Ecological Identity: From Toxicity to Health
Ecological identity is modern psychology’s way of acknowledging that our individual makeup is defined, in part, by our relationship with nature. Western culture, based on consumerism and endless growth, has been functioning from a basic disconnection from nature. Since the industrial era, we have released enough carbon in the atmosphere that the global temperature has already risen. Humanity is on the brink of a great transition, in a large degree because humans have acted as if how we treated nature didn’t matter (Hillman, 1995; Macy, J. & Johnstone, C, 2012).
Since the agricultural era, humans have had a separate, but unequal relationship with nature. Humans in colonizing culture have seen themselves as not only different from, but indeed superior to nature. (Hillman, 1995) We have privatized land, watched chemicals to be burned and spilled, and depleted our soils with monocrop agriculture. Because of this belief that we have dominion over the environment, deforestation and human encroachment has displaced or even made extinct many species in our animal kingdom.
Science tells us we are on the brink of environmental collapse, yet we feel helpless or indifferent, respond with numbness and denial. The field of ecopsychology deals a lot with feelings of worthlessness, addictions, narcissism, eating disorders, and other forms of abuse and self-abuse as rising at least in part, from a disconnection from the natural world (Davis, J. & Canty, J., 2013; Kahn, P. & Hasbach, P., 2012).
Now that climate change is a scientifically verified reality, we need to turn to nature
again, and ask, “How do we move forward?” It won’t be easy, and we need to get back into right relationship with the environment. We can’t and shouldn’t go back to a pre-technological, pre-industrial era. However, if we tune into ourselves deeply enough, we can each see the answer that lies within. There is a way to move forward, consciously, and very naturally, if we look to our human and other-than-human connections and relationships in our world and begin to heal it.
Many in the clinical psychology world agree, and traditional psychologists are beginning to see the potential of the research that has garnered ecological as well as environmental psychology. The field of ecopsychology maintains that humans are connected to the earth and the other-than-human in an emotional way. Ecopsychologist Sarah Conn says, “Each of us has, with or without awareness, the ability to connect to the whole interdependent web of life on Earth at any moment and in any activity in our daily lives.” (157) And as we connect we can feel that something isn’t right.
This bond can be seen in the part of the psyche that psychology recognizes as the ecological self. The following exploration of the ecological self and the examination of my parents’ connections to nature helped me to understand the way my own ecological self drew me to make conscious decisions to be an environmentalist.
Toward a shift in seeing: The Ecological Self
Deep Ecologist Arne Naess first proffered the concept of the ecological self as an aspect to the psyche in his article, “Self Realization: An Ecological Approach to Being in the World” in 1988. By acknowledging that the human experience is a part of the natural world, and that the natural world informs the psyche, ecopsychology invites the individual to connect to the environment in feelings of love. The connection is a natural result of recognizing the interconnectedness of nature and humanity and has been further developed by ecopsychologists. As Zavetoski points out, “an ecological identity gives an individual the ability to connect her or his social behavior to its environmental impacts” (1995, p. 298)
There is a great deal of grief in the collective ecological self now: pollution, rising sea levels, overuse of fossil fuels, economic disparities, xenophobia, and the delayed ontology of the western civilization (Macy J. & Johnstone, C. 2012, Glendinning, C., 1995). Ralph Metzner, among others, have described the human-nature relationship as psychopathological (Metzner, 1995, Shepard, 1995) and in need of healing. Ecopsychology is poised to create a container for the grief and transform it into positive action.
Methods:
To understand how eco identity works, I interviewed my parents. I had thoughts about my own ecological identity, but they were vague, and I wanted to see how my parents understand their relationship to nature. What I discovered helped me understand how my own sense of ecological identity formed and subsequently shaped my life choices. Both interviews were recorded and transcribed.
My parents recently came to visit my family in the Denver area. After breakfast, we outside the pool at the hotel my parents were staying in, I asked them both the question: Could you please tell me about a particularly meaningful time you had with nature growing up?
Interview with my Mother, Rita Pittenger
Rita, my mom, replied, “I think my best experiences were when we were camping. We did a lot of camping as kids. In order to go play, go into the woods, or even go to the bathroom, we had to get the tent set up. My dad kinda bossed everybody around until we did everything according to his satisfaction. We weren’t released until everything was done. Then we could go to the bathroom. Then we could go play in the woods. Then we could go swim.” There was a legitimacy to the father’s strictness with the kids taking care of business first. There were seven them.
“We ran kinda wild…We enjoyed the hiking, particularly at Peninsula [State] Park where you went along those rocks and narrow paths, and you just had a wonderful time. Outside.”
The campgrounds at Peninsula State park are right next to Lake Michigan, on the portion that is Green Bay. She and the extended family would go camping in the park for a weekend in the fall, because the family had a gathering called Friendly Fathers. According to Mom, “The kids helped with the dads and the moms stayed home and had a weekend off. The Dale family fathers did that for 30 years, and eventually the moms caught on that it could be pretty fun.
