published by:
Institute for
Social Ecology
popular education for a free society
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What is Social Ecology? |
Vol.
3, No. 1
Buttercups and Sunflowers
On the Evolution of First and Second Nature
By Sonja Schmitz
 remarkable feature of social ecology is that Murray Bookchin’s vision of an ecological society goes beyond the development
of eco-technologies and organic agriculture, but expands into the philosophical
realm through dialectical naturalism. Murray recognizes the importance of
healing the seemingly disparate relationship between nature and culture (first
and second nature) by reminding us of the developmental relationship between
them (dialectical naturalism). Through his discourses on dialectical naturalism,
Murray invites the participation of ecologists, biologists, and scientists
generally involved in the subject of evolution. The following essay is a critique
of one aspect of dialectical naturalism. It is an attempt and also an invitation
to other social ecologists, to develop and refine Murray’s important
and provocative work on the relationship between nature and culture.
For Murray, dialectical naturalism serves as a potential source of objective
ethics for developing ecological societies as demonstrated by the following
quote:
Today we may well be able to permit Nature—not God or Spirit or an Élan
Vital—to open itself up to us as the ground for an ethics on its own
terms. Contemporary sciences’ greatest achievement is the growing
evidence it provides that randomness is subject to a directive ordering
principle, mutualism
is good by virtue of its fostering the evolution of natural variety and
complexity.1
If there are indeed trends or universal laws that determine the evolution
of first nature, then humans should derive ethics based upon these principles.
Murray is particularly interested in those trends that are compatible with
anarchist principles. An ecological society would be based upon a harmonious
existence within its eco-community (ecosystem)2 by fostering mutualistic
and non-hierarchical relationships (mutualism), diversity (variation) and self-organization
(autopoeisis). In accordance with dialectical naturalism, an ecological society
would, in general, maximize the opportunities for unfettered directionality
toward greater complexity, diversity, and subjectivity. Murray’s ecological
society takes the form of libertarian municipalism, the assemblage of multiple
self-governing communities into a complex of confederations. The complexity
of the confederation allows for a cultural diversity that facilitates freedom
by diminishing racism, classism, and any other “isms” that act
to oppress and suppress the potentialities latent within individuals of the
human species.
As a student of social ecology and one trying to integrate my background
as a biologist, I was drawn to the question of whether nature could provide
a
basis for deriving ethics. Scientists have been searching for universal laws
in evolutionary biology ever since Darwin. The search represents a contemporary
chapter in the historical quest for universal laws in the physical and chemical
sciences. Aside from the satisfaction of understanding the world around us,
there are, after all, practical reasons for deriving laws—they allow
us to make predictions. In the ecological sciences they provide a basis for
reconstructing ecosystems (restoration ecology) and inform decisions regarding
the conservation and management of wildlife. The laws that determine evolution
are not as easily subject to testing by the scientific method as in ecology,
nor is their practicality obvious. In evolutionary science the trends are
more philosophical in nature: (1) whether the tempo of evolution is rapid
or gradual
(punctuated equilibrium vs. gradualism), (2) whether evolution is goal-oriented
and (3) whether evolution proceeds by an increase in complexity and diversity.
Murray’s argument that nature has directionality toward ever-greater
complexity and diversity initially struck me as provocative, if not problematic.
The existence of multicellular plants and animals is often used to argue that
evolution proceeds by an increase in complexity. Evolutionary biology is still
in the process of describing the extraordinary leap life took in its transitions
from prokaryotic cells (bacteria) to the first eukaryotic cells (protists)
and from these single celled organisms to multicellular fungi, plants and animals.
One can interpret this progression favorably by emphasizing the cooperative,
communal, and mutualistic tendencies required by these transitions, which is
what Murray Bookchin does. Murray wants to equate the evolution of a confederation
of multiple self-governing communities with the evolution of multicellular
organisms. There is however, a darker side to this progression. The evolution
of complex life forms is a story rife with tension between the autonomy of
the individual cell and the drive to assemble into communities of cells for
the sake of survival. This in itself is not incompatible with social ecology.
But, the assemblage of autonomous beings is usually accompanied by the reduction
of the individual into specialized and compartmentalized functions, words that
conjure images of authoritarian communism and fascist political regimes. Therefore,
I would like to examine whether it is indeed desirable to derive ethics from
what biologists “know” about the evolution of first nature.
The endosymbiotic theory proposed by Lynn Margulis suggests that the evolution
of eukaryotic cells may well have occurred by the ingestion (but incomplete
digestion) of one bacterium by another about 1.5 million years ago (mya).3 In
the process, the undifferentiated soup of molecules that comprised the
guts of bacterial cells was organized into an assemblage of specialized
compartments called organelles, each with a separate function much like
our own organs.
The resulting eukaryotic cell harbors remnants of its prokaryotic ancestors,
mitochondria and chloroplasts, once intact, autonomous individuals, now
dependent upon and part of a greater assemblage. Therefore, the evolution
of the eukaryotic
cell occurred at the expense of autonomous bacterial cells, which are
mere
vestiges of what they once were (mitochondria and chloroplasts).
