means "to refrain from harming, and to promote the good of wild living things" [p100].

There are no logical proofs that we ought to particularly respect nature, but there are a number of supportive arguments. Taylor for example advocates a biocentric viewpoint that emphasises the similarities between life forms. All life forms, including humans, are considered as "teleological (goal-oriented) centres of life, pursuing their own good in their own unique way" [p242]. i.e. we are all - man, beast or plant - just trying to live our lives as best we can. He emphasises our mutual dependence on all of members of the ecosystem, and that we all rely on its "fundamental soundness and integrity". If we depend on nature, then obviously we should respect it.

He attempts to show that all living beings have a good of their own, independent of their worth to humanity. If something benefits an entity, it can be said to be for its own good. The entity does not need to consciously protect or pursue its own good, or even to be conscious at all. A tree can be benefited, so it can be said to have its own good. Similarly, any living entity - be it man, ape, insect or plant - has a good of its own.

Taylor argues that if an entity has a good of its own, it is our duty to promote that good. He uses it to support the claim that all living entities have an inherent worth. If an entity has an inherent worth, surely it is our duty to respect it?

However, Taylor's idea is not a deductive argument. Rather it is a philosophical viewpoint. If accepted, it tends to support the idea that we should respect nature. However, if we do not accept it, it contains nothing that might convince us. I might not accept that my motives and goals are essentially the same as that of lower life forms.

A number of writers (Hare, Sumner) have with varying degrees of success questioned the argument that an unconscious entity such as a tree can have interests. However even if I accept this argument it is an entirely separate argument to convince me these interests deserve promoting. I can simply ask "So what? Why should I care?" No compelling logical argument is given that might convince me that I must respect it.

We can't just dismiss it out of hand though. The point that we are all mutually dependent elements in a complex ecosystem is a good one, and brings us to a slightly different idea of respect towards nature. Rather than respecting nature for its inherent worth, we can think about respecting nature for its utilitarian worth.

We are dependent on nature for our very survival. We must breathe the air, so the air must be clean and sufficiently rich in oxygen. We must eat, so we much cultivate sufficient foodstuffs. Even if we lived strictly vegan lifestyles, most foods require some degree of animal intervention, from pollination by bees to fertilisation by grazing cattle. Therefore, we need to respect the environment, as otherwise we will suffocate and starve in our own filth.

This utilitarian style approach assumes no inherent worth. It is based purely on nature's use to humanity. An animal that was demonstrably worthless could be slaughtered for pleasure without the utilitarian raising an objection. We might argue however that no creature is entirely worthless. One apparently useless species may in fact be contributing to the control of an actively detrimental species, or benefiting an actively useful species. With nature as complex as it is, all things are potentially of utilitarian use to humanity. Therefore we should respect all of nature.

Usefully, this idea can be extended to apply to landscapes, an area that Taylor's ideas fail to address. A mountain does not have an own good, and cannot be said to be leading a goal-oriented life. Therefore, does it have no inherent worth? A utilitarian might look at the mountain and see it supporting a plethora of useful life forms. He may also look at it and think of the pleasure it brings to humans, in its beauty and its usefulness for leisure pursuits. Of course, this would have to be weighed against the benefits brought by strip mining it, and it is possible the strip mining would win out.

Of course, not everyone is a utilitarian. The "tragedy of the commons" is that, when one considers the matter on an individual level it is all too easy to conclude that it is in our personal interest to destroy the environment, at least on a small scale [pp206-207]. Game theory tells us that rational and logical reasoning can often lead us to conclusions that are actually not in our interest. What is needed is an extra, external influence - a "mutual coercion, mutually agreed upon" [p212] - that encourages us to make the right decision, and reassures us that the people who we depend on are doing the same. What is called for is not just respect for nature, but an institutionalised respect for nature: something that is taught, so we grow up with it

We can consider "respect" in yet a different sense. One respects something that is dangerous, and not completely within one's ability to control. This sense of "respect" is closer to the word "awe".