“There were a lot of campfires, biking, and animals. Beautiful bike trails. It was wonderful times: people putting on plays, seeing who's the tallest. When it was time for bed, there was an award for whoever brushed their teeth first.” As she talked about it she smiled, remembering camping with the dads.
“I remember when the fathers rented mopeds and the kids raced through the woods on the bike trails. Well soon, the park rangers stopped them to complain to the fathers, and my uncle (Tom) was sent over and he said, ‘These are poor kids from Chicago and have no parents and we brought them here for the weekend to experience nature. Another time he a brought a rickshaw and the kids went to different campsites offering people rides for money.” We both laughed at the memory of her Uncle Tom, who was frequently the leader of shenanigans.
“It was always about adventuring. … It was more about family than nature, but it took family to nature. We were able to share those things with the family. We had all the cousins at the beach having mass with Uncle Joe on Sundays.” She smiled again at the memories.
She had very few negatives to share, except maybe that she missed years of not joining the annual gathering due to work and school. Even the parts she remembered as hard, like the rain soaking the tent and being dripped on, or waking up and the water in the coffee pot was frozen, she and I laughed through it all. “That was the thing. It was tough, but you were in it together,” she said, “That was a test, but it was so fun. Thank you friendly fathers.” She smiled again as she looked up to where they may be.
My Mother’s ecological self was developed in the park through tyranny and joy, tricksters, and Catholic mass on the beach. There was so much family around all the time, and there were natural forces to be dealt with. But you worked through it as a family, and because of my Mom’s relationship to nature, nature was much more enjoyable when we were together. This was very much how she raised us as well: there were always adventures to be had in nature: rock dams we’d make near the lake, bike rides in Wisconsin parks, and walks pretty much everywhere. There were four of us growing up, so we learned the routine of “set up camp” very quickly from my Mom.
Interview with my Father, Bill Pittenger
My Father, Bill Pittenger, was silent for a bit, and he laughed a little to himself before he began. He told the story of the time when he was ten years old, where he and his friend Billy were riding their bikes in a park in their neighborhood. His friend Billy thought he saw a badger, but when they got closer to investigate, it was a skunk and they got sprayed! Since Billy’s house was closer they headed there. My dad, hadn’t met Billy’s mother, but when they got to the door, she shrieked, ran to the kitchen, and started throwing tomato juice on them.
He moved forward in his seat, and said to me, eyes wide, “Here I was, ten years old, meeting this lady for the first time and she’s yelling at us and covering me with tomato juice and I had no idea why!”
He rolled his eyes, winced, shifted his weight in the chair as if he was terribly uncomfortable. He was smiling because he could see my laughter. He continued, “When I went home, covered in tomato juice, my mom gave me a bath, covered me in more tomato juice, and I don’t think I ever went near a skunk again.”
He smiled at the end as he saw me laugh.
Watching my Dad tell his story was delightful and very typical. He thought of a story that had a humorous element, and no matter what life’s circumstances, my Dad has always been able to make me laugh. One thing surprised me though. He was visibly emotional about the park where he grew up that he would ride his bike through all the time. There was a bike racing track at that park, and as he told me that they finally shut it down, I sensed a wistfulness at the loss of the bike racing track. My father is personable and funny, but with a big heart and emotions that run deep. I could tell he really loved that park. Along with the ability to make other’s laugh, his kind heart is one of the best things about him.
He didn’t have a big family growing up, but a good childhood with loving parents. He rarely talks about the difficulties he had to deal with; when I was growing up, I saw that he just did everything he could for his family. He likes being part of my Mom’s family, and everyone in the family likes him. He’s good at sports, tells great stories and jokes, and loves his grandchildren to the moon and back. To this day, the family gathers every summer in northern Wisconsin, and all the relatives’ kids love to be around my dad. Giggles and laughter follow him. I’m sure my children will have great stories about their grandparents, uncles, and cousins.
A relationship with the world: My ecological identity
We loved to go camping as a family and did it a lot when we were kids. I loved it. We could play in nature and have adventures. As we drove the country roads, and even sometimes through the “big cities,” on our way to our camping spot, I wondered what it must have been like before the farms and the little towns.
The little I knew about the tribes who used to live there were referred to collectively as Ho-chunk, but individually as Sussex, Waukesha, Kegonsa, Kawakee, and Winamac. I often wondered what life was on the land before the European settlers, my ancestors, had arrived. I learned very little about them in school, and all the grownups could say about it was that it was hard back then, and that most of the local tribes were nomadic, because the winters were so harsh. As the kid made to shovel snow in Wisconsin, nomadic didn’t sound so bad.
