Susan D. Clayton The Oxford Handbook of Environment

Oxford Library of Psychology Oxford Handbooks Online Oxford Library of Psychology The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Subject: Psychology Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Oxford Library of Psychology EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Peter E. Nathan AREA EDITORS: Clinical Psychology David H. Barlow Cognitive Neuroscience Kevin N. Ochsner and Stephen M. Kosslyn Cognitive Psychology Daniel Reisberg Counseling Psychology Elizabeth M. Altmaier and Jo-Ida C. Hansen Developmental Psychology Philip David Zelazo Health Psychology Howard S. Friedman History of Psychology Page 1 of 2 Oxford Library of Psychology David B. Baker Methods and Measurement Todd D. Little Neuropsychology Kenneth M. Adams Organizational Psychology Steve W. J. Kozlowski Personality and Social Psychology Kay Deaux and Mark Snyder Page 2 of 2 [UNTITLED] Oxford Handbooks Online [UNTITLED] The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Subject: Psychology Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 (p. iv) Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries. Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016 © Oxford University Press 2012 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means,without the prior permission in writing of Oxford UniversityPress, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriatereproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above shouldbe sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above. You must not circulate this work in any other form Page 1 of 2 [UNTITLED] and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The Oxford handbook of environmental and conservation psychology / edited by Susan Clayton. p. cm.—(Oxford library of psychology) ISBN 978–0–19–973302–6 1. Nature – Psychological aspects. 2. Environmental psychology. 3. Human ecology – Psychological aspects. I. Clayton, Susan D., 1960BF353.5.N37O94 2012 333.701ʹ9—dc23 2012020048 9 8 7 6 54 3 2 1 Page 2 of 2 [UNTITLED] Oxford Handbooks Online [UNTITLED] The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Subject: Psychology Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 (p. v) This volume is dedicated to Gabriel Moser, who died in April 2011 shortly after completing work on his chapter for the handbook. Moser was an important figure in environmental psychology, particularly in Europe, where he was the first professor of environmental psychology in France. He had a direct influence in training and supporting young researchers and new groups in environmental psychology in many countries. In addition, he strengthened the institutional framework for environmental psychology, particularly through his efforts on behalf of the International Association for PeopleEnvironment Studies, of which he was president from 2004 to 2008. His many books and papers, which emphasized the urban environment, will have a lasting impact on the field and his warmth and generosity will be remembered by the many colleagues who also consider themselves his friends. (p. vi) Page 1 of 1 Oxford Library of Psychology Oxford Handbooks Online Oxford Library of Psychology The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Subject: Psychology Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Oxford Library of Psychology The Oxford Library of Psychology, a landmark series of handbooks, is published by Oxford University Press, one of the world’s oldest and most highly respected publishers, with a tradition of publishing significant books in psychology. The ambitious goal of the Oxford Library of Psychology is nothing less than to span a vibrant, wide-ranging field and, in so doing, to fill a clear market need. Encompassing a comprehensive set of handbooks, organized hierarchically, the Library incorporates volumes at different levels, each designed to meet a distinct need. At one level are a set of handbooks designed broadly to survey the major subfields of psychology; at another are numerous handbooks that cover important current focal research and scholarly areas of psychology in depth and detail. 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An undertaking of this scope calls for handbook editors and chapter authors who are established scholars in the areas about which they write. Many of the nation’s and world’s most productive and best-respected psychologists have agreed to edit Library handbooks or write authoritative chapters in their areas of expertise. (p. x) For whom has the Oxford Library of Psychology been written? Because of its breadth, depth, and accessibility, the Library serves a diverse audience, including graduate students in psychology and their faculty mentors, scholars, researchers, and practitioners in psychology and related fields. Each will find in the Library the information they seek on the subfield or focal area of psychology in which they work or are interested. Befitting its commitment to accessibility, each handbook includes a comprehensive index, as well as extensive references to help guide research. And because the Library was designed from its inception as an online as well as a print resource, its structure and contents will be readily and rationally searchable online. Further, once the Library is released online, the handbooks will be regularly and thoroughly updated. In summary, the Oxford Library of Psychology will grow organically to provide a thoroughly informed perspective on the field of psychology, one that reflects both psychology’s dynamism and its increasing interdisciplinarity. Once published electronically, the Library is also destined to become a uniquely valuable interactive tool, with extended search and browsing capabilities. As you begin to consult this handbook, we sincerely hope you will share our enthusiasm for the more than 5 -year tradition of Oxford University Press for excellence, innovation, and quality, as exemplified by the Oxford Library of Psychology. Peter E. Nathan Editor-in-Chief Oxford Library of Psychology Page 2 of 3 About the Editor Oxford Handbooks Online About the Editor The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Subject: Psychology Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 About the Editor Susan D. Clayton Susan D. Clayton is Whitmore-Williams Professor of Psychology at the College of Wooster in Ohio. With a PhD in social psychology from Yale, she is a fellow of the American Psychological Association and a past president of the Society for Environmental, Population, and Conservation Psychology. Her research addresses the social context surrounding people’s relationship with the natural environment. (p. xii) Page 1 of 1 Contributors Oxford Handbooks Online Contributors The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Subject: Psychology Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Contributors Susana Alves Faculty of Engineering & ArchitectureDepartment of Architecture Okan Üniversitesi Tuzla KampüsüAkfırat-Tuzla/Istanbul, Turkey Cláudia Campos Andrade Instituto Universitário de Lisboa (ISCTE-IUL) Centro de Investigação e Intervenção Social (CIS-IUL) Lisbon, Portugal Clare L. Barratt Department of Psychology Texas A&M University College Station, TX Page 1 of 14 Contributors Brittany Bloodhart Department of Psychology The Pennsylvania State University University Park, PA Marino Bonaiuto CIRPA (Centro Interuniversitario di Ricerca in Psicologia Ambientale) Dipartimento di Psicologia dei Processi di Sviluppo e Socializzazione Sapienza Università di Roma Rome, Italy Mirilia Bonnes Department of Social and Developmental Psychology Sapienza University of Rome Centre for Inter-University Research in Environmental Psychology Rome, Italy Barbara B. Brown Department of Psychology University of Utah Salt Lake City, UT Page 2 of 14 Contributors Giuseppe Carrus Department of Cultural and Educational Studies, University of Roma Tre Centre for Inter-University Research in Environmental Psychology Rome, Italy Louise Chawla College of Architecture and Planning University of Colorado Boulder, CO Charlotte Clark Centre for Psychiatry Wolfson Institute of Preventive Medicine Barts and the London School of Medicine and Dentistry London, UK Susan D. Clayton Department of Psychology The College of Wooster Wooster, OH Page 3 of 14 Contributors Víctor Corral-Verdugo Division de Ciencias Sociales University of Sonora at Hermosillo Los Portales Hermosillo, Mexico Rosanna Crombie Centre for Psychiatry Wolfson Institute of Preventive Medicine Barts and the London School of Medicine and Dentistry London, UK Judith I. M. de Groot School of Design, Engineering & Computing Bournemouth University Dorset, UK Victoria Derr College of Architecture and Planning University of Colorado Boulder, CO Page 4 of 14 Contributors (p. xiv) Ann Sloan Devlin Department of Psychology Connecticut College New London, CT Blanca S. Fraijo-Sing Division de Ciencias Sociales University of Sonora at Hermosillo Los Portales Hermosillo, Mexico Martha Frías-Armenta Division de Ciencias Sociales University of Sonora at Hermosillo Los Portales Hermosillo, Mexico Robert Gifford Department of Psychology University of Victoria Victoria, Canada Page 5 of 14 Contributors Ferdinando Fornara Department of Psychology University of Cagliari CIRPA (Centre for Inter-University Research on Environmental Psychology) Cagliari, Italy Harry Heft Department of Psychology Denison University Granville, OH Florian G. Kaiser Department of Social Psychology Otto-von-Guericke University Magdeburg, Germany Elisabeth Kals Professor of Social and Organizational Psychology The Catholic University Eichstätt-Ingolstadt Eichstätt, Germany Page 6 of 14 Contributors Kalevi M. Korpela School of Social Sciences and Humanities University of Tampere Tampere, Finland Michael K. Lindell Hazard Reduction & Recovery Center Texas A&M University College Station, TX Ezra M. Markowitz Environmental Studies Program Department of Psychology University of Oregon Eugene, OR Melinda S. Merrick Department of Geography and Environmental Studies Northeastern Illinois University Chicago, IL Page 7 of 14 Contributors Taciano L. Milfont Centre for Applied Cross-Cultural Research School of Psychology Victoria University of Wellington Wellington, New Zealand Gabriel Moser Institute of Psychology University of Paris Descartes LPS, University of Aix-en-Provence Paris, France Markus M. Müller The Catholic University Eichstätt-Ingolstadt Eichstätt, Germany Olin Eugene Myers Jr. Huxley College of the Environment Western Washington University Bellingham, WA Page 8 of 14 Contributors Blair E. Nancarrow The Fenner School of Environment and Society The Australian National University Ellery Crescent, Acton, Australia Susan Opotow John Jay College and The Graduate Center City University of New York New York, NY Kimberly A. Rollings Department of Design and Environmental Analysis Cornell University Ithaca, NY Keith C. Russell Department of Physical Education, Health and Recreation Western Washington University Bellingham, WA Page 9 of 14 Contributors Charles D. Samuelson Department of Psychology Texas A&M University College Station, TX (p. xv) Henry Sanoff College of Design North Carolina State University Raleigh, NC Carol D. Saunders Department of Environmental Studies Antioch University New England Keene, NH Massimiliano Scopelliti LUMSA University Centre for Inter-University Research in Environmental Psychology Rome, Italy Page 10 of 14 Contributors P. Wesley Schultz Department of Psychology California State University, San Marcos San Marcos, CA Henk Staats Instituut Psychologie, Sociale en Organisatiepsychologie Leiden University Leiden, The Netherlands Stephen A. Stansfeld Centre for Psychiatry Wolfson Institute of Preventive Medicine Barts and the London School of Medicine and Dentistry London, UK Linda Steg Faculty of Behavioural and Social Sciences University of Groningen Groningen, The Netherlands Page 11 of 14 Contributors Peter Suedfeld Department of Psychology University of British Columbia Vancouver, BC, Canada Reuven Sussman Department of Psychology University of Victoria Victoria, Canada Janet K. Swim Department of Psychology The Pennsylvania State University University Park, PA Geoffrey J. Syme Centre for Planning Edith Cowan University Perth, Australia Page 12 of 14 Contributors César O. Tapia-Fonllem Division de Ciencias Sociales University of Sonora at Hermosillo Los Portales Hermosillo, Mexico Jennifer A. Veitch NRC Construction Ottawa, Ontario, Canada Joanne Vining Department of Natural Resources and Environmental Sciences University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Champaign, IL Rotraut Walden Institute for Psychology University in Koblenz Koblenz, Germany Arjen E.J. Wals Education & Competence Studies Wageningen University Wageningen, The Netherlands Page 13 of 14 Contributors Nancy M. Wells Department of Design and Environmental Analysis Cornell University Ithaca, NY Richard E. Wener Department of Humanities and Social Sciences Polytechnic Institute of New York University New York, NY Carol M. Werner Department of Psychology University of Utah Salt Lake City, UT (p. xvi) Page 14 of 14 Introduction: Environmental and Conservation Psychology Oxford Handbooks Online Introduction: Environmental and Conservation Psychology Susan D. Clayton and Carol D. Saunders The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0001 Abstract and Keywords Environmental psychology has been an established field for half a century. The term “conservation psychology” has a much more recent history. What is conservation psychology, and what is its relationship to environmental psychology? How will the combination affect the further development of the field? This chapter provides a definition and places the terms in a historical as well as a functional context. After an explication of the name of the present handbook, a framework for the organization of the book is presented. Keywords: history, terminology, environmental psychology, conservation psychology Introduction It is probably fair to say that in the mind of the general public, psychologists focus more on what happens inside a person’s head—the mental and neurological processes that constitute experience and determine behavior—than on what is happening in the surrounding environment. But from the field’s earliest origins, psychologists have recognized, and emphasized, the ways in which people are affected by their environments. Many studies have documented ways in which the social environment is influential, through parental socialization, conformity to social norms, and so on; it is a fundamental tenet of social psychology that we should consider external causes of behavior before making attributions to internal dispositions. Equally important is the physical environment. In addition to providing the materials that either promote or compromise well-being, it shapes behavior through reinforcement contingencies as well as through affordances—although as Gifford (1976) has noted, people are often unconscious of environmental impacts and changes. Because the built environment is amenable to change and to intentional design, its effects have been well studied by psychologists as well as by researchers from other fields. Although the natural environment has received less attention, it was still recognized as important by early to mid-20th-century psychologists (e.g., Adler, 1956). The environmental challenges that have become salient as we begin the 21st century provide a pressing reminder of the ways in which human well-being is bound up with environmental health. These challenges also illustrate the reverse relationship: the impact of human perceptions, attitudes, and especially behavior on environmental wellbeing. This handbook addresses the expanding body of research on these relationships and presents a snapshot of current work on environmental and conservation psychology. Such a snapshot captures a moment in time for an evolving and increasingly important area of research. To understand what this handbook will and will not do, this introductory chapter will situate the field within its temporal context, describing some of the history behind this area as well as its goals. Environmental Psychology Environmental psychology began to emerge as a self-identified subdiscipline in the 1950s. Certainly (p. 2) the Page 1 of 8 Introduction: Environmental and Conservation Psychology visibility of the environmental movement in the 1960s, and the accompanying awareness of limits on environmental resources, were part of the context that led to the institutionalization of the field. Concerns about population growth and environmental degradation during the 1960s led to two task forces within the American Psychological Association—one on psychology, family planning, and population policy and one on environment and behavior— which later joined together to form Division 34, on population and environmental psychology (Richards, 2000). The first core text in environmental psychology, Environmental Psychology: Man and His Physical Setting, was published by Proshansky, Ittelson, and Rivlin in 1970. The same year saw environmental psychology described in American Psychologist (Wohlwill, 1970) and in a volume on “new directions in psychology” (Craik, 1970). Key topics in environmental psychology at this early stage already included perceptions of the environment, social uses of space, use of environmental resources, perceptions of environmental risk, and attributes of built environments. Environmental psychology was alert to social issues involving the natural environment and natural resources. It recognized, too, that a psychological experience of the environment incorporated a confluence of social and physical environments, and that the relationship between people and their environments was bidirectional. However, only a subset of research within environmental psychology is substantially relevant to the natural environment or to problems concerning environmental degradation or depletion of environmental resources. Indeed, in a key article reflecting on the identity of environmental psychology, Stokols (1995) described five promising research trends, only one of which involved threats to and change in the natural environment. One of the main periodicals in environmental psychology, Environment and Behavior, was established in 1969 as an interdisciplinary journal that would publish “rigorous experimental and theoretical work focusing on the influence of the physical environment on human behavior.” Despite the unidirectional nature of this statement (influence of the environment on humans), the journal also welcomes research on the ways in which people conceptualize environments and on policies or planning aimed at changing environments. It is published in association with the Environmental Design Research Association and has traditionally included a strong focus on design and on the built environment. Nevertheless, the publication has also incorporated topics as abstract as morality, attachment, and religious perspectives on environments, as well as practical topics, such as recycling, composting, and energy conservation. A journal more specific to environmental psychology is the eponymous Journal of Environmental Psychology, established in 1981 to “serve individuals in a wide range of disciplines who have an interest in the scientific study of the transactions and interrelationships between people and their physical surroundings.” Topics covered in the journal are very similar to those in Environment and Behavior, with perhaps a greater emphasis on human cognition, human experience, and theory. The inaugural issue included a reflective essay by David Canter and Kenneth Craik that reviewed the progress of the field, including a significant number of international societies and edited volumes, and attempted to define the field. Reflecting its growing influence, environmental psychology was further described in a comprehensive, two-volume handbook edited by Dan Stokols and Irwin Altman in 1987. This handbook included chapters on all the core topics of the field: cognition, personality, and emotion; children and aging; human spatial behavior, territoriality, and crowding; and environmental stress. It also covered a variety of environmental contexts, including residential, school, and work environments; environmental problems including crime, transportation, and diminishing natural resources; and environmental psychology in a number of different countries, from Europe and Asia to Latin America and the Soviet Union. In addition, the 1987 handbook engaged in an extensive evaluation of the field, beginning with four chapters on the origins and scope of environmental psychology and ending with four chapters looking toward its future. A second edition was published in 2002, edited by Robert Bechtel and Arza Churchman. This volume did not try to repeat the focus of the original handbook. Instead the emphasis was on demonstrating the breadth and applicability of environmental psychology. It included chapters making connections to other disciplines, such as anthropology, sociology, and clinical psychology, and others describing applications in specific settings (work, museums), for specific groups (women, children), and to specific problems (conflict, disasters, climate). This volume also reflected on emerging new conceptual and methodological approaches within environmental psychology. Particularly significant to the current handbook, the 2002 version included a chapter by Bonnes and Bonaiuto that described a (p. 3) shift over time in environmental psychology’s focus, from an emphasis on the physical environment to a greater concern on sustainable development. They argued for a “full ecology perspective” that would recognize Page 2 of 8 Introduction: Environmental and Conservation Psychology human beings as “the major force or organizing principle of…every ecosystem” and thus would attend to human dimensions of environmental issues (Bonnes & Bonaiuto, 2002, p. 34). Environmental psychology emphasized three significant themes that were often overlooked or minimized by other areas of psychology. One was the need to understand behavior in context: people in a specific place. Although controlled laboratory research is valuable, it can never provide a full understanding of behavior, learning, or motivation, any more than the behavior of a caged laboratory rat can tell us everything about rat behavior in the wild. The second was a recognition of the reciprocal relationship between people and their environments. Although people are affected by their surroundings, they also both choose and modify their environments; arguably, this is one of the characteristics that distinguish humans from other species, whose impact is more gradual and less deliberate. This indicates the important practical implications of environmental psychology: understanding how people are affected by their environments might suggest helpful ways to modify those environments, and understanding how people choose and modify their environments suggests some of the ways in which they are affected by those environments. For example, recognizing that people benefit from views of nature suggests that buildings be designed to provide such views, and the fact that people spend great amounts of time personalizing their homes and gardens implies that gardens can affect their sense of self. Finally, a third theme is that from its beginning environmental psychology has emphasized the need to be interdisciplinary: to interface with urban planners, architects, sociologists, biologists, educators, and others to both benefit from their knowledge and share what psychology has to offer. Conservation Psychology These themes are particularly relevant in conservation psychology, which emerged in the late 1990s and early 21st century. At this time, interest in the natural environment was blossoming, with a growing number of academic programs devoted to environmental studies and an increased awareness of looming environmental problems. A small group of psychologists set about quite deliberately to address a few lacunae: the near-absence of psychology from discussions about environmental issues, both within the academy and in the public sphere, and the limited focus on the natural world in mainstream psychological research. There was also a desire to refocus efforts to use the insights and tools of psychology toward understanding and promoting human care for nature. Several names were considered: Green psychology? Ecopsychology? Psychology of sustainability? Conservation psychology was selected as the name for this new effort, in part because it paralleled the history and goals of the existing field of conservation biology. The term “conservation” does not, in this case, take a position on the historical debate between conserving resources for human use versus protecting nature for its own sake. Rather, it reflects the conservation movement of the late 20th century and particularly the movement’s political focus on responding to environmental challenges, such as pollution, loss of biodiversity, and (more recently) global climate change. Conservation psychology deliberately enlists contributions from the many subdisciplines within psychology toward understanding and promoting healthy and sustainable relationships with nature. The tools it brings to bear are the conceptual and methodological techniques of empirical research in psychology. Like conservation biology, conservation psychology is distinguished by a clear set of goals and values: it values human and ecosystem health, and aspires to enhance the healthy relationship between humans and the rest of nature. Conservation psychology is not just an applied field, and is not just about understanding determinants of pro-environmental behavior. It is about theory and research aimed at understanding the interdependence between human and natural well-being, and its goal is to make linkages between basic academic research and practical environmental issues. Beginning in 2000, a series of workshops hosted by the Chicago Zoological Society and a conference funded by the Rice Foundation brought together groups of researchers to discuss the parameters of the field and the best way to move forward. An early outcome was a special issue (2003) of the journal Human Ecology Review, edited by Carol Saunders and Gene Myers, that focused on conservation psychology—describing it, defining it, and suggesting some important directions. The definition in this issue described conservation psychology as “the scientific study of the reciprocal relationships between humans and the rest of nature, with a particular focus on how to encourage conservation of the natural world” (Saunders, 2003, p. 138). (p. 4) Theoretical perspectives emphasized in the special issue focused on behavior change; emotional connections to natural entities (especially animals and places); and communication about environmental issues. A Page 3 of 8 Introduction: Environmental and Conservation Psychology 2005 paper by Clayton and Brook followed, making a further argument for conservation psychology and illustrating a social psychological model of behavior with reference to conservation behavior. Conservation psychology did not represent a new area of study. What it intended was to offer a new label for previous work that existed, which would in turn establish a new focus to motivate future work and a new identity for psychologists interested in this area, encouraging new opportunities for collaboration between conservation professionals and psychologists. Conservation psychology was established in part to provide a framework for work on the topic that met the accepted standards of psychological research and built on established psychological theory. Sommer (2000), discussing ways in which environmental psychology in general has struggled for a clear label, provides a useful definition of the difference between a subdiscipline and a field of study. According to that definition, conservation psychology is more clearly a field: it comprises people who have been trained in different areas, particularly in the various subdisciplines of psychology, and focused on a common problem area. It draws from research in all the established subdisciplines of psychology, including social, developmental, cognitive, and clinical, in addition to environmental. Despite the long history of environmental psychology, there is currently a clear desire among psychologists to have a more explicit focus on the natural environment and to have this focus recognized. In a 2000 article in the flagship journal of the APA, American Psychologist, Stuart Oskamp issued a call to arms, asking psychologists to play a bigger part in addressing environmental challenges (a call that was still seen as necessary by Robert Gifford in 2008). At the same time, conservation professionals had a corresponding desire to learn more from psychologists. In 2003, Mascia et al. wrote an essay in Conservation Biology calling for greater involvement of the social sciences in conservation efforts. As recently as 2008, prominent environmental writer David Orr wrote (also in Conservation Biology): This is an urgent challenge for the discipline of psychology and students of mind more broadly to apply their professional skills to better understand our connections to nature and how to help foster the psychological traits of mind and behavior necessary for a decent future. (p. 821) Expanding Interest Response to the challenge from both within and outside the discipline of psychology has been accelerating. Several recently established journals reflect this interest. For example, Ecopsychology, whose goal is to make connections between environmental and psychological well-being by publishing papers on such topics as therapeutic aspects of human-nature relationships and concern about environmental issues, first appeared in 2009; PsyEcology, a bilingual journal on topics in environmental psychology, was first published in 2010; and the Journal of Fostering Sustainable Behavior, whose goal is to provide practical research of use to those designing environmental programs, launched its first call for papers in fall 2010. Somewhat further afield, Environmental Communication, which began in 2007, includes work from the field of psychology, as does Conservation Letters, which appeared in 2008 and explicitly encompasses conservation work from the biological and social sciences. New books continue to appear, including Gardner and Stern’s (2002) Environmental Problems and Human Behavior, Schmuck and Schultz’s (2002) Psychology of Sustainable Development, Ray Nickerson’s (2003) Psychology and Environmental Change, and Koger and Winter’s (2010) The Psychology of Environmental Problems. Clayton and Myers’s (2009) Conservation Psychology was the first text to use this term. A listserv and website for conservation psychology have been constructed, and Division 34 of the American Psychological Association recently voted to change its name from the Society for Population and Environmental Psychology to the Society for Environmental, Population, and Conservation Psychology. A number of other organizations around the world promote and support research on the relationships between humans and the natural world, including Division 4 of the International Association for Applied Psychology, the International Association for People-Environment Studies, and the Australian Psychological Society. In addition to academic literature and organizations, psychologists have been working to integrate environmental topics into the curriculum (Koger & Scott, 2007) and to make the results of psychological research more available to conservation practitioners. Recent examples of this include a task force of the American Psychological Association that was (p. 5) convened to examine “psychology and global climate change” (APA, 2009), and several publications from the World Wildlife Fund–UK, one of which examines the relevance of identity factors in promoting conservation (Crompton & Kasser, 2009) and another emphasizing the significance of cultural values Page 4 of 8 Introduction: Environmental and Conservation Psychology and frames in encouraging human protection of the natural world (Crompton, 2010). These initiatives are important reflections of the desire to utilize research results to advance conservation initiatives. As conservation practitioners recognize that simply providing people with information is not enough to promote sustainable behavior, there is increased interest in hearing about relevant psychological research (Fraser & Sickler, 2008). Toward an Integration The relationship between environmental and conservation psychology has been somewhat ill-defined and has led to spirited debates. Some have argued that all the topics within conservation psychology are already present in environmental psychology; others disagree. There are clearly different points of emphasis and different subcultures of people involved, but there are also exciting synergies. As Schultz and Kaiser state in this volume, research on pro-environmental behavior, with its emphasis on changing the person, did not fit easily within environmental psychology, with its emphasis on specific physical contexts. The field of environmental psychology, as a whole, does not have the emphasis on protecting the environment that conservation psychology represents. However, as many of the chapters in this handbook illustrate, themes relevant to conservation psychology can be discerned in most of the core topics of environmental psychology. The goal of the present volume is to present an integration of the established subdiscipline of environmental psychology, and the new field of conservation psychology. Such an integration should acknowledge both the rich history of environmental psychology and the urgency and vision of the conservation agenda; it also helps to overcome the impulse to divide one from the other by making forced and artificial distinctions between “theory” and “application,” “physical” and “social,” or “built” and “natural” environments. Both environmental and conservation psychologies encompass theory and application, physical and social environments, natural and more engineered settings. Some, but not all, environmental psychology is conservation psychology. Some, but not all, conservation psychology is environmental psychology. In the end, they may represent inextricably intermingled bodies of work, distinguishable if at all by the purpose and professional identities of the researchers and practitioners. The aims of this volume are both similar to and different from the two earlier handbooks of environmental psychology. Like the first (Stokols & Altman, 1987), this handbook strives to include many of the foundational areas within environmental psychology, but in a way that promotes their applicability to current environmental issues. A number of the topics from the original handbook are revisited, because they are so central to the field and continue to generate so much new research. But we have not attempted to replicate the ambitious scope of that set of volumes. Like the second handbook (Bechtel & Churchman, 2002), the present one emphasizes applied problems, but with an even greater focus on the natural environment. The chapters are organized so that they proceed from the more abstract and conceptual to the more applied. Environmental and conservation psychology are not purely applied fields but rather include much basic theory and research on how people think about and respond to their environments. Within sections, we also proceed from the more manufactured to more natural environments. Thus, the first section encompasses research and theory on human perceptions, attitudes, values, and emotions. We also look at the role of environments, particularly natural environments, in children’s development and in the development of a sense of self and identity. Acknowledging that the physical cannot be fully separated from the social environment, we include an examination of cultural differences in attitudes and perceptions. The next section examines some specific environments that have prompted extensive research. We start with built environments, such as residential and work environments; move through environments that are explicitly focused on effecting change in their occupants, such as schools, health care settings, and correctional environments; and end with natural and extreme environments. The focus of these chapters is on understanding these environments, in ways that may contribute to our understanding of human psychology as well as enhancing our ability to design interventions that make the environments more healthy or effective. The third section emphasizes the ways in which people are affected by their environments. Much of this research has focused on negative influences: environmental stressors, such as noise, and natural (p. 6) disasters, and the characteristics of environmental conflicts. But environments also have great potential, in a way we are just beginning to recognize, for positive effects. We include research on therapeutic effects, restorative effects, and the role of nature in promoting health, peak experiences, and positive social interactions. Page 5 of 8 Introduction: Environmental and Conservation Psychology In our last section, we flip the causality around. Given the many ways in which humans have harmful effects on the natural environment—from habitat destruction and pollution to global climate change—how can people be encouraged to behave more sustainably, to minimize their environmental footprint? Starting with child development, we examine the promotion of pro-environmental behavior more generally; look at specific examples related to water conservation and cooperation over environmental resources; and focus on effects that occur at a societal level, through education. We close with a review of how psychological research may be able to help mitigate the effects of global climate change, or at least identify ways in which we can adapt. It is not possible to define environmental and/or conservation psychology as static areas of research. Awareness of societal concerns, developing theoretical perspectives, and cross-fertilization from other disciplines all serve to generate new research questions and methodologies. A final chapter looks back at the chapters that make up the volume to consider what it means to combine environmental and conservation psychology and to sketch out directions in which we see the field developing. One thing that is clear is that environmental and conservation psychology must speak to those outside psychology as well as professional psychologists. Thus, this handbook aspires to serve as a resource for both audiences. The need, and the responsibility, for psychology to contribute to current environmental challenges are urgent. Acknowledgments We thank the Ittleson Foundation for its contributions to advancing the field of conservation psychology, as well as its support for this handbook and for the integration of conservation with environmental psychology. References American Psychological Association Task Force on the Interface Between Psychology and Global Climate Change (2009). Psychology and global climate change: Addressing a multi-faceted phenomenon and set of challenges. Washington, DC: Author. Retrieved from www.apa.org/science/about/publications/executivesummary.pdf. Ansbacher, H., & Ansbacher, R. (Eds.). (1956). The individual psychology of Alfred Adler. New York: Basic Books. Bechtel, R., & Churchman, A. (Eds.). (2002). Handbook of environmental psychology. New York: Wiley. Bonnes, M., & Bonaiuto, M. (2002). Environmental psychology: From spatial-physical environment to sustainable development. In R. Bechtel & A. Churchman (Eds.), Handbook of environmental psychology (pp. 28–55). New York: Wiley. Clayton, S., & Brook, A. (2005). Can psychology help save the world? A model for conservation psychology. Analyses of Social Issues and Public Policy, 5(1), 87–102. Clayton, S., & Myers, G. (2009). Conservation psychology: Understanding and promoting human care for nature. West Sussex, UK: Wiley-Blackwell. Craik, K. (1970). Environmental psychology. In K. Craik, R. Kleinmuntz, R. Rosnow, R. Rosenthal, J. Cheyne, & R. Walters (Eds.), New directions in psychology (Vol. 4, pp. 1–122). New York: Holt, Rinehart, & Winston. Crompton, T. (2010). Common cause: The case for working with our cultural values. Surrey, UK: WWF-UK. Crompton, T., & Kasser, T. (2009). Meeting environmental challenges: The role of human identity. Surrey, UK: WWF-UK. Fraser, J., & Sickler, J. (2008). Conservation psychology: Who cares about the biodiversity crisis? State of the Wild 2008–2009. Washington, DC: Island Press. Gardner, G., & Stern, P. (2002). Environmental problems and human behavior (2nd ed.). Boston, MA: Pearson Custom Publishing. Page 6 of 8 Introduction: Environmental and Conservation Psychology Gifford, R. (1976). Environmental numbness in the classroom. Journal of Experimental Education, 44(3), 4–7. Gifford, R. (2008). Psychology’s essential role in climate change. Canadian Psychology/psychologie canadienne, 49, 273–280. Koger, S., & Scott, B. (2007). Psychology and environmental sustainability: A call for integration. Teaching of Psychology, 34, 11–18. Koger, S., & Winter, D. (2010). The psychology of environmental problems. London: Psychology Press. Mascia, M. B., Brosius, J. P., Dobson, T. A., Forbes, B. C., Horowitz, L., McKean, M. A., & Turner, N. J. (2003). Conservation and the social sciences. Conservation Biology, 17, 649–650. Nickerson, R. (2003). Psychology and environmental change. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum. Orr, D. W. (2008). The psychology of survival. Conservation Biology, 22, 819–822. Oskamp, S. (2000). A sustainable future for humanity: How can psychology help? American Psychologist, 55, 496– 508. Proshansky, H., Ittleson, W., & Rivlin, L. (1970). Environmental psychology: Man and his physical setting. New York: Holt, Rinehart, & Winston. Richards, J. M. (2000). A history of Division 34: The division of population and environmental psychology. In D. A. Dewsbury (Ed.), Unification through division: Histories of the divisions of the American Psychological Association (Vol. 5, pp. 113–136). Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Saunders, C. (2003). The emerging field of conservation psychology. Human Ecology Review, 10(2), 137–149. (p. 7) Saunders, C., & Myers, O. E. (Eds.). (2003). Special issue on “conservation psychology.” Human Ecology Review, 10(2). Schmuck, P., & Schultz, P. W. (2002). The psychology of sustainable development. New York: Springer. Sommer, R. (2000). Discipline and field of study: A search for clarification. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 20(1), 1–4. Stokols, D. (1995). The paradox of environmental psychology. American Psychologist, 50, 821–837. Stokols, D., & Altman, I. (Eds.) (1987). Handbook of environmental psychology. New York: Wiley. Wohlwill, J. (1970). The emerging discipline of environmental psychology. American Psychologist, 25, 303–312. (p. 8) Susan D. Clayton Susan D. Clayton is Whitmore-Williams Professor of Psychology at the College of Wooster in Ohio. With a PhD in social psychology from Yale, she is a fellow of the American Psychological Association and a past president of the Society for Environmental, Population, and Conservation Psychology. Her research addresses the social context surrounding people’s relationship with the natural environment. Carol D. Saunders Carol D. Saunders Department of Environmental Studies Antioch University New England Keene, NH Page 7 of 8 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology Oxford Handbooks Online Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology Harry Heft The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0002 Abstract and Keywords Environmental psychology developed in the midst of a wave of scientific and social movements of the past century rooted in large measure among the ecological sciences. And yet work in the field proceeded mostly untouched by an ecological perspective, as it remained wedded to a mechanistic mode of thought that has long gripped psychology more broadly. Frameworks more sympathetic to ecological thinking had been simmering among psychology’s early writings, notably in William James’s radical empiricism and Kurt Lewin’s field theory, but became realized only in the 1960s through the works of James J. Gibson, Roger G. Barker, and others. These frameworks share many of the assumptions of the ecological sciences and, collectively, can be located within a transactional worldview. When applied to psychology, this perspective emphasizes the central place of meaning in psychological phenomena. These approaches can function to guide environmental psychology into the fold of the ecological sciences. Keywords: ecological psychology, eco-behavioral science, affordances, behavior settings, ecological sciences, meaning Introduction The value of theories and concepts reside in their possibilities for ordering our thinking, and in doing so, for directing further inquiry. This value can be undercut, however, when the same label is used to refer to different theoretical approaches, and when concepts rooted within a particular theoretical perspective are detached from that perspective and employed in an eclectic manner. As a case in point, consider ecological psychology. The designation “ecological psychology” was adopted by three psychologists over the second half of the 20th century to describe their distinct, independent theoretical approaches and associated research programs: the perceptual psychologist James J. Gibson (1903–1979), the child/social psychologist Roger G. Barker (1903–1990), and the developmental psychologist Urie Bronfenbrenner (1917–2005). Even a cursory examination of their writings shows minimal overlap in the psychological issues they each explored, and few instances where they even cite one another’s work. That all three approaches at one time or another adopted the label “ecological psychology” has no doubt been a source of confusion to many, while diminishing the distinctive character and value of each. As it turns out, this problem of multiple referents for “ecological psychology” resolved on its own accord over time due to changes within these frameworks. At present, Gibsonians alone have retained the term “ecological psychology,” whereas Barker eventually came to call his approach “eco-behavioral science,” and Bronfenbrenner later employed the “bio-ecological model” to describe his program of research. But only those closely following the developments within each approach are likely to be aware (p. 12) of these changes. The initial adoption of “ecological psychology” by all three is apt to be a lingering source of misunderstanding. Page 1 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology One goal of this chapter is to bring some order to this potentially confusing state of affairs. An obvious step to take is to articulate the differences between these programs, and this I intend to do. However, while drawing distinctions is vital, it is not enough. Despite their minimal overlap, there are striking underlying commonalities among at least two of them: Gibson’s and Barker’s frameworks. These commonalities reveal a broadly similar style of thinking and, for this reason, open up possibilities for identifying what an ecological approach to psychology entails. Further, the relationship between these approaches reflects the nested hierarchical perspective so characteristic of Bronfenbrenner’s framework and the ecological sciences more generally. (For the purposes of this chapter, however, remarks about Bronfenbrenner’s framework will be limited.) A theoretical approach in a science can be viewed as belonging to a family of theories that share common metatheoretical assumptions. By meta-theoretical assumptions I mean the set of basic tenets presupposed and often unstated in a particular theory that operate at a fairly high level of abstraction. They function as over-arching presuppositions applied to the principal subject matter of a theory. Two theories that focus on somewhat different subject matter may share a set of overarching assumptions. In this chapter, I argue that despite their obvious differences, Gibson’s ecological psychology and Barker’s eco-behavioral science share many meta-theoretical commitments. Importantly, to a considerable extent what they share reflects their connections to the ecological sciences generally. In this respect, these two ecological approaches stand apart from many others that have been employed by environmental psychologists over the field’s brief history. The value of a theoretical perspective can also be undercut when key concepts rooted within it are extracted from that perspective and employed in a different theory, especially one that embraces contrasting meta-theoretical assumptions. The eclectic use of concepts has understandable appeal. When attempting to formulate an account of some issue, it often seems desirable to draw together potentially useful concepts from diverse approaches. Central concepts from Gibson’s and Barker’s approaches, such as affordances and behavior settings, respectively, have both been employed in just this way. Frequently such uses helpfully extend thinking, but more often than not they do so at the cost of watering down the concept in question. Over time such eclecticism can drain the initial power of the concepts at hand, and their distinctive contributions can be lost. The fresh insights and new directions that a perspective might offer can be squandered when its concepts are lifted from their theoretical moorings and included in a mash-up of concepts from diverse frameworks. This concern is not merely terminological quibbling. There is a practical value in being sensitive to the metatheoretical commitments of concepts and of theoretical approaches. Viewing theories and their attendant concepts within the wider meta-theoretical framework to which they belong will help to keep our thinking clear and consistent, and in turn will contribute to the development of a conceptually coherent perspective. And it is from a well-ordered, conceptually coherent perspective that advances in science are usually made. Environmental psychologists are often fond of invoking Kurt Lewin’s (1943) comment, “There is nothing so practical as a good theory” (p. 69). I couldn’t agree more! The first half of the chapter will examine some of the foundational issues that underlie an ecological approach to psychology. The initial step in spelling out these foundational issues will be to identify some of the distinctive features of the ecological sciences, followed by a consideration of the broader transactional metatheory that illuminates some of the qualities that underlie an ecological mode of inquiry. After that, some formative, historical antecedents for an ecological approach within psychology will be examined. These sections will be largely of a philosophical and historical nature, and they will set up a