Nature can inspire many feelings of awe and wonder, feelings independent of any utilitarian worth. The Grand Canyon is of no particular use, nor is Mount Everest, yet they both consistently inspire wonder. Hurricanes and volcanoes are actively detrimental to humanity, yet they consistently inspire awe. As we experience wonder, so we appreciate nature's inherent worth, and so is cultivated respect.

Of course, any view based on feelings suffers the same criticism as Taylor's biocentric view. "No argument seems plausible to show that wonder is rationally demanded" [p83]. If I stubbornly maintain my cynical attitude towards nature, refusing to be impressed by its sights, then I will remain unconvinced that I must show it any particular respect.

Of course, one might protest that nature does not respect us. Consider the bewildering variety of deaths that are inflicted on us. We all die, and few of us die in a manner we would choose. The manner of our death, and the suffering it entails invariably bears no relation to our moral integrity. Nature, when considered as an active force in this way, is callous, uncaring and utterly without compassion or respect.

Mill explores this at some length [pp261-262] but Rolston presents a more measured view. While it is true that nature contains all the sources of our death, so too does it provide all sources of life, and all means by which we might survive. Through our struggles with nature, we grow and emerge stronger. "We get a feeling for life's transient beauty sustained over chaos" [p2771] We should respect nature for the same reason we should respect our mother - as the source of our life. Additionally, we should treat nature not only with the respect one gives a source of extreme danger, but also as our defence. Nature is both the machine gun and the flak jacket.

So should we particularly respect nature? Should nature take precedence over non-nature? Is a tree more worthy of respect than a robot?

Taylor's ideas specifically exclude non-living things as they no interests, and thus no good of their own. With no good of their own, they can have no inherent worth, and thus can make no claims for our respect. However, while this seems like an obvious statement that surely one can't disagree with, how precisely do robots differ from trees? A robot can be oiled and maintained, or it can be left to erode. It can be benefited and harmed. If it is looked after, it will serve a long and productive life being the best example of a robot it can be. The only thing it lacks in comparison to Taylor's example of a butterfly, is the capacity to "thrive and prosper" [p247]. While it may be incapable of understanding or pursuing that which is in its interests, so is a tree.

Recall that Taylor's ideas cannot be extended to mountains and landscapes. It is perhaps easier to imagine a robot having interests than a mountain. We must be wary of drawing an arbitrary 'artificialist' line between living and man-made entities, in the same way we should be wary of drawing arbitrary speciesist lines. Sooner or later, we will create robots with genuine artificial intelligence. At such a time it will become increasingly difficult to use Taylor's ideas to justify a particular and biased respect for nature.

The utilitarian outlook does not suggest we should particularly respect nature above artifice either. All things are considered equally, and the benefits weighed up. A robot would almost invariably win out over a tree as being more useful, although it might lose out if the aim was specifically to bring about happiness. While philosophers like Naess might argue that open-air activities ('friluftsliv' [p280]) are vital for human happiness, a generation has grown up taking far greater enjoyment from games consoles and the Internet.

When considering the respect born of wonder and awe, we again fail to show it must necessarily particularly apply to nature. Many things inspire awe and wonder, from a Beethoven symphony to a West End musical, from the Statue of Liberty to the Eiffel Tower. Do they have an inherent worth? Are they deserving of respect? Ask yourself if you'd rather preserve Cheddar Gorge or Stonehenge? Ben Nevis or the Mona Lisa?

On a final note, let's briefly consider virtue ethics. What would a virtuous person do? Compassion is a virtue, as are temperance and piety. To destroy nature for personal gain is not the act of a virtuous person, but to preserve it for respectful contemplation certainly is. On this thought alone it could be claimed that yes, we ought to respect nature, but once again these virtues apply equally well to works of art.

Therefore, we probably ought to particularly respect nature, but it has not been proven that we must.

Bibliography

Course Texts
• Book 3 - Environments, Ethics and Human Concern