My ecological identity developed near a plastics plant, a toilet manufacturer, a nuclear power station just up the road, and further upstream of Sheboygan, Wisconsin, lay Green Bay and its paper mills and meatpacking plants. Unaware of what might be in the soil or water, I loved my hometown and was proud of how productive the Midwest was.
When we weren’t camping and I needed a getaway, I’d walk two blocks from our house in Sheboygan to Lake Michigan. It was like going to a freshwater ocean. I used to sit on this huge rock amid other rocks, and just sit and sit, listen to music, or journal. But mostly I’d watch the waves and think about things. Or pray, if it was desperate. After sitting for twenty minutes or so, I’d get up because I was so anxious to get back home.
As much as I loved nature, I was also terrified of nature most of my life. I preferred to be within earshot of other humans. Although my mother has fond memories of friendly fathers, and I do too, she always seemed slightly nervous in nature, afraid of racoons getting into our food or bears in the Rocky Mountains. My dad was not a big fan of wild animals, being cold, or doing anything too risky.
Walking in the woods, I wouldn’t be concerned about walking into other humans; I was more concerned about the bear that would pop out of the woods and maul me or the mountain lion perched to kill. Whether it was rational or not, I was afraid of the unknown. The buddy system worked well for me.
A connection to nature leads to life’s work
I was given so many opportunities to connect with nature, I eventually got through most of my fears, and my ecological identity compelled me to devote my life’s work to the love of the planet. Now that I’m older, a bit wiser, and meditate and pray on a daily basis, I see myself as more connected to nature than ever, even if an old fear comes up now and then.
By reconnecting humans to pleasant memories where they felt connected to nature, we can rekindle the curiosity and wonder from childhood. According to Conn: “In order to do restoration work,…one must enter into an intimate and loving relationship” (163) When we remember our intimate and loving relationship with nature, we are compelled to protect that relationship.
Early on, walks to Lake Michigan served to relax me and inspire me to go on, or offer an escape from the disagreements arguing, and chaos of home life. Today if I can’t go for a walk, or visit the nearby mountains, I’ll step outside for a stretch and breath of fresh air. I can draw on the healing power of nature anytime. I can give thanks to the sunshine and beauty.
In order to bring human action aligned with scientific discoveries, ecopsychologists like Theodore Rozcak and Mitchell Thomashow have been working for decades to help modern psychology deal with this cultural shift. Because the environmental movement initially used tactics of shame and blame, it met with resistance.
So now, according to Roscak, “Ecology needs psychology and psychology needs ecology” (1995, p. 5) The environmental movement needs an approach that will foster a deeper level of connection between the world and its citizens.
By focusing on the love of nature, or biophilia (Roszak, 1995; Davis, J. & Canty, 2013), we accept our ecological identity as a tool with which the soul can express positive action. Thomashow states, “Ecological identity work is important because it is the personal introspection that drives one’s commitment to environmentalism” (1995, p. 5) This is certainly true for me. I am not an environmentalist because I feel guilty or shameful, I am an environmental activist because I love the planet.
In the process of understanding my own ecological identities, I had to face my own areas of disconnection with nature. There have been many times I’ve numbed out, ignored pollution, or just felt like giving up my efforts to sequester carbon in the soil. However, what has always been stronger is my love of the planet.
My ecological identity led me to my teaching career, gardening practices, environmental activism, meditating in nature, singing around a campfire, a career in sustainable landscaping, parenting through nature’s cycles, and choosing a school for my children that fostered community and cooperation.
We practice stewardship in my family—taking care of each other and ourselves. I am not yet at peace, knowing that the planet that I love so dearly has so problems, but I hold more hope, knowing that many other souls love it just as much.
If the ecopsychologists theories’ hold true, and as we recognize ourselves more and more as deeply connected to nature, then our future could be one of respect for the human and other-than-human world. As Davis and Canty put it so well: “Ecopsychology provides a path of restoration between the small self of the individual and the larger Self of the world.” (2013 p. 597) To heal the land and waters of our planet, it will take an extraordinary and wonderful journey of reconnecting us to ourselves, our environment, our local ecology, and our place with the other-than-human world.
Terra Linda Pittenger
Naropa University, October 26, 2021
Resources
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Conn, S.A. (1995). When the earth hurts, who responds? In T. Roszak, M.Gomes, & A. Kanner, (Eds.), Ecopsychology: Restoring the earth, healing the mind. (pp. 156-171) San Francisco: Sierra Club Books.
Davis, J. V. & Canty, J.M. (2013). Ecopsychology and transpersonal psychology. In Friedman, H. & Hartelius, G. (Eds).The Wiley-Blackwell handbook of transpersonal psychology. (pp. 597-611). West Sussex, UK: Wiley Blackwell Press.
Glendinning, C. (1995). Technology, trauma and the wild. In T. Roszak, M. Gomes, & A. Kanner, (Eds.), Ecopsychology: Restoring the earth, healing the mind (pp. 41-54). San Francisco: Sierra Club Books.
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