more targeted focus on ecological psychology in the remainder of the chapter. Accordingly, the second half will offer a detailed examination of two recent products of this style of thinking as it has been applied to psychological concerns, Gibson’s ecological psychology and Barker’s eco-behavioral science. Ecological Science Primary Attributes Ecology is a subdomain of biology that is concerned with dynamic, interdependent processes constituting natural systems that are comprised of living and nonliving things. Such systems are referred to as ecosystems. They are dynamic in the sense that ecosystem processes are continually in flux even as they function to maintain the Page 2 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology stability of the system as a whole—that is, they are quasi-stable systems. Ecosystems are self-organizing, which means that their dynamic structure arises from the ongoing interrelationships among their constituents. The (p. 13) quality of interdependence that is characteristic of ecosystems refers to the fact that any living constituent of the system is viable only as a participant in that network of interdependent processes over time. From an ecosystems perspective, it is apparent that living things function neither in isolation as self-contained units nor as individual passive entities that are solely shaped or buffeted by external influences. Rather, living things viewed from an ecosystems perspective are active participants in a web or network of reciprocal influences. Importantly, this network of ecosystem interdependencies is in place as a result of the individual and joint histories of constituent processes. An ecosystem, considered at a specific moment in time, is a resultant of a particular functional history, and the character of the ecosystem cannot be adequately appreciated without an awareness of that history. Over time, the dynamic integrity of systems is likely to be threatened by new contingencies, and systems successfully continue to operate only by effectively preserving the existing dynamic relations (stabilities) through adjustments within the system, or less commonly by settling on a new quasi-stable pattern of dynamic relations. In short, ecosystems have a history that is continually taking shape in the face of ongoing, contingent events. For this reason, an essential quality of an ecosystems perspective is time: the temporal course of events that has led to the present circumstances; the temporal course of ongoing events within the ecosystem; and the possibilities for change over time that either preserve some fundamental properties of the system or transform them. An ecosystems perspective also recognizes the fact that natural systems operate at multiple, nested levels of organization. As we have seen, any single system is constituted by the collective, dynamic relations among its components. Loosely, we might think about these relations as “upward” influences that constitute overarching system properties. Reciprocally, the operations of this system as a whole limit or constrain, in a “downward” fashion, the functioning of the constituents that generate it. This is because in their functional interdependency that constitutes the overall system structure, component functioning must be self-limiting in particular ways. For example, a collection of cells must function in a particular interdependent manner so to constitute a functioning organ of the body. Moreover, a set of systems that operate at a comparable level of organization can be functionally interrelated such that they constitute a higher-order or superordinate system. Several organs of the body, for example, operate jointly to constitute a functional system of the body, for example, digestion. And again, systems functioning at this level of organization can operate as constituents of higher-level systems, and so forth (Weiss, 1973). From an ecological perspective, natural systems function within nested, hierarchical structures, at successively more macro- and microlevels of organization, including influences both upward as well as downward between adjacent system levels. Although this viewpoint has been commonplace in the biological sciences for a very long time, it has had surprisingly little effect on the way in which psychological issues are conceptualized and research is conducted. Ecological approaches to psychology are the exception here. Indeed, Bronfenbrenner was particularly explicit about the need for a hierarchical systems approach in fashioning an adequate psychology, memorably employing as an analogy nested Russian dolls (matryoshkas). While useful as a starting point, this analogy remains quite limited in that it fails to convey the dynamic qualities of both within-level processes and between-level processes that must be in place for nested systems to be viable. Bronfenbrenner (1994) was somewhat more sensitive to these issues in later writings concerning chronosystems. In summary, the distinctive qualities of an ecosystem include the following: (a) its constituents function as participants in a dynamic network of interdependent processes (within system relations); (b) the system operates dynamically to maintain the existing quasi-stable patterns of relationships, or failing that, either collapsing or giving rise to a new quasi-stable pattern; (c) systems are nested hierarchically such that between-level influences are operative; and (d) the system grows out of a history of relationships among its constituents that is continually taking shape in the face of ongoing, contingent events that often originate in comparatively more macro- and microlevel systems. Historical Considerations This way of thinking grew out of extensive studies of natural history in the 18th and 19th centuries, the most famous of which to modern readers is the voyage of the Beagle (Darwin, 1839). The culmination of this line of Page 3 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology investigation was, of course, Darwin’s account of natural selection. The term “ecology” is attributed to the German biologist Ernst Haeckel (1834–1919), who was (p. 14) Darwin’s chief expositor among European scientists (Richards, 2009). At first glance, the intrinsically dynamic character of ecosystems may seem at odds with the mechanistic manner in which Darwin’s ideas are often portrayed. This neo-Darwinian take has it that new forms of life are randomly tossed off mostly through mutation, and then passively winnowed out by selection processes. However, to see Darwin as a mechanistic pure and simple is an erroneous reading. It is important not to confuse the dispassionate and purposeless direction of natural selection1 with the dynamic and historical character of the natural processes that Darwin studied in such meticulous detail (Richards, 1989). Haeckel’s formulation of ecology flows directly from this dynamic viewpoint. The timing of these ideas, coming in the second half of the 19th century, points to the beginnings of an important transformation in scientific and philosophical thought. In the sciences there is the start of a dramatic shift in emphasis from mechanistic models based on Newtonian physics to the emerging relativistic field theories, and decades later in the life sciences, to the rise of systems theory. With a few notable exceptions, mainstream psychology has been unaffected in substantive ways by these changes occurring in other sciences. This field-theoretic trend in the sciences was paralleled by proposals in late 19th-century American philosophy that called for a shift from a focus on elements and their causal connections to relational, process thinking. At the forefront of this wave of ideas are the American pragmatists: C. S. Peirce, William James, and John Dewey. Their process ontology makes explicit what scientific practice reveals, namely that inquiry does not lead to fixed, settled truths, but instead to empirical “truths” that are provisional. This point of view stems from embracing Darwinian thinking (Bernstein, 2010; Menand, 2002). The emerging dynamic, field-theoretic approach represented a break from existing mechanistic modes of thought. The ecological approaches in psychology developed separately by Gibson and Barker bear the qualities of the ecosystems perspective, and in the case of Gibson, at least, of pragmatist philosophy (Heft, 2001). Indeed, it is their common connection in ecosystems thinking that partially accounts for their compatibility, while also pointing to one way in which they both stand apart from other theories within psychology. To illuminate this style of thinking, let us briefly consider one account of the range of approaches that have been employed in psychology. Worldviews in Psychology In the first Handbook of Environmental Psychology (Stokols & Altman, 1987), Altman and Rogoff presented a masterful elucidation of the principal metatheories or worldviews that have influenced 20th-century psychology, and environmental psychology in particular. They based their analysis on the seminal work World Hypotheses (1942), by the philosopher Stephen Pepper—a book that for decades had been passed around quietly in some corners of psychology. Taking a long historical view, Pepper proposed that each philosopher and scientist brings to his or her work a broad conceptual framework (“world hypothesis”) that serves as an organizing structure for making sense of their subject matter. World hypotheses are typically tacit, always operate at a very high level of abstraction, and have their origins in the cultural and pedagogical climate within which individuals develop intellectually.2 Altman and Rogoff (1987) identified four worldviews or metatheories (I will use these terms synonymously here) modeled on Pepper’s (1942) scheme and within which psychologists have been working since the beginning of the 20th century. They designated the four metatheories as the trait, the interactional, the organismic, and the transactional worldviews. (Pepper used a slightly different nomenclature.) The first three of these metatheories, trait, interactional, and organismic, have been much more in evidence within psychology than has transactionalism, which subsumes ecosystem thinking. Below I describe these three metatheories briefly, while giving transactionalism—our primary concern here—comparatively greater attention. For a more detailed discussion, see Altman and Rogoff (1987). 1. The trait metatheory adopts as its unit of analysis the individual as a semi-isolated, bounded, self-contained entity. Examples of the expression of a trait metatheory in psychology are attempts to explain behavior with reference primarily to intra-psychic variables—that is, qualities or dispositional properties “within” the person— Page 4 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology such as personality or temperament that operate independently and somewhat autonomously of environmental circumstances. Within environmental psychology, the trait approach has played a relatively minor role because the environment is treated as a subsidiary factor much of the time. 2. The interactionist metatheory, in contrast, has been without question the most influential approach not only in environmental psychology, but also in the discipline of psychology as a whole (p. 15) over the past 100 years. It has dominated theoretical and conceptual formulations, problem selection, and research methodology. In essence, this manner of conceptualizing psychological processes takes the individual as a bounded, independent entity existing among other independent entities and their influences. The image that is often invoked to illustrate this view is a collection of billiard balls, each fully independent of all the others, while being susceptible to a change of state (position) as a result of impacts from any of the others (Clark, 2002). Pepper (who refers to this viewpoint as mechanism) emphasizes that such an approach is driven most fundamentally by conceptualizing the phenomenon in question in machine-like terms, with parts affecting other parts in a linear, causal sequence. Western thought has a long history, going back to the 15th century, of invoking machine-like metaphors, such as a clockwork, to explain natural occurrences. A mechanistic conceptualization of natural processes has profoundly influenced scientific thought and technology, from Kepler’s description of the solar system in clockwork terms and Descartes’ mechanical account of the body. This conceptualization is later formally articulated in the framework of Newtonian physics. The philosophical roots of much psychological theory is based on British empiricist and associationistic philosophy, which was inspired by Newtonian science. For the past 40 years in psychology, the mechanistic metaphor of choice has been the computer. Several features of this approach in psychology are especially important to emphasize in the present context. Because these features are interrelated, there is some unavoidable repetition here: (a) The unit of analysis is the individual viewed as a bounded, independent entity, operating separately from the surround, while subject to influences from outside its boundaries. Two variations of this view can be identified: (1) Typically, the individual is taken to be a passive receiver of environmental influences or stimuli (inputs). The emphasis from this perspective is on the ways the environment shapes and fashions the individual, or in more contemporary terms, eventuates in mental representations of the environment. (2) Other proponents of this metatheory sometimes embrace the view that built-in biological tendencies (e.g., instincts) are in place to direct behavior in certain ways. In modern form, this view assumes that biological predispositions are in place due to the species’ phylogenetic history and that they are “triggered” by environmental influences. This perspective was revived in the 1970s by sociobiology, and in its contemporary form is self-described as “evolutionary psychology.” What both of these views share is their treatment of the individual and the environment as distinct and separate domains that can each affect the other. (b) The source of change in the state of the individual, as indicated above, lies outside the psychological domain, located either in the environment or among biological conditions or predispositions operating within the individual. In these regards, the individual is either buffeted by outside causal influences (e.g., the physical environment) or pushed from inner forces (e.g., biological needs, genetic predispositions). This is a mechanistic point of view whereby the individual is in effect like a cog pushed by extrinsic forces, that is, by forces operating beyond the individual considered as a whole. Since the 1930s, neo-behaviorist psychology has typically supplemented such mechanistic accounts by positing mediating processes that are themselves products of environmental stimulation or of drive states. Such processes are viewed as modulating an organism’s responses to environmental circumstances. Postulation of these processes marked a shift from S-R to S-O-R models. By the 1960s, this version of the mechanistic account took on a more modern form as information-processing models posited linear and iterative sequences of mediating cognitive processes intervening between stimulus “input” and response “output.” This step permitted psychologists to propose models of memory, planning, concept formation, and so on, while retaining the essentially linear causal structure between environment and the individual, as well as their distinct natures, as is especially characteristic of the interactionist metatheory. (c) Causal influences tend to be seen as operating linearly in an antecedent-consequent manner (i.e., classically referred to as “efficient causality”). This type of causal thinking has been so pervasive in 20th- Page 5 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology century psychology that the word “cause” is typically taken to be synonymous with antecedentconsequent relations, despite alternative causal accounts as reflected in field theories and in systems theories of the physical and life sciences. That the interactionist metatheory has been the prevailing mode of thought within environmental psychology should not be too surprising, because this framework has dominated thinking in its parent field for so long. The individual frequently cited (p. 16) as a major precursor to environmental psychology, Kurt Lewin, is often portrayed as advocating such an interactionist view with his formula B = f(P,E). As we will see, however, Lewin’s proposal is in fact an explicit rejection of that viewpoint. Such is the power of dominating theoretical approaches that sometimes even rejections of the position are read as confirmations. 3. The organismic metatheory shares some of the features of the interactional metatheory. For this reason, to streamline this presentation, I will keep the description of the organismic approach to a minimum. As in the interactionist metatheory, the individual, on the one hand, and environmental features, on the other, are treated as separate domains. In the organismic framework, however, the individual is seen as an agent, engaging or operating on the environment, and undergoing transformations as a result of those actions. Operations are viewed as issuing from active cognitive structures that stand apart from the environment, even as they are transformed by engaging it. The philosophical roots of organismic thinking rest in certain areas of Continental philosophy, in particular in Kantian and neo-Kantian frameworks. Psychologists are apt to be most familiar with this metatheory as it is expressed in Piaget’s genetic epistemology, and to some extent, in psychodynamic approaches stemming from Freud. In the first decades of environmental psychology, some researchers drew on a Piagetian approach (e.g., Hart & Moore, 1973; Moore, 1976), and even some neo-Freudian-inspired writings (e.g., object relations theory) have appeared (Chawla, 1992, 2007), but the influence of the organismic metatheory has remained somewhat small to date. 4. The transactional metatheory takes as its unit of analysis the person-environment dynamic system. The components of this system operate in a relational, interdependent manner, rather than as independent entities. That being the case, they take on the functional character that they have by virtue of their place in the system as a whole. Within psychology, we can distinguish between, on the one hand, those person-environment systems that operate at the level of an individual-in-context, and on the other hand, those systems that are composed of a collection of individuals functioning in context. In this section, we will concern ourselves only with the former system, although much of what follows applies to both. First, it is important to note that from a transactional perspective individuals are participants in a dynamic system. Specifically, individuals are viewed as goal-directed agents whose actions are ongoing, and the form that their actions take is contingent on a wide range of situational factors that themselves are typically changing. This latter fact is a simple illustration of how components of the system are interdependent. Consider simple cases such as reaching for and grasping a cup of coffee, or using a hammer to drive in a nail. Reaching for the cup is not an action of an individual taken in isolation, because the form of the action is contingent on a variety of factors, such as the size and position of the cup, and the shape and position of the handle; some of these factors are liable to change from reach to reach, while others change across occasions. That is, reaching is an action that requires continual attunement to changing circumstances, and its ongoing character reflects its place in the personenvironment action under consideration. It is for these two reasons that reaching, as well as all other goal-directed actions, cannot be driven by a fixed, predetermined program, such as the running off of a motor schema or a script. Action continually needs to be tuned and retuned with respect to such changing circumstances. This point is even clearer in the case of hammering a nail. With each stroke of the hammer, the height and position of the nail changes, and also most likely the position of the body. For these reasons, the hammering action must be continually recalibrated “on the fly” over time, with its dynamic pattern taking shape within the cycle of action. Although a person can try to engage in a highly repetitive, mechanical series of movements that run off in a scriptlike fashion, most of the time such a method would be highly ineffectual because the situation itself is fluid. Instead, skilled actions are marked by a sensitivity and a responsiveness to a dynamic field of contingent factors. These actions are effective because of their precise tuning and retuning in light of changing conditions. In short, psychological functioning must be viewed with respect to a dynamic person-environment system. Page 6 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology Second, the inclusive boundary of the person-environment system—that is, what counts as the personenvironment system at any moment—is not fixed, but instead continually shifts as the focus of the individual’s action changes. For example, when reaching for a cup, properties of that cup, its position, my body position, and so on are among the circumstances that contribute to the form of the action, but the books on the shelf behind me do not. However, when I turn to reach for a book on (p. 17) the shelf, the position of the cup will typically have little bearing on that action. In short, the field of contingent factors that is operative when an individual engages in a particular task shifts when a different action is taken up, and as noted above, actions are typically ongoing in contexts. For these reasons, the inclusive boundaries of the person-environment system shift over time. This quality of shifting inclusive boundaries in dynamic systems is rather inconvenient from the standpoint of those worldviews wherein properties and their characteristics are relatively fixed. But it is inescapable in a dynamic system. Third, in addition to the boundary that encompasses the person-environment system at any given time, there is also the boundary within the system that is often experienced between the self and the world. However, this, too, is an ever-shifting boundary. Although we may commonly think of that boundary as being located at the surface of the body, that is not always so. When we are using a tool, such as a hammer or even a pencil, the boundary between the body and the world is not experienced where the hand grips the hammer’s handle, or the fingers grip the pencil, but instead at the hammerhead where it strikes the nail, or at the tip of the pencil where it makes contact with the paper. This consideration of self-world boundaries points to the fact that psychological processes commonly extend to incorporate aspects of the environment, such as tools. Indeed, in some cases activities can be so immersed in the field of action that a boundary between self and world is no longer apparent functionally. In these respects, directed action cannot be said to be limited to processes occurring only in the person, much less “in the head” (Clark, 2008; Wilson, 2004). It is commonplace to act and even to think with and through our tools. Any boundary that is drawn between self and world within a person-environment system has only temporary analytic utility. Fourth, the person-environment system operates in an ongoing fashion to maintain its integrity in the face of threats to its stability. For example, an object that one is engaging can change over the course of engagement—the nail bends to one side with hammering or the pencil point breaks—and the individual makes adjustments to restore effective action. The system operates to maintain a dynamic or quasi-stability in the context of directed action. Finally, to attain a “thick” appreciation of any particular instance of person-environment processes, it is necessary to recognize that there is a nesting of processes operating over different time frames. Following Vygotsky, these time frames are phylogenetic (species history), cultural-historical (the sociocultural context), ontogenetic (the life history of the individual), and microgenetic (time course of the task). To return to the previous example of reaching for a cup of coffee, reaching and grasping any object over a particular time span (microgenesis) are possible only for organisms with a particular evolutionary history (phylogenesis). Further, the practices of imbibing coffee and of drinking from cups are rooted in a particular sociocultural tradition (cultural-historical). From the perspective of individual development (ontogenesis), drinking from a cup (much less drinking coffee) is an acquired action. This is a mundane example, to be sure, but one illustrating that any goal-directed action can be understood as occurring at the nexus of multiple historical currents. In this light, it is worth noting that Pepper (1942) viewed the historical event as the “root metaphor” for transactionalism. A historical event emerges with the confluence of multiple occurrences, each of which may have very different qualities and may operate on different time scales. The historical event is not one thing, but a textured multiplicity of many occurrences converging at a single period in time. The event in question is rarely reducible to any single factor or to one underlying cause, any more than a confluence of tributaries giving rise to a river is ultimately reducible to one of the tributaries. We should bear in mind the root metaphor of a historical event when considering the bases for psychological events as well, which are rarely reducible to single causes. It should be evident that these attributes of the transactional metatheory bear a close resemblance to the earlier discussion of an ecosystem. Living things viewed from an ecosystems perspective are active participants in a network of shifting interdependent relations. These relations stem from a history of intersecting contingent events, and the system operates to maintain the functional stability of its processes. In addition, like ecosystems, personenvironment systems are embedded in nested processes operating over multiple time scales. Page 7 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology A Transactional View of Person-Environment Processes The transactional metatheory focuses on processes, and it adopts a relational view (ontology) of system properties. As for the former, sometimes we find it difficult to think in such process terms because our (p. 18) psychological language is so noun-based. We typically speak and write of “faculties,” such as perception, cognition, thought, memory, and the like, rather than functions of biological organisms, such as perceiving, thinking, and remembering. Processes characterizing living organisms tend to be obscured by such objectcentered language. To illustrate this point, consider biological functions, such as respiration or digestion. First, and most obviously, they are processes, not things. One cannot locate either respiration or digestion in a single bodily site. Instead, they are processes that stretch across the coaction of multiple, interrelated structures. They are functions, and as Dewey often pointed out, the use of nouns to refer to them is not helpful for promoting this understanding. Breathing and digesting are surely more apt. The same point can be extended to psychological functions. Terminology such as ““perceiving,” “thinking,” “remembering,” and so forth keeps the emphasis on action and function, where it needs to be. Likewise, our use of object-centered language leads us to draw boundaries between things, while overlooking the critical relational properties of living processes. Breathing is possible only when an animal is situated in an aerobic environment. Strictly speaking, it is not a function of an organism, but of an organism in context. In the absence of air, breathing does not occur. It is a relational functional property of an organism-environment system with a particular history reaching back millennia. Reciprocally, the medium that supports breathing cannot be specified independent of some organism, as is evident in the differences between terrestrial and aquatic animals. These points are even clearer with respect to digestion. Digesting is a functional process of an animal-environment system, not an animal considered in isolation, and what counts as digestible matter can vary across species. That is, what counts as food can vary across different evolutionary histories, and such differences can be understood only against such histories. In this light, food is a relational property of an organism-environment system. As the pragmatist G. H. Mead (1934) once noted: It is a difficult matter to state just what we mean by dividing up a certain situation between the organism and its environment. Certain objects come to exist for us because of the character of the organism. Take the case of food. If an animal that can digest grass, such as an ox, comes into the world, then grass becomes food. That object did not exist before, that is, grass as food. The advent of the ox brings in a new object. (p. 129, emphasis added) This same point can also be demonstrated with respect to briefer historical time frames, such as change over the span of generations, as in the case of human tolerance for dairy products coevolving with herding of cows (Richerson & Boyd, 2006), and even dietary changes within an ontogenetic time frame, such as allergies. The central point to be made here is: when our focus is on organism-environment systems, properties of this system that are often of greatest interest to us will be relational in nature. Furthermore, the causal processes that are operative in organism-environment systems are bidirectional and reciprocal, not unidirectional. Although it is now commonplace to acknowledge the bidirectionality of causal influences, in practice environmental psychologists tend to utilize unidirectional models. The reciprocal influences at work in social interactions are difficult to overlook, but this quality holds as well for phenomena that are not so immediately social. Take cases of niche construction that have been recently receiving much deserved attention. Animals not only adapt to existing conditions, but also change the character of the environment to function better in it. Examples of these phenomena run the gamut from spiderwebs and beaver lodges to bird nests and termite hills to all manner of human construction (see Odling-Smee, Laland, & Feldman, 2003). Especially remarkable about these phenomena, once our attention is drawn to them, is their sheer ubiquity across natural systems. These instances of reciprocal influences further highlight the interdependencies among constituents of a dynamic systems functioning over time. The mechanistic view of an isolated, bounded, ahistorical entity standing apart from an environment—along the lines of an individual “atom” sharing some spatial region with other individual atoms—is simply not viable when considering living things. Dewey (1938) put the point this way: Whatever else organic life is or is not, it is a process of activity that involves an environment. It is a Page 8 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology transaction extending beyond the spatial limits of the organism. An organism does not live in an environment; it lives by means of an environment…The processes of living are enacted by the environment as truly as by the organism; for they are an integration. (p. 25) (p. 19) Finally, in these general remarks let us consider a considerable conceptual benefit of a dynamic systems mode of thinking. A major conceptual obstacle that has vexed psychology for centuries is how the “stuff” of the environment “out there” crosses the body boundary and gets “into” the head. This, of course, is a variation of the classic mind-body conundrum, and it is irresolvable as long as the environment and the person are viewed as separate, bounded domains, typically of quite different makeup. From a transactional systems perspective, as we have seen, there are no fixed boundaries that need to be crossed between the self and the world. Instead, as we have seen, the structure of the person-environment field is reconfigured as task focus changes and as tools and artifacts extend operations of the body. Two Early Antecedents of an Ecological Approach Before taking up the ecological approach to psychology specifically, it will be in keeping with the historical character of this approach to consider briefly two of its antecedents within psychology. Although what follows may seem to the reader to be tangential to the concerns of environmental psychology, I hope to show that, to the contrary, it is quite central to them. . The primary value of the following discussion is to provide a deeper appreciation for the issues underlying the ecological psychology frameworks of Gibson and Barker to be examined. In addition, doing so will allow us to see that the ecological approach, rather than being idiosyncratic, is connected to a wider set of slowly evolving ideas within psychology over the previous century. That said, it is important to add that neither Gibson nor Barker would fully embrace all aspects of the antecedents to be examined, but it is fair to say that they each stem from a shared theoretical impetus. William James’s Radical Empiricism In psychology’s early years, when the discipline’s primary concern was identifying the contents of the conscious mind, the difficulties accompanying psychology’s long-standing embrace of environment-mind dualism were not too pressing. However, the problem of how minds connect to the environment became a vital matter—or should have become one—once psychology took a post-Darwinian functional turn. For how are organisms to function adaptively if minds are cut off from the environment? No work had greater influence on initiating the functional shift in thinking in psychology than William James’s The Principles of Psychology (1890). And yet James was quite ambivalent in this work about how to best handle the apparent dichotomy between an external world and an inner subjective domain, and for the most part, he set aside that vexing issue in this book. In the decade following the publication of The Principles, however, he formulated a resolution to this dilemma through his philosophy of radical empiricism (James, 1912). Unfortunately, radical empiricism is little known among psychologists. Symptomatic of this state of affairs are the numerous histories of psychology that write off James’s later writings by stating he abandoned psychology in the early 1890s for philosophy (e.g., Leahey, 2000; Hergenhahn, 2008; Mandler, 2007). This assertion has little merit. The psychological and the philosophical both thread through James’s writings over the course of his career, and it is in his later writings in particular that he tries to come to grips with the relationship between environment and mind. Environment-Person Relations and Environmental Psychology But why should environmental psychologists, who as a group are committed to practical matters, care very much about philosophical concerns, such as the dichotomy between an external world and an inner subjective domain, much less about historical matters? Environmental psychologists are typically focused on concrete, present-day issues, after all. The reason they should is that environmental psychology adopted the traditional dichotomy between environment and mind as a matter of course from its parent discipline, despite the fact that this framework undercuts what should be environmental psychology’s most distinctive contribution. Environmental psychology arose in response to the discipline’s long-standing neglect of the environment, which in turn handicapped efforts to ameliorate conditions that adversely affect human well-being, and to explore conditions that promote human flourishing. However, without a clear sense of how to best conceptualize the environment in ways that are most relevant to psychological functioning, one is at a loss to know how to best intervene. Page 9 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology The most obvious step to take, and among the most useful to date, has been to identify physical and socioeconomic indices of environmental conditions that are correlates of psychological well-being. Such indices include population density measures (especially at the level of dwelling space), ambient noise levels, measures of poverty, and so on. Such (p. 20) measures are informative of environment-psychological relations at the aggregate level. However, the limitations of such physical/demographic indices became apparent to researchers early on whenever their focus became more aligned with the experience of individuals rather than populations. Variables such as density, noise, and poverty per se proved to be less valuable as correlates of psychological functioning than were factors such as crowding (as distinct from density), controllability of conditions, and availability of social capital, none of which can be specified independently of an individual. Instead of being properties of either the environment or an individual considered alone, they characterize particular environmental conditions from the standpoint of an individual. Further, a critical environmental consideration in such cases is a quality wholly absent from physical/demographic measures, namely, meaning. In the case of environmental stressors, it is not usually the sheer presence of some conditions (e.g., noise) that produces adverse outcomes, but the ways in which such conditions interfere with meaningful activities (e.g., communication). Likewise, social capital and social support reside in the quality of meaningful interactions, not the sheer numbers of persons residing in a residence or neighborhood. And yet where do we locate meaning in our conceptualization of the environment-person relationship? Is it a property of environments or a property of an individual’s mind? If we hold on to a categorical distinction between the physical environment and psychological processes, then the meaningful character of environments would seem to stem from “mind” imposing meaning on neutral environmental experience. That appears to be the only option, because clearly meaning is not a property of things of the world considered from a physical standpoint. However, viewing meaning as having a solely subjective basis makes the environmental psychologist’s task nearly hopeless. If meanings are judged as being imposed on the environment by minds, how can we identify psychologically significant properties of the environment (Wohlwill, 1973; also see, Heft, 1988a)? We each remain trapped in an enclosed mental realm, while the psychological character of environments will continue to elude our grasp. For this reason, finding a psychologically adequate way of conceptualizing the environment-person relationship is a vital interest for environmental psychologists. These considerations lead us back to William James because he recognized the inadequacy of an environmentperson dichotomy for a host of reasons, and one of his greatest career achievements was to develop an alternative that stems from his philosophy of radical empiricism (James, 1912). If readers limit their consideration of James’s writings to The Principles (1890)—which is what environmental psychologists have done to date—they will miss it. The practical value of these somewhat abstract ideas will become most apparent below when we turn to Gibson’s and Barker’s programs. Experience as a Function of the Individual in Context James’s intimate familiarity with centuries-long debates over mind convinced him that treating consciousness initially as a subjective entity standing apart from a physical world only leads to a morass of problems. Three of these problems are critically important for the development of environmental psychology. For one thing, as already noted, taking the subjective domain as the seat of psychological experience over against the objective domain of the environment begs the question of what properties of the environment matter from a psychological standpoint. Second, if there is a sharp boundary (indeed, an ontological boundary) separating environment and mind, how does the environment get into the mind? Third, if awareness is solely a subjective (“inner”) state possessed by each individual, we are faced with the prospect of so many separate individuals trapped inside their individual mental realms. This state of affairs would seem to make our social existence, and the communication and coordination it requires, nearly impossible to explain. For some of these reasons, as well as others, James (1912) urged that we abandon the view that consciousness or immediate awareness is an inner subjective state, and instead he proposed that we view consciousness or awareness as most basically a function of mind in context. We considered earlier respiring and digesting as functions of organisms in context. Similarly, awareness is such a function, and in this case, the function is a process of knowing. Further, as a function of mind in context, knowing has what James refers to as a “doublebarreled” character, simultaneously pointing to the knower and the thing known. We will return to the significance of this point. Page 10 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology To elaborate, “the psychological”—what is experienced “now” (which for James is an extended present) by an individual—emerges from the intersection of two sets of simultaneously transpiring event streams: one specific to the history of the environment within (p. 21) which the individual is currently situated, and the other specific to the person’s own life history. As an example, he suggests that his readers consider their immediate experience (awareness) in the room where they are currently seated. The room has its own history, “a lot of previous physical operations, carpentering, furnishing, warming, etc.,” up to the present moment, and the individual has his or her own embodied biographical history. The “psychological” is constituted at the intersection of these events. Psychological phenomena are not in the environment in a physicalistic sense, nor are they located in the body, except perhaps in some latent manner. The psychological arises out of the transaction of environment and person. Further, because each stream of events at the “moment” of their intersection bears with it a history, for that reason, the environment and the individual carry with them an inertia (hysteresis) that inclines each to a future direction shaped by its past. In that way, when environment and person intersect—all action is situated—the ongoing course of each event stream constrains the other. For example, a room that was designed for educational functions rules out many other possibilities regardless of its occupants’ intentions, and inversely, environments rarely directly determine an individual’s behavior, which carries with it a history of habits or previous situated actions. In short, rather than taking the psychological to be an “inner” subjective state mirroring some “outer” reality that somehow enters onto the mind (Rorty, 1979), the psychological is a relational domain that cuts across this dichotomy, yet simultaneously is both at a particular time. As Gibson (1979) stated in a different context, “It is both objective and subjective, and yet neither.” Can we say more about experience as situated, rather than as an isolable state of mind? James (1912) asserts that the “pragmatic equivalent” of awareness is to be found in “realities of experience” (p. 1, emphasis added). That is to say, awareness in its most basic form is awareness of structure specific to the environment from the standpoint of a perceiver, and this structure consists of objects and their relations. This simple claim has great significance for psychology and for understanding knowing. Historically, accounts of perception and cognition assume that immediate experience is composed solely of individual units, such as objects or elements, and little more. The organization of experience is assumed to be the contribution of the perceiver. Hence, relations between the objects of experience are assumed necessarily to be inferred by way of cognitive processes, often on associative grounds, or imposed on immediate experience by innate mental structures. But if this is so—if order is imposed on the experience of the environment by way of mental contributions—then environmental experience is necessarily a subjective state as it stitches together the objects of awareness. The individual mind stands apart from the environment, in effect, constructing a mental replica of it. By asserting, to the contrary, that immediate experience consists of objects and their relations, James is making the radical claim that the relational field constituted by the transaction of environment and knower has an intrinsic order and that ultimately meaning resides within that relation (rather than being constructed in a separate subjective realm). This radical empiricism framework is a wholesale abandonment of any form of environment-mind dichotomy and its irresolvable problems. Its practical utility for environmental psychology, locating meaning as it does within environment-person relations, will be cashed out below. This very brief description of the starting point of James’s radical empiricism captures several features of the transactional analysis already discussed: (a) The unit of analysis for psychology is the environment-individual relationship, or to use the terminology of the example just employed, the intersection of environmental events and the individual’s life course at a particular moment. (b) The properties of the psychological domain are relational in nature, rather than residing solely on one side or the other of the environment-individual dichotomy. (c) Essential for understanding the “present” psychological phenomenon is an appreciation of both the history of the environment, which is in part a sociocultural history (see below), and the history of the individual, with respect to species’ phylogeny and individual ontogenesis. (d) What is immediately experienced are “objects” and their relations. This Jamesian program, with its transactional character, is carried forward into the 20th century via two parallel lines of philosophical thought. The more direct line is that of American pragmatism, and notably the work of John Dewey. A less direct route is via European phenomenological thought at the outset of the 20th century. This is a propitious time in the history of science because field theory in physics is also on the ascent. Field theoretical Page 11 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology thinking and phenomenology merge in Gestalt psychology. Kurt Lewin’s Field Theory Kurt Lewin (1890–1947) was an active participant in the early years of Gestalt psychology, (p. 22) although his thinking soon took on its own distinctive character. He is most familiar to environmental psychologists for his formula B = f(P,E), which sometimes has been taken as anticipating the later development of the field. Whether this is so depends on one’s reading of this assertion. If Lewin merely intended B = f(P,E) to indicate that explanations of behavior must attend not only to the person but also to the environment—that is, if he claimed that behavior is the combination of these factors taken as separable, independent factors—then it can be seen as foreshadowing of those efforts in environmental psychology that adhere to an interactionist line of thought. The problem is, however, that is not what Lewin intended with this formula. Lewin’s Transactionalism B = f(P,E) expresses Lewin’s view that psychological functioning (behavior) is to be explained with reference to “the psychological field at a given time” (P,E), with person and environment jointly constituting the field of action. The “psychological field” is not a product of two independent factors (P and E), but together they give rise to the psychological field. Lewin (1946) was completely clear on this point: In this formula for behavior, the state of the person (P) and that of his environment (E) are not independent of each other. How a child sees a given physical setting (for instance, whether the frozen pond looks dangerous to him or not) depends upon the developmental state and the character of that child and upon his ideology.