The next level of differentiation involves the assemblage of single celled
eukaryotes (protists) into colonies of cells and the first multicellular
organisms. Biologists see evidence of this transition in some algal species
like Volvox.
Volvox consists of a hollow sphere made up of a single layer of 500 to
60,000 flagellated cells that function in photosynthesis and in the motility
of
the colony. Other cells in the Volvox community function solely
in reproduction (sex cells). This multicellular community operates as
a result of the
simultaneous specialization of function of individual cells and a division
of labor
among them. The next step is the organization of hundreds of thousands
of cells
into
tissues and organ systems. Not much is known about how this transition
occurred, but multicellular invertebrate animals with organ systems suddenly
appear
in the fossil record about 700 mya (Ediacara, Australia). Nevertheless,
the same
themes of reduction and specialization are observed in the evolution
of multicellular fungi, plants and animals.
An example from the plant kingdom, the buttercup and the sunflower, will
illustrate how the themes of specialization and reduction resurface in
the evolution of
complex multicellular organisms. The buttercup flower is considered primitive,
meaning it is one of the earliest flower structures observed in the fossil
record and several million years older than the sunflower lineage. (There
are more ancient lineages among flowering plants, but I am choosing the
buttercup lineage because everyone can picture them). Each part of the
flower is distinguishable
and together comprises a reproductive organ—the buttercup flower.
It has five green sepals, five yellow petals, many single stamens (male
flower
parts) and many pistils (female flower parts) that develop into little
fruits called achenes. Upon initial inspection, the sunflower does not
appear much
different. It has many green sepals, yellow petals, stamens, and pistils.
Although the sunflower looks like a buttercup, its structure is deceivingly
different.
The sunflower is a community of individual flowers, each with a specialized
reproductive function. The outer flowers each have one yellow petal;
their pistils and stamens are inactive or nonexistent. On the other hand,
the petals
of the inner flowers have been fused into a yellow tube; and their pistils
and stamens are still functional. The outer flowers with petals function
to attract pollinators, while the inner tubular flowers produce seed.
The buttercup and the sunflower represent two levels of complexity. The
buttercup is a simple flower with many parts that produces many seeds,
while the sunflower
is a community of many individual flowers with specialized functions,
each producing a single seed. The buttercup is an autonomous individual
capable
of reproduction, while individuals of the mega-sunflower community cannot
function autonomously anymore, and must reproduce as a unit.
I have often thought that Murray’s libertarian municipalism is like
the sunflower; each self-governing municipality is a single flower, while the
mega-sunflower
community represents the confederation. But, upon closer examination,
the analogy is inadequate. The evolution of complexity in plants is not compatible
with,
nor can it be equated with, the kind of complexity and diversity Murray
envisions as facilitating freedom in his libertarian municipalities. The sort
of reduction,
specialization, and loss of autonomy observed in the evolution of multicellular
organisms is more compatible with the functioning of a nation state or
fascist political regime. Therefore the evolution of complexity has outcomes
frighteningly
compatible with political regimes that do not embrace the ideas of social
ecology. If the buttercup and the sunflower are interpreted as examples of
the evolution
of complexity, do we want to cite this trend for constructing ecological
societies or confederations?
Perhaps it is inappropriate to compare the evolution of plants with the
evolution of human social systems. While trends in the evolutionary process
can be
identified, they are not universal and do not necessarily apply across
all lineages of
life. Each of the five kingdoms is on a separate evolutionary trajectory,
as is each phylum in the animal genealogy. Even if we were to limit our
examination to mammals or primates, is it appropriate to extend the “laws” or
principles of first nature and superimpose them upon cultural evolution?
I would argue that because cultural evolution is uniquely human, and
not a generalized
trend among other lineages, the trends observed in first nature do not
necessarily apply to second nature.
Although Murray applauds science in
its achievements in illuminating the role of mutualism, diversity,
complexity (and other anarchist tendencies);
evolutionary
biology is only beginning to yield under the scrutiny of the scientific
method, or in other words, provide an objective inquiry into the laws
of
evolution.
The exploration into the evolution of complexity has left me with grave
doubts as to whether social ecologists want to derive ethics from first
nature.
My doubts however, do not diminish my desire to construct societies
on the basis
of mutualism and diversity. Perhaps the themes of mutualism and diversity
hold up better under examination than does the evolution of complexity.
In summary, this essay raises two separate yet related questions. Can
we derive an objective ethics from the trends or laws of first nature?
And
if such trends,
principles or universal laws do exist, is it appropriate or even
desirable to cite them for the construction of ecological human societies?
I
reserve an examination into these questions for future essays and
invite other
social ecologists to join in the inquiry.
Notes
- Murray Bookchin, “Toward a Philosophy of Nature” in The
Philosophy of Social Ecology (Montreal: Black Rose Books, 1995), p. 64.
- Scientific terminology is in parenthesis
- Lynn Margulis, Early Life (Boston: Jones and Bartlett Publishers Inc., 1984), p. 75-104.
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