This post was originally written as a discussion post in partial fulfillment of the requirements for a graduate environmental literature course. 

Reading:

Abbey, Edward. Desert Solitaire, Touchstone, 1990.

Everndon, Neil. “Beyond Ecology: Self, Place, and the Pathetic Fallacy.” The Ecocriticism Reader.  Edited by Harold Fromm and Cherly Glotfelty.  Athens, GA: U Georgia Press, 1996. 92-104.

Manes, Christopher. “Nature and Silence.” The Ecocriticism Reader.  Edited by Harold Fromm and Cherly Glotfelty.  Athens, GA: U Georgia Press, 1996. 15-29.

---

Krutch

By framing his essay with the idea of love, Krutch immediately assigns to animals and even plants the same emotion: “The ancients called love “the Mother of all things,” but they didn’t know the half of it” (430). He’s taking the biological function of reproduction and adding a “human” element—love. By doing this, he’s asking readers to see in animals and plants a capability for emotion that they may not have considered.

In addition to framing his argument about reproduction with the idea of love, Krutch also uses the pathetic fallacy to humanize, not only animals, but nature in its entirety (and, along the way, provide an example of why he sees it as a powerful tool). He assigns to plants and animals human-type thoughts, for example saying that plants “seem to have been more aesthetically sensitive than animals” as they “have never tolerated that odd arrangement by which the same organs are used for reproduction and excretion” (430). In this way, he makes the reproduction of plants a result of choices and preferences, rather than just a scientific fact. The lizard turns blue “to remind his mate that even on the ancient level sex has its aesthetic as well as its biological aspect,” and cardinals “think romantically of [their] neat but gaudy [wives]” (432). By assigning the roles of husbands and wives to the animals, Krutch takes his description of their reproduction habits beyond instinct and into purposeful action. These observations change the way the reader views these animals because we can see ourselves (or someone we know, perhaps) in the descriptions.

By giving animals these human qualities, he has created a foundation by which to group humanity in with the rest of nature: “We are simply among her experiments” (437). He notes that “…if we share much with the animals, they must at the same time share much with us. To maintain that all the conscious concomitants of our physical activities are without analogues in any creatures other than man is to fly in the face of the very evolutionary principles…” (441-42). He uses an either/or fallacy at the end, giving readers two choices: “Either love as well as sex is something which we share with animals, or it is something which does not really exist in us” (442).

Krutch seems to be saying that the tendency to “be on our guard against ‘the pathetic fallacy’” causes us to lose our ability to participate in “the joys of spring,” which perhaps keeps us from enjoying nature. It feels like he is arguing for the benefits of using the pathetic fallacy…by showing us how wonderfully entertaining it can be. His descriptions throughout the essay help readers enjoy learning about nature, which points to the value in using the pathetic fallacy. By combining the humanities with science (as he has done in his own life), we can draw people into the world of nature and paint pictures that are more emotionally satisfying and hopefully help them to see themselves as a part of the larger picture, not just in the world by themselves. Aristotle noted that, even if you persuade an audience with logic, they are unlikely to take action unless you can move their emotions. Krutch seems to be drawing on this idea with his use of the pathetic fallacy and advocacy for it.

Everndon

Everndon starts off his essay with his argument: “It is a matter of considerable concern to me that the sector of society we designate as the Arts and Humanities seems to play so minor a role in the environmental movement” (92). This first sentence, for me, echoes Love’s words from the beginning of the semester. He sets up the essay by discussing the pros and cons of various approaches to environmentalism. He talks first about the fact that “the environmentalist is thought of as someone with a background in the natural sciences,” which he sees as a drawback because focusing on the science fails to answer the question, “ ‘What good is it?’” (92). As an example, he uses a discussion about Whooping Cranes in which no one could think of anything really good about them—making the efforts to save them seemingly not worthwhile. It was only when they used “subjective arguments” that they were able to justify saving the birds.

As he continues his discussion, he looks at another example—Ecology. Ecology’s strength, he says, likes in its focus on inter-relatedness. However, he finds the Western definition of inter-relatedness problematic because it requires that “a change in one affects the other” (93). Unfortunately, he says, “what is actually involved is a genuine intermingling of parts of the ecosystem” (93). Therefore, it can be difficult to determine how one thing impacts another. In this section of his argument, he includes a discussion of creatures that co-exist in a symbiotic way and introduces the concept of extra-chromosomal elements, which “means that a new evolutionary advance can be spread throughout the population very quickly…not only between individuals of the same species, but between species as well” (95).