… In this equation the person (P) and his environment (E) have to be viewed as variables which are mutually dependent upon each other. In other words, to understand or to predict behavior, the person and his environment have to be considered as one constellation of interdependent factors. (pp. 239–240) Lewin referred to this constellation of interdependent factors as a “field” in the scientific sense of a “totality of coexisting facts which are conceived of as mutually interdependent” (p. 240). In short, Lewin was operating within a transactional metatheory. To make this perspective clearer, it will be useful to distinguish between interacting factors and interdependent (constitutive) factors. The interaction of two (or more) independent variables indicates that some outcome measure is not attributable to one or the other variable operating independently, but to their joint influence. However, because these variables are independent of each other, either alone can also in principle produce an effect (main effect) on an outcome measure. In the case of constitutive factors, the phenomenon (i.e., the “effect”) in question exists only through the joint action of two (or more) variables. The presence of either one alone cannot produce or generate the resultant in question. To borrow an example from Keller (2010), the sound of a drum is constituted by a drummer and a drum. Considered independently, neither can produce any effect. The effect (the sound) occurs at the intersection of these two events. Let us examine what this claim means with reference to an example in a Lewinian vein. A plate of food (E) in the vicinity of a hungry person (P) has the psychological character of a desirable object: it possesses a positive valence in the psychological field. Conversely, that same object in the vicinity of someone who is ill may well have an aversive quality (a negative valence). However, the plate of food considered independently of any person has no psychological value, being describable solely in nonpsychological terms, such as its chemical composition. But this does not mean that value is subjectively imposed on the object. A block of wood could not have a positive valence for eating no matter how hard the person tried to construe it in that way. The character of the object counts just as much as the current state of the individual. The plate of food as a desirable or undesirable—that is, as a meaningful object—is a relational property. The seemingly mundane character of this example belies its significance for psychology, for it speaks to the very nature of psychological phenomena. Conceptualizing the person-environment field as “a constellation of interdependent factors,” as Lewin did, opens the door to considering meaning or value as properties of the psychological field, rather than an intra-subjective quality. What Lewin claimed, as James did before him, is that the domain of psychological phenomena is to be found in a field of “mutually interdependent” factors. This is not to Page 12 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology rule out examining the environment and the individual separately. Physics and neurobiology, respectively, as well as some other domains of inquiry, do just that. When we are concerned with psychological phenomena, however, the focus is on the field of properties jointly constituted by environment and person at a particular time. Likewise, when we view the environment from a psychological standpoint, constituted by environment and person factors, then meaning is a property of, is intrinsic to, the psychological field. As such, the essential and distinctive phenomena of psychology cannot be reduced to either the physical or neurobiological alone. (p. 23) Finally, one further feature of Lewin’s approach needs to be emphasized. Time, or the historical dimension, plays a central role in his field theoretical analysis of psychological events. The field physics that inspired Lewin takes space/time as its framework. From this perspective, the properties of any “entity”—in the present case, psychological phenomenon—must be taken in relation to “where”/“when” it is. In the previous example, “what” is experienced—and experience is a uniquely psychological and natural phenomena—depends on the individual being in the vicinity of food (“where”) at a time “when” he is hungry. Trait theories, as we saw above, give short shrift to the “where.” Interactionist theories tend to be ahistorical, neglecting the “when” in the sense of disregarding when in the course of sociocultural and ontogenetic histories particular psychological events occur. In keeping with Newtonian physics, interactionism treats space and time separately. In contrast, transactional theories take “where” and “when” as jointly fundamental to any considerations of the psychological. The Environment Psychologically Considered A science of psychology requires a way of conceptualizing the environment that meets the rigorous standards of science, while at the same capturing the distinctive qualities of human experience. The standard approaches in psychology that describe the environment utilizing reductive concepts from the physical sciences or information theory admirably meet the first criterion, while failing at the second. Conversely, employing first-person descriptions of psychological experiences, such as phenomenological descriptions that remain disconnected from a public realm of experience and material properties, leaves individuals’ mental experiences adrift. These shortcomings are clearly mirror images. They stem from efforts to describe the environment from either side of the environment-mind dichotomy. Attempting to do so has produced predictable and justifiable complaints from opposing camps. On the one hand, critics of physicalistic treatments judge them to be sterile, coarse, and remote from human experience, while subjectivistic descriptions of environmental experience are often criticized as lacking in rigor, at times romanticized, and verging on the solipsistic. But, as we have seen, there is a third way. The transactional metatheory is grounded in relational thinking and accordingly, has a dual character encompassing (“pointing both ways”) the environment and the person jointly. James, Dewey, and Lewin made some initial efforts to elucidate this perspective. In each case, there is recognition that in some fundamental way meanings and values are as much of the environment as they are of the mind. What is at stake here from a transactional standpoint is “the place of value in a world of facts” (Kohler, 1939). From a different quarter the renowned ecologist Wendell Berry (2000) has raised similar concerns about the use of reductive language when considering the environment and experience. He wrote: The problem, as it appears to me, is that we are using the wrong language. The language we use to speak of the world and its creatures, including ourselves, has gained a certain analytical power (along with a lot of expertish pomp) but has lost much of its power to designate what is being analyzed or to convey any respect or care or affection or devotion to it. (p. 8) The language of affordances and behavior settings would surely not satisfy Berry’s wishes either: they are too analytical in nature. Still, the relational perspective they embrace, and the first person perspective they are ultimately rooted in, may help to move discourse further in the direction that he envisions. After all, the features of the environment are experienced by us as being meaningful and value-laden. Examples fill the environmental psychology literature. As we know from the environmental aesthetics literature, we are attracted to some landscape features and wary of others. Or as we know from the children and environments literature, children are drawn to engage some features of the environment, and over time establish attachments to objects and places. Likewise, individuals develop feelings of ownership to possessions and to territories. These examples all revolve around value. How do we even begin to make sense of findings that link meaning and value to the Page 13 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology environment if we assume that environmental experience is something that happens “inside the head”? And how could environmental psychology fulfill its intentions to contribute to environmental design if it has no way to embed psychological experience in environmental properties? Still, in my view, James and Lewin struggled unsuccessfully with reconciling these seeming contrary challenges. Although they claimed that the object of psychological experience was relational, they lacked a systematic way to connect the relational object to environmental structures. James, in particular, was painfully aware of this problem as he struggled with the question, “How can two (p. 24) minds that each have private experiences know the same thing?” (James, 1912, pp. 123–136; also see Heft, 2002). We see this same dilemma in the case of Lewin’s field theory, where those aspects of the environment not currently experienced are delegated to the so-called “foreign hull” outside of the psychological field, lending a subjectivist cast to his account that has been difficult to shake. How individual experience could be both personal and “of the environment”—neither subjective nor objective, and yet both—is not well worked out in either case. It is here that Gibson’s ecological psychology makes a crucial contribution to the transactional approach. James Gibson’s Ecological Psychology The primary focus of James J. Gibson’s research and writing over the course of his career was the nature of perceiving. He developed his ecological approach to perception over many years, and it is most fully articulated in two books that were published more than a decade apart: The Senses Considered as Perceptual Systems (1966) and The Ecological Approach to Visual Perception (1979). Each book is devoted to developing different aspects of the ecological approach, as we will see, with the later book also refining some earlier ideas. Gibson begins both books by asking: How should the environment be conceptualized from the standpoint of the active perceiver? Let’s be clear at the outset what is meant by an active perceiver. It is common in many formerly information-processing, now cognitive science approaches, to use the adjective “active” to refer to posited mental operations, such as encoding, storage, assimilation, activation of mental representations, and so on. In the ecological approach, “active” has a much more mundane, literal meaning. With respect to vision, it refers to animate movements, such as moving one’s eyes, head, torso, and whole body for the purposes of exploring and detecting the properties of the environment. Although that observation may seem almost too obvious to make, the fact is that very few psychological theories take animacy to be an essential quality of complex organisms, if indeed it is a quality that is considered at all. There are encouraging signs that psychology’s stance may be changing in this respect, with the emergence in recent years of accounts of embodied cognition (e.g., Johnson, 2007; Rowlands, 2010; Shapiro, 2011; Varela, Thompson, & Rosch, 1991), with Gibson typically cited as one antecedent of these approaches. Especially important in the present context, if our analysis encompasses the active individual as a whole, when our focus shifts to the environment, it is considered at a commensurate level of complexity rather than reductively. In contrast, the standard format for treatments of perception is to begin with analyses of the sensory processes, and commensurately, the physical energies that initiate neural responses at the receptors. Consequently, treatments of visual perception usually start out with a discussion of the physical basis for light, followed by a neuroanatomical and functional account of the retina and the optical neural pathways. While such analyses are invaluable at this more microlevel of analysis, they fail to consider perceiving as a function of an active individual taken as a whole. In turn, the environment commensurate with the level of analysis of an active individual—which is where meaningful, functional properties are to be found—is completely overlooked. From an ecological/evolutionary standpoint, the active individual is the appropriate place to begin one’s analysis. Natural selection operates at the level of the whole organism, not at the level of individual receptors or processes. Fitness applies to the functioning of the organism as a whole, and reproductive success—the criterion for fitness— concerns the overall functioning of the organism. Whether a particular receptor system or process (or “gene,” for that matter3 ) is adaptive depends on its place in overall organism functioning (Dupre, 2003). With an active perceiver as a starting point, it is instructive to consider the relationship between perceiving and acting. All living things require access to resources, and the capacity for animate motion, for example, locomotion, widens enormously the possibilities for and access to needed resources. And yet, locomotion without some means of guiding that action would be a rather hit-or-miss affair. For this reason, perceiving processes surely evolved Page 14 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology alongside action possibilities as a means for guiding them. Further, and critically, not only does perceiving help to guide action, but reciprocally, action facilitates the detection of environmental properties. For example, whereas object perception can at times be equivocal from a stationary position, Gibson (1979) demonstrated that distinctive, invariant object properties are revealed through movement. Hence, rather than treat perception and action as separable processes—a step that continues an unproductive tendency of designating distinct psychological “faculties”—it is proper from a functional standpoint to view perception and action as operating jointly as a common (p. 25) synergistic system, or a perceptual system (Gibson, 1966). That said, what aspects of the environment should be the starting point for psychological analysis? Most immediately relevant for the animate individual are those properties of the environment that have significance for action. Gibson coined the term “affordances” to refer to those properties of the environment that have functional significance for an active individual taken as a whole. Affordances The Gibsonian concept that is most familiar to the current generation of environmental psychologists is affordance. Even though this concept appears explicitly only in Gibson’s (1979) later writings, it is a good place to begin an examination of ecological psychology because it reveals the distinctive character of the ecological approach, while at the same time conveying its wider connections to a transactional style of thinking. An affordance is a psychological property of the environment. That is to say, an affordance is a property of the environment taken with reference to the functional possibilities of an individual. For example, a horizontal surface that is approximately knee-height to an individual and whose material structure can support that individual’s weight affords sitting-on for that individual. Indeed, the surface is perceived as a place to sit. That same surface, however, may not be perceived as affording sitting-on for another individual whose leg length and weight are quite different. Affordances, in short, are perceived properties of the environment from the standpoint of an individual. They are specified by properties of environmental features considered in relation to the action possibilities of an individual. In other words, affordances are relational properties, referring simultaneously to the environment and the individual. Individuals most immediately (nonreflectively) perceive the environment in terms of its affordances (Gibson, 1979; Heft, 1993, 2003). One may adopt an analytical stance with respect to the environment, focusing on particular abstract properties, such as the geometric shape of objects, but from an ecological perspective, the environment is experienced most immediately with respect to its functionally (psychologically) meaningful properties. Viewed from the perspective of an interactionist metatheory, affordances would seem to be conceptually incoherent. Recall that for interactionism, there exist two autonomous domains of reality: the physical environment (objective reality), on the one hand, and the psychological (subjective experience), on the other. And yet affordances are posited to be psychological properties of the environment. How can a property of the physical environment be psychological—even meaningful? The concept of affordance, however, is incommensurate with interactionist thinking. Instead, affordance, and the ecological psychology framework out of which the concept grows, abandons a dualistic mode of thought rooted in interactionism in favor of the kind of relational thinking that characterizes the transactional framework. Gibson was not the first person to call attention to such properties. In their own ways, and using different terminology, James, Lewin, Merleau-Ponty, and Heidegger did as well (Heft, 2001; Johnson, 2007). What Gibson uniquely accomplished, however, was to give the insight scientific, empirical footing by grounding it in an account of environmental perception and ecological optics. This achievement can be illustrated with reference to W. H. Warren’s (1984) investigations of perceiving a step affordance. Warren tested a sample of individuals who were either short or tall relative to the average height of his population. Each individual was asked to judge whether he or she could walk up several sets of stairs that varied across trials in riser height, that is, the vertical distance between the horizontal surfaces. Not surprisingly, short and tall individuals’ judgments varied systematically, averaged over trials, with the riser height that was judged to be climbable on 50% of the trials differing between the two groups. More critically, when judgments of both groups were evaluated in relation to individuals’ ratio of leg length to riser height (pi = leg length/riser height), rather than an absolute height measure (leg length alone), the pi value was constant across both groups. In other words, the riser height judged to be climbable 50% of the time was constant across all participants when the stair height was scaled in relative rather than absolute terms. This finding Page 15 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology indicates that the affordance, a climbable stair, was perceived relative to the individual. Notably, this affordance property is objectively specifiable—the pi value is calculable—as well as being perceptually meaningful. The psychological literature is filled with references to properties of the environment that are either objectively specified but lacking in meaning (e.g., wavelength composition of light), or meaningful, but difficult to ground in some objective, measureable manner (e.g., the meaning of a place). The limitations of each type of description derive from thinking about environment-person relations in a (p. 26) dichotomous manner. The concept of affordance cuts across the standard objective-subjective distinction. Investigations and Extensions of the Affordance Concept A substantial research literature has developed within experimental psychology over the past two decades leading to a deeper understanding of affordance-related issues. Studies have documented that children and adults perceive the affordance properties of a wide range of objects and structures in relation to their own action possibilities (e.g., Adolph, 1997; Carello et al., 1989; Mark, 1987; Mark et al., 1990; Wagman & Malek, 2008; Warren & Wang, 1987). Research has also shown that a perceiver can judge affordances that require the joint participation of a second person, such as in the case of an individual perceiving that he needs another to carry an object (Richardson, Marsh, & Baron, 2007), and that perceivers can assess affordance possibilities for others (Rochat, 1995; Heft & McFarland, 1999). Further, it is clear that perceiving affordances is a dynamic process rather than a judgment gauged in relation to a fixed body standard (e.g., a motor schema). Mark et al. (1990) demonstrated that when eye height is altered, as in the case of having individuals wear blocks on their shoes, judgments of affordance possibilities of objects are recalibrated through action. At times, ecological psychology, and the concept of affordance in particular, has been presented in the secondary literature in an overly restrictive manner. I refer here to statements to the effect that affordances concern only “physical” properties of the environment, while disregarding culturally grounded meanings. In this criticism we face yet another dubious dichotomy, this time between the natural and the cultural (Gibson, 1979; Heft, 1989, 2001; Reed, 1988). From an ecological perspective, perceiving is a process of detecting regularities in the environment, and regularities arise not only from the “furniture” of the world, such as surfaces and objects, but also from actions of others (Baldwin et al., 2008), from language (Saffran, 2003), and quite likely from the normative practices of groups and the wider culture within which they participate (Heft, 1989, 2001). Affordances, Direct Perception, and Environmental Psychology The concept of affordance, and ecological psychology overall, would seem to have great utility for environmental psychology because the focus of the ecological approach and the goals of environmental psychology appear so well aligned in at least one respect. Both are explicitly concerned with, and take as primary, the relationship between the environment and psychological functioning. In contrast, cognitivism, and the cognitive turn that interactionist theories took post-1960, while often professing a focus on this relationship, promptly shift the analysis primarily to one facet of this relationship—namely, to the detached workings of the mind in its efforts to make sense of the environment “out there.” Long before the “cognitive revolution” of midcentury, Dewey (1920) referred to this approach pejoratively as the “spectator theory” of knowing, in contrast to a view in which the individual actively engages the environment. What is the rationale for a cognitivist stance in the first place? It is important to see that the inclusion of mentalistic concepts into an account of psychological functioning is considered by many to be unavoidable because our experience of the environment is underdetermined by the standard physicalistic descriptions of stimulation. After all, in the case of vision we do not experience the environment in terms of wavelengths of light, or even as a flat projection of objects on the retinal surface. Instead, we perceive objects and features of the environment that are meaningful and that retain their constant size and shape as we move relative to them. Further, visual experience has a quality of continuity rather than being a string of discrete retinal snapshots or pictures. For these reasons and more, perceptual processes would seem necessarily to “go beyond the stimulus information given.” Visual stimuli seem so obviously to underdetermine perceptual experience that the latter surely must be mediated by enriching cognitive processes. This claim underwrites the epistemological position of indirect or representational realism, which holds that perceivers can have indirect awareness of the environment only through mediating mental structures or processes. Page 16 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology However, if true, this position places environmental psychology in a rather peculiar position. It would seem to put the environment necessarily out of reach not only of individual perceivers, but also of researchers and designers. If the environment is experienced “in the head,” isn’t it forever beyond the immediate grasp of perceivers? Although such a view may not have troubled many 17th- and 18th-century thinkers, it surely should have become unsettling once an evolutionary perspective took hold in psychology. Moreover, if the (p. 27) environment is remote and out of reach epistemologically, how does one examine the properties of the environment for research purposes? Or if the environment that is experienced is tucked away into so many separate brains of individual perceivers, how does one design environments with a sensitivity to psychological criteria? If designs are intended for users (in the plural), and yet experience is assumed to be idiosyncratic, what is a planner or architect to do? Oftentimes, seemingly intractable problems can be attributed to the manner in which they are framed in the first place. Perhaps that is the situation perceptual theory—and by extension, much of design—has created for itself here. The apparent necessity of indirect realism may result from how the environment has been described historically for the purposes of perceptual theory. Beginning with his first book, The Perception of the Visual World (1950), Gibson proposed that the seeming inadequacy of environmental “input” to account for the experience of the environment may be a consequence of the framework chosen to describe and measure the environment. The ecological approach to visual perception took shape over the course of Gibson’s later books (1966, 1979), where he developed the complementary conceptualizations “ecological optics” and “perceptual systems.” With ecological optics, Gibson analyzed how light from a radiant source is structured as it reflects off of object and ground surfaces. He demonstrated how the structured array of reflected light (the ambient optic array) provides information about the environmental layout to an active perceiver. In a coordinate fashion, as we have already seen, he clarified how movements of the eyes, head, and whole body—the visual perceptual system—play an instrumental role in the detection of the information in the optic array. It is in this respect that ecological optics and perceptual systems are complementary facets of an account of the direct perception of the environment. (A more detailed account of ecological optics and perceptual systems is beyond the scope of this chapter.) Finally, standard approaches treat space perception and time or event perception as distinct topics, consistent with the separation of space and time in interactionist approaches. However, if perceiving is conceptualized most basically as the detection of information over time through action, that distinction collapses, which, as we have seen, is characteristic of how transactional thinking treats space/time. Applying the Ecological Approach to Environmental Psychology How might the ecological approach to perception inform research and practice in environmental psychology and environmental design? Let us briefly consider a few possibilities here. Affordances as a Tool for Environmental Evaluation and Design The concept of affordances prompts environmental psychology researchers and designers to think about environments in terms of the functional possibilities they offer to prospective user groups. In this regard, the concept of affordances has been applied to considerations of environments from the standpoint of children’s activities. Heft (1988b) initially proposed a taxonomy of children’s environments based on descriptive studies of children’s daily actions, and in a later study found support for its predictive validity (reported in Heft, 1997). Subsequent research by Kytta (2002, 2004) has demonstrated how the affordance concept can be used in a comparative study of different residential areas and towns, linking differences in activity levels to the available affordance possibilities. Moore and Cosco (2010) have effectively employed the concept of affordances in the evaluation of children’s playground and school facilities, and utilized those findings to formulate design recommendations. The concept has also been used by Clark and Uzzell (2002) in an examination of the affordances of a town from the perspective of adolescents. The concept of affordance can contribute to the growing interest in the design of “child-friendly cities” (e.g., Horelli & Prezza, 2007). The design layout of neighborhoods, towns, and urban areas can be structured so as to make resources such as parks and shopping areas more accessible to children. Providing bikeways and walkways that circumvent threats from traffic broadens opportunities for children’s independent exploration and territorial range (Heft & Chawla, 2006). Related considerations apply to individuals of all ages. Safe pathways and walkways that Page 17 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology are free of hazards, such as uneven surfaces that can trip up the elderly, are sorely lacking in many residential and commercial areas. These functional concerns have a direct bearing on the growing recognition that the design of residential environments can promote activity and exercise for individuals of all ages (Ward Thompson, in press). Because the concept of affordance prompts us to consider the functional character of the environment in relation to prospective users, it should spur (p. 28) ongoing efforts to design environments that are suitable for diverse populations. Wayfinding as a Process of Perceiving the Temporal Structure of a Path over Time The analysis of wayfinding in environmental psychology has followed along the lines established in experimental psychology generally. That approach emphasizes the central role of a mental representations of the environment, a “cognitive map,” in directing wayfinding. These mental representations are usually conceptualized as being configurational in character, adopting the vantage point of a bird’s-eye view of a landscape. A cognitive map is considered to be necessary because the perceiver, who is located at any moment at a single position, can apprehend only a relatively small part of the environment. It is assumed to be a product of mediating, cognitive processes that “assemble” the separate momentary views of the environment detected by a stationary perceiver into an integrated, mental representation (for a critical analysis of this approach, see Heft, 2012). The joint conceptualizations of ecological optics and perceptual systems suggest an alternative to the configurational, mental representation–driven account of wayfinding. From an ecological perspective, as the individual travels along paths in the environment, he or she generates an optic flow of perceptual information produced by moving relative to a feature-rich environment. Specifically, an envelope of visible landscape features, including the ground surface texture and the various objects that are currently in view, radially streams around and past the individual in the opposite direction of her movement. This optic flow provides compelling information for movement through the immediate environment (Lee & Lishman, 1977), and it serves as information for guiding locomotion (R. Warren, 1976). Perceiver-generated optic flow can be differentiated into two classes of perceptual information: (1) perspective structure, which is the flow of perceptual information specific to landscape features and generated by action; and (2) invariant structure, which is structure in the flow of perspective structure that remains constant across transformations produced by action. The flow of perspective structure serves as information for the perceiver that he or she is moving relative to environmental layout, and a particular flowing perspective structure will, in most cases, be specific to a particular path of locomotion. The concurrent invariant structure specifies the fixed layout of the environment, that is, the structure that can be detected over time across multiple vantage points and paths of locomotion. (For a more detailed discussion and supporting research, see Heft, 1979a, 1996.) In this account, knowledge of the configuration of the environment (a cognitive map) may play little or no role in many instances of wayfinding. Finding one’s way involves moving through the landscape to generate a previously learned flow of information, analogous to how a musician might generate a familiar melody by re-creating a previously experienced temporal structure. Both a path of locomotion and a melody have, respectively, a visual and an auditory temporal structure that is perceivable only over time (Jones & Boltz, 1989). Still, it is obvious that an awareness of overall layout of the environment can arise from wayfinding experiences over time, much like an awareness of an object’s shape is not tied to any single vantage point. Such knowledge of overall layout can be drawn upon when encountering a detour along a familiar route or when disoriented. However, even in such instances, map-like (configurational) representations need not be necessary, as the extensive literature on path integration in humans, nonhuman animals, and insects has shown (Foo et al., 2005; Wehner & Srinivasan, 2003). Of course, individuals can, with varying degrees of success, draw maps or build models on demand, but these artifacts do not necessarily constitute evidence for the existence of cognitive maps. Instead they may reflect the uses to which awareness of layout, in whatever form it is understood, can be applied. That knowledge of environmental layout need not be configurational in nature is supported by evidence from several non-Western cultures that shows skillful navigation under demanding circumstances without any apparent map-like understanding of the environment (e.g., Hutchins, 1995; see Heft, 2012). Page 18 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology Implications for Methods in Environmental Perception and Aesthetics Researchers in environmental psychology have long faced the challenge of maintaining rigorous methodological standards when conducting investigations in everyday environments. For this reason, among others, environmental psychologists have amassed a research literature based on a mixture of “natural” experiments, epidemiological (p. 29) methodologies, field experiments, and laboratory research, with a preponderance of the latter. Laboratory research that explores issues relating to environmental perception understandably has utilized surrogates of environments, such as photographs. And yet, the adequacy of these displays as surrogates for “the environment as it is experienced beyond the laboratory” has not received sufficient, careful scrutiny.4 Importantly, whenever their adequacy is assessed, photographs are compared to stationary viewpoints in situ, not to dynamic experience. Considering the extensive use of photographs and other types of static representations of environment, researchers appear to be operating more on faith than on empirically grounded confidence that they are indeed investigating environmental experience as opposed to picture perception. Indeed, there have been several investigations that raise doubts about the adequacy of pictures when compared to dynamic experience of environments (Heft & Nasar, 2000; Heft & Poe, 2005; Hull & Stewart, 1995). The latter study is particularly noteworthy. Individuals’ evaluations of landscape views while hiking were compared with their evaluations of those same landscapes presented as photographs. It is striking that while group means across the two conditions were comparable, individuals’ ratings varied considerably across the two conditions. Comparing group means, as is typically done in comparative studies, may only mask the possible variability of evaluations made by the same individuals of the same landscape in situ and represented in a photograph. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that the research literature on environmental preference and aesthetics within environmental psychology is exclusively a literature based on individuals looking at pictures of environments. Why hasn’t the adequacy of this methodology been examined more thoroughly? There are at least two reasons: First, it is taken for granted that the use of static displays of environments (i.e., photographs) merely parallels how visual perception normal functions, namely, as an image-capturing process. The long-held eye-as-camera metaphor continues to influence views of visual perception, even in the area of environmental perception. However, perceiving regularly occurs in the course of movement and exploration, and critically, these actions facilitate the detection of information for perceiving. It is for this reason that the use of photographs or pictures in the study of environmental perception can be misleading. It remains an open question whether findings produced with these procedures are representative of the perceptual experiences of active perceivers in environments that surround them and are extended. Second, the use of pictures and even stationary views in situ is fully in keeping with much of aesthetic theory since the 18th century that was centered on experiencing picturesque landscapes in paintings and later in photographs (Carlson, 2000). The study of environmental aesthetics through the use of photographs may represent but one limited type of experience in environments, and an experience that is tied very much to recent Western cultural traditions. The ecological approach and transactionalism (Dewey, 1938) suggest another form of aesthetic experience in environments, namely, the affective experience accompanying our active engagement with features of the environment. Often individuals seek out particular environments because of the distinctive affective experiences they afford when we engage with them. In the way that a well-made tool is pleasurable to utilize because it has a particular “feel” in use, so, too, environments may well have a particular “feel,” such as a pleasing ground surface or a pleasant slope when walking (Mausner, 2004), or even a particular flow of information when moving through it (Lynch, 1960; Thiel, 1997). These affective qualities are not properties of the environment taken apart from the individual, nor are they subjective features imposed willy-nilly on an environment’s features. Rather they are properties that exist within the active engagement of perceiver and environment, and in this respect, they are transactional in nature (Berleant, 1992; Dewey, 1934; see Heft, 2010). In our overly intellectualized approach to cognition, it might be well to remember William James’s (1890) insistence that our “mental life” consists of thoughts and feelings; and “affectional facts” are often relational qualities (James, 1912). Barker’s Eco-Behavioral Science Page 19 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology The focus of Roger Barker’s eco-behavioral science, as it came to be called by the mid-1970s, bears little resemblance to Gibson’s ecological psychology in either problem selection or methodology. At midcareer and already an accomplished laboratory investigator in the still-fledgling area of child development circa 1940, Barker began to develop reservations about what that work revealed. It troubled him that as child psychologists were beginning to accumulate knowledge about the lawful relationships between experimental conditions manipulated in the laboratory and children’s resulting (p. 30) behavior, their knowledge of what children do and what they experience in their day-to-day lives was meager and, at best, anecdotal. This state of affairs was striking because in the absence of information about the incidence of psychological phenomena in the daily circumstances of people’s lives, psychologists have little way of knowing how representative, in a Brunswikian sense, any pattern of behavior generated in the laboratory is. Indeed, it occurred to Barker that psychology was singular among the sciences in not knowing the frequency and distribution of its principal subject matter. He wrote: Chemists know the laws governing the interaction of oxygen and hydrogen, and they also know how these elements are distributed in nature. Entomologists know the biological vectors of malaria, and they also know much about the occurrence of these vectors over the earth. In contrast, psychologists know little more than laymen about the distribution and degree of occurrence of their basic phenomena: of punishment, of hostility, of friendliness, of social pressure, of reward, of fear, of frustration. (Barker, 1968, p. 2) Psychology would appear to be unique among the sciences in starting out as an experimental science, while failing to develop a descriptive, natural history phase. All of the sciences, and especially the life sciences, maintain ongoing field investigations of a descriptive nature to establish how living things function in context—all, that is, with the exception of psychology. In response to these shortcomings, Barker took the unusual step in psychology of establishing a field research station in a small town where the activities of its residents could be observed and recorded in situ. His initial methodological approach was quite simple and yet painstaking. Individual observers working in tandem observed and recorded in writing the activities of individual children over the course of the waking hours of an entire day. Subsequently, these “specimen records” were examined to determine whether the data revealed specifiable regularities and predictive patterns. Two somewhat distinct research programs emerged from this work. The Behavior Stream The first research program concerned the structure of ongoing activity. Observing an individual’s behavior over time revealed a sequence of episodes that have a discernable beginning, middle, and ending, as the individual engaged in one task, then another, and another, and so on. For example, a particular child may have had breakfast, followed by walking to school, attending English class, participating in orchestra practice, and so on. Each action episode had a spatial locus: it occurred in some place, and it also had a temporal character—a duration. In keeping with the field theoretic thinking characteristic of transactionalism, action episodes are spacetime phenomena. A closer examination of the records of individual children’s activities indicated that typically there was a good deal more complexity in the structure of ongoing episodes than one following another in serial fashion. It was common for an episode to begin before the preceding episode ended (overlapping episodes), and at other times, for an episode to begin and end all within a more inclusive episode (nested episodes). Analyses of the behavior stream prompt a variety of empirical questions: Does the relative degree of complexity among episode structures change with age? In this regard, Barker found that whereas younger children tended to engage in one action at a time, with little nesting or overlapping of episodes, older children exhibited a greater amount of both types. Further, with increasing age, children engaged in fewer episodes, but for longer periods of time. These findings are but a few that resulted from an analysis of specimen records (see Barker & Wright, 1955, pp. 225–302). Other questions prompted by the analysis of episode structure readily come to mind: Are there systematic differences in episode structures within the different settings that children encounter? Historically, have there been changes in the complexity and duration of children’s episode structures from the time Barker collected his data (1954–1955, 1964–1965) to our present time? Anecdotal evidence would suggest so, but substantive evidence is needed. Related to that, what is the relationship between the character of episode structure complexity Page 20 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology and indices of children’s and adult’s well-being? This question brings a dimension to studies of well-being that has rarely been examined. The investigation of action episodes received little attention for decades, with the notable exception of Newtson’s research concerning the perception of structure in the behavior stream (Newtson & Enquist, 1976; Newtson, Enquist, & Bois, 1977). Recently, however, the topic of perceiving action episodes has been reinvigorated through the work of Zacks and his colleagues (e.g., Zacks, Tversky, & Iyer, 2001) and by Baldwin et al. (2008). Research of this nature can be extended to issues of considerable (p. 31) interest to environmental psychologists, such as the possibility that informative patterns of action are available to be perceived that are specific to particular types of settings. For decades, cognitivists have proposed that behavior in social settings is directed by mental “scripts.” However, this claim begs the question of the perceptual basis for identifying settings in the first place. Moreover, it may well turn out that if the patterns of action characteristic of different types of settings are perceivable, participation in settings may be more reasonably viewed as a perception-action process of detecting and contributing to patterns of collective action within a place (a space-time locus), rather than being attributable to the control of action by a mental script. Could, for example, scripts be of sufficient generality or abstractness to cover variation of setting types (e.g., varieties of restaurants), while at the same time being specific enough to guide action in any particular instance of those settings? Here, as we saw earlier, do cognitive structures leave us too disconnected from the moment-to-moment circumstances? Such conjectures about action in specific settings leads to the second line of Barker’s research that came out of the specimen record data. Behavior Settings The second research program is more familiar to environmental psychologists, and it is also the research on which Barker invested most of his efforts. I refer here to his work on behavior settings. The concept of the behavior setting is best appreciated by reviewing how Barker was led to the discovery of this eco-behavioral structure. One of the early goals of the field research station investigations was to determine whether individuals’ actions could be systematically and functionally linked to environmental occurrences. Barker initially hypothesized that the behavior episodes of the children would follow in a stimulus-response fashion from the antecedent actions of other individuals—that is, from “proximate social inputs.” However, this did not prove to be widely the case. Although a sizeable proportion of behaviors did seem to follow immediately from social inputs, much of the time they did not. To Barker’s surprise, actions of other individuals that were directed toward the child were only a weak to moderate predictor of that individual child’s behavior. As the data on the behavior stream also indicated, in most cases the actions of individual children appeared to be initiated spontaneously rather than being instigated by others (Barker & Wright, 1955, p. 298). If one was looking for some systematic and highly predictive relationship between the environment and behavior, that goal seemed at first blush to be unattainable. However, Barker took note of something else in the data they had collected from observations of individual children. As each child moved from one locale or setting to another over the course of the day, for example, from the classroom to the playground to the home, behaviors changed appreciably. In noting these patterns of behavior with respect to each individual child, he also began to recognize another pattern that on reflection took on greater significance than it is usually accorded. While the individual child’s behavior varied across settings, there was a great deal of commonality among the actions of different children in the same setting. Indeed, the actions of different children in the same setting had greater similarity than the actions of an individual child across different settings. Said differently, the variability in behavior of different children in the same setting at a particular time was smaller than the variability in behavior of the same child across his or her entire day. This finding runs counter to two prevailing assumptions in psychology: first, that the actions of a particular individual can be readily predicted with reference to internal, or dispositional attributes, such as personality, temperament, or motivation; second, that behavior is best predicted by proximate inputs, often in light of their immediate consequences. Barker’s data pointed to an entirely different set of factors operating that were neither dispositional nor proximate: the dynamics of the “overarching” setting as such. We found, in short, that we could predict some aspects of children’s behavior more adequately from knowledge of the behavior characteristics of … [the settings they] inhabited than from knowledge of the Page 21 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology behavior tendencies of particular children. (Barker, 1968, p. 4) In short, it seemed apparent that in some way, where an individual child’s actions took place mattered a great deal. Hence, even though a high percentage of actions observed appeared to be spontaneous rather than instigated, it was not the case that these actions were random. How does one square, on the one hand, the apparent spontaneous and autonomous actions of individuals, on the other hand, with some degree of determinateness of those same actions? This is where the concept of behavior setting comes in. (p. 32) Barker (1968) posited the existence of dynamic eco-behavioral entities that operate at a higher level of complexity than the individual, and these entities are constituted by the collective actions of individuals in conjunction with the physical milieu (affordances) of the setting (also see Schoggen, 1989). That is to say, through their collective actions, and with the support of affordances, groups of individuals generate naturally occurring, dynamic extra-individual structures—behavior settings. Instances of such dynamic structures are abundant: a game on a playground, a meeting of the local Democrats, a public hearing by the city council, the operations of a bake shop, a school orchestra concert, and so on. Behavior settings emerge from the mutually interdependent character of behaviors and affordances. Let us consider the dynamics of these processes more closely. By the very process of joining in on some collective pattern of action, an individual’s choices are constrained as a matter of course much of the time, falling within the range of appropriate actions that maintain the workings of that collective pattern. For example, if a child joins a game of baseball on a playground, she is obliged to operate within the parameters of that game to be a participant. By the fact of joining the game, which may be either instigated (an invitation to join) or spontaneous (asking to join), the individual’s actions are constrained and, within some range, determined. In this respect, “the phenomena of psychology and the environments in which [they occur] are interrelated; they are interdependent … in the way a part of a system and a whole system are interdependent” (Barker, 1978, p. 41). The actions may appear spontaneous when examined at the level of the individual, but when considered from the standpoint of the behavior settings, the actions are constrained. Indeed, settings vary between themselves in terms of the degrees of freedom they afford. Compare play at recess to a classroom English lesson. As psychologically relevant properties of the environment, behavior settings convey a quality that is quintessentially psychological: they are meaningful. Individuals must be able to identify the setting type to participate in the collective processes in appropriate ways. Barker referred to this property of behavior settings as their perceptible “physiognomic” qualities, although this property did not receive much attention in his work. My expectation is that an individual ought to be able to perceive what kind of setting he is entering based on the patterns of action that are ongoing. In the case of a behavior setting whose operations are already familiar to its participants, they will know when the setting has been established by monitoring the patterns of action that are collectively generated. Likewise, they can monitor the relative stability of the setting over time through the perception of its ongoing, dynamic structure. With respect to the latter, behavior settings, like other types of selfregulating dynamic systems, function to preserve their integrity in the face of ongoing perturbations. When the functional integrity of the setting is threatened, perturbations should be perceivable in the dynamics of the setting. Participants who threaten the setting’s operations are then prodded or cajoled into line by other setting participants. When such measures are unsuccessful, the individuals creating the disturbance may even be ejected from the setting entirely by its leaders or through group consensus. Such “forces” that operate to preserve the setting’s operations derive from the functional interdependencies among its constituents, and perceptual information is critical for individuals to monitor the status of the setting’s operations. Barker and his colleagues went on to study the properties of behavior settings in a variety of ways (Barker & Gump, 1964; Barker & Schoggen, 1973), resulting in a rich analysis of these dynamic structures that account for a great deal of the order we see in everyday social activity (Barker, 1968, 1978; Schoggen, 1989; Wicker, 1987). One of the significant outcomes of this work came from considering some psychological consequences of participating in settings that vary in terms of the degree to which the necessary roles in the behavior setting are filled by its participants. In Big School, Small School (Barker & Gump, 1964) and in other work, it was found that children who participated in behavior settings where there is a suboptimal number of participants relative to roles to be filled (understaffed settings) behaved in those settings and experienced them differently than did children participating in settings where the number of participants exceeded the requisite number of roles (overstaffed settings). For example, children in understaffed settings were more active in the setting, participated in more varied Page 22 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology roles, and more often held positions of responsibility, while feeling more valued in the setting, feeling a greater degree of responsibility in the setting, and experiencing more satisfaction from their involvement as well as more social pressures to participate. To the extent, then, that small schools and large schools (and other institutions) differ in the level of staffing of their settings—and the evidence (p. 33) indicates that they tend to do so—the psychological consequences for children in those schools will differ appreciably. Alternative explanations that posit self-selection of children to small or large schools can be ruled out because of school districting policies, but if there were any doubt on this point, later research that examined both schools and churches showed that levels of participation by the same populations dropped when the institutions in which they were participants/members shifted from a small to comparatively larger size through a merger (Baird, 1963; Wicker & Kauma, 1974). Like the concept of affordances, the concept of behavior settings can be used as a tool to describe the psychological-functional resources of the environment. To highlight this utility, Barker and Schoggen (1973) undertook a comparative study of two small towns, one in the United States and one in England. By detailing the types of behavior settings in each town, the frequency and duration that they operated, and other information of this sort, Barker and Schoggen were able to offer insight into what public life was like for inhabitants of each town without knowing anything about the dispositional attributes of individuals. To take a general example, knowing that there were more operating public behavior settings per individual (number of settings/population size) in the US town than in the UK town indicates that in the former case, residents were involved in more public settings (they had to be to sustain the setting’s existence) and hence, that community life was more active in the US town. This finding barely scratches the surface of the rich comparative analysis that they provide. It is offered as an illustration of how the behavior setting concept could be employed to compare different communities and even the same community over time. Eco-Behavioral Science As we have seen, Barker started off attempting to gain insight into the daily lives of individual children. But his research led him to the discovery of higher order, extra-individual dynamic structures: behavior settings. It turned out that knowing which behavior setting children participated in was an exceptionally valuable predictor of behavior, and learning about the properties of individual behavior settings (e.g., level of staffing) provided additional insight into individuals’ likely experiences in those settings. However, in the process, Barker’s initial psychological aim of predicting individual behavior needed to be recast. Barker learned quite early in his research that he was unable to account for individual behavior at that level of specificity. Behavior setting analysis informs about the likely range of actions and experiences of individuals without specifying what will occur in any single case and at any particular moment. The range of possibilities (i.e., degrees of freedom) can vary across types of settings, from those with diverse possibilities, such as a playground, to those with quite narrow ones, such as a church service. Within those ranges, prediction is at best probabilistic owing to individual agency. It is for this reason that Barker recognized that what his work led to was not a psychology qua individuals—at least not of the sort that psychology tends to envision—but a science of the contexts that are constituted by individuals and that simultaneously constrain individual activities in daily life. In short, Barker’s framework transformed as a matter of course from ecological psychology to eco-behavioral science. This refashioned framework is in accord with the view of environments that we have seen to be characteristic of the ecological sciences overall: environments are composed of nested dynamic structures across different levels of organization. Eco-behavioral science is concerned with the functional character of higher order, extra-individual dynamic entities, and on these grounds, their operations are unlikely to be reducible to the actions of individuals. Barker was led to the conclusion that eco-behavioral science will require concepts specific to phenomena operating at this level of complexity. For this reason, the science of psychology and eco-behavioral science, while complementary, are not equivalent. But it is worth asking, is being able to identify the constraints within which an individual operates at any particular time, but not the specific actions of that individual at that time, a limitation of Barker’s approach? Or is it what psychological analysis ultimately affords? While we loosely talk as if research predicts particular outcomes, “between subject” variation is ever present, even if measures of central tendency sometimes lead us to forget that. Individuals enter any setting—those of laboratories and those of daily life—as agents with a developmental history that intersects with the extra-individual dynamics and other moment-to-moment contingencies of that Page 23 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology particular setting. We previously saw this claim both in the writings of James and Lewin. These realities preclude exacting prediction of individual actions. Our tradition of linear, causal thinking (interactionism) gives rise to a limited notion of prediction, and yet the precision (p. 34) one might expect along these lines is rarely realized. If this is a failing, it is a failing of our mechanistic tradition, pointing to how unsuitable it is for the subject matter of psychology. By the same token, it points to the fact that an ecological perspective, with its transactional metatheoretical grounding, may be a better fit for the study of psychological phenomena. Ecological Psychology and Eco-Behavioral Science Individually, Gibson’s ecological psychology and Barker’s eco-behavior science are highly original theoretical programs that have generated distinct bodies of empirical research. Each stands quite capably on its own, as they singly have done for the past half century. Still, they can be viewed as complementary approaches that jointly offer a more comprehensive ecological framework than either does separately. Their complementarity is possible because even though they operate at different levels of analysis, focus on different phenomena, utilize strikingly different methodologies, and do not refer to each other in the least, they possess common, essential metatheoretical features, In summary, Gibson’s ecological approach takes its unit of analysis to be the dynamic perceiver-environment relation. If we limit our discussion here to vision, the constituents of this system include the information carried by the ecological optics of the situation and the actions of the perceiver (the visual perceptual system). What is perceived (or constituted) within the dynamics of this relationship are the affordances of the environment. Barker’s eco-behavior science takes as its unit of analysis standing patterns of activity (behavior settings) whose constituents consist of individual participants and milieu (affordances). In the case of Gibson’s ecological approach, affordances are properties that reside within the dynamic perceiver-environment relation, whereas for eco-behavioral science, affordances are among the constituents of behavior settings. In short, the functions and properties of interest to ecological psychologists—ongoing perceiver-environment processes—are nested within behavior settings. For this reason, an analysis of particular instances of perceiver-environment processes will be further illuminated by recognizing the behavior settings, and more broadly, the sociocultural contexts within which they occur (Heft, 2007). Likewise, analysis of the operations of a behavior setting can be enriched only by a detailed examination of the affordances operative in that setting. In these ways, both approaches jointly offer psychology a framework for examining person-environment processes in everyday life. In addition, Gibson’s and Barker’s frameworks both offer an opening for tackling what is at once the most central feature of human experience, and perhaps the most neglected in interactionist thinking. This is the meaningful character of human experience. As we have seen, neglect of the meaningful character of environmental experience primarily stems from the physicalistic approach to the environment that is typical of interactionist approaches. However, meaning is not a property of the domain of the physical sciences: it is a psychological property. From a transactionist perspective, the psychological domain is constituted jointly by environment and person processes, and for that reason, its meaningful properties are relational. The rejection of interactionist modes of thought by both approaches is also apparent in their treatment of causality. From an interactionist perspective, processes are mechanical and causality operates seriatim, with one part of a system imparting change on another part. Specifically, mechanical or “efficient” causality refers to the transmission of force or energy from one entity to another. This formulation is suitable for many things of interest to psychologists, such as when a light (electromagnetic energy) stimulates photoreceptors and thereby results in a neural impulse. But it is a limited view, as strides in dynamic systems theory have made plain (e.g., Thelen & Smith, 1994). Among other things, it is not suitable for giving theorists an opening to address the issue of meaning. The ecological and social transmission of information, as in the cases of perceiving affordances and participating in a behavior setting, are not energetic processes. Meanings are not “caused” in that sense. Instead, meaning involves the sharing of structure within a dynamic system. Take the case of affordances. Because individuals experience the environment relative to the body and its “projects” (Merleau-Ponty, 1962), they are attuned to its affordances. The affordance does not cause the perception of the affordance property; “no thing” or entity moves across a boundary separating the environment and the perceiver. Instead, structure or form comes to be shared within and across the system under Page 24 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology consideration. Affordances are meaningful within the dynamic person-environment system. Likewise, behavior settings do not cause particular patterns of action among participants. (p. 35) Barker was inclined to say that settings coerce rather than cause behavior, and this means that individuals conform to the operations of a behavior setting by virtue of participating in them. Participation entails engaging in actions that are situationally normative, and normativity is conveyed and sustained through meanings that are carried within the behavior setting’s overall dynamic structure. The Ecological Approach and Environmental Psychology Environmental psychology developed in the midst of a wave of scientific and social movements of the 1950s and 1960’s that at their core were concerned with the quality of the biosphere, the quality of human habitats, and social justice. Although interest in these issues long predated this surge of activity, what was new was a growing appreciation for the fact that environmental and social conditions operate in a domain of mutually interdependent systems. In place of a view that natural conditions and human activity function as separate spheres, their interconnectedness as constituents of more inclusive systems came to the fore, especially in the life sciences. The adjective “ecological” is typically associated with this shift in thinking, and with it, a heightened recognition that natural processes, which include human activities, are embedded in an interdependent field of hierarchically nested systems. When American psychology entered this arena, however, it was at somewhat of a disadvantage because its dominant metatheoretical framework, interactionism, did not lend itself very well to ecological systems thinking. Earlier efforts by many individuals—from William James to the Gestalt psychologists, and even Piaget—to effect a shift from linear causal thinking to more dynamic, field-oriented thinking in psychology rarely took hold, except among some perceptual and developmental psychologists. Also, at the very time when ecological and field theoretic thinking was becoming commonplace in other sciences, experimental psychology was increasingly diverted by the allure of computer technology and artificial systems. Part of the draw was surely due to these exciting new “thinking” machines arriving on the scene and their potential applicability to long-standing problems in psychology. But critical in the embrace of computer models was the fact that the linear processing framework underlying their operations fit so comfortably with the mechanistic S-O-R way of thinking that had long dominated the field. Early leaders in this movement, such as Bruner and Miller, soon came to recognize that rather than serving as a “cognitive revolution,” these developments were not much more than a retooling of familiar modes of thinking (Bruner, 1990; Miller, 1985). Consequently, psychologists continued to conceptualize individuals from an interactionist perspective as being bounded, independent entities that could be causally affected by environmental conditions and that could affect the environment in turn: in short, elegant, if disembodied, input-output systems (Dreyfus, 1972). Taking the environment-person dichotomy as its starting point, the psychology that follows from this stance sustains the view of the individual operating at a remove from the environment as a spectator and interpreter of the external world. The dominance of this style of thinking kept at bay, or at best marginalized, alternative ways of thinking about psychological processes that are more in keeping with the ecological sciences, such as Gibson’s and Barker’s approaches. Such alternatives embrace the view that psychological processes are realized only as individuals develop and function as participants in a network of influences, with this dynamic network collectively constituting a psychological system. Because of the interdependencies that compose the system, boundaries between its components are both permeable and shifting as the system in its goal-directedness is always in the process of preserving some stabilities or establishing new ones. In all this, the interwoven histories of the constituents of the system must remain in focus, if we are to understand any one of them adequately. Following independent paths, both Gibson and Barker arrived at this type of conceptualization in large part because when they each examined topics of central concern to them beyond the laboratory, the interactionist framework failed them. For Gibson, the study of visual perception in the field forced him to rethink the standard view that environmental stimulation is imposed on a passive perceiver (Reed, 1988). Instead, he gradually came to the conclusion that perceiving is best conceptualized as the operation of perception-action systems, and that what is perceived most fundamentally are the psychologically meaningful properties of the environment taken with Page 25 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology reference to an individual—affordances. As for Barker, his prior background in experimental investigations of children’s behavior led him to expect that antecedent social inputs would account for a child’s actions in the field, just as they seem to do in the laboratory. (p. 36) However, this linear sequence of input-action did not obtain. Instead, to account for the order in children’s behavior over the course of their day, Barker needed to take into consideration the contexts or the fields of action. This refocusing led to his discovery of behavior settings as higher order structures that children participate in throughout their daily lives, even as they contribute to the constitution of settings through their participation. The ecological approach—and more generally, the transactional framework with its longer lineage—has been profitably employed in the study of only a few other environmental psychology issues, with transactionalism applied most notably by Altman and his colleagues’ insightful investigations of privacy regulation processes (e.g., Altman, 1976; Werner, Brown, & Altman, 2002). At various places in the preceding discussion, I tried to suggest, if only briefly, a few additional possibilities where transactionalist thinking can be applied to environmental psychology. In this respect, quite apart from the significant individual contributions that Gibson’s and Barker’s landmark works have already made, they can also illuminate a style of thinking that may help to bring environmental psychology more squarely into the fold of the ecological sciences. Future Directions In keeping with the expected format for the volume, this chapter will conclude with a consideration of future directions for ecological psychology, particularly as they relate to environmental psychology. Most of the following brief comments build on the more extensive foregoing discussion. 1. The interactionist approaches that have informed environmental and conservation psychology to date have been useful, most especially when operating at the level of aggregate data. However, at the same time they have limited the scope of inquiry by directing researchers to conceptualize the environment in nonpsychological terms (e.g., physical properties), while locating the psychological domain in an intra-psychic realm (i.e., “the environment in the head”). An approach grounded in a transactional metatheory points instead to relational properties in the individual-environment system that by their very nature are psychological in character and meaningful. The value of such an approach has been demonstrated not only within ecological approaches, with the elucidation of novel concepts such as affordances and behavior settings; it has also been revealed by research on perceived control, privacy, and social capital, each of which is properly viewed as a phenomenon that resides within an individual(s)environment system. Additional gains from applying transactional thinking to environmental and conservation psychology await. 2. There exist many ways to evaluate the material resources of environments, but relatively few for assessing the psychological resources of environment for individuals, excepting some initial inventories developed decades ago for home environments (e.g., Bradley et al., 1979; Heft, 1979b, 1985; Wachs, 1979). How should one proceed in making an assessment of the psychological resources within environments taken at a broader scale, such as neighborhoods, communities, and other public areas? Several steps are required here: (1) particular possibilities need to be proposed for what may serve as an eco-psychological resource (e.g., a particular type of affordance); (2) a means of assessing the availability of these resources in some locale needs to be developed; and crucially, (3) linkages between availability of these resources and positive outcomes must be established. We have yet to develop a battery of sound measures of environmental quality in a psychological vein. The concepts of affordances and behavior settings offer a good starting point, however. There is already some indication in the developmental literature of the positive value of home environments rich in particular types of affordances, such as objects that are responsive to children’s actions (Heft, 1983). A recent volume edited by Evans and Wachs (2010) also provides some new insights into children’s environments. Schools marked by understaffed behavior settings (Barker & Gump, 1964), are associated with positive developmental outcomes, as we have seen. Initial efforts applied to outdoor environments with respect to affordances have been made (Heft, 1988b; Kytta, 2004), but much more work is needed. Yet to be explored is the relationship between available behavior settings and community life, with the exception of Barker & Schoggen (1973). Environmental psychologists should be in a position both to evaluate the relative quality of existing environments and to anticipate the impact of design choices from a psychological standpoint for various user populations. Page 26 of 33 Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology 3. It is well established that affordances play a role in the effectiveness of sustainable practices, even though this terminology is rarely employed in this context. For example, where recyclables can be disposed, and what materials are recyclable, is a continuing source of confusion for the public. Instead of resorting to signs, which are themselves (p. 37) often confusing, affordances can sometimes serve this purpose in a more immediate way. As a case in point are recycling containers with a narrow slit as an opening that afford the disposal of paper but not bottles. The concept of affordances can serve as a lens for identifying “eco-ergonomic designs” and programs, as well as evaluating impediments to sustainable practices. 4. The study of environmental perception and aesthetics has been examined almost exclusively through the use of photographs and other static representations of the environment (i.e., the “spectator view”). This domain of inquiry can be broadened, as we saw above, by taking into consideration the experience of environments from the dynamic perspective of participants as agents (Heft, 2010). Doing so will require the development of research methodologies that emphasize the central place of actively engaging the environment in perceptual experience, while also focusing on the temporal dimensions of person-environment transactions. 5. The relationship between activity levels and health is becoming well established, especially within the public health literature. Surely the character of the environment matters here, either in promoting or hampering activity. For example, affordances associated with the quality and the grades of surfaces are likely to be relevant, as are competing factors such as noise and hazards from automobile traffic. Further, it is evident that certain environments are more pleasurable than others for walking, running, or biking. Could a contributing factor here be the particular optic flow that is generated from the standpoint of an individual moving through the environment? As discussed above, the environment contiguous to paths of locomotion contributes to the character of the optic flow. In this respect, does the optic flow have an aesthetic dimension, as some have suggested (Lynch, 1960; 1997)? If so, the nature of the environment as it is experienced from the point of view of a moving perceiver may have a bearing on activity levels. Little attention has been given to this temporal dimension of experiencing environments as it might relate to activity promotion. 6. Wayfinding in indoor and outdoor environments can be a challenge due to the repetitive pattern of hallways and street configurations, respectively. The typical post hoc remedies often leave behind a bewildering array of signs. The ecological account of wayfinding described earlier suggests a different approach. Research indicates that certain segments of the perspective structure (i.e., structure of the optic flow) are especially valuable for finding one’s way. These segments (transitions) occur when a new vista comes into view, as in the case of making a turn. It is here, at these functionally significant portions of a route, that repetitive patterns in indoor/outdoor environments are problematic as, for example, each succeeding hallway or streetscape looks like the previous one. Distinctive transitions may well facilitate wayfinding and orientation. Generation of a distinctive sequence of transition flow will require more variation than is often found in modern designed environments (Heft, 1997). In less repetitive environments, such as parks and urban areas, transitions tend to be distinctive as a matter of course. At this point in the relatively short history of environmental psychology, the value of an ecological approach for efforts to understand some of the field’s most central concerns has barely been explored, although notable inroads have been made. 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They are broadly similar, although Kuhn placed far more attention on the practices of scientific communities in his analysis and how scientific paradigms sustain particular approaches to a domain of inquiry. (3.) The very concept of a gene is hotly contested in the developmental biology literature, and many of these critiques operate in the spirit of the transactional worldview being examined here (Moss, 2003; Oyama, 1985). (4.) Meta-analyses showing a positive relationship between preference for photographs of buildings and for “actual buildings” (cited in Stamps, 1994) amass such a diverse set of studies that employ a wide variety of procedures and viewing conditions that, in my assessment, it is impossible to state with any precision what relationships are operating or judge the comparability of the studies. Harry Heft Harry Heft Department of Psychology Denison University Granville, OH Page 33 of 33 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition Oxford Handbooks Online Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition Ann Sloan Devlin The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology, Cognitive Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0003 Abstract and Keywords This chapter on wayfinding and spatial cognition provides a literature review of the major topics in the field beginning with Tolman and Lynch, as well as directions for new research employing advances in technology. Reflecting the major emphasis in the field, the focus is on research in the built environment. The major areas of study include the development of wayfinding expertise in children and adults (specifically the progression from landmarks to route to configurational knowledge) and in those with cognitive and/or visual impairments; the problem of verisimilitude in wayfinding tasks; the areas of brain function underlying wayfinding behavior, specifically the role of the hippocampus; the extent of gender differences in wayfinding, including mental rotation, pointing accuracy, and use of landmarks and cardinal directions; and the role of software and technologies employed in research on wayfinding, from Space Syntax analysis to virtual reality with head-mounted devices (HMD). As an integrative strategy for the chapter, attention is periodically drawn to the shifting balance between theory and application in the research. Keywords: allocentric, cognitive map, egocentric, gender differences, simulation, spatial cognition, virtual reality, wayfinding Introduction This chapter focuses on the relationship between wayfinding and spatial cognition as a topic of investigation in environmental psychology and reviews the research on wayfinding as a specific application of spatial cognition. The relationship of wayfinding to spatial cognition is of long-standing interest in environmental psychology, perhaps emanating from the work of Lynch in his seminal book, The Image of the City (1960), and in psychology more generally in the work of Tolman (1948/1973). Environmental psychology as a discipline has a multidisciplinary flavor; this is also true of the study of wayfinding. That interdisciplinarity leads to challenges, not the least of which is how to define wayfinding and spatial cognition. Of necessity in a document just a chapter in length, the literature on a given topic, for example, visuospatial working memory, centers on researchers who invoke this cognitive concept in the service of understanding wayfinding, rather than vice versa. The chapter will begin with definitions and then consider topics that have captured the interest of environmental psychologists: the cognitive map, neurophysiological underpinnings, verisimilitude of wayfinding tasks, development of wayfinding expertise and performance (including the elderly and those with cognitive and visual impairments), gender differences, and wayfinding aids.1 Throughout, efforts are made to include the role of technology, especially the use of virtual platforms. Also, as is true of many areas in environmental psychology, the topics of wayfinding and spatial cognition provide an intersection (p. 42) of conceptual and applied research, which the chapter highlights. Page 1 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition Wayfinding: A Definition Wayfinding is literally finding one’s way, or the process of purposefully moving from an origin to a destination (Golledge, 1999). Wayfinding can therefore be viewed as a process or activity, and in Passini’s view “includes all the mental processes which are involved in purposeful mobility” (1996, p. 322). At least one research group has differentiated navigation from wayfinding (Golledge, Jacobson, Kitchin, & Blades, 2000), although commonly the two terms are used interchangeably (e.g., Chen & Stanney, 1999). Navigation involves updating position and rate of travel as one moves along a specific course toward a target destination; in contrast, wayfinding “involves selecting path segments from an existing network and linking them as one travels along a specific path” (Golledge et al., 2000, p. 95). In their chapter on navigation in virtual environments, Darken and Peterson (2002) limit wayfinding to “the cognitive element of navigation” (p. 494) sans movement. For them, “Navigation is the aggregate task of wayfinding and motion” (p. 494). Outside the domain of psychology, other disciplines have invoked concepts such as skill mastery to explain wayfinding behavior, as opposed to the construction of a cognitive map (Istomin & Dwyer, 2009). Spatial Cognition: A Definition In and of itself, spatial cognition is an enormous topic, and more than a few researchers have lamented the difficulty in defining the concept (e.g., Foreman & Gillett, 1997). Broadly speaking, spatial cognition is the knowledge or understanding of the self in relation to our surroundings (built or natural), objects, or people (Devlin, 2001). Unlike perception, cognition can occur in the absence of perceptual input (e.g., we can imagine our surroundings). Spatial cognition of the built or natural landscape is the focus here, and environmental psychologists are concerned with where we are physically in space, how we update that understanding, and how we use that understanding (often called a cognitive map) to plan our movements through space, whether physical or virtual. Although some cognitive researchers have emphasized theory concerning the intersection of brain and behavior (e.g., the role of the hippocampus) in wayfinding, environmental psychologists often focus on the environmental structure (e.g., the role of a major street or landmark) that facilitates finding your way. Historically, one of the problems in linking spatial cognition to wayfinding is that spatial cognition itself is not a single, unified entity. McGee (1979) reviewed factor analytic studies of spatial cognition and argued that the data support at least two different factors, one dealing with visualization, the other with orientation. The visualization factor emphasizes the ability to mentally rotate an object in space. A commonly used assessment of this ability is the Vandenberg and Kuse Mental Rotations Test (MRT; 1978), originally a paper-and-pencil test in which a threedimensional object presented as a drawing is a template against which the participant must select which two of four choices are this same figure rotated through space. Later research by Linn and Petersen (1985) employing metaanalysis argued for the existence of three factors: “1) spatial perception (determining spatial relations with respect to one’s own body; a gravitational kinesthetic process); 2) mental rotation (a Gestalt-like analogue process); and 3) spatial visualization (multistep manipulation of spatially presented information)” (Devlin, 2001, p. 45). What differentiates their model from McGee’s earlier outline is that mental rotation is a separate entity; Linn and Petersen argue that as a multistep process, spatial visualization may include parts of the other factors (mental rotation and spatial perception). For many, it is helpful to define the factors through the tests that are used to measure them. Examples from Linn and Petersen include the rod-and-frame test for spatial perception; the MRT for mental rotation; and the embedded-figures and paper-folding tests for spatial visualization. When a formal measure of spatial cognition is employed in research on wayfinding, the MRT is often the choice. In this chapter, the boundaries are drawn to understand spatial cognition as it serves the function of wayfinding. We may think that spatial cognition involves a mental activity of some sort, and spatial knowledge is put into action to serve wayfinding. What form of knowledge provides a basis for action? One answer is a cognitive map. The Cognitive Map: Historical Perspective Environmental researchers have spent considerable energy on the concept of the cognitive map, with the early work more likely to be conceptual than applied (i.e., focusing on the mental representation, not the environmental structure that (p. 43) fostered it). As Kitchin argued in his 1994 paper, the cognitive map construct has been defined in a host of ways, perhaps reflecting the multidisciplinarity represented in those who study it. The concept Page 2 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition of the cognitive map has been viewed as a map (i.e., explicitly) and as an analogy, a metaphor, and a hypothetical construct (pp. 3–5). Kuipers (1982) and Downs (1981), among others, evaluated the limitations of the “map in the head” metaphor. Given this lack of agreement, researchers have selected what made sense from their own perspectives. Kaplan’s (1973) discussion of the cognitive map is useful for its clarity. The cognitive map is a mental representation that links perception and decision-making; it makes possible knowing “where one is,” “what is likely to happen next,” determining whether the outcome “will be good or bad” (e.g., whether a pleasurable outcome, such as low traffic volume on a particular route, is anticipated), and “some possible courses of action” (p. 65). Kaplan’s model is rooted in evolutionary concerns for humans as animals that process information as their fundamental activity. In other words, Kaplan’s model of the cognitive map addresses the survival requirements of an information-processing animal. Other often-cited definitions that share the flavor of Kaplan’s model come from Downs and Stea (1973a) and Passini (1984). For Passini (1984), “Wayfinding describes a person’s ability, both cognitive and behavioral, to reach spatial destinations. This ability which is based on three distinct performances, decision making, decision execution and information processing, is a spatial problem solving ability” (p. 154). Although many researchers view the cognitive map as a storage mechanism, others go further to discuss the links to action, through travel plans (e.g., Gärling, Böök, & Lindberg, 1986), or a sequence involving decision-making and decision execution (Passini, 1984). An edited volume by Downs and Stea titled Image & Environment: Cognitive Mapping and Spatial Behavior (1973b) laid the groundwork for our understanding of the cognitive map that continues to serve researchers today. That volume included the seminal 1948 paper by Tolman, “Cognitive Maps in Rats and Men,” Kaplan’s “Cognitive Maps in Perception and Thought,” Appleyard’s “Notes on Urban Perception and Knowledge,” Hart and Moore’s “The Development of Spatial Cognition: A Review,” and Orleans’s “Differential Cognition of Urban Residents: Effects of Social Scale on Mapping.” There was even a piece by Lynch (“Some References to Orientation”), excerpted from his well-known book The Image of the City (1960). Tolman’s early paper (1948/1973) is often credited with introducing the term “cognitive map” and importantly challenged the stimulus-response approach to spatial cognition. Instead of a stimulus-response account, much like a telephone switchboard, Tolman provides evidence that that spatial knowledge is in fact organized in a kind of “map control room” (p. 31), reflecting the theoretical approach of field theorists. Not only is the paper important to environmental psychologists, but it also reflects the nature of psychology in America in the late 1940s, and a fascinating part of the paper is its concluding section discussing the conditions under which one might develop a narrow strip-like map versus one that is more broad and comprehensive. Admittedly not a clinical or social psychologist, he nevertheless tackles the areas of regression, fixation, and displacement of aggression onto outgroups (p. 48). Although much of the early work on cognitive mapping tended to be more theoretical, some of those topics in the Downs and Stea volume had a broader scope and are pursued today. As an example, a paper by Orleans (1973) in that volume investigated the relationship between cognitive maps and both our socioeconomic status and the physical barriers in our environment. In related research, during the early 1970s Appleyard (1970, 1976) linked our cognitive maps to the kind of travel mode we use. In Appleyard’s research, travelers who drove cars possessed more coherent cognitive maps than did those who took the bus. Recent research essentially combined these two threads using residents of Los Angeles who were interviewed at malls or transportation hubs (Mondschein, Blumenberg, & Taylor, 2010). In this research, participants made significantly different estimates of distance related to the type of transportation they used. These estimates were fairly accurate, but people who used public transportation modes, such as the bus, tended to have larger estimates of distance. The researchers see implications for the perception of employment opportunity. “To a carless job seeker, job opportunities not easily reached by transit are effectively out of reach, and even transparent, regardless of Euclidean distance” (p. 864). These findings demonstrate the potential relationship in environmental psychology between research and policy. Lynch’s Contribution: The Legibility of Place When we turn to the topic of the legibility of the environment, or the way it is understood, the (p. 44) application of spatial cognition, as opposed to the theory, is highlighted. The legibility of the environment is fundamentally related to the ease of wayfinding within it; moreover, it has been argued that spatial understanding of the city is influenced by the organization of structural elements, such as paths and landmarks. With the publication of Lynch’s small Page 3 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition book The Image of the City in 1960, he gave us structural elements that have been used since then to describe city structure: paths, edges, districts, nodes, and landmarks. Paths and edges are linear elements, districts correspond to regions, and nodes and landmarks are point elements. Although Lynch was not an environmental psychologist, his work has been embraced by our discipline. Researchers who work on the scale of wayfinding in the city typically start with Lynch’s five structural elements. Lynch has arguably done the most to foster the connection between spatial cognition and urban planning (Devlin, 2001), with implications for how cities might be structured to facilitate legibility. The legibility of the city is not a trivial issue; when we are lost, we are frightened; when we understand our surroundings, we derive psychological comfort. Others have offered principles that intertwine with legibility, among them Appleton (1975), who talks about the importance of having a vista (prospect) and a place for retreat (refuge). How one structures one’s mental map reflects the extent to which one knows the city, from districts (if you are unfamiliar) to landmarks (if you are quite familiar); those with a moderate degree of familiarity may rely more on paths. Among the structural elements, the path is most important; path legibility benefits from both regularity and distinctiveness. For example, a grid is usually beneficial, but there has to be distinctiveness within the grid. In research based on Lynch, DeJonge (1962) stated, “Formation of a map image is easiest where there is a street plan with a regular pattern, and a single dominant path, characteristic nodes, and unique landmarks” (p. 274). Early on, Appleyard (1969, 1970, 1976, 1979) studied what environmental aspects shape legibility, specifically by examining the development of Ciudad Guayana in Venezuela (1976). He emphasized the role of spatial and sequential elements; paths and nodes are sequential, whereas landmarks, districts, and edges are spatial. Clear identity emerges when there is a clustering of activity and a road system around it. The problem of lack of distinctiveness as it relates to legible environments has been pursued in the urban planning literature. In particular commentators have focused on this lack of distinctiveness in new towns such as Brasilia (Epstein, 1973; Gruen, 1964). Illegible environments often pose problems in the creation of cognitive maps, but even in more clearly organized environments structural errors may exist. In fact, errors are commonplace in cognitive maps; these maps are not Euclidean, they are utilitarian. A cognitive map may be good enough to get you home, and generally is, but that doesn’t mean it is error free. Sketch maps that participants are asked to produce in research often poorly represent the actual Euclidean distances involved (McNamara, Ratcliff, & McKoon, 1984; Moeser, 1988). It is possible that Gestalt principles such as similarity and good continuation contribute to the errors revealed in people’s sketch maps. In a study of students who had been in Ann Arbor, Michigan, for about two years (Hirtle & Jonides, 1985), students underestimated distances within subjective landmark clusters they had generated and overestimated such distances across clusters. Although any number of studies make some assessment of Euclidean expertise when people draw maps or give distance estimates, people giving directions more often talk about geometric aspects (straight, curved), turns (left, right), and distance in blocks (if it is a neighborhood) (Hill, 1987). Brain Areas Underlying Wayfinding Before proceeding further, it is important to review some of the literature relating wayfinding, spatial cognition, and neuroscience. This literature has a decidedly theoretical emphasis and typically highlights basic research. It might seem illogical to jump from the macroscale of the city to the microscale of the brain, but investigating the role of brain processes in wayfinding and spatial cognition is increasingly common in the literature. The Decade of the Brain that began in 1990 (www.loc.gov/loc/brain) has impacted environmental psychologists whose research interest is wayfinding. The availability of technologies such as fMRIs and PET scans to understand brain processes has enabled environmental psychologists as well as cognitive psychologists and neuroscientists more generally to better grasp the parts of the brain that support wayfinding. What brain areas are involved in wayfinding and why might knowing about them be useful? As argued elsewhere (e.g., Devlin, 2001), a better understanding of brain processes may ultimately help in creating environments that are not only understandable but also pleasant. For example, (p. 45) O’Neill (1991a) linked wayfinding to a biologically based model of spatial cognition. As a refresher, the neocortex of the brain has two hemispheres, and each of four lobes (frontal, parietal, temporal, and occipital) is represented in each hemisphere. There are two visual cortical systems, one dorsal (on top), the Page 4 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition other ventral (underneath). Connections between the parietal and occipital lobes lobe have often been referred to as constituting a dorsal “whereness” system, and connections from the temporal lobe to the occipital lobe as constituting a ventral “whatness” system (see, for example, Kosslyn, 1987, 1991; Morrow & Ratcliff, 1988; Ungerleider & Mishkin, 1982). Knowledge about brain function comes from a variety of sources, among them brain lesions; dissociations of function; fMRI studies; PET scans; cerebral blood flow; and hormonal abnormalities. Research on wayfinding focusing on brain function is no longer limited to those with brain aberrations, thanks to advances in technology. The hemispheres are lateralized and functionally asymmetrical. Historically, there has been more emphasis on the right hemisphere in wayfinding tasks, and in particular there has been great interest in the hippocampus (its name derived from the fact that the structure resembles a seahorse), located in the medial temporal lobe. If our brains are sensitive to the whereness and whatness aspects of the environment, then first understanding their role in wayfinding and then making use of this information to better design both our environments and our wayfinding aids is of interest to environmental psychologists. At this point in the development of the neuroscience of spatial cognition, we are just beginning to realize its potential application to environmental design. Although the hippocampus has been implicated in wayfinding behavior, it is not exclusively used for wayfinding and serves memory more generally (Squire, 1987, 1992, 1993; Squire & Knowlton, 1995; Zola-Morgan & Squire, 1990). And increasingly there is the sense that wayfinding involves extra-hippocampus structures such as the parahippocampus (e.g., Morris & Parslow, 2004). Still, some researchers strongly emphasize the wayfinding functions of the hippocampus (e.g., Maguire, 1997; Maguire et al., 1998; Maguire, Frackowiak, & Frith, 1996, 1997). Among the more innovative studies coming out of the Maguire lab was the use of PET scans on experienced taxi drivers in London (Maguire et al., 1997), whose task it was to describe the shortest legal route from a given point A to point B. Only the right hippocampus was engaged when these routes were recalled. Attention was directed to the role of the hippocampus in wayfinding by the early work of Milner (1965), followed by O’Keefe and Nadel (1978) in their book The Hippocampus as a Cognitive Map. Early discussions of the wayfinding role of the hippocampus involved place response (finding a location without a visible cue) as opposed to cue response, in which animals learn to approach a target location in the presence of a cue (Black, Nadel, & O’Keefe, 1977). Later the wayfinding system was described as involving orientation, guidance, and place learning (Nadel, 1990). Of these components, only place learning was hypothesized to rely on the hippocampus. Orientation is also known as dead reckoning, where you make your way using your body as a frame of reference, essentially an egocentric perspective. Guidance involves awareness and use of landmarks and objects in space for wayfinding. Place learning involves relational or configural or survey knowledge, where an allocentric perspective has been achieved that gives more flexibility to the spatial representation. When the hippocampus is compromised, place behavior is deficient. Other spatial cognition systems (e.g., a perception- action system and a cognitive system) have been linked to these anatomical structures, and a useful overview is presented in Allen and Haun (2004). Other research using MRI assessment has pointed to the role of the hippocampus in place learning and the caudate nucleus in response learning (Etchamendy & Bohbot, 2007). These results indicated some wayfinders in virtual environments are able to switch between response and place learning strategies depending on task demands. An example of the sophistication of recent research is work by Janzen and Jansen (2010), who investigated the more subtle aspects of the brain’s ability to differentiate useful from redundant or ambiguous wayfinding information using a virtual maze. Data from fMRI readings pointed to the role of the parahippocampal gyrus in responding to navigationally relevant objects that had been viewed only once. Although beyond the scope of this chapter, it is worthwhile noting that the topic of wayfinding is emerging strongly in cognitive psychology, for example, the role of spatial memory (e.g., Postma, Jager, Kessels, Koppeschaar, & van Honk, 2004) and visuospatial working memory (e.g., Meilinger, Knauff, & Bülthoff, 2008) based on the model of working memory by Baddeley (1986). Given the (p. 46) dominance of neuroscience in psychology more generally, it is likely that the interest in linking wayfinding behavior to neural correlates will continue, and researchers in environmental psychology will either become knowledgeable about these techniques themselves or collaborate with those who are. Page 5 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition Verisimilitude in Wayfinding Tasks The research on verisimilitude has been a blend of theory and application, combining an interest in the cognitive interpretation of such simulations (e.g., ability to understand orientation) and the degree to which such simulations produce results similar to experiencing the environment directly. Researchers studying wayfinding have a history of using representations of the real environment in their studies, whether maps, models, drawings, photographs, or virtual platforms. Determining the degree of correspondence in