Next, he discusses social sciences as a potential advocate for the environment, but says that the social sciences are “prone to act as if there was a discrete entity of all-consuming importance called man” (95). Unfortunately, this focus on man produces “a kind of glorified Neilsen rating for nature, which…[encourages] the perseveration of the currently popular” (96). This argument reminded me of the couple in the film we watched that had rated campsites by their relation to the characteristics they found most appealing. The problem with this approach is that “one who looks on the world as simply a set of resources to be utilized is not thinking of it as an environment at all” (99). Evernden argues that the difference between a tourist and a resident is that “the tourist can grasp only the superficialities of a landscape, whereas a resident reacts to what has occurred” (99). In other words, it’s not enough for folks to think of the landscape/environment of a place to visit that is beautiful, they must think of themselves and the environment in terms of interrelationship—they are residents of the place and therefore feel the impact of the changes. (Echoes of Leopold here!) Much like I shared about the rivers in my life in a previous discussion, as a resident, I can see the affects of tourism in a way that the tourists can’t. They are visiting the river for one day and enjoy the beauty of it however they want—consuming it. As long as they get what they want from the experience, they are happy. But residents care about the continuation of the river itself, not just about the experience it can give them.

Here, Everndon connects with Krutch in a way, arguing that the artist “makes the world personal—known, loved, feared, or whatever, but not neutral” (100). This allows us to have “the sensation of being part of a known place,” rather than being a visitor there. And here is where Everndon connects to the pathetic fallacy: “…once we engage in the extension of the boundary of the self into the ‘environment,’ then of course we imbue it with life and can quite properly regard it as animate…and, following from this, all the metaphorical properties so favored by poets make perfect sense: the Pathetic Fallacy is a fallacy only to the ego clencher” (101). In other words, he is disregarding the idea that animism is a fallacy altogether. Instead, it’s a way to forge connections between us and the environment in a meaningful way. He says that an ecological movement that “concerns itself with the underlying roots of the environmental crisis…demands the involvement of the arts and humanities” (102). I love that he says that a focus on only a scientific or humanist approach reflects “a regrettably low opinion of the rest of creation” and “alienates from the environmental movement a portion of the population that could be its most potent force” (102). (Love again!) Everndon believes that involving the arts (including daring to use the pathetic fallacy) is needed in order to focus attention on the interrelatedness of humanity and the rest of nature.

Manes

Manes’ argument is the only one that doesn’t specifically mention the Pathetic Fallacy. However, even without mentioning it, he’s arguing for it. He begins his essay with a quote from a “Tuscarora Indian” who says that “unlike his people’s experience of the world, for Westerners, ‘the uncounted voices of nature…are dumb’” (15). This quote really forms the foundation of Manes’ argument that in the Western world, we have silenced the voices of nature. In contrast, “for animistic cultures, those that see the natural world as inspirited, not just people, but also animals, plants, and even ‘inert’ entities such as stones and rivers are perceived as being articulate and at time intelligible subjects, able to communicate and interact with humans for good or ill” (15). In other words, animistic cultures are defined here as those who use the pathetic fallacy because they give a voice to even inanimate objects, like rocks. Rocks cry out. Donkey speaks

Because we privilege those who speak (“social power operates through a regime of privileged speakers”), taking away the voices of nature takes away its priority in our minds (16). Unfortunately, Manes says that “we tend to relegate such ideas [giving voices to nature] to the realm of superstition and irrationality” (16). Connecting to Everndon, Manes makes the point that “animistic societies have almost without exception avoided…environmental destruction” (17). In other words, our very use of language has de-privileged nature and allowed for its destruction. One of the examples of that language that stood out for me was the fact that most of us “refer to ‘lower’ and ‘higher’ animals” (23). The idea that if humans disappeared, the world would go on without us, but if fungus disappeared, everything would fall apart (24) is ironic!

Manes argues directly for the use of the pathetic fallacy by saying that “in an attempt to reanimate nature, we must have the courage to learn that new language, even if it puts at risk the privileged discourse of reason” (24). When he mentions learning “the passions, pains, and cryptic intents of the other biological communities that surround us,” I felt I had come full circle back to the argument made by Krutch.

In the end, the death of nature is the death of humanity. “A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself” (Abbey 169). We are becoming more machine than human. “If industrial man continues to multiply his numbers and expand his operations he will succeed in his apparent intention, to seal himself off from the natural and isolate himself within a synthetic prison of his own making. He will make himself an exile from the earth and then will know at last, if he is still capable of feeling anything, the pain and agony of final loss” (Abbey 169).