wayfinding behavior that results from exposure to these iconic simulations, as Winkel and Sasanoff (1970) called them, is an important part of such research strategies. Researchers continue to grapple with the extent to which research using a substitute or representation of reality provides information that is useful in reaching conclusions (and decisions) for real-world applications. And this is not a trivial issue. Early concern dealt with the extent to which viewing a model or photograph(s) was a substitute for “being there” (e.g., Kaplan, Kaplan, & Deardorff, 1974). Shuttleworth (1980) reported a case study in which judgments based on semantic differentials (e.g., high-low scenic value; varied-monotonous; bleak-cheerful) were viewed as comparable whether using black and white photographs, color photographs, or site visits. His research further suggested that color photographs were better than black and white photographs in paralleling responses made on site. Further, Seaton and Collins (1972) had semantic differential judgments based on the facades of four campus buildings evaluated in situ by campus visitors, and contrasted those with judgments made on the basis of threedimensional models, color photographs, or black and white photographs. Color photographs seemed to best correlate with judgments made of the real facades, but the authors noted that while “the qualities that buildings impart to viewers are generally similar over simulations,” they are not congruent (p. 6–10–10). Thorndyke and Hayes-Roth’s (1982) often-cited study reveals some of the differences acquired with exposure to maps versus wayfinding in an environment (in this case the first floor of the Rand Corporation building in Santa Monica, California). Initially participants (all women) with no exposure to the building who viewed a map were better at estimating the location of objects than at judging orientation; with more experience, participants in the navigation condition were as accurate in judging object locations as those in the map condition. Thorndyke and Hayes-Roth argued that using a map facilitates the formation of survey knowledge but that the map users may have difficulty changing the perspective they have acquired from the map, evident in poorer performance in orientation tasks (italics added). An important theme in the research on wayfinding is the acquisition of a particular perspective even in the development of survey knowledge from map exposure. This kind of problem with orientation appears as well in the research using virtual reality platforms (e.g., Richardson, Montello, & Hegarty, 1999). The research using virtual reality platforms has demonstrated reasonable correspondence between the simulation and the actual environment, the orientation issue notwithstanding. Often this research has an applied emphasis or holds the promise of application to real environments. In an important applied example, research by Shih, Lin, and Yang (2000) showed similarities in fire evacuation time from a real versus a virtual building. Research by Westerdahl et al. (2006) demonstrated that virtual reality models and real buildings were described similarly on a semantic environment description scale. Further, based on a virtual environment representing a campus in Marseille, Péruch and Wilson (2004) pointed to similarities in outcome between the real and virtual worlds when a high-fidelity virtual world is created. A chapter by Darken and Peterson (2002) reviews the circumstances under which exposure to virtual reality could be expected to facilitate transfer of training and provides principles for the ways in which navigable virtual reality environments can be designed. One might expect that advances in technology will improve the ecological validity of virtual platforms and the extent to which they truly give you the sense of being immersed, which was not the case in some of the earlier work (e.g., Wilson, 1997). One of the clear advantages to research with virtual platforms is their flexibility, and although cost was a limiting factor in the early days of this research, the tools are becoming more affordable. These tools also provide an excellent approach to studying those with various kinds of disabilities (e.g., visual, (p. 47) cognitive). With increasing numbers of students being exposed to virtual reality research, even at the undergraduate level, we may expect such research on wayfinding and spatial cognition, and its real-world applications, to grow. When virtual environment (VE) wayfinding information is misaligned vis-à-vis its real-world template, problems occur just as they do using standard you-are-here maps (e.g., Levine, 1982; Levine, Marchon, & Hanley, 1984). In Page 6 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition research (Richardson et al., 1999) using a building with multiple floors, VE participants had higher directional estimate errors than either participants in a map condition of the building or participants in the walking condition when pointing between floors after multiple turns. The authors suggested that learners in VE may need to be attuned to alignment following a change of heading, and their research showed the importance of aligning wayfinding maps with the actual environment. Similarly, research by Werner and Schindler (2004) demonstrated the impact of misalignment on wayfinding performance using floor plans of four virtual environments based on an existing office building with a complex structure. When the area around the elevator was misaligned with the rest of the floor plan, this configuration caused decrements in measures of wayfinding. Thus, reflecting the concern that has guided much of the research on verisimilitude, an ongoing issue is the extent to which experience in VE matches the experience of actual travel. Actual travel, map study, and travel in virtual environments have been differentiated in a number of ways. Montello, Hegarty, Richardson, and Waller (2004) pointed to differences between direct travel and relying on the memory of a map, noting that spatial memory typically uses a reference system that is more egocentric than not, which may be related to the kinds of misorientation difficulties that map users sometimes experience. Maps may be helpful, but direct travel results in better route acquisition. The authors argue that survey knowledge can be developed through both real and virtual experience, but that such survey knowledge is not identical to the survey knowledge provided through the study of maps, a point made earlier by the research of Thorndyke and Hayes-Roth (1982). But cognitive errors are an equal-opportunity employer, as it were, because similarities across the different kinds of exposure to wayfinding information include errors. Many of these errors reflect a kind of Gestalt quality, such that turns and angles, in remembering, are regularized and straightened out (Montello et al., 2004). A small number of researchers see usefulness in simulations that intentionally deviate from realism (Durlach et al., 2000). Examples of such deviations are what they call supernormal features, such as the ability to look through objects to see what is beyond. They also argue for the use of worlds in miniature (WIM), that is, miniature models in 3-D that would allow some flexibility in scale and viewpoint. If supernormal features are used, the researchers suggest offering the same perspective (egocentric viewpoint) as would be engaged in the real-world version and employing the same kind of movement (e.g., simulations of walking, driving, climbing over barriers) as well as including the same kind of aids (e.g., you-are-here maps). In summary, underlying concerns in the work on verisimilitude have been the extent of agreement between direct contact with the environment and a simulation of that environment, and the variables that are particularly susceptible to distortion. These concerns continue to be raised in work on VE. Developmental Theories When we turn to developmental theory (and later to developmental behavior), the emphasis in the literature is primarily theoretical; there is little focus on how this knowledge can be used to enhance wayfinding. In general terms, most researchers view the ontogenetic development of spatial cognition as advancing from an egocentric perspective (organized around the self) to an allocentric perspective (independent of the self). Further, this development is often described as one that relies first on landmarks, moves to an ability to use route structure, and reaches its highest form of knowledge when a configurational or survey understanding is available. Although researchers may point to the work of Piaget to begin their discussion of the developmental progression of spatial understanding that supports wayfinding, many spend more time with the work of Siegel and White (1975). One reason environmental researchers may spend less time with Piaget (Piaget & Inhelder, 1948/1956) is that his discussion of the development of spatial cognition was less well articulated than was his discussion of the traditional periods (i.e., sensorimotor, preoperational, concrete operations, formal operations). The developmental sequence of spatial cognition is hypothesized to move from topological, through perspective, and finally Euclidean relationships. The infant is fundamentally an actor and experiences space through movement. Although proposing it (p. 48) as a stage theory, Piaget and Inhelder argued that the perspective and Euclidean understandings were maturing at the same time, with a later resolution of Euclidean understanding. In addition to the developmental sequence, Piaget’s research paradigm, particularly the three-mountains problem, has made an impact on environmental psychologists. In the three-mountains problem, which involves a small-scale model of three mountains mounted on a board, the researcher investigates what the child sees from his/her Page 7 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition location, and examines whether the child can identify the photo that represents the view that would be visible from other sides of the model. A primary research question is the age at which the child decentralizes from his/her egocentric perspective. The developmental sequences of Piaget and of Siegel and White have a similar emphasis on the progression from a disorganized and limited (read egocentric) understanding of the environment, ultimately progressing to a coordinated perspective, which allows the user an independence from any particular point of view (hence, allocentric). Siegel and White present this progression as moving from reliance on landmarks to route knowledge, to configurational or survey knowledge. Other developmental models that have received attention in the environmental literature are those of the anchor-point theory of spatial cognition (Couclelis, Golledge, Gale, & Tobler, 1987; Golledge, Smith, Pellegrino, Doherty, & Marshall, 1985), which stressed a hierarchical structure provided by anchors; travel plans (Gärling et al., 1984); and Huttenlocher and Newcombe’s location coding (1984; Newcombe, 1989). Golledge et al. (2000, p. 94) also reinforced a progression of three increasingly more sophisticated kinds of knowledge related to wayfinding (route learning; contextual route understanding; configurational knowledge). In the anchor-point theory of spatial cognition, the anchor (e.g., where one lives) provides an organizing function for the understanding of spatial relationships. Rather than scale, the hierarchy is organized by cognitive salience (Couclelis et al., 1987). In this model, the child and adult progression of spatial cognition is parallel (going through the same sequence). Gärling’s model of spatial cognition viewed as travel plans (Gärling et al., 1984, 1986) is similar in many ways to the anchor-point model. Here, the idea of a hierarchy revolves around a sequence of steps in planning travel (applied to adults), including acquiring the information you need for the trip, where you want to go, the logical order to visit those places, and the routes to be used to get there. In the case of newcomers, the roles of landmarks and choice points are critical (Gärling et al., 1986); other researchers have emphasized the organizing function of landmarks (Devlin, 1976; Moore, 1976; Siegel & White, 1975). Although researchers typically find a general progression in performance from younger to older individuals in both wayfinding performance and spatial knowledge, such a difference in exploratory behavior is not always found, suggesting a dissociation between spatial knowledge, wayfinding performance, and exploration behavior. JansenOsmann, Schmid, and Heil (2007) argued that often, spatial behavior and knowledge have been investigated separately. Using regular and irregular virtual mazes, they measured exploration and the effect of environmental structure in participants about 8, 11, and 24 years of age. Participants had to locate a target in the maze and learn the shortest route. There were no age group differences in exploratory behavior, but there were differences in spatial knowledge progression and wayfinding performance. In other virtual environment research by JansenOsmann (Jansen-Osmann & Fuchs, 2006) focusing on the role of landmarks, there were developmental differences in wayfinding performance and orientation behavior, but landmarks were equally useful to children (second and sixth graders) and adults (in their mid-20s). With regard to the developmental progression, Newcombe (Newcombe & Sluzenski, 2004) stated that the movement from egocentric to allocentric perspectives is not really that nice and neat, and that children in the first half year of life make use of response learning and cue learning, as well as dead reckoning, whereas place learning, involving distance in the absence of a standard, is available for four-year-olds. In commenting on the importance of methodology as it relates to investigating spatial development in children, Newcombe (1997) delineated how the tasks we pose, specifically our choice of dependent measures, affect the conclusions we draw with regard to spatial development. The importance of methodology was also pointed out by Liben (1982) and Siegel (1981). Liben (1982) argued that the tasks that are selected have a major impact on the accurate estimation of the child’s competence, and that no single task should be used to infer level of competence. Siegel (1981) also pointed to the need to refine methodology to ask better questions and uncover ways to better externalize internal spatial knowledge. Recently researchers also argued that a (p. 49) strict developmental progression is a poor fit for the behavior that is exhibited, with survey representations developing along with landmark and route representations (Hölscher, Meilinger, Vrachliotis, Brösamle, & Knauff, 2006). A very good review is offered by Blades (1997), who covered the major theoretical approaches that have emerged to explain the wayfinding of children, specifically Piaget (Piaget & Inhelder, 1948/1956) and Siegel and White (1975), and the common techniques used to investigate their spatial knowledge (e.g., route description, sketch Page 8 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition maps, models, estimates of distance and direction, route recognition, real-world wayfinding). Developmental Behaviors The work on developmental behavior continues the emphasis on theory, as opposed to application. What most people would consider bona fide wayfinding—that is, finding your way in macroenvironments—is not typically represented in the research on infants or children younger than school age. That research tests ontogenetic theories of spatial cognition, focusing on such issues as when children understand that a map or model can stand for some place in the real world (e.g., Blades & Cooke, 1994; Scholnick, Fein, & Campbell, 1990). The term “wayfinding” is used very loosely to describe the tasks in many of these studies on young children, for example, when kindergarteners arranged the furniture of their classroom using a scale model (Siegel & Schadler, 1977), or when Blaut and Stea (1974) investigated toy activity to make a street corner during unstructured play. Moving to school-age children, a sizable number of studies have investigated the developmental ability to judge distances and to read maps. Still, the size of the environment in question is pretty small, including the school playground (Blades & Spencer, 1987, 1990), or rooms of various sorts, including those that are collapsible (Acredolo, 1977; Bluestein & Acredolo, 1979; Hazen, Lockman, & Pick, 1978) or subdivided into smaller spaces with barriers of different permeability, either opaque or transparent (Kosslyn, Pick, & Fariello, 1974). The focus ranges from children’s memory to the role of distinctive cues in the environment and environmental familiarity (Acredolo, Pick, & Olsen, 1975). What stands out from the Acredolo et al. research is not only the developmental timeline (by the time children are eight they are able to make metric judgments as to whether the environment is distinctive), but also the importance of landmark distinctiveness. Such distinctiveness helps younger children who have not given up their reliance on topological relationships. The environments that have been employed for research are often familiar to the participants, including areas around their homes, schools, and neighborhoods (Conning & Byrne, 1984; Doherty, Gale, Pellegrino, & Golledge, 1989), and spaces such as libraries or gymnasiums within buildings (Acredolo et al., 1975; Biel, 1982; Cohen, Weatherford, Lomenick, & Koeller, 1979; Cousins, Siegel, & Maxwell, 1983; Herman, Kolker, & Shaw, 1982; Kahl, Herman, & Klein, 1984). When the scale of the research moves beyond rooms or relatively small-scale environments such as playgrounds, the research is more likely to fit our operational definition of bona fide wayfinding, especially in a group of studies where participants carried out an actual wayfinding task (Cornell & Hay, 1984; Cornell, Heth, & Broda, 1989; Cornell, Heth, & Rowat, 1992; Cousins et al., 1983). Other studies have presented the large-scale environment through simulation, including slides (Allen, 1981; Allen, Kirasic, Siegel, & Herman, 1979; Doherty et al., 1989; Doherty & Pellegrino, 1985; Siegel, Allen, & Kirasic, 1979). The Cornell and Hay (1984) study incorporated a good range of macroscale testing conditions and addressed a variety of theoretical issues, but with little emphasis on application. The testing conditions included walking the designated route across a university campus, seeing slides of that route, or viewing a video of that route; it contrasted second graders with children in kindergarten. Across conditions, older children performed better. Importantly from the standpoint of assessing the issue of simulation, children who went on the guided walk had fewer errors than those in the video-viewing condition. Moreover, half the participants were also tested along the reverse route, and those in the walking condition made fewer errors than did those in either of the simulation (slides, video) conditions. Here is another instance in which simulation does not produce the same results as walking along the actual route. The benefits of walking a route are reminiscent of an early study by Terence Lee in which he discussed how sociospatial schemata are formed (Lee, 1957). The school adjustment of rural children who rode the bus to school was contrasted with those who walked. And although adjustment decreased with time spent in travel, the walkers had significantly higher adjustment than did the bus users for the same length of time. Lee argued that the walkers had the opportunity to integrate the schemata of home and school (p. 50) in a way not available to the bus riders due to the circuitous route taken by the bus. In summary, throughout these two sections (developmental theories and behaviors), the primary emphasis is to advance theory; secondary concern is given to applying theory to improve wayfinding. When we turn our attention to those with cognitive and visual impairments, there is more emphasis on application in the research. Page 9 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition Wayfinding in Populations with Challenges: Cognitive and Visual Impairments Cognitive Impairments Extending wayfinding research along the developmental spectrum to populations with cognitive and/or visual challenges is of interest to environmental psychologists for practical as well as theoretical reasons. Regularly we hear of elderly who wander away from a home base and do not return safely. Understanding the wayfinding competence of these elderly may help them and translate into universally applicable design principles. Older adults with Alzheimer’s disease and even those without cognitive impairment may struggle to understand wayfinding signage, a reason for researchers to contribute solutions to this problem. The addition of text to wayfinding signs (e.g., for stairwell, airport, bus station, restaurant) with icons (e.g., symbols, pictures) generally improves wayfinding even for older adults who were healthy (Scialfa et al., 2008). The number of diagnosed cases of Alzheimer’s disease continues to increase, with 1 in 85 people worldwide expected to have the disease by 2050. In North America, that prediction is for 8.8 million by 2050, with 3.1 million cases in 2010, according to the msnbc.msn.com website in June 2010. Alzheimer’s dementia is often characterized by a decline in spatial orientation (Passini, Pigot, Rainville, & Tétreault, 2000), and for that reason has received considerable attention from wayfinding researchers (e.g., Weisman, Cohen, Ray, & Day, 1991). One suggestion is that Alzheimer’s disease affects the hippocampal place neurons, rendering maintenance of cognitive maps more difficult (Parnetti & Calabresi, 2006, p. S77). In addition to the loss of tissue in the right posterior area of the hippocampus, others point to an involvement of parietal areas as well (delpolyi, Rankin, Mucke, Miller, & GornoTempini, 2007). In research by Passini et al. (2000) on individuals with advanced Alzheimer’s disease (AD), wayfinding was hindered by a monotonous architectural environment and lack of reference points to aid orientation. Where it was possible for patients to see ahead (visual access), wayfinding was improved. Signage reinforces goal-directedness and is important to reduce the wayfinding deficits created through memory impairment. Elevators were particularly challenging, causing significant confusion. The study also pointed to the role of decoration, in particular to floor patterns, as presenting a possible source of disorientation for patients. The authors suggested that the use of pictograms for AD patients might be worth investigation; they also pointed out that the names given to rooms need to relate to the function the rooms serve. Research by Kirasic (1985), among others, pointed to difficulty the elderly may have finding their way in unfamiliar environments. But Ohta and Kirasic (1983) as well as others (e.g., Lavoie & Demick, 1995) also demonstrated that laboratory studies of the spatial cognition of the elderly may underestimate their performance in real-world settings. Research conducted in a suburban mall showed that information presented in a number of different forms could be helpful, including as a map/model, as a videotape, or as a verbal description (Kirasic & Mathes, 1990). In research employing virtual reality mazes and MRI scans (Head & Isom, 2010), the hippocampus was implicated in wayfinding whereas the caudate nucleus was associated with route learning. Older people (mean age in the low 70s) in this study acquired less knowledge about the environment, traveled a greater distance to locate specific targets, had poorer recall for landmarks in the virtual environment, and were less good at assimilating the route than were younger participants (college students). Further, research by Cushman, Stein, and Duffy (2008) comparing young (YNC) and older normals (ONC), participants with mild cognitive impairment (MCI), and those with early AD (EAD) was important in showing the viability of virtual environment analysis of wayfinding abilities. These authors persuasively argued how difficult it is to do valid real-life wayfinding evaluation in impaired individuals (and normals, for that matter) and highlighted the viability of research with virtual environments. They tested the connection between visual scenes and locations using eight subtests for both real and virtual conditions. The focus (real and virtual) was a lobby of a hospital following a path of about 1,000 feet, which lasted about four minutes (with all participants pushed in a wheelchair). YNC had the best performance, followed by ONC, MCI, and finally EAD; those in the virtual condition had (p. 51) lower scores across groups, but virtual reality equally affected all groups, and real-world and virtual scores correlated at r = .73. “The learning of navigational landmarks is equivalent in real-world and virtual environments, suggesting that cognitive mechanisms are similarly engaged under both conditions” (Cushman et al., 2008, p. 892). Passini, Rainville, Marchand, and Joanette (1995, 1998) suggested that people who suffer from Alzheimer’s disease Page 10 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition are hampered by the inability to make wayfinding travel plans, although there is some evidence that AD patients could execute subplans (parts of an overall plan) in a complex, multipart wayfinding task from a bus stop to the site of the dental clinic within a hospital. Passini et al. (1995, 1998) commented that while disorientation may begin in unfamiliar environments, the progress of the disease brings with it an inability to successfully navigate in familiar environments. While some of this research emphasized areas of brain function (e.g., Head & Isom, 2010), other research, such as that of Cushman et al. (2008), showed more clearly the applied context within which the research on cognitive impairments can be situated. Research on those with cognitive impairments, especially AD, reflects a likely model for future investigation by integrating an interest in brain regions and environmental structure (e.g., usefulness of landmarks). Visual Impairments In addition to those with cognitive impairments, people with visual impairments provide a population of interest for environmental psychologists from a practical as well as a theoretical perspective. Theoretically, environmental psychologists who take a cognitive perspective have been interested in the extent to which individuals with visual impairments form cognitive maps. An extension of this interest is the role of wayfinding assistance (i.e., aids) for the visually impaired. Research suggests those who are blind or have severe visual impairments nevertheless have spatial representations of the environment (Fletcher, 1980; Juurmaa, 1973; Kennedy, Gabias, & Heller, 1992; Klatzky, Golledge, Loomis, Cicinelli, & Pellegrino, 1995; Landau, Spelke, & Gleitman, 1984; Passini, Proulx, & Rainville, 1990; Strelow, 1985). In research with 30 participants including those who were blind, visually impaired, or not impaired, repeated experience over a 1.2-mile route led to equivalent wayfinding performance. The authors suggested that it is not lack of spatial ability but rather deficiency of sight that may explain initial differences in performance (Golledge et al., 2000). To facilitate wayfinding, it seems likely that those with severe visual impairments make more use of a self-referent system (awareness of where their bodies are in space) than do sighted individuals (Dodds, Howarth, & Carter, 1982; Haber, Haber, Penningroth, Novak, & Radgowski, 1993). In a “low-tech” approach, wayfinding difficulties have been identified through the use of goggles to simulate a variety of visual impairments (e.g., glaucoma, diabetic retinopathy, cataracts, and macular degeneration). Participants had difficulty with such decorative elements as floor patterns with changes and tiles that are shiny or look wet. Lighting changes can mislead those with vision impairments to misjudge the size of corridors and doorways. Wayfinding signage itself caused difficulty due to variability in size, illumination, and location (Koneczny, Rousek, & Hallbeck, 2009). Research by Espinosa, Ungar, Ochaíta, Blades, and Spencer (1998) suggested some advantages in giving people who are blind or visually impaired the use of tactile maps in learning the spatial representation of a new environment rather than relying solely on direct experience sans wayfinding aids. The authors suggested the use of both direct experience and tactile maps by orientation and mobility instructors who work with visually impaired individuals. Espinosa et al.’s research gave more importance to tactile maps than has generally been reported in the literature. In summary, research on those with cognitive and visual impairments has been a successful merger of theory and application in wayfinding and spatial cognition. Gender Differences The research on gender differences in wayfinding and spatial cognition has often been situated within the context of performance deficit. Typically, little emphasis has been given to the practical implication of any behavioral differences between men and women that may exist. Gender differences in spatial cognition and wayfinding have been reported in much of the environmental psychology literature and in some cases have been a focus of such research. Reported gender differences can be organized into three general areas: (1) mental rotation, (2) spatial anxiety and confidence, (3) behavioral dependent measures (accuracy; distance; use of cardinal directions and landmarks). Mental Rotation Page 11 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition The difference between men and women on mental rotation tasks is significant (Hyde, 1990; (p. 52) Masters & Sanders, 1993) and repeatedly reported (e.g., Corballis, 1982; Halpern, 1986; Herman & Bruce, 1983; Sanders & Soares, 1986; Sanders, Soares, & D’Aquila, 1982). The mean effect size of mental rotation as measured by the Vandenberg and Kuse task (1978) was .94, reported in Linn and Petersen’s 1985 meta-analysis; Masters and Sanders (1993) did not find the gender difference on the mental rotation task to be shrinking. A significant body of research suggests that the mental rotation differences do not emerge until late childhood/adolescence (Pezaris & Casey, 1991; Snow & Strope, 1990; Waber, 1976, 1977; Waber, Carlson, & Mann, 1982), with a large study reporting reliable difference by age 10 (Johnson & Meade, 1987). However, one recent study reported a difference in three- to four-month-old infants related to male infants’ preference for the mirror image of a stimulus over a novel rotation of a familiar stimulus, whereas female infants divided their attention between the two (Quinn & Liben, 2008). Despite the reported gender differences in mental rotation performance in the lab, MRT scores are not necessarily predictive of performance on real-world wayfinding tasks, and not all of these tasks show gender differences in performance (discussed in the section on behavioral measures). Anxiety and Confidence Lawton (1994, 1996; Lawton, Charleston, & Zieles, 1996) developed a number of scales that have been widely used in the research on wayfinding and spatial cognition. One of these tests assesses spatial anxiety (1994), in which the respondent characterizes the level of anxiety likely to be experienced in indoor or outdoor wayfinding situations. Lawton also introduced other scales that often reflect gender differences. The Wayfinding Strategy Scale (Lawton, 1994) measures the extent to which one prefers to use an orientation strategy or a route strategy when driving to a new place. Tracking your position in reference to orientation points underlies the orientation strategy, whereas focusing on a sequence of steps with an emphasis on landmarks characterizes the route strategy. Women were more likely to use a route strategy whereas men were more likely to report using an orientation strategy (Lawton, 1994). A number of studies beyond Lawton (1994) reported a higher level of spatial anxiety by women. Gender differences in spatial anxiety appear in young teenagers, ages 10 to 17 (Schmitz, 1997), with girls reporting higher levels, which correlate with slower movement through a maze. In general anxiety may reduce the use of an orientation strategy (Kallai, Kerekes, Osvath, Makany, & Jarai, 2003). Men are more confident in their wayfinding ability (e.g., Devlin & Bernstein, 1995; Kozlowski & Bryant, 1977; Lawton, 1996) and more confident in their sense of direction (Holding, 1992; Hölscher et al., 2006; Kozlowski & Bryant, 1977; Streeter & Vitello, 1986) than are women. Women report more difficulty in wayfinding related to driving than do men (Burns, 1998). It is reasonable to say that more studies show gender differences in confidence related to wayfinding than do not, and there is a relationship between confidence and performance. For example, research has indicated significant relationships between lower error scores and greater confidence in wayfinding (e.g., Devlin & Bernstein, 1995) and between larger pointing errors and higher spatial anxiety (Lawton, 1996). Wayfinding Measures Dependent measures of wayfinding take a variety of forms, from navigating through an environment (e.g., Cornell et al., 1989; Cornell et al., 1992; Lawton et al., 1996; Lövdén et al., 2007; Matthews, 1987; Webley, 1981), drawing sketch maps (Doherty et al., 1989; Matthews, 1987), listing elements of a campus (Holding, 1992), giving distance estimates (e.g., Kirasic, Allen, & Siegel, 1984), and pointing to origins or destinations (e.g., Anooshian & Young, 1981). In addition to such variables as accuracy (as in the pointing task or distance estimation), time can be assessed as well as whether the target destination is actually reached. One difference that is not infrequently reported is that women make more pointing errors than do men (e.g., Holding, 1992; Holding & Holding, 1989; Lawton, 1996). Although women are often less accurate than are men at pointing from a destination back to an origin, this deficit is not necessarily related to their ability to find their way back to the origin or to their performance on some spatial relational learning tasks (e.g., Lavenex & Lavenex, 2010). An instructional study is one by Lawton et al. (1996) in which women did as well as men in the actual navigation portion of a task, finding their way through connecting hallways in a campus building, as measured by time to complete the return trip, elements of the verbal protocols, or the specific wayfinding pattern chosen. The large difference in pointing accuracy, where the errors for women Page 12 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition were a mean of about 89 degrees versus a mean of about 48 degrees for men, did not seem to impede women’s wayfinding (p. 53) success. As the study by Lawton et al. (1996) indicated, there is less evidence for gender differences in tasks of macrospatial cognition (see also Pearson & Ferguson, 1989) than for assessments that require precision, such as pointing accuracy. Men and women may use different wayfinding strategies. Some researchers suggest that men and women differ in the approach to organizing topographic space (McGuinness & Sparks, 1983), with a Euclidean emphasis by men (e.g., Coluccia, Iosue, & Brandimonte, 2007; Matthews, 1987) and a landmark emphasis by women (Galea & Kimura, 1993; Miller & Santoni, 1986), although the female predilection for greater landmark use does not always appear (Herman, Kail, & Siegel, 1979). When men and women provided verbal directions from a map representing an unfamiliar environment (Ward, Newcombe, & Overton, 1986), there were differences in the use of cardinal directions and mileage indicators (more by men), whereas women made more errors of omission and commission when asked to recall the map from memory. It is likely that task demands heavily influence these outcomes in terms of whether the information provided must be exhaustive, which in turn would influence performance variables (Devlin, 2001). Women seem to be at a disadvantage in performance when angular judgments are required. When relative judgments are required, for example, in selecting which photograph represents a scene that is closer to a target scene (Allen, 1981), selecting scenes high in landmark potential (Allen et al., 1979), or recognizing scenes (Doherty & Pellegrino, 1985), there is more likely to be gender parity. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to evaluate the origins of sex differences in spatial ability; as many as seven different explanations (dispersal, fertility and parental care, female foraging, male foraging, range size, male warfare, and female choice) have been posited (Jones, Braithwaite, & Healy, 2003). Jones et al. evaluated these explanations and pointed to differences in range size as the most viable option. A comprehensive summary of the gender differences in spatial orientation (i.e., location of the individual with regard to a reference point) was provided by Coluccia and Iosue (2004), who advanced the role of visuospatial working memory in resolving some of the contradictions in the literature. Their summary of the literature showed a high percentage of studies with an advantage to men in pointing tasks (about 64%) and wayfinding tasks (about 61%), whereas in map drawing and in distance estimates about 55% and 71%, respectively, of the studies reported no difference. In none of these categories did performance by women exceed that of men across studies. The authors reviewed biological factors, environmental factors, interactionist approaches, evolutionary explanations, strategy differences, and personality factors. Their assessment was that gender differences emerge during difficult orientation tasks, and one way of evaluating task difficulty is the load the task puts on working memory. The advantage to men in wayfinding appears in virtual environments as diverse as water mazes and shopping centers. In research involving a virtual water maze, men were typically faster in locating the hidden platform (Astur, Tropp, Sava, Constable, & Markus, 2004). This difference is also reported in children (Newhouse, Newhouse, & Astur, 2007). Woolley et al. (2010) suggested men may process distal features in the environment (i.e., visual cues that are outside the wall of the water maze pool) differently than do women and start out these tasks heading more in the correct direction than do women. These researchers attributed gender differences in performance on this task to this difference in the ability to search for the correct trajectory initially, not to a spatial learning deficit for women. In a very different kind of virtual environment, a shopping center with 14 shops and 6 targets, women performed less well on a variety of dependent measures. They took more time, made more navigational errors, had lower accuracy on target placement, and demonstrated poorer performance returning to the origin (Tlauka, Brolese, Pomeroy, & Hobbs, 2005). In trying to sort out these gender differences in wayfinding, some researchers have examined the role of confounding variables. For example, by testing men and women with instructions based on Euclidean information (cardinal directions and distance estimates) and separately for instructions based on landmarks (e.g., the red bench), Saucier et al. (2002) were able to tease apart gender differences in spatial ability and spatial strategy preference, confounded in most research, by having men and women follow directions using Euclidean instructions or landmark-based instructions. Women following instructions based on Euclidean information had more errors and took longer to reach the target destinations than either men or women in the landmark-based condition or men in the Euclidean condition. The authors suggested that men and women use different navigational strategies, which Page 13 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition lead to differences in performance. (p. 54) They suggested, “Women may commit more errors in Euclidean navigation because of a reduced ability to maintain orientation with respect to north” (p. 409). Other researchers also have pointed to use of different strategies as a way to understand gender differences in wayfinding (e.g., Choi, McKillop, Ward, & L’Hirondelle, 2006). But with some adjustments in the kinds of aids provided, women’s performance can be enhanced, with implications for the way in which virtual interfaces are designed (e.g., flying, driving) (Chen, Chang, & Chang, 2009). In research in a virtual aquarium, women were better with egocentric supports (guide signs) than with allocentric support (you-are-here maps); the difference in type of support did not significantly impact the performance of men. Rather than simply documenting gender differences, researchers may want to elucidate the kinds of aids that improve performance, as was done in the Chen et al. study. One challenge for environmental researchers interested in gender differences in spatial cognition is to move beyond the restrictions of the performance deficit argument and develop wayfinding aids that match the different approaches that may be taken by men and women. Analytical Tools: Space Syntax and Geographic Information System (GIS) As indicated in this chapter, increasingly research on wayfinding and spatial cognition is being shaped by advances in technology. Beyond assessing brain activity with fMRIs and PET scans, analytic techniques such as space syntax and geographic information provide sophisticated tools to understand the factors that influence wayfinding. Space Syntax Space syntax analysis is a technique that enables researchers to evaluate the connectivity of spaces; that is, how spaces are connected to one another. With regard to wayfinding, this technique has been used to better understand the functional spatial configuration of a building (e.g., Haq, 2003; Haq & Zimring, 2003; Tzeng & Huang, 2009), or a larger space such as a neighborhood (Nenci & Troffa, 2006), and the complexity of such spaces may predict performance on wayfinding tasks, such as pointing to targets that are not visible and drawing a sketch map of the space. Space syntax may offer one way of expressing how cognitive maps are connected (literally) to wayfinding behavior and is one way to approach configurational analysis (Haq, 2003). “In terms of applicability, space syntax analysis may be a good way of testing for possible wayfinding difficulties in buildings and projects, and the role of local and relational qualities for new users potentially helps fine-tune these methods” (Haq & Zimring, 2003, p. 159). Interested readers are directed to the January 2003 issue of Environment and Behavior, which focuses on space syntax, and to the seminal work of Hillier and Hanson (1984). GIS Not surprisingly given his training as a geographer, Golledge was enthusiastic in describing the role of geographic information systems (GIS) in environmental psychology and laid out that case in a chapter for the Handbook of Environmental Psychology (Bechtel & Churchman, 2002). GIS “is a set of computer procedures for geocoding, storing, decoding, analyzing, and visually representing spatial information” (Golledge, 2002, p. 244). Golledge (2002) presented GIS as two-faced, like Janus: one side applied and the other theoretical. When he wrote the chapter, Golledge saw unrealized potential, especially in linking qualitative and quantitative analysis, in the use of GIS by environmental psychologists. Ten years after he wrote this, some headway has been made in more widespread use of GIS for wayfinding research, although the “virgin territory” of environmental psychology to engage GIS described by Golledge (2002, p. 252) essentially remains. Using the Scopus database, entering the terms “wayfinding” and “GIS” yielded 16 entries on July 12, 2010, of which 13 were published after 2000. Similarly, that same day “GIS” and “cognitive map” yielded 18 entries, 9 of which were published after 2000. But there is some progress. For example, a role of GIS in the recovery of lost persons has been proposed (Heth & Cornell, 2007), and Borst et al. (2009) used GIS to investigate the characteristics of streets that encourage (e.g., front gardens) or discourage (e.g., litter, slopes, stairs) walking by elderly individuals when they go shopping, to a health care facility, or to visit a friend or relative. Mandel (2010) reports that GIS can be used to map the most popular routes used by library patrons within the library, and a combination of GIS (for planned route behavior) and person-based GPS (for actual route behavior) was used to assess the degree to which where we say we plan to go Page 14 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition and the route we actually use to get there coincide (Papinski, Scott, & Doherty, 2009). (p. 55) Making a Difference: Applications of Wayfinding Research Almost 15 years ago in a special issue on cognitive mapping research in the Journal of Environmental Psychology, Jackson and Kitchin (1998) pointed to the importance of practical applications for cognitive mapping research, and there is recognition that the architectural field could benefit from an understanding of cognitive principles (Werner & Long, 2003). As indicated in this chapter, there are points of intersection between theory and application, but the research on wayfinding and spatial cognition has on balance been more theoretical, and the practical applications that Jackson and Kitchin recommended have yet to be fully realized. Arguably one practical outcome of the research on spatial cognition and wayfinding is to create environments, from the scale of a building to a city, that enhance our ability to successfully find our way, as well as effective wayfinding aids. Research on existing wayfinding aids, such as you-are-here maps (e.g., Levine, 1982; Levine et al., 1984), has led to a better understanding of what needs to be represented and how it needs to be represented if the aid is to work. The work of Levine and his colleagues emphasized two principles: The orientation principle states that the you-are-here map needs to parallel the terrain. The forward-up equivalence principle states that people operate as if moving forward equals what is shown as “up” on the map. And just because experts make them doesn’t mean that maps are easily comprehended. Maps don’t always help people, as was demonstrated when 20 newcomers to New York City could not use the 1972 subway map to carry out a route that incorporated four segments that were connected (Bronzaft, Dobrow, & O’Hanlon, 1976). Regarding signage, placing signs at choice points is recommended (Carpman & Grant, 1993), but as the research on you-are-here maps (Levine, 1982; Levine et al., 1984) so vividly demonstrated, such manifest cues for wayfinding (i.e., cues that are intended to aid in wayfinding) do not necessarily serve their intended purpose. In a nursing home, (p. 56) research by Weisman (1987) demonstrated that the latent wayfinding cues (i.e., cues not necessarily designed for wayfinding, such as a barbershop pole) more often serve as distinctive wayfinding landmarks than do their manifest counterparts. In this study, 82% of the cues residents mentioned belonged in the latent category. Researchers have also investigated the limits to complexity depicted on maps (e.g., Eastman, 1985; Kovach, Surrette, & Aamodt, 1988) and the use of color (Kosslyn, 1994; Olson, 1987; Smallman & Boynton, 1990; Travis, 1991). As was found earlier in the research by Kaplan et al. (1974), humans make good use of fairly simple depictions of the environment. Related to the appearance of signage, color has been more the domain of researchers in statistical graphics than for researchers involved in wayfinding. Some of the best advice comes from Tufte (1983, 1990), who recommends the use of gradations of gray to indicate changes in quantity. A number of wayfinding studies have incorporated an evaluation of color (e.g., Devlin & Bernstein, 1997; Garland, Haynes, & Grubb, 1979) with mixed results. In the Garland et al. study evaluating city bus maps, more errors occurred in the black and white version with high detail than in the color version with the same level of detail; thus color helped to differentiate detail. But to manage costs (because color is expensive), the authors suggested eliminating minor streets and using a black and white version. Devlin and Bernstein (1997) found no advantage of color in their evaluation of maps of a tourist attraction, but there was little color differentiation in the versions of the maps used in their study, which were shown to participants using a touch-screen monitor mounted in a computer kiosk. Some researchers (e.g., Jansen-Osmann & Wiedenbauer, 2004) reported improved wayfinding performance in both children and adults in a virtual environment in the condition in which the three main routes were presented in different colors versus the routes represented in gray, although the use of color still did not lead to better formation of a survey map than did the use of gray. It has been argued that color by itself is not an effective wayfinding aid and works better if incorporated into thematic content (Devlin, 2001), if the aim is to use color to differentiate floors of a building. One problem with the use of color by itself is that users are not necessarily educated to view color as a wayfinding aid (Selfridge, 1979). Further, color-blindness as well as changes in perception of color in the elderly also limit the usefulness of color as a wayfinding aid. Page 15 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition Although sign placement and color are important, the layout of the building is arguably more important. Properly placed, signs have the ability to facilitate wayfinding, but legibility must begin with the building itself. Research has demonstrated that if the building is not planned with regard for legibility, wayfinding problems will ensue. Early research by Weisman (1981) demonstrated that the judged simplicity of the layout predicted 56% of the variability in scores on wayfinding tasks, whereas familiarity with the buildings explained only 9% of the variance. The complexity of the floor plan was reflected in the number of angles. O’Neill (1991b) similarly found a negative relationship between floor plan complexity and wayfinding success. This was a study in which the availability of signage on wayfinding success was measured and reduced the number of wrong turns by 50% and travel time by 13%. Another stunning example is research by Moeser (1988) on a complex hospital environment in which student nurses who had been in the building for a number of months demonstrated poorer wayfinding ability than did new students who performed wayfinding tasks after memorizing a floor plan to criterion and taking a tour. Certainly posting signs helps wayfinding (Tang, Wu, & Lin, 2009) as does having perceptual access (i.e., views) (Gärling, Lindberg, & Mantyla, 1983), but the basic floor plan is the foundation of legibility (pun intended). We are beginning to see the applications of spatial cognition and wayfinding extend to such activities as emergency response and fire evacuation. Knowledge of spatial cognition indirectly tied to wayfinding is even being used in selecting students for entry into dental school; for medical students, spatial cognition ability predicts performance in laparoscopic surgery, although the good news is that for those with lower spatial ability, training can also improve performance (Hegarty, Keehner, Cohen, Montello, & Lippa, 2007). As researchers examine such behaviors as evacuation during fire drills (Kobes et al., 2009), they better understand the wayfinding implications of both building structure and signage. These researchers used smoke and placed exit signs down low to investigate the impact of those variables on wayfinding in actual hotels during fire drills, using what is called the technique of serious gaming. Although that term is often applied to computer games, here it applies to real-world exercises. People will generally exit through the main entrance without the presence of smoke; in the presence of smoke they are more likely to use the fire exit, and low-placed signs facilitate the use of the fire exit nearest the evacuee. People who used the fire exit evacuated more quickly than those who used the main exit, so using environmental design and wayfinding aids to facilitate this behavior is relevant. Further familiarity with hotel stays was related to exit strategy; with less experience, people are more likely to exit via the main entrance, not the fire exit. Building on earlier studies using head-mounted displays to enhance wayfinding, Wilson and Wright (2009) examined the use of head-mounted displays (HMD) integrated into the facemask of firefighters to help their navigation inside a complex building on the University of California–Berkeley campus. There were advantages of speed, shorter distance traveled, and fewer errors for those with the HMD. “The significantly higher accuracy and consistency suggest that the HMD helped the subjects to form more effective cognitive maps” (p. 682). This research involving first responders and evacuation during fires is an exciting application of wayfinding and spatial cognition to environmental safety and has policy implications. Research on Wayfinding in Natural Environments With regard to wayfinding and spatial cognition, little research has specifically addressed natural environments. Where the natural environment has been studied, more similarities than differences emerge in the components that serve wayfinding in natural as compared to urban environments. For example, in Brosset, Claramunt, and Saux’s (2008) study of the reflections of 15 experienced orienteers in a foot orienteering race, the role of linear features predominated, as a way of reflecting the underlying structural network of the environment. In the same study, this linear emphasis contrasted with the point emphasis (i.e., landmarks) that emerged in Brosset et al.’s analysis of two studies conducted in urban environments. Yet overall the authors argued that the relative importance of geometrical primitives (i.e., points, lines, areas/polygons) in natural and urban environments is “mostly similar” (p. 29). The role of linear elements also appeared in the work of Fontaine, Edwards, Tversky, and Denis (2005), who in a series of studies compared the sketch maps that experts and non-experts drew of a park. Additional participants who were familiar or unfamiliar with the park in question were then asked to identify which of the map elements would be essential to retain; paths were selected as the elements that make a park map effective. Other research reflects the importance of signs at junctions in a trail park (Soh & Smith-Jackson, 2004). Thus, across a limited number of studies, elements such as paths that assist wayfinding in the urban environment (see, for example, Page 16 of 29 Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition Appleyard, 1976; DeJonge, 1962; Lynch, 1960) also assist wayfinding (p. 57) in natural environments. Moreover, providing signage at choice points addresses underlying cognitive requirements, whether in natural or urban environments. Conclusion Research in environmental psychology linking wayfinding and spatial cognition is growing, spurred by advances in technology that permit great flexibility with increasing affordability. Theoretically we see less commitment to a strict developmental progression of landmark to route to survey/configurational knowledge. Gender differences continue to be examined, and the often-reported difference between men and women on the mental rotations test continues. At the same time, there is increasing evidence that men and women may use different strategies for successful wayfinding. This knowledge may eventually be incorporated into different options for men and women in the kind of wayfinding information they select from wayfinding technology (e.g., GPS devices). Environmental psychology has been affected by the dominance of neuroscience in psychology, as wayfinding researchers attempt to pinpoint the brain areas (most likely the hippocampus and parahippocampus) underlying place learning. Finally, moving beyond the contribution of you-are-here maps and the location of signage, research linking spatial cognition and wayfinding is being applied to first responders, such as firefighters, as well as increasingly to populations with cognitive and/or visual impairment. Future Directions Based on this review of the literature, it is likely researchers interested in wayfinding and spatial cognition will continue to examine the degree of correspondence between iconic simulations, in particular virtual reality, and wayfinding in real environments. Virtual reality has many advantages, such as its flexibility and its application to populations with cognitive challenges, but the field must continue to examine the areas of both divergence and convergence in verisimilitude before relying too heavily on this technology. Similarly, psychology, including environmental psychology, is experiencing unprecedented interest in neuroscience and brain mechanisms, and this interest brings with it a host of associated sophisticated technologies, such as fMRI and PET scans. As the field pursues neuroscience to better understand the relationship between wayfinding and spatial cognition, what is the role of research that relies on less sophisticated technologies? Many researchers continue to view women’s wayfinding performance (e.g., pointing) and spatial cognition (e.g., mental rotation) as deficient and men’s as superior. Rather than this limited perspective, more research is needed on the differential use of navigational strategies by men and women. Practical application as well as theory evaluation can be fostered by better understanding what conditions maximize wayfinding performance for each gender. 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Ann Sloan Devlin Ann Sloan Devlin Department of Psychology Connecticut College New London, CT Page 29 of 29 Environmental Attitudes Oxford Handbooks Online Environmental Attitudes Robert Gifford and Reuven Sussman The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0004 Abstract and Keywords Environmental attitudes are important because they often, but not always, determine behavior that either increases or decreases environmental quality. Traditionally, attitudes have cognitive, affective, and conative elements, but environmental attitudes might be better described as having preservation and utilization dimensions. Proenvironmental attitudes rise and fall with current events and vary with age, gender, socioeconomic status, nation, urban-rural residence, religion, politics, values, personality, experience, education, and environmental knowledge. Environmental education aims to improve environmental attitudes but has mixed results. The mass media have been both helpful and harmful. Two prominent theories for explaining environmental attitude-behavior relations are the theory of planned behavior and value-beliefs-norm theory, which offer the benefit of parsimony and the shortcoming of incompleteness. Researchers have, for example, suggested additions to the theory of planned behavior, noting that pro-environmental behaviors vary in their effort to complete, which influences the attitudebehavior relation, and that many barriers to behavior change exist. Keywords: attitudes, attitude structure, environmental concern, attitude-behavior relations, variations in environmental concern Introduction An attitude is a latent construct mentally attached to a concrete or abstract object (otherwise known as an “attitude object”—a person, place, entity, or idea). Traditionally, attitudes have three components: cognitive (thoughts about the object, usually including an evaluation), affective (feelings about the object), and conative (behavioral intentions and actions regarding the object) (Breckler, 1984). Attitudes can be confused with other constructs, such as values, beliefs (sometimes considered the cognitive component of attitudes), opinions, personality dispositions, and personal norms. Although all these concepts relate to the three attitude components to some extent, they also differ in subtle but important ways. For example, “beliefs list toward the cognitive; values are broader than attitudes and more culturally bound. Opinions, historically in competition with attitudes, are more cognitive” (Shrigley, Koballa, & Simpson, 1988, p. 659). Personality traits differ from attitudes in that, like values, they are not focused on a particular object, are not necessarily evaluative, and are not easily changeable (Ajzen, 2005). Another construct that has recently gained favor in environmental psychology research is “personal norm,” originally proposed by Schwartz (1977). Unlike attitudes, proenvironmental personal norms are internalized social norms that directly influence behavior through feelings of guilt (Bamberg, Hunecke, & Blöbaum, 2007; Bamberg & Möser, 2007).This chapter focuses on environmental attitudes, which are defined as concern for the environment or caring about environmental issues (sometimes (p. 66) referred to as pro-environmental attitudes). Five topics will be examined: the importance of studying environmental attitudes, the structure and measurement of environmental attitudes, variables that affect concern for the environment, methods for encouraging environmental attitudes, and factors that inhibit or promote attitudes Page 1 of 22 Environmental Attitudes influencing behavior. The Importance of Studying Environmental Attitudes The most intuitive reason for studying environmental attitudes is that they may determine behavior. However, this relation is tenuous; many people evince higher levels of concern than is expressed in their behavior (Jurin & Fortner, 2002). Some studies have demonstrated a strong link between attitudes and pro-environmental behavior (Heberlein & Black, 1981; Iversen & Rundmo, 2001; Kuhlemeier, van den Bergh & Lagerweij, 1999; Poortinga, Steg, & Vlek, 2004; Tarrant & Cordell, 1997; Vogel, 1996), but others have not (e.g., O’Riordan, 1976; Scott & Willits, 1994). One explanation for this discrepancy in the research findings may rest with the methods used to collect behavioral information. Typically, a strong association exists between attitudes and self-reported behavior (Borden & Schettino, 1979; Dispoto, 1977), but self-reported behavior is frequently overreported (e.g., Chao & Lam, 2011) and may be the result of different influences than actual (observed) behavior (Manzo & Weinstein, 1987; Syme & Nancarrow, 1992). Weaker associations are found between environmental attitudes and observed behavior. A second reason environmental attitudes are not strongly predictive of pro-environmental behavior is specificity. General attitudes may not predict specific behaviors well because each behavior has a unique set of predictors associated with it (Balderjahn, 1988; Homburg & Stolberg, 2006; Nemiroff & McKenzie-Mohr, 1992; Sivek & Hungerford, 1989; Tanner & Kast, 2003). However, general attitudes can predict general trends in large numbers of behaviors (Kaiser, 1998; Weigel & Newman, 1976), and specific attitudes can predict specific behaviors (Bamberg, 2003; Mobley, Vagias, & DeWard, 2010). Attitudes may predict specific behaviors, but they may have some general predictiveness as well. That is, environmental attitudes that predict individual behaviors may also predict other similar behaviors. For example, recycling may be the first step toward adopting other pro-environmental behaviors or supporting political action (Berger, 1997; Daneshvary, Daneshvary, & Schwer, 1998), and a generalized energy conservation ethic (predicting multiple energy-reducing behaviors) may exist for a small number of households (Painter, Semenik, & Belk, 1983). The study of environmental attitudes is also useful for gauging the level of public support for environmental action. Policy makers, park superintendents, fish and game officers, forestry officials, building managers, and recycling coordinators have all made use of environmental attitude research (Heberlein, 1989). One problem with environmental attitude research is that measured attitudes can be subject to a social desirability bias. Given that individuals tend to see environmental concern as socially desirable (Bord, Fisher, & O’Connor, 1998) and that most environmental attitude measures are based on self-reports, participants may provide responses that are biased toward appearing more concerned than they actually are. However, social desirability in one recent study was only weakly related to self-reported attitudes, and was not related to pro-environmental behavior, thus lending credibility to the self-reported measurement of environmental attitudes (Milfont, 2008). The Measurement and Structure of Environmental Attitudes As described above, attitudes have been traditionally defined as being composed of cognitive, affective, and conative components. However, some theorists have postulated alternative structures for environmental attitudes. Several measurement tools for environmental attitudes, based on alternative ways of defining attitudes, have been proposed. Measuring Environmental Attitudes At least 15 measures of environmental attitudes and concern have been developed since the 1970s (Gifford, 2007). Experimenters often prefer to develop and use a new measure rather than use a measure that has been previously constructed, validated, and tested. When measures differ in their definition (and the specificity) of environmental attitudes, cross-study comparisons can be difficult. However, it can be useful having a variety of questionnaires and scales because attitudes can be context- or behavior-specific, requiring more specific and up- Page 2 of 22 Environmental Attitudes to-date measures. Thus, several environmental attitudes measurement instruments that may be useful for researchers are described next, in the order in which they were developed. (p. 67) The 1970s saw the earliest development of environmental attitudes scales. The Maloney-Ward Ecology Inventory (Maloney & Ward, 1973; Maloney, Ward, & Braucht, 1975) was based on the traditional definition of attitudes and contained subscales measuring knowledge (cognitive component), affect, and verbal/actual commitment (conative component). Later, the Weigel Environmental Concern Scale was developed (Weigel & Weigel, 1978), which was shorter but contained no subscales. The most frequently used environmental questionnaire was created in the same year by Dunlap and Van Liere (1978). The New Environmental Paradigm measured the degree to which respondents believe that Earth is sacred and deserves protection for its own sake. The revised version, the New Ecological Paradigm Scale (Dunlap, Van Liere, Mertig, & Emmet Jones, 2000), contains 16 items and has been factor analyzed, revealing several possible dimensions (Bechtel, Corral Verdugo, & de Queiroz Pinheiro, 1999; Noe & Snow, 1990). In the early 1990s, two German scales were developed to measure environmental concern and environmental pessimism, respectively (Schahn & Holzer, 1990; Sohr, 1994). A third scale, also developed around that time, was created to measure environmental worry about exposure to organic solvents (Bowler & Schwarzer, 1991). Worry was conceptualized as different from pessimism in that pessimism is fatalistic, whereas worry may motivate appropriate action. Yet another instrument, the Environmentalism Scale, was based on the work of previously developed values questionnaires (Banerjee & McKeage, 1994). It comprises subscales that measure substantive environmentalism (attitudes about the severity of environmental problems), external environmentalism (attitudes about environmental issues outside the self, such as those about legislation), and internal environmentalism (attitudes about one’s own connection to nature and personally relevant issues). In the late 1990s, three scales were created to examine pro-environmental behavior, and one was developed to measure specific environmental attitudes. The Motivation Toward the Environment Scale was designed to measure motivation to engage in environmentally responsible behavior (Pelletier, Tuson, Green-Demers, Noels, & Beaton, 1998) and was supported by at least one study (Villacorta, Koestner, & Lekes, 2003). The same research group later developed a scale measuring amotivation to engage in pro-environmental behavior (Pelletier, Dion, Tuson, & Green-Demers, 1999). Another measure, the Survey of Environmental Issue Attitudes, was designed to measure attitudes toward particular environmental issues and to measure attitudes regarding various specific environmental issues (Schindler, 1999; Kinnear & Taylor, 1973; Larsen, 1994). Self-report measures have also been developed to assess environmental attitudes in children (Larson, Green, & Castlebury, 2010; Musser & Diamond, 1999). A Different Structure? In proposing their environmental attitude structure, Milfont and Duckitt (2004) conducted a thorough analysis of existing attitude measures. They combined eight measures of environmental attitudes into a 99-item questionnaire that was administered to 455 participants. After several rounds of factor analysis, they identified 10 attitude components that could be further divided into two overarching factors: preservation (including pro-environmental behavior) and utilization (including economic liberalism and the idea that the environment needs to be preserved for human consumption). This structure was also found in a four-nation study (Bogner & Wiseman, 2002). Recently, model was further expanded and called the Environmental Attitudes Inventory was created (Milfont & Duckitt, 2010). This newer inventory draws questions from additional environmental attitudes measures and parses preservation and utilization into 12 subfactors. After testing and refining the scale with samples from multiple countries, the 200-item scale was reduced to 120 items. Although lengthy, the Environmental Attitudes Inventory is comprehensive and appears to have strong theoretical and empirical support. Variables That Affect Concern for the Environment Levels of Environmental Concern Public environmental concern changes over time. For example, two surveys of American college students reported Page 3 of 22 Environmental Attitudes that beginning in the 1970s, environmental concern and willingness to give up goods to alleviate environmental problems was declining (Gigliotti, 1992; Thompson & Gasteiger, 1985). In contrast, a study comparing American adults in 1984 and 1988 found that concern was higher in 1988 (Arcury & Christianson, 1990), and in 1993, a survey found that college students had “strong concern” for the environment (but an unwillingness to change their lifestyles to address their concern; Krause, 1993). Between 1976 and 2005 (with the exception of the early 1990s), American high school students’ concern (p. 68) for the environment, especially their sense of personal responsibility, appeared to decline while their value of materialism slightly increased (Wray-Lake, Flanagan, & Osgood, 2010). However, a 47-nation survey showed that adult environmental concern was higher in 2007 than in 2002 (Pew Research Center, 2007). Fluctuations in levels of pro-environmental attitudes (cognitive, affective, and behavioral intentions) probably are related to individual determinants (such as knowledge, values, experience, or lifestyle) and social determinants (such as business or government action; Lorenzoni, Nicholson-Cole, & Whitmarsh, 2007) In recent years, human-caused (anthropogenic) climate change has been flagged by environmental scientists as possibly the single most important global environmental issue. This message has been met by a general increase in public awareness of the problem since the late 1980s (e.g., Leiserowitz, 2005), but a small chorus of global warming deniers remains vocal. One survey reported that 84% of US scientists agreed that anthropogenic global warming is occurring, but only 49% of the public held this belief (Pew Research Center, 2009). Concern exists that although awareness of anthropogenic global warming is increasing, denial of the problem may also be increasing— resulting in a strong polarization of opinions. Age Most research supports the conclusion that younger people have higher levels of environmental concern than older people (Arcury & Christianson, 1993; Honnold, 1984–1985; Klineberg, McKeever, & Rothenbach, 1998; Zhang, 1994). This holds among teenagers as well—younger teens appear to be more concerned about environmental issues than older teens (Szagun & Mesenholl, 1993). However, older individuals may also have greater variability in their levels of concern than younger individuals (Wright, Caserta, & Lund, 2003). The difference in level of concern between young and old is explained by an “age effect” only for young adults (Honnold, 1984–1985). That is, the effect of getting older reduced the level of environmental concern over time for young adults, but an “era effect” explained the reduction in environmental concern for the rest of the study population. Older adults experienced a reduction in pro-environmental attitudes because previous eras were more liberal minded in general than the current one. Gender With the exception of a few studies (e.g., Mukherjee, 1993), women tend to show higher levels of environmental concern than men (Blocker & Eckberg, 1997; Gutteling & Wiegman, 1993; Tikka, Kuitunen, & Tynys, 2000; Zhang, 1994). However, women also seem to exhibit lower levels of pro-environmental behavior and environmental knowledge than men (Arcury & Christianson, 1993; Gambro & Switzky, 1999; Gifford, Hay, & Boros, 1982–1983). That women have less environmental knowledge but more environmental concern is supported by several studies (Arcury, Scollay, & Johnson, 1987; Gifford et al., 1982–1983; Grieve & Van Staden, 1985; Schahn & Holzer, 1990; Stern, Dietz, & Kalof, 1993), and is consistent with the notion that environmental knowledge is not necessarily associated with concern. Lower levels of knowledge among women may be related to a lack of encouragement to study science, and higher levels of concern may be related a higher level of altruism and concern for health and safety (Davidson & Freudenburg, 1996; Dietz, Kalof, & Stern, 2002). However, research on gender and environmental attitudes is now somewhat dated and should be revisited. Socioeconomic Status Individuals engage in political action if they possess the time, resources, and passion to do so. Thus, environmentalists are generally reported to be middle- or upper-middle-class citizens (Balderjahn, 1988; Howard, Delgado, Miller, & Gubbins, 1993; Ray, 1981, March). In Africa, a higher income also correlates with a greater knowledge of environmental issues (Chanda, 1999). However, sometimes a passion to engage in environmental action is enough on its own. One large study reported that low-income earners may display greater levels of Page 4 of 22 Environmental Attitudes environmental concern than high-income earners (Uyeki & Holland, 2000). International Differences Countries often differ in their average level of environmental concern. For example, in a four-nation study evaluating environmental knowledge and self-reported belief in the protectiveness of environmental actions, people from Japan had the highest environmental knowledge score, but believed their actions were least protective (Eisler, Eisler, & Yoshida, 2003). The same study found that Americans had the least environmental knowledge, and that Germans had the lowest felt connection to (p. 69) the sea. Germans and Swedes believed their behaviors were more highly protective of the environment (relative to the other two countries). Wealthier countries are frequently reported to be more concerned about the environment (Franzen, 2003; Inglehart, 1995), but occasionally individuals from less developed countries display equal or greater concern (Furman, 1998; Sarigöllü, 2009), and environmental issues may be mentioned more often in developing than in industrialized countries (Dunlap, Gallup, & Gallup, 1993). These seemingly conflicting findings may be partly explained by differences in societal-level concern and individual concern. Higher GDP (gross domestic product), for instance, is associated with greater concern at the national level, but not at the individual level (Kemmelmeier, Król, & Young, 2002). Within the United States, racial groups may hold, on average, different environmental attitudes. Early studies suggested that African Americans held lower levels of environmental concern than Euro-Americans, but these measures were culturally biased and less relevant to African Americans than others (Arp, 1996). More recent studies suggest that African Americans have similar (Parker & McDonough, 1999) or greater environmental concern than Euro-Americans (Mohai & Bryant, 1998; Uyeki & Holland, 2000). New immigrants may also be more concerned about the environment than their more acculturated counterparts (Hunter, 2000; Schultz, 2000a). Environmental concern appears to be high around the world. In the 1990s, surveys found that Chinese teens rated pollution as their biggest concern (Dodds & Lin, 1992), Spanish citizens rated environmentalism as a “central element” of their belief system (Herrera, 1992), and urban Indians rated local air pollution as a major problem (Dietz, Stern, & Guagnano, 1998). Children surveyed in Portugal, Brazil, and the United States to have approximately equal levels of environmental concern (Howe, Kahn, & Friedman, 1996; Kahn & Lourenço, 2002), and a recent report from the European Commission (2009) states that members of European countries rank climate change as the second-worst problem facing the world. The structure and level of environmental attitudes differ internationally. For example, US citizens are more likely than Mexicans or Brazilians to perceive environmental issues as humans competing against nature (Bechtel et al., 1999; Corral-Verdugo & Armendáriz, 2000). The similarities in structure of attitudes toward nature and the environment have also been compared across nations. The structure of American and European environmental attitudes is rather similar, but distinct from that of the Japanese (Zheng & Yoshino, 2003). Environmental concern priorities may also differ between rich and poor countries. Residents of wealthy countries may be more concerned about global environmental issues, and residents of less wealthy nations may be more concerned about local environmental issues (Brechin, 1999). Perhaps this is because pressing environmental problems are less apparent in richer countries. Urban-Rural Residence Some differences exist in the level of environmental concern for urban and rural dwellers, but again the evidence is mixed. Farmers and other rural residents, with their need to use environmental resources directly, tend to be more anthropocentric (believe that nature should be preserved as a resource for consumption) than city residents who tend to be more ecocentric (believe that nature should be preserved for its own sake) (Bjerke & Kaltenborn, 1999; Rauwald & Moore, 2002). A German study revealed that urbanites showed greater verbal commitment to act on environmental issues than rural inhabitants, but the groups did not differ in any other measure of environmental concern (Bogner & Wiseman, 1997). A Canadian study showed that both urban and rural residents had high levels of environmental concern (Lutz, Simpson-Housley, & de Man, 1999). Page 5 of 22 Environmental Attitudes Religion and Politics A debate exists about the role of Judeo-Christian religion in reducing environmental concern. Fundamentalist Christians, for example, appear to have generally lower levels of environmental concern than other groups (Eckberg & Blocker, 1989; Greeley, 1993; Newhouse, 1986; Schultz, 2000b), and this may be related to a message of mastery over the environment espoused in some passages of the Bible (Eckberg & Blocker, 1996; Hand & Van Liere, 1984). That is, some groups interpret the Bible as saying that the earth and its resources were given to humans to use as desired. However, other groups interpret this message differently—that humans are charged with taking care of the earth and preserving it, that is, acting as stewards. This may be why one study found no significant association between biblical literalism or Bible salience and environmental concern (Wolkomir, Futreal, Woodrum, & Hoban, 1997). Religiosity is also associated with (p. 70) engagement in social and political issues. Thus, in some cases religion can empower people (especially minorities) to take action on social issues such as the environment (Arp, 1997). Conservative politics, traditionally associated with religious values, also predicts lower levels of environmental concern (Eiser, Hannover, Mann, & Morin, 1990; Schultz, 1994). Belief in anthropogenic global warming in the United States may be increasingly becoming a partisan issue (rather than an issue of scientific integrity); Democrats more often accept that humans influence climate change than do Republicans (Akerlof & Maibach, 2011; Dunlap & McCright, 2008). Personality and Values As noted earlier, environmental values and personality are distinct from attitudes. For example, one personality trait, (greater) self-efficacy, is related to higher levels of concern (Axelrod & Lehman, 1993). Greater agreeableness and openness to experience are also associated with more environmental concern (Hirsh, 2010).The effect of environmental values on behavior appears to be mediated by environmental attitudes; that is, values trigger attitudes that, in turn, lead to behavior (Milfont, Duckitt, & Wagner, 2010). Several values in particular affect environmental attitudes. Biospheric, altruistic, and post-materialist values, as well as increased levels of tolerance and understanding, all predict high levels of environmental concern (McAllister & Studlar, 1999; Milfont & Gouveia, 2006). These values indicate a general disposition for caring about others and caring about selfimprovement or freedom rather than material goods. Post-materialists also differ from materialists in that they tend to be concerned about global rather than local issues (Gökşen, Adaman, & Zenginobuz, 2002), but the value of post-materialism may not be as important as other factors (such as direct experience) in determining proenvironmental attitudes (Drori & Yuchtman-Yaar, 2002). Other values can also influence environmental attitudes. For example, individuals who put their faith in technology or the free-market have lower levels of concern (Heath & Gifford, 2006; Kilbourne, Beckmann, & Thelen, 2002). People with both egalitarian and individualist values tend to see local environmental threats as less problematic than distant threats, but egalitarians hold this belief significantly stronger (Lima & Castro, 2005). Direct Experience with Nature Engaging in nature-related outdoor activities often is associated with increased concern for the environment (Hausbeck, Milbrath, & Enright, 1992; Palmer, 1993). However, the type of outdoor recreation matters (Teisl & O’Brien, 2003). For example, cyclists show more concern for the environment than off-road-vehicle drivers (Schuett & Ostergren, 2003). One theory suggests that individuals who participate in consumptive outdoor activities, such as hunting, have less pro-environmental concern than those who participate in non-consumptive activities, such as photography (di Nenna, Paolillo, & Giuliani, 1987). Direct experience can also affect environmental attitudes. For example, warmer local outdoor temperatures seems to increase acceptance of global warming (Joireman, Truelove, & Duell, 2010), and living close to a landfill or waste disposal area increases concerns related to that area (Arp, 1996; Bassett, Jenkins-Smith, & Silva, 1996; Elliott, Taylor, Walter, & Stieb, 1993). In Chernobyl and Three Mile Island, local residents’ attitudes toward nuclear power became less favorable after the reactors harmed the local environment (MacGregor, 1991) but with time, opinions became more varied (Midden & Verplanken, 1990) and, overall, concern largely returned to pre-meltdown levels Page 6 of 22 Environmental Attitudes (Verplanken, 1989). In the wake of a major earthquake and tsunami in 2011, Japan also experienced a Chernobylsized nuclear accident, and it will be interesting to learn whether residents of that country are also follow this pattern of reaction. Education and Environmental Knowledge Environmental knowledge is often assumed to be closely linked to environmental concern. Some evidence supports this: children who learn about nature informally (by reading, watching movies, or talking about it) and teens with knowledge of specific environmental issues (or science in general) show higher levels of concern (Eagles & Demare, 1999; Lyons & Breakwell, 1994). However, the knowledge-attitude association is not always found (e.g., Bang, Ellinger, Hadjimarcou, & Traichal, 2000). The manner in which knowledge is acquired appears to matter. Individuals who read newspapers report higher levels of environmental concern than those who watch TV (Ostman & Parker, 1987), unless those people spend most of their time watching science shows, news, or nature documentaries (Eagles & Demare, 1999; Holbert, Kwak, & Shah, 2003). In general, however, TV watchers are less (p. 71) willing to sacrifice aspects of their lifestyle for the environment (Shanahan, Morgan, & Stenbjerre, 1997). The type of education people receive can affect their environmental attitudes. Private-school students usually have more concern about the environment than public-school students (Arcury & Christianson, 1993; Chanda, 1999; Hsu & Roth, 1996; Klineberg et al., 1998), but sometimes the opposite is observed (Grendstad & Wollebaek, 1998). In university, business and technology majors report lower concern and commitment to pro-environmental behavior than environmental education students or students engaging in ecological restoration projects (Gifford et al., 1982–1983; Tikka et al., 2000). However, in all these cases, the students may have had different environmental attitudes before beginning their degrees (Bogner, 1998; Bowler, Kaiser, & Hartig, 1999; Reid & Sa’di, 1997). Methods for Improving Environmental Attitudes Media and Messages The media can have a positive or negative effect on public environmental attitudes. For example, American mass media has been cited as a major driver of climate change skepticism and a possible cause of reduced support for the Kyoto protocol in the United States (Antilla, 2005; Boykoff & Boykoff, 2007). However, mass media was also successfully employed to educate the public about how to recycle (Gillilan, Werner, Olson, & Adams, 1996). Campaigns to raise public environmental concern in general or about specific issues inevitably involve mass media participation. Therefore, understanding how to effectively communicate a persuasive environmental message can lead to substantially increased environmental concern. Many principles for message crafting have been suggested. For example, less dire messages may lead to an increased public understanding of climate change (Feinberg & Willer, 2011). Empowering messages are more effective than sacrifice messages (Gifford & Comeau, 2011). Most of these principles have been summarized in a recent review (Moser, 2010). In general, four guidelines lead to an effective message: it must be internally consistent, tap the audience’s mental model, keep the audience’s attention, and have an emotional component. Strong images can increase pro-environmental behavior (Hine & Gifford, 1991), but negative emotions, such as worry or fear, should be evoked only if an option for alleviating that emotion is presented. Moser warns that the design of every message must take into account not only the goal of the message, but also the audience, the message itself, the communicator, the channel of communication, and the context in which the message will be received. No single environmental message will be useful in every context, and environmental messages require particular attention because mitigation lacks immediacy (e.g., the positive outcomes appear distant and the immediate benefits of action are not apparent). Environmental Education Increased levels of environmental concern can be facilitated through formal teaching situations. However, teaching programs that include environmental education components are not always effective (Eagles & Demare, 1999) and sometimes even have reverse effects (Bull, 1993). A meta-analysis that reviewed 34 such programs found that Page 7 of 22 Environmental Attitudes only 14 had positive effects (Leeming, Dwyer, Porter, & Cobern, 1993). Given a bias for publishing significant (as opposed to null) results, many more studies showing programs to be unsuccessful may be sitting in researchers’ file drawers. Sometimes environmental education programs (in a university or elementary school) succeed in increasing knowledge, but not concern (Keen, 1991; Yount & Horton, 1992). This may occur because direct nature experiences are more likely than indirect experiences to result in increased concern (Duerden & Witt, 2010). For example, high school students who participated in a six-day wilderness experience subsequently displayed increased environmental concern (Gillett, Thomas, Skok, & McLaughlin, 1991), and children (ages 9 to 14) in a summer-camp environmental education program had higher levels of environmental concern than they started with, particularly if they were first-time campers or stayed at camp for a longer duration (Shepard & Speelman, 1985). Some environmental education methods appear to be more effective than others. For instance, using a simulation of local energy use and conservation, presenting the problem as a story (pre-teens), or incorporating games (children) may improve attitudes toward the problem and increase corresponding action (Dresner, 1989; Hewitt, 1997; Monroe, 1992). A technique known as Issue Investigation and Action Training (IIAT) also appears to hold some promise. By focusing on specific environmental issues and guiding students to develop creative solutions for them, IIAT students gain enhanced knowledge about the issues, skills to solve environmental problems, and a belief that they can solve them. Engagement in active problem solving (p. 72) leads to subsequent engagement in proenvironmental behavior. This program has been successfully employed with middle- and high-school-age children (Jordan, Hungerford, & Tomera, 1986; Ramsey & Hungerford, 1989; Ramsey, 1993). Several suggestions for successful environmental education programs have been offered (Boerschig & de Young, 1993; Newhouse, 1990; Pooley & O’Connor, 2000). These can be summarized as follows: (1) gear the program to the student’s current level of knowledge, attitudes, and moral development; (2) explain both sides of every issue; (3) encourage contact with nature or the outdoors; (4) promote a sense of personal responsibility; (5) engender feelings of control over the issue; (6) know potential action strategies and employ action skills; (7) learn about the issue before teaching it; (8) develop social norms that favor environmental conservation and protection; (9) enhance environmental sensitivity; and (10) involve emotional components in the program. Factors That Inhibit or Promote Environmental Attitudes Leading to Behavior Theories to Explain How Attitudes Influence Behavior To understand how to increase the likelihood that attitudes lead to behavior, one must first understand how attitudes influence behavior in general. Several theories have been proposed to explain this link. The most commonly used model, and the one with greatest support (e.g., Heath & Gifford, 2002; Laudenslager, Holt, & Lofgren, 2004) is the theory of planned behavior (TPB; Ajzen, 1991). In this model, pro-environmental behavior is predicted by specific behavioral intentions, which are, in turn, predicted by attitudes, perceived social norms, and perceived behavioral control. A recent meta-analysis provided support for TPB but suggested that personal moral norms also predict behavioral intentions (Bamberg & Möser, 2007). The value-belief-norm model (VBN) is often used to explain the attitude-behavior association (Stern, 2000). In it pro-environmental values are postulated to lead to pro-environmental beliefs (or attitudes), which lead to proenvironmental behaviors (Milfont et al., 2010). Strong altruistic or biospheric values, accompanied by weak egoistic values, are said to encourage individuals to adopt pro-environmental beliefs. Pro-environmental beliefs, defined as high scores on the New Ecological Paradigm Scale (Dunlap et al., 2000), lead individuals to believe that their actions can have adverse environmental consequences, which precedes the belief that individuals have perceived behavioral control over environmental problems. If these beliefs are adopted, individuals may then activate a personal norm that they are obliged to behave proenvironmentally. This personal norm then is postulated to directly influence pro-environmental behaviors such as organizational action (e.g., promotion of composting at work), private action (e.g., choosing to bike), public nonactivist action (e.g., attending meetings), or activist actions (e.g., protesting). The VBN model has successfully accounted for pro-environmental behaviors, in particular non-activist behaviors (García-Mira, Deus, Rodríguez, & Page 8 of 22 Environmental Attitudes Martínez, 2003; Steg, Dreijerink, & Abrahamse, 2005; Stern, 2000). A Swedish study validated the VBN as an appropriate model for explaining action, but also elaborated it by demonstrating that self-transcendence (versus self-enhancement) values may precede more specific pro-environmental values, which only then activate beliefs (Nordlund & Garvill, 2002). Cognitive dissonance theory may also explain how environmental attitudes predict corresponding behavior (Thøgersen, 2004). It proposes that people are motivated to maintain attitude-behavior consistency. Therefore, in situations in which individuals hold a specific pro-environmental attitude, but behave in a manner inconsistent with that attitude, they will change either their attitude or their behavior. Bringing attention to a person’s attitude-behavior inconsistency (i.e., hypocrisy) is an effective means of reducing shower times (Dickerson, Thibodeau, Aronson, & Miller, 1992) and increasing energy conservation (Kantola, Syme, & Campbell, 1984); however, the effect of hypocrisy was seen only in the first week of the two-week energy conservation study. In the second week, evoking hypocrisy did not have an effect beyond that of providing energy-saving tips and/or feedback on consumption. Of course, dissonance may work in a negative way, too: if one holds anti-environmental attitudes, one may achieve consistency by refusing to engage in pro-environmental actions. Environmental Attitudes and Other Constructs Lead to Pro-Environmental Behavior More than Attitudes Many factors can encourage pro-environmental behavior. For example, people who partake in pro-environmental (p. 73) behaviors often do so for reasons unrelated to the environment (Whitmarsh, 2009). Some recycling behaviors are predicted by concern for the environment (i.e., reusing and reducing), but others (i.e., using a recycling bin) may not be (Barr, 2007). Indeed, on their own, attitudes do not predict behavior very well, and therefore any behavioral intervention should also address the costs and benefits of the behavior, individuals’ morals and values, social norms, emotions, habits, and contextual factors (Steg & Vlek, 2009). Other factors that may influence behavior (with or without pro-environmental attitudes) are seeing others behave in proenvironmental ways (Sussman & Gifford, 2011), feelings of personal responsibility or guilt (Kaiser & Shimoda, 1999; Kaiser, Ranney, Hartig, & Bowler, 1999), and individual motivation (Pelletier et al., 1999), especially self-determined or internalized motivation (Green-Demers, Pelletier, & Ménard, 1997; Osbaldiston & Sheldon, 2003; Séguin, Pelletier, & Hunsley, 1998). Mediators and Moderators A variety of factors promote the conversion of environmental attitudes to behavior (e.g., Gill, Crosby, & Taylor, 1986). Several of these serve to increase environmental concern (and were discussed earlier) but are cited again here because they also facilitate the connection between attitudes and behavior. The ease of enacting a behavior influences whether pro-environmental attitudes will be turned into behavior. The low-cost hypothesis states that environmental attitudes predict easily enacted behaviors but not difficult ones (O’Connor, Bord, Yarnal, & Wiefek, 2002; Schultz, 1996). For high-cost (difficult) behaviors, people find more reasons to justify the gap between their attitudes and behaviors and are less likely to change (Diekmann & Preisendörfer, 1992). For example, the low-cost hypothesis is fulfilled when employees support greenhouse-gasreducing actions as long as they do not affect their jobs (O’Connor et al., 2002), or when farmers engage in soil conservation practices only when they can afford to (Lynne & Rola, 1988). Several demographic and individual difference factors influence the strength of the attitude-behavior association. For example, being a student or public-sector employee seems to facilitate the translation of morals and attitudes into action (Axelrod & Lehman, 1993; Nilsson, von Borgstede, & Biel, 2004). Community members are more motivated by tangible rewards than by morals or attitudes (Axelrod & Lehman, 1993), and private-sector employees are less likely to behave in accordance with pro-environmental values than public-sector employees (Nilsson et al., 2004). Individuals with pro-environmental attitudes also exhibit less pro-environmental behavior if they have conservative values, higher income, and less education (Tarrant & Cordell, 1997). Furthermore, even for people with environmental knowledge, accurate assessment of the environmental problem and concurrent arousal to act often are required before pro-environmental activity can take place (Syme, Beven, & Sumner, 1993). Page 9 of 22 Environmental Attitudes Meta-analyses (studies that empirically combine the results of multiple studies) have identified a number of important factors for the mediation or moderation of an environmental attitude-behavior correspondence. People are more likely to engage in pro-environmental behavior if they (1) know about the issues, (2) know about action strategies, (3) have an internal locus of control, (4) state a verbal commitment to act, (5) are concerned about the issues, and (6) feel responsible to act on them (Bamberg & Möser, 2007; Cottrell, 2003; Hines, Hungerford, & Tomera (1986)). Several aspects of the environmental issue itself may also make acting on it more likely. If, for example, the problem appears to be personally threatening (as in the case of global warming in Southern California), individuals are more likely to behave pro-environmentally (Baldassare & Katz, 1992). Behavior is also more likely if the action that is required is publicly observable rather than private (Liu & Sibley, 2004). Factors That Inhibit Attitudes from Leading to Behavior Factors that promote a strong attitude-behavior link are insufficient on their own to explain the relation. Frequently, pro-environmental knowledge or attitudes exist without being converted into action because seven categories of important psychological barriers exist (Gifford, 2011). Five of the seven barriers are particularly pertinent here. These are: limited cognition (including problems of uncertainty about the problem or the results of action, and a lack of perceived behavioral control), comparisons with others (including negative social norms about action, social comparison, and perceived inequality), sunk costs (including previous financial investments, conflicting goals and aspirations, and behavioral momentum), perceived risks (including (p. 74) physical, financial, social, functional, psychological, and temporal risks), and limited behavior (including engaging in small token behaviors, and justifying environmentally harmful behavior by engaging in positive but simple, relatively unimportant proenvironmental behaviors). Conclusion Environmental attitudes have been extensively studied. Their structure and definition have been carefully specified and many instruments exist to measure and quantify them in a variety of populations and contexts. Internationally, environmental knowledge is growing and concern is strong. Numerous demographic, dispositional, political, religious, and experiential factors increase or decrease environmental concern. Unfortunately, strong concern does not always result in pro-environmental behavior. Although a clear link exists between attitudes and behavior (mediated by intentions and other variables), additional factors also importantly influence behavior and must be considered. Several of these may help make the attitude-behavior link stronger and others may act as psychological barriers. Some can either increase or decrease environmental concern (e.g., social norms). Increasing attention to appropriate media campaigns and well-designed pro-environmental messages can strengthen environmental attitudes and thus make appropriate behavior more likely. Given the current level of interest in environmental attitudes research, the future looks bright for discoveries of factors that will further increase the frequency of pro-environmental behaviors arising from environmental attitudes. Future Directions Implicit attitude measurement is one fruitful potential avenue for future environmental attitude research. Implicit attitudes are activated automatically without conscious awareness and apparently have some ability to direct behavior (Dijksterhuis & Aarts, 2010). In other research areas, such as on stereotypes, implicit attitudes often differ in content from explicit (self-reported) attitudes and can independently influence behavior (Greenwald, Smith, Sriram, Bar-Anan, & Nosek, 2009). 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Behaviormetrika, 30, 21–37. doi:10.2333/bhmk.30.21 Robert Gifford Robert Gifford Department of Psychology University of Victoria Victoria, Canada Reuven Sussman Reuven Sussman Department of Psychology University of Victoria Victoria, Canada Page 22 of 22 Environmental Values Oxford Handbooks Online Environmental Values Linda Steg and Judith I. M. de Groot The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0005 Abstract and Keywords Values are desirable goals that serve as guiding principles in people’s life. As such, values can influence multiple beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behaviors simultaneously. Values determine what people attend to, what knowledge becomes cognitively most accessible, how people evaluate various aspects of the situation, and what alternatives are being considered, which in turn affects actual behavior. Different individuals may endorse the same values, but they are likely to prioritize various values differently, resulting in different preferences, beliefs, attitudes, norms, and choices. In this chapter, we discuss relevant value theories and elaborate on four types of values that are particularly relevant in the environmental domain: hedonic, egoistic, altruistic, and biospheric values. Values typically influence behavior indirectly, via behavior-specific beliefs, preferences, attitudes, and norms. Values are particularly influential when they are strongly endorsed, and when they are activated, cognitively supported, central to the self, and part of our self-identity. Values reflect a broad range of motivations (notably hedonic, egoistic, altruistic, and biospheric motivations) and as such differ from ecological worldviews and environmental concerns that focus on environmental motivations. Keywords: values, social value orientations, hedonic values, egoistic values, altruistic values, biospheric values, self-enhancement values, selftranscendence values, ecological worldviews, environmental concern, environmental beliefs, norms, environmental behavior Introduction Many pro-environmental actions involve a conflict between individual interests in the short term and collective interests in the long term: individuals need to restrain egoistic tendencies to benefit the environment (e.g., Nordlund & Garvill, 2003; Samuelson, 1990; Steg, Dreijerink, & Abrahamse, 2005). For example, traveling by car is generally believed to be more comfortable than using public transport, and organic products are often more expensive than regular produce, while environmental quality would improve if individuals reduced car use and bought organic products. Yet, many people do act pro-environmentally, even though this may be associated with higher individual costs in the short term. For example, in many countries recycling levels are high, and many people have insulated their homes. Besides the fact that people may benefit from environmental protection, at least indirectly and in the long term, one important reason for this may be that individuals value the environment and want to protect environmental quality. In other cases, people may refrain from pro-environmental actions because they value their comfort higher than the environment: for example, many people prefer to drive rather than to travel by public transport. Indeed, human values are believed to play an important role in pro-environmental actions (Dunlap, Grieneeks, & Rokeach, 1983; Naess, 1989). Some values may inhibit pro-environmental actions, while other values promote such actions. (p. 82) In this chapter, we first provide a definition of values, and explain why it is important to study relationships between values, beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behavior in the environmental domain. Subsequently, we discuss some prominent theories on values and provide empirical evidence for the significance of values in predicting Page 1 of 14 Environmental Values beliefs, norms, and behavior in the environmental domain. We also describe how values affect environmental behavior, and under which circumstances values are particularly influential. Finally, we discuss conceptual differences between values and other general antecedents of environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behaviors, notably ecological worldviews and environmental concern. What Are Values? Schwartz (1992) defines values as “desirable goals, varying in importance, that serve as guiding principles in people’s lives” (p. 21). This definition highlights four key features of values. First, values reflect general beliefs concerning the desirability or undesirability of certain end-states, such as equality, ambition, or environmental quality. As such, values have an oughtness quality (Feather, 1995). Second, values are abstract and transcend specific situations, that is, values may affect beliefs, attitudes, norms, intentions, and behavior of different kinds. Values are relatively stable over time, whereas specific beliefs, attitudes, and norms can change more easily (Feather, 1995; Gardner & Stern, 2002; Rokeach, 1973). This implies that changes in (the priority of) values are likely to result in changes in a wide range of behavior-related beliefs and norms, intentions, and behaviors simultaneously. This feature makes it particularly relevant to understand the value basis of pro-environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, intentions, and actions. Third, values serve as a guiding principle for the selection or evaluation of behavior, people, and events. Values determine what people attend to, what knowledge becomes cognitively most accessible, how people evaluate various aspects of the situation, and what alternatives are being considered. Also, values function as criteria or frameworks against which present experience can be tested (Feather, 1995). Fourth, individuals prioritize the importance of different values. Although values are culturally shared and different individuals may endorse the same values, they are likely to prioritize various values differently. This implies that when people face conflicting values, they will base their choice on the values that they consider the most important to act upon, resulting in different choices for people who prioritize their values differently. For example, individuals who prioritize environmental values are more likely to buy organic produce than those who prioritize egoistic values, even though both may endorse environmental values. So, it is the relative importance of values that matters most. Value Theories Two prominent theories on values that are most widely used in the environmental domain are the theory on social value orientations (e.g., Messick & McClintock, 1968) and Schwartz’s (1992) value theory. We briefly introduce both theoretical frameworks below. Next we explain the significance of biospheric values and explain why biospheric values are particularly relevant for understanding environmental beliefs, norms, intentions, and behavior. Furthermore, we discuss which values are most important to understand environmental action, and review relevant empirical evidence. Social Value Orientations Messick and McClintock (1968) proposed that choices in social dilemma situations depend on social value orientations. A social dilemma is a situation in which individual and collective interests are at odds. Many environmental decisions involve a social dilemma, as our examples in the introduction illustrate. For example, it is in one’s individual interest to use a car rather than to travel by public transport, but collectively we would be better off if all people drove less. Also, an individual may prefer to take long showers, while society as a whole would be better off if all would save water and energy by reducing showering time. The extent to which people are likely to act in line with the collective interest is believed to depend not only on the costs and benefits of different alternatives, but also on social value orientations. Social value orientations reflect individual differences in which goals are prioritized (viz. individual or collective), which in turn influence the choices people make in social dilemma situations. Four social value orientations can be distinguished (but more simple as well as more differentiated distinctions have also been proposed in the literature) that differ in preferences for distributions of outcomes for oneself and others or the collective (e.g., Liebrand, 1984): 1. individualistic: preference to maximize own outcomes with no concern for the outcomes of others (p. 83) 2. competitive: preference to maximize own outcomes relative to the outcomes of others Page 2 of 14 Environmental Values 3. altruistic: preference to maximize the outcomes of others 4. cooperative: preference to maximize joint outcomes The four value orientations are often combined into two general, overarching social value orientations: proself values, in which people are concerned particularly with their own interests (ad. 1 and 2) versus prosocial values, in which individuals are concerned mainly with the interests of others (ad. 3 and 4). Some studies found that prosocial values were positively related, while proself values were negatively related, to pro-environmental preferences (Van Vugt, Meertens, & Van Lange, 1995) and intentions (Joireman, Lasane, Bennett, Richards, & Solaimani, 2001). Furthermore, preferences for traveling by public transport or for carpooling depended more strongly on the likelihood of congestion for those with strong proself values as compared to those with strong prosocial values, suggesting that possible negative individual consequences more strongly influenced preferences for choices in the collective interest of those with strong proself values than those with strong prosocial values (Van Lange, Van Vugt, Meertens, & De Ruiter, 1998). Also, egoistic environmental consequences appeared to be more salient to individuals with strong proself values, while social-altruistic environmental consequences appeared to be more salient to those who strongly endorsed prosocial values (Gärling, Fujii, Gärling, & Jakobsson, 2003; Joireman et al., 2001). However, relationships between social value orientations and environmental beliefs, preferences, and intentions are generally weak, and sometimes even not significant. For example, social value orientations were not significantly related to preferences for commuting by car versus public transport (Joireman, Van Lange, & Van Vugt, 2004) and environmental behavior (Joireman et al., 2001). In sum, empirical evidence of the relevance of social value orientation for pro-environmental beliefs, preferences, and actions is mixed. Schwartz’s Value Theory Schwartz (1992, 1994) developed one of the most widely used value typologies. Schwartz’s value theory is based on earlier work by Rokeach (1973), who aimed to develop a value hierarchy based on a universal set of values. Rokeach (1973) argued that a distinction should be made between instrumental values reflecting beliefs concerning desirable means (e.g., being honest, or “honesty”) and terminal values reflecting preferable end-states of existence (e.g., a world at peace). Schwartz (1992) further developed and extended Rokeach’s universal value typology and proposed a value typology comprising 56 values. However, Schwartz’s (1992) typology no longer made a distinction between instrumental and terminal values, as he did not find empirical support for this distinction. Schwartz (1992) found that values can be grouped into 10 value clusters that describe individual differences in value priorities: conformity, tradition, universalism, benevolence, power, achievement, hedonism, stimulation, selfdirection, and security. The first four value clusters refer to social values, while the other six clusters reflect individualistic values. The 10 value clusters can be plotted in a two-dimensional space (see Figure 5.1). The first dimension distinguishes self-enhancement from self-transcendence values, which is similar to the distinction between proself and prosocial values in the social value orientation framework described above. The second dimension distinguishes openness to change from conservation values, reflecting whether individuals are open to new things and ideas versus whether they have a preference for tradition and conformity. Values in the same value cluster are prioritized in a similar way, while values belonging to clusters that are wide apart from each other are typically prioritized very differently. The closer together values are in this two-dimensional space, the more compatible they are, while values that are wide apart are more likely to conflict. When values conflict in a particular situation, people are most likely to act upon the values they prioritize. Schwartz’s value typology has been tested and validated in many countries and cultures around the world (e.g., Collins, Steg, & Koning, 2007; Schwartz, 1992, 1994; Schwartz & Sagiv, 1995; Spini, 2003), and the majority of the values demonstrate high cross-cultural consistency of meaning (Schwartz & Sagiv, 1995). This implies that the structure of values is the same in different cultures and countries; however, people may differ in the way they prioritize different values. Page 3 of 14 Environmental Values Figure 5.1 Schwartz’s value typology: 10 value clusters in a two-dimensional space. Studies in the environmental domain generally revealed that environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, intentions, and actions are particularly related to the self-enhancement and self-transcendent values: individuals who strongly endorse (p. 84) self-transcendent values are more likely to have pro-environmental beliefs and norms and to act pro-environmentally, while the opposite is true for those who strongly endorse self-enhancement values (e.g., Collins et al., 2007; Kalof, Dietz, Stern, & Guagnano, 1999; Nordlund & Garvill, 2002, 2003; Schultz, Gouveia, Cameron, Tankha, Schmuck, & Franěk, 2005; Stern, Dietz, & Guagnano, 1998; Stern, Dietz, Kalof, & Guagnano, 1995; Thøgersen & Ölander, 2002; Stern, 2000). Thøgersen and Ölander (2003) also found that environmentalfriendly behaviors are more likely to spread to other areas of one’s consumption pattern among those with strong self-transcendence values, indicating that so-called spillover effects are more likely when self-transcendent values are strong. A few studies found (weak) relationships between openness to change and conservation values and pro-environmental beliefs, norms, intentions, and behavior (e.g., Karp, 1996; Kalof et al., 1999; Poortinga, Steg, & Vlek, 2004; Schultz & Zelezny, 1999; Stern et al., 1998). For example, the more strongly individuals endorsed openness-to-change values, the more energy they used for transportation purposes (Poortinga et al., 2004). Those who strongly endorse conservation values were less likely to be concerned about environmental problems (Schultz & Zelezny, 1999) and to be vegetarians (Kalof et al., 1999), and less willing to sacrifice to benefit the environment (Stern et al., 1998). In sum, self-enhancement and self-transcendence values seem to be particularly relevant to understand beliefs, preferences, attitudes, norms, and behavior in the environmental domain. Biospheric Values Recently, various environmental psychologists suggested that it is important to examine whether biospheric values can be distinguished as a separate cluster of self-transcendence values, next to altruistic values (e.g., Stern & Dietz, 1994; De Groot & Steg, 2008). These scholars proposed that biospheric values may play an important role in encouraging pro-environmental beliefs, norms, and behaviors. Biospheric values emphasize the intrinsic value of nature and the environment. The intrinsic value of nature has long been advocated within environmental ethics (e.g., Leopold, 1949; Naess, 1989; Reid, 1962; Singer, 1975), but the significance of biospheric values was not studied systematically until recently. Biospheric values reflect a concern with the quality of nature and the environment for its own sake, without a clear link to the welfare of other human beings. As such, they differ from altruistic values that reflect a concern with the welfare of other human beings. Both altruistic and biospheric values reflect self-transcendence or prosocial values. This means that altruistic and biospheric values are expected to correlate positively, that is, those who endorse altruistic values are also likely to endorse biospheric values, and vice versa. Also, in many cases both altruistic and biospheric values are likely to promote pro-environmental beliefs, norms, and actions, because such actions generally benefit the (p. 85) well-being of others and the biosphere. However, in some situations altruistic and biospheric values may conflict, for example, when one has to decide to vote for a green or a social party, or to buy fair-trade or organic products. Recent studies revealed that altruistic and biospheric values can indeed be distinguished empirically (De Groot & Steg, 2007, 2008, 2010; Grønhøj & Thøgersen, 2009; Nilsson, von Borgstede, & Biel, 2004; Steg et al., 2005; Steg, De Groot, Dreijerink, Abrahamse, & Siero, 2011). Altruistic and biospheric values are positively correlated (e.g., De Groot & Steg, 2007, 2008; Nilsson et al., 2004), which is in line with Schwartz’s value theory, as both reflect selftranscendence values. However, not surprisingly, biospheric values are generally more predictive of pro- Page 4 of 14 Environmental Values environmental beliefs, norms, and actions than are altruistic values (e.g., De Groot & Steg, 2007, 2008; Nilsson et al., 2004; Steg et al., 2005). More important, when choices affect altruistic and biospheric values differently, and thus when altruistic and biospheric values conflict in a particular situation, they predict intentions differently, in the expected direction. For example, De Groot and Steg (2008) examined relationships between values and likelihood of donating money to either environmental or humanitarian organizations. Respondents were forced to make a choice between donating 10 euros to an environmental or a humanitarian organization. Respondents were offered five choice sets, each comprising one humanitarian and one environmental organization that were similar with regard to (internationalization) of aid and publicity. A brief description of the mission of each organization was added. It appeared that people with strong biospheric values were more likely to donate money to environmental rather than humanitarian organizations, while those with strong altruistic values were more likely to donate money to humanitarian rather than environmental organizations (De Groot & Steg, 2008). In sum, recent studies have suggested that it is indeed important to make a distinction between altruistic and biospheric values. First, even though altruistic and biospheric values are correlated, they can be distinguished empirically. Second, biospheric values appear to be more predictive of pro-environmental beliefs, intentions, and behaviors than are altruistic values. Third, when altruistic and biospheric values conflict, strong biospheric values promote pro-environmental choices, while strong altruistic values make pro-environmental choices less likely. Based on the above, it has been proposed that three types of values are particularly relevant to understanding pro-environmental beliefs, norms, intentions, and actions: egoistic values, reflecting a key concern with individual outcomes, altruistic values, reflecting a concern with the welfare of others, and biospheric values, reflecting a concern with nature and the environment (see also Stern, Dietz, & Kalof, 1993; Steg et al., 2005; De Groot & Steg, 2007, 2008). Individuals who strongly endorse egoistic values will particularly consider costs and benefits of environmental actions for them personally, and act pro-environmentally when the perceived benefits of such actions exceed the perceived costs (and vice versa). For example, a person who strongly endorses egoistic values is likely to act pro-environmentally if the pro-environmental option also happens to be the cheapest or most comfortable option. In contrast, individuals who strongly endorse altruistic values will focus on the perceived costs and benefits of actions for other people. They may, for example, engage in pro-environmental actions, such as purchasing organic produce, when this benefits the health of their children. Finally, individuals who strongly endorse biospheric values will mainly base their choices on the perceived costs and benefits of actions for nature and the environment, and act pro-environmentally when these actions are likely to reduce environmental problems. Although all three value types provide a distinct basis for pro-environmental actions, and thus all may promote pro-environmental beliefs and choices, studies generally reveal that individuals who more strongly endorse altruistic and particularly biospheric values have more positive pro-environmental beliefs and norms, and are more likely to engage in pro-environmental behavior than those who strongly endorse egoistic values (e.g., Honkanen & Verplanken, 2004; De Groot & Steg, 2008, 2010; Karp, 1996; Nilsson et al., 2004; Steg et al., 2005; Steg et al., 2011; Stern et al., 1998), probably because many pro-environmental behaviors have individual disadvantages, as explained at the very start of this chapter. The significance of biospheric values implies that environmental considerations are part of people’s morality and that both human and nature rights are protected by values (cf. Lindenberg & Steg (in press)). Inglehart (1977) proposed that the concern about environmental issues in Western societies is due to the emergence of so-called post-materialistic values in post-industrial societies. The basic idea of Inglehart’s (1977) value revolution theory is that (p. 86) improvements in standards of living and education levels in Western societies resulted in improved physical and economic security, which makes it more likely that basic materialistic values are fulfilled. Because of this, individuals can prioritize post-materialistic values that emphasize autonomy and self-expression. Inglehart (1977) assumed that people will prioritize post-materialistic values only when materialistic values are fulfilled and survival needs can be taken for granted. This implies that biospheric values will emerge only when basic needs are fulfilled and that biospheric values are more likely to emerge in Western industrialized societies where affluent levels are high, while poor people probably cannot afford to support biospheric values since their basic levels of subsistence are not fulfilled. However, recent studies found support for the distinction between altruistic and biospheric values in non-Western countries (e.g., Mexico and Indonesia; Helbig, 2010; Hiratsuka, 2010) as well, even among relatively poor populations (Helbig, 2010). This suggests that the emergence of biospheric values is not mainly a product of a post-materialist cultural shift, but rather results from multiple sources, such as observation of or information on environmental degradation (cf. Brenchin and Kempton, 1994), or a stronger Page 5 of 14 Environmental Values reliance on environmental systems. This implies that biospheric values may be important and a separate cluster of values in developing countries and cultures that did not face a post-materialism shift as well. Hedonic Values Above we argued that studies generally revealed that values from the self-enhancement versus selftranscendence value dimension are most strongly related to environmental beliefs, preferences, norms, and actions. Also, we showed that when studying environmental issues, it is important to make a distinction between altruistic and biospheric values, representing subclusters of self-transcendence values. It may be useful to distinguish two types of self-enhancement values to understand environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and actions as well. This proposition is based on two lines of research. First, goal framing theory (Lindenberg & Steg, 2007) proposes that (environmental) behavior is guided by three overarching goals: hedonic goals “to feel better right now,” gain goals “to improve one’s resources,” and normative goals “to act appropriately.” Goal framing theory suggests that one goal is focal (i.e., one goal is strongest) in a particular situation and influences preferences and decisions most, while the other goals are in the background and influence the strength of the focal goal. A priori, hedonic goals are strongest, while normative goals are most in need of external support. Values determine the likelihood that a particular goal is focal in any situation, as they influence the extent to which goals are chronically accessible. This implies that normative goals to act appropriately are more likely to be focal in a particular situation when people strongly endorse altruistic or biospheric values, while gain goals are more likely to be focal when people strongly endorse egoistic values. In a similar vein, hedonic goals are more likely to be focal when people strongly endorse hedonic values. So, based on goal framing theory, we would expect that hedonic values are an important predictor of environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behavior, as hedonic goals are more likely to be activated among those who strongly endorse hedonic values. Second, research on the hedonic value of the possession and use of consumption goods (which are typically associated with environmental impact and are thus examples of environmentally harmful behavior) also suggests that environmental behavior may be rooted in hedonic values. Indeed, many material products with environmental impact, such as cars, are purchased and used because of their hedonic value (e.g., Dittmar, 1992; Hirschman & Holbrook, 1982), and because people derive pleasure from using these products (Steg, Vlek, & Slotegraaf, 2001; Steg, 2005; Gatersleben, 2007). It is likely that hedonic consumption is rooted in hedonic values, as those with strong hedonic values are more likely to appreciate hedonic consequences of behavior. So, both goal framing theory and theories on consumer behavior, in particular the theory on the meaning of material possessions (e.g., Dittmar, 1992), suggest that it may be important to distinguish two types of self-enhancement values to understand environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and actions: hedonic and egoistic values. There is some empirical evidence for the significance of hedonic values in the environmental domain. For example, Honkanen and Verplanken (2004) found that positive attitudes toward genetically modified (GM) food, and intention to buy GM food, were more likely among those who strongly endorsed hedonic values, and less likely among those who strongly endorsed biospheric values. More recently, Steg and colleagues (2012) systematically examined whether it is worthwhile to include hedonic values in studies in the (p. 87) environmental domain. First, they found that hedonic values can indeed be clearly distinguished empirically from egoistic values. Not only studies in the Netherlands, but also in Japan, Indonesia, and Mexico validated the distinction between hedonic, egoistic, altruistic, and biospheric values (Helbig, 2010; Hiratsuka, 2010), indicating that hedonic and egoistic values form distinct value clusters. Hedonic and egoistic values were correlated, which is in line with Schwartz’s (1992) value typology, as both reflect self-enhancement values. In many cases, hedonic values appeared to be more strongly and negatively related to environmental beliefs, preferences, norms, and actions than were egoistic values, suggesting that particularly hedonic values may inhibit pro-environmental actions (Steg et al., 2012). Furthermore, Steg et al. (2012) found that the four types of values were systematically and consistently related to valuecongruent preferences. In this study, individuals were asked about their preference for a series of restaurants that systematically varied in hedonic, egoistic, altruistic, and biospheric aspects. Individuals who strongly endorsed hedonic values were more likely to base their choice of restaurant on the hedonic attribute varied in the restaurant descriptions (i.e., whether the food served was tasty), while those who strongly endorsed altruistic values more strongly based their choice on the working conditions in the restaurant (representing the altruistic attribute included in the description of the restaurants) and those who endorsed biospheric values particularly considered Page 6 of 14 Environmental Values whether organic products were served (i.e., the biospheric attribute). So, preferences were systematically linked to values; people particularly considered the characteristic of the restaurant that was congruent with their values. Together, these studies indicate that it is indeed important to include hedonic values in studies on environmental beliefs, preferences, norms, and actions. How Do Values Affect Behavior? We indicated above that values appear to be correlated with various psychological constructs including preferences, beliefs, norms, intentions, and even behavior. But how do values affect behavior? Do they affect behavior directly, or mainly indirectly, via, for example, beliefs and preferences? Value theories generally assume that values are general beliefs reflecting stable dispositions that structure and guide specific beliefs, norms and attitudes that are more likely to change over time (Feather, 1995; Rokeach, 1973). These beliefs, norms, and attitudes in turn affect behavior. So, it is assumed that the effect of values on behavior is mediated by more specific beliefs, attitudes, and norms. Indeed, various studies showed that values mostly influence behavior indirectly, via behavior-specific beliefs, attitudes, and norms (e.g., De Groot, Steg, & Dicke, 2008; Gärling et al., 2003; Kalof et al., 1999; Nordlund & Garvill, 2002, 2003; Nilsson et al., 2004; Poortinga et al., 2004; Steg et al., 2005). For example, Nordlund and Garvill (2003) found that values were related to awareness of environmental problems and personal norms (that is, feelings of moral obligation) to reduce car use, while personal norms were the only significant predictor of willingness to reduce car use, suggesting that the effects of values on willingness to reduce car use is mediated by behavior-specific beliefs and norms. Similarly, Steg et al. (2005) found that values (in particular biospheric values) predicted general awareness of environmental problems (i.e., NEP; we explain this concept in the section “Distinction Between Values, Ecological Worldviews, and Environmental Concern”) and behavior-specific beliefs (in this case awareness of consequences of energy problems, feelings of responsibility for energy problems, and personal norms to reduce energy use) but that personal norms were the only significant predictor of acceptability of energy policies. So behavior-specific beliefs and norms mediated the effects of values on non-activist behavior in the public sphere as well (in this case acceptability of energy policies; cf. Stern, 2000). However, some studies showed that values can affect behavior directly as well, even when mediating variables such as specific beliefs, attitudes, and norms are controlled for (e.g., Schultz & Zelezny; 1998; Stern, Dietz, Abel, Guagnano, & Kalof, 1999; cf. Stern, 2000). For example, Schultz and Zelezny (1998) found that selftranscendence values were significantly related to self-reported pro-environmental behavior, even when general awareness of environmental problems and feelings of responsibility for environmental problems in general were controlled for. However, these studies typically measured general beliefs toward the environment, while studies that showed that values affect environmental behavior indirectly typically included behavior-specific or contextspecific beliefs, attitudes, and norms. This suggests that the influence of values on behavior is most likely to be mediated by behavior-specific beliefs, attitudes, and norms, but not by general environmental beliefs. (p. 88) It is generally believed that values, and particularly values that are strongly endorsed by a person, direct attention to value-congruent information, which in turn affects beliefs and norms related to pro-environmental action and (willingness to) act pro-environmentally (Stern & Dietz, 1994; Stern et al., 1995; Nordlund & Garvill, 2002, 2003). Values affect the way a person perceives a situation so that some actions and potential outcomes are seen as attractive whereas other actions are seen as aversive (Feather, 1995). Values are more influential when they are activated in the particular situation. For example, Verplanken and Holland (2002) found that people were more likely to acquire information on the environmental performance of a TV set and, in turn, to actually choose a TV set with a better environmental performance when biospheric values were activated, but only when they strongly endorsed biospheric values in the first place. In this study, biospheric values were activated via a scrambled word task in which participants had to make sentences out of words presented to them, where many of the resulting sentences happened to refer to environmental issues; the true aim of the task was masked via a cover story. This suggests that priming particular values to make them salient in the particular situation enhances attention to and the weight of information related to these values. This increases the likelihood of value-congruent actions, but only when the relevant values are central to the particular person. On the other hand, priming values is less likely to promote pro-environmental preferences and choices when people do not strongly endorse these values in the first place. Verplanken and Holland (2002) also found that enhancing a self-focus (in this case by circling self-related words in a text, such as “I,” “me,” “my,” “mine” as opposed to Page 7 of 14 Environmental Values “the,” “it,” “a,” “an”) activates central values, which promotes value-congruent actions. More specifically, they found that people were more likely to donate money to a humanitarian organization (i.e., Amnesty International) when self-focus was high and when participants strongly endorsed altruistic values. However, a self-focus did not significantly increase donations to a humanitarian organization when people did not strongly endorse altruistic values, suggesting that a self-focus particularly promotes value-congruent actions among those who strongly endorse the relevant values. Together, these results indicate that strong values promote value-congruent actions, especially when the relevant values are activated and/or when people are self-focused. When altruistic or biospheric values are linked to or integrated in our self-concept, acting pro-environmentally can make us feel like a moral person (rather than a selfish person), which is likely to promote pro-environmental actions as people like to see themselves as morally right (Aronson, 1969; Bolderdijk, Steg, Geller, Lehman, & Postmes, 2012). Maio and colleagues (Maio & Olson, 1998; Maio, Olson, Allen, & Bernard, 2001) argued that making values cognitively more accessible is not sufficient to promote value-congruent actions. Rather, values need to be cognitively supported; that is, individuals should be able to provide reasons for their values. Maio et al. (2001) argued that value-incongruent actions may result from seeing values as truisms, where people lack cognitive support for values. In such situations, values are vulnerable to change when they are challenged, because people have no clear rationale for defending them. In contrast, when values are cognitively supported, they are perceived to be more rational and activated and people can generate counterarguments when these values are challenged, thereby counterbalancing situational factors to engage in value-incongruent actions. For example, when the value helpfulness is cognitively supported and activated, people may help another in need even though this may be costly to them, while they are less likely to do so when this value is not cognitively supported. In sum, values are most strongly related to specific beliefs, attitudes, norms, and consequently to behaviors when they are strongly endorsed, and when they are activated, part of one’s self-concept, and cognitively supported. When values are closely linked to or integrated in one’s self concept, they may become an important part of one’s identity, that is, people may mention values to describe themselves (Hitlin, 2003). Indeed, research has shown that an environmental identity, that is, the extent to which individuals indicate that environmentalism is a central part of the self, correlates strongly with biospheric values. Moreover, relationships between biospheric values and environmental behavior are mediated by environmental identity: values were no longer significantly related to environmental behavior when environmental identity was controlled for (Van der Werff, Steg, & Keizer, 2012), suggesting that values affect behavior indirectly, via self-identity. When people strongly endorse biospheric values, it is likely that these values become part of one’s self-identity, resulting in a strong environmental (p. 89) identity, which in turn increases the likelihood of pro-environmental actions. Distinction Between Values, Ecological Worldviews, and Environmental Concern Besides values, various other general antecedents of environmental behavior have been studied, notably worldviews and environmental concern. Like values, worldviews and environmental concern are also believed to influence a wide range of specific beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behaviors. It is important to make a clear conceptual distinction between these different general antecedents of environmental behavior, to avoid misinterpretations. It is commonly understood that values are central and relatively stable elements of one’s personality that reflect the relative importance of different guiding principles in life. The previous sections demonstrated that values reflect multiple motivations, that is, they reflect hedonic (e.g., pleasure), egoistic (e.g., power), altruistic (e.g., equality), as well as biospheric (e.g., unity with nature) motivations (Steg et al., 2011). In contrast, ecological worldviews and environmental concern reflect less general beliefs and focus on environmental issues (see Steg et al., 2011). More specifically, ecological worldviews reflect primitive beliefs (i.e., basic truths) on relationships between humans and the environment. The most popular conceptualization of ecological worldviews is the New Environmental (or: Ecological) Paradigm (NEP; Dunlap & Van Liere, 1978; Dunlap, Van Liere, Mertig, & Jones, 2000), which reflects people’s beliefs about humanity’s ability to upset the balance of nature, the existence of limits to growth for human societies, and humanity’s right to rule over the rest of nature. Environmental concern refers to the evaluation of environmental issues, including beliefs on the need for environmental protection; the severity, likelihood, and immediacy of environmental problems; the seriousness of Page 8 of 14 Environmental Values environmental problems; worries about environmental problems; general attitudes toward the environment; the importance of consequences of environmental problems for oneself, others, and the biosphere; and affective responses to environmental problems (e.g., Axelrod & Lehman, 1993; Baldassare & Katz, 1992; Bamberg, 2003; Biel & Nilsson, 2005; Fransson & Gärling, 1999; Gatersleben, Steg, & Vlek, 2002; Maloney & Ward, 1973; Schultz, 2000, 2001; Schultz et al., 2005; Schultz, Shriver, Tabanico, & Khazian, 2004; Stern et al., 1993; Weigel & Weigel, 1978). So, values reflect a broader range of motivations and are more encompassing than ecological worldviews and environmental concern, as values reflect multiple motivations, and not only environmental considerations. Based on this, one could argue that values should affect ecological worldviews and environmental concern, which in turn affect behavior-specific beliefs, norms, and environmental actions. In fact, this is exactly what is proposed by the value-belief-norm theory of environmentalism (Stern, 2000; Stern et al., 1999). Indeed, studies have shown that values predict NEP and environmental concern (De Groot & Steg, 2008; Schultz et al., 2005; Schultz & Zelezny, 1999; Steg et al., 2005). However, a recent study by Steg et al. (2011) showed that egoistic, altruistic, and biospheric values predicted a significantly higher proportion of the variance in personal norms toward energy conservation and in environmental activism, respectively, than did ecological worldviews and environmental concern. This suggests that values are better predictors of pro-environmental norms and intentions than are ecological worldviews and environmental concerns, probably because values reflect a wider range of motivations (rather than only environmental concerns). So, although worldviews and environmental concerns may be rooted in values, they do not necessarily fully mediate the effects of values on environmental beliefs, norms, and actions, and values are generally more predictive of pro-environmental beliefs, norms, intentions and behavior than are ecological worldviews and environmental concern. Future Directions In this chapter, we discussed the importance of values in understanding and promoting pro-environmental behavior. We indicated which values are particularly important in the environmental domain, and how values affect environmental actions. Also, we described under which circumstances values are particularly predictive of environmental beliefs, norms, intentions, and behavior, and indicated important conceptual differences between values and other types of general antecedents of environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behaviors, notably ecological worldviews and environmental concern. Throughout the chapter, we discussed relevant empirical evidence on these topics. Although a rich body of literature is available on values and environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behavior, there are some important topics to be addressed in future studies. First, studies revealed (p. 90) that particularly biospheric values strengthen pro-environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and action. An important topic for future research is therefore how biospheric values can best be strengthened and activated to enhance proenvironmental actions. Such studies can build on the important work by Verplanken and Holland (2002) and Maio et al. (Maio & Olson, 1998; Maio et al., 2001) discussed in this chapter. Second, future studies could examine under which circumstances values are more likely to affect behavior indirectly, and when direct influences are likely as well. We suggested that values may be less likely to affect behavior directly when behavior-specific or contextspecific (rather than general) beliefs, attitudes, and norms are controlled for, but this assumption needs to be tested empirically. A third important topic for future research is to examine how people manage possible conflicts between values, such as conflicts between hedonic or egoistic values with biospheric values. 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Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology, Forensic Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0006 Abstract and Keywords Water management is principally used here to review current knowledge in relation to social justice in the allocation of natural resources and environmental management. The sphere of human needs provided by water is described, and a water benefits approach to measuring the overall well-being from water allocation decisions is introduced. The basic concepts of social justice—procedural, interactive and distributive justice, equity, fairness, and lay environmental ethics—are outlined, along with their limitations when applied in different cultures. The premise of scale and justice judgments is posed with the example presented in watershed development in Andhra Pradesh, India. The requirement for research into ways that justice can be incorporated within the dynamic systems approaches that are becoming prevalent in ecosystems management is proposed, with the example of a fisheries-based management cycle provided to demonstrate how this can occur. The importance of incorporating and integrating time, spatial, and social dimensions into framing justice research is demonstrated. Suggestions for future research are made throughout. Keywords: allocation, fairness, equity, ethics, dynamic systems, scale, time, space, benefits Introduction The concepts of justice, fairness, and equity and all their synonyms are of preeminent importance for environmental management and environmental psychologists. From their survey of the Lexis-Nexis database of major newspapers, Clayton and Opotow (2003) noted that for justice issues, the term “environmental” was mentioned more than “industrial” or “legal” references. It is unfortunate, therefore, that justice issues have not played a more central role in environmental and conservation psychology, and that the psychological study of justice has not had more impact on environmental decision-making (Nancarrow & Syme, 2001). Justice in environmental management is largely to do with the allocation or sharing of the benefits from natural resources, and the disbenefits associated with access to limited resources or exposure to polluted resources. While there is a large contribution that can be made by psychology in encouraging conserving behaviors at household or individual levels (Bamberg & Moser, 2007) and understanding the determinants of support for environmentally protective policies (Nilsson, von Borgstede, & Biel, 2004), it is evident that even with these innovations, the potential for conflict around access to natural resources is likely to rise significantly in the 21st century. Land, fossil fuels, and water will all be subjected to increased competition between users and uses. Specific allocations for environmental purposes will also need to be made if we are not to lose the crucial biodiversity upon which human survival depends. These environmental allocations will need to be made in the face of short-term economic interests. Therefore, the rights of the environment will need to be defined and then delivered (p. 94) amid widespread public debate. All these issues will demand much greater attention by Page 1 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions conservation and environmental psychologists than is currently the case. The concern is that much of the psychologically based literature in justice relates to human services and financial and organizational issues. Water and Justice In this discussion, water is primarily the focus as an exemplar of the justice issues associated with environmental decision-making and natural resources management. Water and the necessity of access for human life is a vivid illustration that everyone can connect with. Water is a renewable resource with multifaceted uses. It has dimensions of quality and quantity. The benefits from water are wide-ranging both for ecosystems and for humans. Hoekstra, Saveneji, & Chapagain (2001) have pointed out that the same volume of water as it travels through the environment can provide multiple outcomes ranging from the maintenance of biodiversity to the provision of water for irrigation and urban supply, and multiple other benefits. Syme, Porter, Goeft, and Kington (2008) have shown these benefits as a “Sphere of Needs” as depicted in Figure 6.1. Because of the wide range of benefits that can be derived from water, from health to spirituality, some economists have stated that it cannot be seen as a normal “economic” good (Batten, 2007) and allocated in a purely utilitarian fashion. Infact, Ajzen, Rosenthal, and Brown (2000), among others, have shown that fairness perceptions are an important determinant of willingness to pay for environmental goods and, as such, intention to pay cannot automatically be interpreted as a purely utilitarian variable that relates only to the market as nonutilitarian motives are intertwined. Therefore, water allocation policies require a social means for evaluating the justice outcomes from them. It is the justice of how these benefits are shared between differing parties that underlies many cultures and their constituent institutions. For example, community-based water management in Spain has been a central part of the culture for centuries and reflects the view that water sharing underlies community stability and integrity. Click to view larger Figure 6.1 Sphere of Needs (SON) met by water. Reprinted from Syme et al., 2008, with permission from the copyright holders, IWA Publishing. When justice is not seen to be done, the potential for conflict regionally and between nations is exacerbated (Brooks & Trottier, 2010). Access to water in many cases reflects the relative power of nations. If there is ongoing injustice, conflicts can emerge. Uitto and Wolf (2002) in their introduction to a special issue on this topic, while acknowledging the association between water and conflict, pointed out that the nuances of the negotiations in the settlement of some of these disputes are intriguing. Often what begin as water conflicts end up with communitybased solutions that last. In other cases, despite their importance, power differentials leave water matters off the bargaining table but concessions (p. 95) are made in other economically important areas. In either peace or conflict, therefore, water allocation issues have much relevance to the development of social justice theory and practice. Applying justice concepts to water is difficult, but the lessons learned will apply to all natural resources. One of the important contributions that can be made by psychology is to move the argumentation away from allocating volumes of water, which is the common frame of reference, toward allocating benefits from water. These benefits can incorporate all of the rings of the Sphere of Needs, including environmental and economic components. We contend that the most important outcome of water resources management for people is the subjective overall benefit that they derive from it (Syme & Nancarrow, 2008). That is, it is the human aspirations associated with the social benefits, perceived environmental goals, and required economic outcomes that are the Page 2 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions key elements of sustainable water resources management. We contend that while some of these benefits can be measured in dollar terms, some cannot (Ackerman & Heinzerling, 2004). Many of these noneconomic dimensions, such as culture or spirituality, are firmly in the social category. While Western nations have measured the national welfare from water and other natural resources, Bhutan prefers to view its national welfare in terms of happiness (Zurick, 2006). This is a rich concept and is compatible with that of measuring benefits. The important advantage of using the benefits concept is that once benefits have been established, water quality and quantity criteria for attaining them can then be defined and delivered. For example, water quality underpins almost all of the benefits associated with the Sphere of Needs. Water quantity underpins recreational amenity benefits, and so on. Nevertheless, for most nations, both economic and social benefits are important and both need to be included in any evaluative analysis with environmental benefits in the same metric if our water management is to be understood. How basic psychological measurement can be successfully used to achieve this is described for the case of Lake Mulwala in southern Australia (Syme & Nancarrow, 2008; McIntyre et al., 2006), where there was considerable conflict between water agencies and the local community over the development of a water management plan. This benefits approach must be underpinned by social justice theory. The need for such theory to help create robust decision-making is becoming ever more evident in the light of the uncertainties created by climate change that has already markedly altered the pattern of precipitation in many regions of the world, thus creating ever more difficult water allocation challenges. Further, one of the most concerning aspects of climate change in many areas is the uncertainty of future rainfall and its effects on the productive capacity of different regions. If water sharing arrangements demand to be changed, justice issues will be paramount in the ability of communities to cope and adapt to potentially altered resource availability. While many of these issues are shared with other natural resources, water is a preeminent connector of individuals, communities, and regions. How water is managed in one situation always has multiplier effects on others. For this reason water and its management have often formed the basis of enduring institutional and political structures (Guillet, 2006) and often ongoing tensions between and within nations. Justice in relation to water management needs to be understood and negotiated between groups of humans and between humans and the environment. Justice problems can occur at all scales. Micro-issues include managing water “fairly” between groups upstream and downstream in a small watershed. Meso-level issues include water sharing between regions or basins. Macro-issues include those associated with international competition for water. But the issue of scale when considering justice is not simply the geographic area associated with the water resource; it has temporal, political, institutional, sociological, and psychological dimensions that are not necessarily commensurate. The psychological dimension, whether at individual, group, or community level, underpins each of these dimensions of justice. Finally, the benefits concept has two levels of consideration: those benefits from water that emanate directly from outcomes at a local or national level, and those associated with the “trading” of virtual water1 between nations. Can the sharing of water benefits between water-rich and water-poor countries at a local level be simultaneously considered from a moral or justice perspective with the idea of virtual water? That is, can justice be achieved by providing virtual water to alleviate imbalances between rich and poor countries? Water management has often been labeled a “wicked” problem (Head, 2008), in that a “solution” to one problem is often a precursor to the advent of another problem, and each should be solved within an adaptive justice framework. This framework needs to incorporate environments and (p. 96) ecosystems as well as people if sustainable management is to be reached and then maintained. Because justice is at its root a subjective judgment, psychology needs to be a basic component in the development of how we can better share water for the overall public interest. Following is a brief review of the basic concepts of the social psychology of justice as they apply to water-resource and environmental management. Understanding and Evaluating Justice Outcomes This section primarily focuses on the empirical social psychological literature that attempts to understand and Page 3 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions apply knowledge to the ways in which justice actually expresses itself in human decision-making and behavior associated with environmental management and resource allocation. The key concepts of social psychological theory and the understanding of lay ethics can provide a basis for sharing natural resources among humans, and between humans and the environment. However, while these concepts have been very useful, they have often been found to be rather simplistic by the community in real-world environmental allocation problems. There has been a long history of theories of justice as they relate to natural resource allocation from virtue theory to various forms of utility theory and the procedural justice theories of people such as Rawls (1971). This theoretical development continues today (e.g., Sen, 2010). The ongoing interaction between this literature and psychology is fragmented. The difficulty for psychologists is that often, philosophical principles concerning the assessment of allocation are conditional statements that do not lend themselves readily to traditional psychometric measurement. Nevertheless, in studies of lay philosophical approaches, the elicitation of such principles using the language of those affected by the allocation issues can provide effective evaluation of alternative sharing options at community levels, and also at a more global level. Equity The social psychological literature began with research based on three primary concepts: equity, procedural justice, and distributive justice. Equity seems to have the largest literature and generally follows the formulation of Rasinski (1987) as having two components: “proportionality” and “equality.” Thus in environmental terms, proportionality can be reflected, for example, in the effort and investment made by irrigators to utilize their land and allocated water resources. Simply put, those who have invested in an extensive irrigation system and have a record of high agricultural production because of carefully planned husbandry deserve more water in times of shortage than those who have simply flooded their crops and “hoped for the best.” Alternatively, equality suggests that each entity (both human and environmental) should have equal opportunity to access an adequate amount of water for basic purposes. These components are used in both individual and community decision-making with different emphases for differing problems. The equality component of equity is often referred to as a “social allocation” in water resources management. The exact amount of water that should be allocated to everyone is often determined on a needs basis. Generally, for example, it is interpreted in terms of the amount of clean water that will be needed to allow basic human requirements for health and food preparation, and these basic needs are sometimes referred to as aspirational rights in international documents (e.g., Oda and Toyoma, 2002). In agricultural terms, the same social allocation concept could be related to an adequate supply of food in some cultures, or basic income in others. The definition of environmental needs is more difficult, and consequently, environmental rights are equally problematic. For example, how much land or water should be maintained as “pristine” or conserved is the basis of enduring public arguments about environmental needs and rights. These deliberations are even more difficult when the environment has already been highly modified through urban development, agriculture, or mining. The proportionality component is reflected in the maintenance of relatively high water use due to the investment, effort, and productivity involved (Syme, Nancarrow, & McCreddin, 1999). It may be noted that a third concept of accountability is significant in the interpretation of when and how proportionality is used in people’s equity decision making (Johansson-Stenman & Konow, 2010). Accountability refers to the joint concepts of proportionality and responsibility. Responsibility simply refers to the degree of control a person has over the outcome. Thus, if the person or group can control a positive outcome from water use by extra measures to protect the environment and/or productivity, they are considered to be accountable, and therefore the effort is proportionally rewarded. On the other hand, if the improved water management is outside their control through environmental or economic (p. 97) constraints, the principle of equality seems to be invoked. Procedural Justice The concept of procedural justice gained prominence with the publication of Lind and Tyler’s (1988) volume, The Social Psychology of Procedural Justice. It has most commonly been applied to issues relating to nonenvironmental problems, but it has a great relevance to natural resource issues, where it has been relatively neglected. Procedural justice research concentrates on the characteristics of a decision-making process that Page 4 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions make it seem just to people who are vulnerable to the consequences. Procedural justice identifies and measures generalizable dimensions of interaction between the decision makers and stakeholders such as “voice” (or evidence that people had the chance to have a say and were listened to), and in the case of wider public input to environmental decision-making, the “representativeness” of those involved in the process. There are also a number of other dimensions. A review of procedural justice concepts and how they may relate to natural resource decisions is provided by Lawrence, Daniels, and Stankey (1997). The importance of procedurally just decisionmaking in enhancing the role of science in climate adaptation is described by Paavola (2008), who indicated the need for community influence on setting the priorities for scientific research to assist in just allocation of costs, benefits, and risks of climate adaptation strategies. The major hypothesis of procedural justice is that if it is demonstrated in a decision-making process, then the outcome is more likely to be accepted by those affected. To some extent, this hypothesis has been supported by environmentally relevant research, but the relationship may not be a simple one. Oberholzer-Gee, Bohnet, and Frey (1997) found a strong association between procedurally just processes (incorporating respect, impartiality, adequate information, consent, and fairness) and acceptance of siting of nuclear facilities in Sweden. Lauber and Knuth (1999) found in regard to public participation in moose management that the presence of voice, equal opportunity for people to participate, and the adequate representation of interested parties did not have a relationship with acceptance of the moose management policy, as hypothesized by procedural justice theory. Nevertheless, the procedural justice issues that did correlate with overall support for the decision outcome were the receptivity of the management agency, evidence that the public involvement program did influence decision makers, the perceived degree of knowledge of the managing agency, and feelings of improved relationships between the community, stakeholder groups, and the agency. Syme and Nancarrow (2002) evaluated procedural justice characteristics of a large-scale wastewater public involvement program. They measured participants’ perceptions of the ease with which they could participate, the sufficiency of the information given to them, the degree of opportunity they felt they had to contribute to the process, the adequacy of the variety of opinions expressed, the perceived responsiveness of the water authority conducting the program, the likelihood that the water authority would make the best decision (measured during the process), and whether the best decision was made after the process had been completed. While the relationship between the acceptance of outcome of the program and perceptions of procedural justice were somewhat equivocal, there was a measurable relationship between positive perceptions of procedural justice from the program and commitment to participating with the water authority in the future. Given that trust in environmental agencies has been shown to relate to acceptance of outcomes (Edelenbos & Klijn, 2007) and that trust is built up by a sense of community with the agency, this relationship between procedural justice and commitment is important. As has been observed by several authors, environmental management decisions don’t result in a rational one-off solution as originally proposed by the scientific community. They are made on an ongoing basis around what is the best current estimate of a solution and consist of values and emotions as well as logic (Cortner & Shannon, 1993). Thus adaptive learning and reframing of problems are integral to environmental decision-making and must incorporate community input and preference. To achieve this, agencies need commitment from the community and trust in their processes (Harstone, Failing, & Gregory, 2007). Some authors separate procedural justice issues into two components: “procedural justice,” which describes the structure and organization of the decision-making process, and “interactional justice,” which pertains to the way in which the person has been treated in terms of courtesy and respect (Bies, 2005). Thus the role of “improved relationships” through public involvement in encouraging acceptance of outcome in the Lauber and Knuth (1999) situation seems a good example of the significance of interactional justice. While there is some (p. 98) contention as to whether an interactional justice categorization is justified, it would seem that it is worthy of investigation in the environmental justice context. This is possibly because it is the interactive justice issues that are most likely to arouse the emotional as well as the cognitive dimension of decision-making (Epstein, 1994). This is important, as it has been demonstrated that in many instances it is the emotive rather than the cognitive part of assessment that leads to behavior. The emotive component is likely to occur during an individual’s interaction with decision makers on an interpersonal basis. If the interaction is “pleasant,” a commitment to continuing the interaction is likely. Alternatively, if the individual is ignored or treated in a way that is seen as disrespectful, negative emotion will arise and protest against “injustice” is more likely to occur. Judgments of procedural justice, on the other hand, are more Page 5 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions likely to be cognitive in nature, as the opportunities for involvement and influence can be seen in the timelines of planning documentation. While there has been relatively little formal research on the structure and significance of interactional justice in environmental decision-making, it would seem important in terms of justice and, more important, “injustice” perceptions (Miller, 2001). This is particularly the case in the context of perceived past injustices affecting future participation. There are many examples of an agency’s public involvement program being spurned by the community because of the past “rude” behavior of individual agency employees. Finally, procedural justice has a central role in considering the “rights” and the representation of the environment in public discussion and decision-making. The question is often posed as to who represents the environment’s interests (Bryson, 2008). There is obviously no one group “anointed” in this regard. Scientists have access to knowledge, which is an important component of achieving procedural justice and may assist in assessing environmental needs. For example, scientists can inform us about the thresholds of environmental change that will threaten ecosystem integrity. However, scientists have no particular mandate in regard to the values underpinning trade-off decisions that define what is ultimately assigned for environmental conservation. This means we need to be aware of the nature of the values we are trading off to ensure that we are aware of which values are represented in the final decision. Without such public awareness, the justice considerations are often tacit and are not necessarily representative of either the values of the community or the fundamental needs of the environment. The only way the justice of sharing resources between humans and the environment can be adequately interpreted is through processes that create overt public discussion by a wide range of interests. How this is accomplished requires an expanded research and evaluation effort into publicly accountable and procedurally just decision-making. Distributive Justice Distributive justice as a concept is related to the evaluation of whether an outcome is “just” in terms of the distribution of a resource between individuals. In this way, equity and distributive justice are closely related concepts, as the dimensions of equity seem to be significant in making distributive justice decisions. It is clear, however, that it is not just the two dimensions associated with equity that are used when environmental distribution evaluations are made by individuals. There are many other approaches that have been applied over the centuries in the development of our moral philosophies. These can vary from the simplest, that of virtue theory, which claims that rich people are rich because they are virtuous (therefore, rich people should be allocated more land and water than poor people), through models of sharing such as Kant’s moral imperative (e.g., people at the top of a watershed should ensure that they do not take water in a manner that will negatively affect people at the bottom), various models associated with rights (e.g., I believe the environment should have the same rights as people), to a variety of utilitarian philosophies associated with economic means for reallocating water (including rules for compensating losers) (Wenz, 1988). All have distributive justice outcomes and create clear expectations about who should get what. Syme and Nancarrow (1996) showed that many of these philosophies were held intuitively by the Australian public when expressing their opinion of environmental policy. Syme et al. (1999) and subsequent case studies found that these ethical positions, nominated by stakeholders in environmental decision-making, could be measured and used to assess the overall distributive justice and “fairness” of particular actions that would change access to the natural environment. Many of the philosophies of allocation present in the academic literature were voiced in simple language by water users. A sample of the attitudinal questions derived from these lay philosophies are provided in Syme et al. (1999). Distributive justice has been found to correlate positively with procedural justice in a number of (p. 99) studies, although, as stated earlier, there have been relatively few of these for environmental decision-making. But because of this relationship, one formulation of fairness theory was developed, the “fairness heuristic” (e.g., van den Bos, Lind, Vermunt, & Wilke, 1997a; Syme & Nancarrow, 1997), which combined the two as an ongoing interactive system. Fairness According to Peterson (1994), “Once an impression of fairness has been produced it becomes extremely resistant to change … because it provides a cognitively available summary judgment in lieu of a more complicated analysis of policy each time they are asked.” Reliance on fairness heuristics is likely to occur in situations that are ongoing; Page 6 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions where there is unlikely to be a clear-cut end point; and when an individual’s knowledge is incomplete. Environmental allocation issues are typical of such situations. In addition, environmental issues are replete with examples of framing perceptions of fairness differently (e.g., Messick, 1993), according to whether one is considering the acceptability of decisions in general or disinterested terms, or specifically where the impact is likely to impact personally or locally. These have been termed “universal fairness” and “situational fairness,” respectively (Syme et al., 1999). Universal fairness judgments are those that examine the wider principles surrounding an environmental problem. Situational fairness judgments relate to specific examples of the problem. Alternative parallel concepts are macro-justice (group level) and micro-justice (individual level) (Clayton, 1994). An example of a macro-justice or universal fairness principle would be, “We should protect our ecosystems for the next generation.” A micro-justice or situational fairness principle would be, “I should be compensated if my water allocation is to be taken away for ecosystem benefit.” In many ways, these concepts can be seen to be associated with scale. That is, at the macrolevel, governments are expected to derive policies that apply the principles of justice and reflect the national interest within a culture, whereas micro-justice may place greater emphasis on one’s individual interests within that overall framework. Micro-justice (justice perceived at the individual level) or situational fairness (fairness related to specific aspects of a problem) has often been associated with a justice or fairness bias in that people tend to view fairness judgments from a self-interested perspective. For example, Lange, Loschel, Vogt, and Zeigler (2010) found that people in different geographic regions generally favor rules that impose lower costs on their regions and higher costs by implication on other regions. This is perhaps consistent with literature that suggests that people will rationalize their own contribution to water conservation, or any other environmental issue, as they see themselves as being naturally more responsible than other members of the community (Tyler & Blader, 2000). Self-interest, of course, may not be the only motivation, but it is evident that people construct fairness judgments on the basis of arguments from their own viewpoint to justify their own positions. For example, an argument may be promoted: “Compared with rich people, I use much less water and energy, so they should take responsibility for achieving a higher proportion of savings than me.” This argumentation is at the basis of much of the relative deprivation literature (Major, 1994; D’Ambrosio & Frick, 2007). Feelings of relative deprivation tend to occur when people identify others as being comparable in terms of their justification for using a resource. A good example has occurred in Perth, Western Australia, where vegetable growers use groundwater to grow produce. The government wished to meter them to ensure usage was not in excess of their allocation. The growers pointed out that householders in nearby suburbs also using groundwater bores and not being metered (or even given an allocation) were comparable users as a group. Therefore, relatively they were being treated unjustly. Since there is also a tendency to view others as less responsible than oneself or one’s own group, a fairness bias toward oneself and one’s own group is often observed, and arguments about fairness are constructed accordingly (Tyler & Blader, 2000; Clayton & Opotow, 2003). Presumably this bias is countered in public policy by the dispassionate macro-justice or universal fairness principles that are applied by decision makers in their disinterested role as public servants, or (hopefully) politicians’ judgments in relation to the overall public good. Bias should also be tempered through well-designed public involvement programs that ensure that these macro-justice or universal principles are met. Syme et al. (1999), for example, have collected universal fairness principles in regard to water allocation from a community and then matched specific (or situational) solutions to them. The universal principles did have some variability among the community, although there were many similarities, which may be expected in any culture. But by mapping the range of universal principles to the individual solutions, the inclusiveness of the (p. 100) components of the water allocation solutions could be demonstrated both to the decision makers and to the wider community. This acted to allow situational, or group bias but curbed its excessive implementation from a publicinterest viewpoint. Nevertheless, fairness bias needs to be recognized and its contribution to fairness judgments identified. It is not surprising from the discussion so far that Wilke (1991), in his review of resource allocation gaming experiments, identified three factors governing people’s allocation of resources. These are greed, efficiency, and fairness. Therefore, the contribution of justice or fairness to overall decision-making needs to be interpreted in association with the self-interest motive and the perception of the efficient use of resources (see also Eek & Bies, 2003). Page 7 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions Self-interest has been commonly studied as the source of motivation in allocation games and has been demonstrated as a consistent and powerful motivator of sharing behavior. Sometimes, however, the significance of the variable has been overemphasized at individual, social, and cultural levels (Miller, 1999). Concentration by policy makers on the self-interest motive in environmental decision-making has created a unidimensional view of human character and the devaluing of pro-social motivation in human and environmental affairs (Montada, 1998). This has, at its extreme, led to national policies that undervalue human concerns for long-term sustainability and the need for public policy to meet those concerns. The inclusion of wider lay ethics in the design and encouragement of public discussion needs to be facilitated by government to give a more balanced approach to allocation decisions from the “fairness” perspective. Finally, the concept of efficiency has an economic legacy where it is intended to indicate maximizing overall wealth from the resources available. But there is a broader way in which to consider efficiency and that is in a moral or ethical way (Syme et al., 1999). There is a universal ethical principle that states that natural resources should not be wasted when there are alternatives to use less. This is combined with the accountability component of equity when considering support for policies of resource allocation between people, and between people and the environment. Examples of this have been shown in Australia by farmers who advocated taking significant amounts of water away from irrigators in their community who had not invested in modern water-efficient irrigation technology when they could afford to. The same approach has been taken where farmers have criticized the return of water to the environment when specific ecological outcomes cannot be demonstrated for the amount of water being allocated. That is, scientists are not behaving accountably through their failure to use their knowledge to achieve efficient environmental outcomes. Often because of the difficulty of producing the knowledge to provide specific answers to the environmental outcomes, intractable arguments have occurred between conservationists and irrigators worldwide. Scale and the Dimensions of Justice Decisions While each of the above concepts provides us with the intellectual foundations for dealing with water allocation issues, they need to be applied at differing environmental, social, and economic scales on an ongoing basis. The issue of scale is an important one when considering justice issues within water and other natural resource policy. Generally there is a tendency for psychologists to measure justice concepts at a microlevel of experiments or surveys that are based on individual responses in a prescribed setting. These are then aggregated by group, and through comparison and contrast, allocation issues are understood. Logically it may seem that this results in microjustice issues being measured rather than macro-justice concepts in areas where there is conflict, except when the individuals have no personal stake in the outcomes. The literature has suggested that people tend to use macro-justice judgments except when there is substantial conflict. Even then, those supporting environmental rights in their argumentation tend to operate at more of a macrolevel, while opponents to environmental allocations tend to prefer individual rights in their argumentation (Clayton, 1994, 1996, 1998, 2000). However, in using the concept of fairness to derive solutions to a contentious groundwater reallocation problem, Syme et al. (1999) found that both macro- (universal) and micro-judgments (situational) of fairness could be collected from the same individual. Micro-solutions could be mapped onto macro-judgments to demonstrate the overall consequences of a series of specific solutions for sharing the pain of less water. This mapping formed the basis for discussion and negotiation in community forums. For example, a universal principle of fairness identified by the community was that those who invested in water resource efficiency should be treated on a proportionality basis and rewarded for their investment. The specific situational fairness (p. 101) principle was derived by the community as those who had not invested in four key water-saving technologies should lose 10% of their allocation. Similarly another universal-fairness principle was that water reallocation in the valley should protect the smaller “family” farms (an equality principle). In this case it was decided that a viability base be set for smaller farms to ensure that they did not reach a threshold whereby they would be forced out of business by water cutbacks. Both situational solutions were feasible given the water resource. While this literature represents distinct progress within the traditional social psychological framework, it has challenges when attempting to incorporate social justice concepts into overall policies at regional, national, and international levels that will contribute to long-term sustainability. In this case, the requirement is for measures to be Page 8 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions integrated at conceptual and physical scales that make sense to physical scientists such as hydrologists, economic sense to economists, and institutional sense to policy makers. This is a vexed question, as hydrologists tend to work on hydrological basin or watershed levels, and economists frequently at a much wider regional or national level. Finally, policy makers may wish to use natural resource policies in general to deliver macro-social goals, such as increasing the role of women in decision-making, or ensuring the rights of future generations are protected. The Example of Watershed Development An instructive example of the importance of directly addressing scale can be seen in the evaluation of the national Watershed Development (WSD) policy in India. Since the early 1980s, the Indian WSD programs in rain-fed dryland agriculture have been developed and implemented at micro-watershed scale (average size about 500 hectares), aiming to ensure the sustainability of the surface- and groundwater resources and to improve the livelihoods of farmers. This program has largely been motivated by rural poverty resulting in suicide, seasonal starvation, or migration away from villages to cities, thus creating undesirable social impacts. From Wani’s national WSD evaluation (Wani, Sreedevi, & Marimuthu, 2007), it has become apparent that the effects of water retention (e.g., surface water diversion, groundwater pumping) in micro-watersheds could negatively affect downstream access to water and have an impact on water-resource sustainability and farmer livelihoods. Because the program also has social goals, such as equal representation of males and females on watershed committees, there are social and institutional benefits that are not shared between those that have WSD and those that do not. Thus the issue of scale has become paramount for the effective evaluation of the WSD program both in India and elsewhere. It is clear that the complexities of hydrology, economy, and society become impossible to deliver coherently at a Basin level. The major question then becomes: If the microlevel delivery of the WSD is delivering “unjust” outcomes in terms of access to water and its consequent effects on the well-being of adjacent villages, at what level should it be administered to improve outcomes for the regional community? From a justice perspective, though, it is already evident that there is an urgent need for an understanding of culturally based macro-justice principles as well as the more micro-justice considerations, as both affect village acceptance of local watershed policy. For example, macro-justice principles that are not publicly discussed in Western communities may be influential in accepting the values inherent in micro-WSD. That is, elements of the watershed policy that may seem unjust (such as incentives for efficient water technology, which can result in reduced seasonal employment for landless people) might be accepted because macro-views of justice relate to the caste system whereby there is a collective view of justice based on interpersonal positioning (Miller, 1997). In this case, there is widespread acceptance that advantage to those with access to more resources (generally higher caste) is appropriate. This derives also from a macro-perspective of time and generations founded in the principle of karma. Karma is a cycle of rebirth that guarantees status mobility for the individual in the next life on the basis of his or her performance of duty in this life. It may also be noted that there are many forms of spirituality associated with human connection to the environment (Egri, 1997) and these are likely to be reflected in justice preferences at both the macro- and microlevels. An understanding of these connections would assist in widening our concepts of how justice considerations are applied at the smaller and larger environmental scales. Page 9 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions Figure 6.2 Schematic diagram of the management cycle and sources of error or variation that can inhibit the successful execution of fisheries management. Thus policy development for water resources in different cultures and beliefs needs to balance micro- and macrojustice judgments with appropriately scaled institutional structures. These institutions need to be capable of delivering just outcomes. In the case of WSD, just outcomes are to promote equality in terms of opportunity, and less division in social and economic outcomes for different groups (p. 102) within the community. This example also indicates that the social psychological justice literature needs to be aware of the wide range of philosophies that must be considered in addition to the foundation concepts upon which social justice research has so far been based. Managing Systems Given that watershed development represents typical issues for the problems of environmental decision-making that require the integration of environmental, economic, and social considerations within any justice analysis, there is clearly a need for justice researchers to engage in multi- and trans-disciplinary research (Newell et al., 2005). In this approach to research, investigators frame the problems together, and through different methodological insights combine to achieve this integration. In this process, from the justice perspective, there can be many useful contributions from philosophers, sociologists, political economists, and those involved with institutional analysis. Many of these approaches will not necessarily use conventional social and environmental psychological methods. They will, perhaps, have more usage of national and regional statistics and dynamic systems modeling that are disaggregated, where appropriate, to more localized analyses. Aggregate social psychological data can be put into such models whereby environmental modeling can be combined in a management cycle. One example for fisheries is provided by Fulton, Smith, Smith, and van Putten (2010). It can be seen in Figure 6.2 that there are resource and human components. It is likely that justice research would fit neatly into the “unexpected behavior” and “decision uncertainty” segments. Van den Bos and Lind (2002) have suggested, for example, that fairness judgments are made as a part of managing uncertainty in decision-making. Undoubtedly, the vehement recent protests against a water allocation plan in a significant agricultural river basin in Australia were not expected and revolve, to a significant extent, around whether the environmental benefits promised by the plan will actually be delivered, and the unknown extent to which water will be taken away from farmers. Largely because of a perceived lack of procedural justice, a sense of fairness was not there to counteract these uncertainties. Carefully constructed justice research in conjunction with the hydrologists and economists working in the basin could have provided much improved procedural justice and probably a better distributive outcome for both irrigators and the environment. While this is a major issue for Australia, the same insights could be offered for many regions of the world. (p. 103) The need to understand how to manage such dynamic social systems within a global justice context is becoming ever more pressing with the demands of climate change (Vanderheiden, 2008). Perceptions of justice at Page 10 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions a psychological level among both decision makers and the community at large become highly significant. Not understanding issues, such as how we manage sharing of the effects of carbon emissions between rich and poor nations or how and why countries may be prepared to sign on to global agreements that may create justice problems within their own nations, has been at the core of national and international politics for some time. The lack of resolution of these justice or ethical issues may prevent the knowledge that has been gained by scientists and others being applied as the basis of decision-making. While it may be said by some that this is a political rather than a psychological issue, the fact remains that outcomes of justice negotiations depend on individual judgments of key individuals, and in many cases, the behavior of small groups. These are contexts in which psychologists can offer considerable insight (e.g., Abdel-Monem, Bingham, Marincic, & Tomkins, 2010). Perhaps the most fundamental issue is that, psychologically, individuals have great difficulty in understanding the nature of dynamic ecological systems (Green, 1997; White, 2008) and there is some contention as to whether such insights can be readily “taught.” This “systems thinking” research could have significance to the justice literature. If people find difficulty in understanding dynamic social systems, are they capable of making societywide macro-justice judgments? But there are three other areas of research that have great relevance and need to be systematically addressed if the questions in the environmental justice area are to be adequately framed by social justice researchers. These relate to concepts of environmental responsibility, social inclusion, and the psychology of time. Understanding these three concepts will be highly influential in determining whether humans, as a species, are capable of achieving environmental sustainability. All of these issues are components of identity, which has been shown to be a key determinant of the formulation of our justice considerations (Clayton & Opotow, 2003). We make judgments on the basis of our individual and collective identities, which are socially and environmentally embedded. And perhaps more tacitly, but still powerfully, we are defined by our location in the time dimension. Space, Time, and Society Application of social justice research requires the systematic consideration of what occurs in the context of psychological distance in three key dimensions of space, time, and society. There are local problems with relatively few people and a short time frame when justice issues are considered. For example, should construction of a jetty be allowed in the upper reaches of a river but not in the estuary? There are also global problems with many nations to be considered over generations. Should virtual water be proactively used as a way to assist developing countries’ economies and assist in income equity between developed and developing nations? There is a need to understand how our perceptions along these three key dimensions affect our fairness judgments and how these perceptions could be incorporated in understanding justice issues. Space and Justice Clayton and Opotow (2003) have emphasized the importance of self-identity in the formulation of justice judgments. One component of identity is one’s attachment to the environment in which one lives. Moral geographers have pointed out that the feeling of responsibility for other regions of the world has boundaries. Put simply, the farther away from one’s location, the less one is likely to be personally concerned morally about what happens there (Smith, 2000). In the case of psychology there are many indications that site attachment does occur for environments. Zajonc’s (1968) mere exposure theory suggests that positive affect tends to occur through ongoing exposure to stimuli. Thus this would tend to explain the loyalty that many feel toward their places of residence in some sort of hierarchical fashion. Loyalty may occur first to one’s city, then to one’s state or province, then to one’s nation, and then to a wider international context. This assertion obviously requires empirical verification. Nevertheless, some Australian data has shown that while the Western Australian community approved locally derived climate change policies, they were much more equivocal in their belief that the state should follow an international agenda in terms of obligations to address climate change (Syme & Nancarrow, 2009). Something like Opotow’s (1993, 1994) theory of moral exclusion could be hypothesized, which, in simple terms, would reinforce the moral geographer’s stances. Those outside the space of moral inclusion may be treated with less empathy and concern from a justice perspective. This is a challenge (p. 104) for those dealing with global Page 11 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions issues such as climate change. However, Fujita, Henderson, Eng, Trope, & Liberman (2006) use construal theory (Trope & Liberman, 2003) to address the issue of space. They suggest that increasing the reported spatial distance of people or events should have effects on mental representation of events. These effects are similar to those of increasing remoteness on other dimensions of psychology, such as temporal or social distance. As construal theory would suggest, Fujita et al. (2006) found that spatially distant events can be seen also as a dimension of psychological distance. That is, the farther away an event, the more abstract or generalized the language used to describe that event. It is tempting to think, therefore, that such language would be analogous to the universal or macro-justice principles described by both Syme et al. (1999) and Clayton (1996, 1998, 2000). These are general statements describing the overarching principles that should be reflected in decision-making from an overall public-interest perspective and may not represent exclusion. Spatially close events can be expressed in more detailed terms, and because of this more situational options can be described and expressed because of increased knowledge. It is here that situational justice or fairness judgments come into play simply because there is more local knowledge and less uncertainty in decision-making. In practical terms, this may be why people are more likely to engage in localized public involvement programs than regional ones (Forester, 1981; Guidotti & Abercrombie, 2008). There is more attachment and more feelings of responsibility as well as more knowledge and possibly more emotion. In justice terms, spatial distance may indicate the generality suggested by construal theory rather than moral exclusion. Simply put, universal fairness or macrojustice statements may be used for faraway places, while both universal and situational judgments are used by individuals for nearby locations. This hypothesis has yet to be systematically tested. It also does not necessarily mean that the universal fairness or macro-justice principles are any less significant than micro-justice or situational fairness principles, which may incorporate attendant emotions. It must also be taken into account that there is not necessarily a direct correlation between physical distance and perceived moral responsibility. Tversky (2003) has pointed out that that people’s representation of space differs from space as conceived by “physicists, geometers and cartographers.” Space is constructed according to one’s role, experience, and personal activities (see also Droseltis & Vignoles, 2010; Vanclay, Higgins, & Blackshaw, 2008). Therefore, it is important not only to establish the feelings of personal attachment to “close” geographical areas, but also to explore “more distanced” areas where people feel morally obliged to act or support, perhaps because of their icon value. In a study examining urban storm-water watershed management (Syme, Nancarrow, & Jorgensen, 2002), householders’ willingness to act to protect the quality of storm-water runoff into the nearby river was assessed. Respondents were asked which areas in the metropolitan area they had a feeling of responsibility for. To show this, they were invited to circle on a map the area that they felt personally responsible for. The map was not confined to their streets near the river, but also included adjacent urban areas. They were also invited to nominate other options, up to the entire metropolitan area. There was a large range of responses to this question. Some felt responsible for the whole of the metropolitan area, while others felt they were responsible for only their dwelling and the land area upon which it was situated. The results showed there were significant individual differences. From the viewpoint of this discussion, these feelings of responsibility lead to the prediction of individual proenvironmental intentions. It is admitted that these intentions do not necessarily correlate with justice judgments and this is a topic with little empirical research specifically in relation to justice and allocation decisions. Nevertheless, it would seem that the question of perceived responsibility needs to be addressed before questions about the justice of basic resource allocation issues are asked. That is, sharing or allocation preferences need to be understood in terms of a specific understanding of people’s levels of responsibility. It is likely that these levels of responsibility (or accountability) will affect both cognitive and emotive judgments about environmental management and allocation justice. Labeling fairness judgments as universal or situational may be ill informed if they do not correspond to the cognitive and moral representation of space of an individual. For example, opposition to restricting park irrigation in a particular suburb may be viewed as a situational judgment by a local that his or her favorite recreation area has been impaired. However, it could also reflect a universal judgment that all people are entitled to green space if the restrictions were limited to one part of the metropolitan area or to lower socioeconomic suburbs. (p. 105) Thus the often-quoted self-interest motivation for justice judgments needs to be interpreted within understanding the Page 12 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions geographical context in which people are actually engaging. Time and Justice The Future The basic justice premise of sustainability is represented in the World Commission on Environment and Development report (1987) as “development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.” This indicates that time is a relevant dimension when considering justice, at least in an intergenerational sense. The equality principle between humans seems to be invoked in a temporal sense. Time as it relates to justice or equity is implicitly recognized within economics by the choice of discount rates, whereby the effects of an investment today are devalued exponentially into the future (see Zeckhauser & Viscusi, 2008). Eventually the investment is decreed to be almost worthless. Thus the discount rate tends to be an intuitive judgment about the value of investment now compared with what remains in the future. The normal practice of setting discount rates would seem to encourage a more short-term perspective than that required by the World Commission on Environment and Development, which should encourage value being maintained or even increased in the future. In intergenerational terms, it is apparent that actions taken now could have an expanding positive effect on the life of future generations, for example, by investing in appropriate technologies now. The difficulty is therefore in choosing a discount rate that reflects intergenerational equity or fairness. While this can be estimated by economic analysis, Dasgupta (2008) has pointed out that the appropriate discount rate should be chosen by both economic analyses and the elicitation of the community’s principles of distributive justice over time. Eliciting the appropriate precision of justice principles is not easy and there are a number of issues that need to be addressed. The resolution of these issues may not correlate with current economic practice. For example, the definition of what is just is hard to imagine for the next generation, let alone fifteen generations hence (see Page, 1988 for a discussion). It is also unlikely that we can be specific about which benefits are to be distributed. For example, while in a general sense there may be goodwill toward future generations, such as trying to protect water resources for the population as a whole, it is harder to imagine the specifics of future policies that may help to lower the gap between rich and poor. Finally, in the case of long time frames and intergenerational equity, the future may be discounted because of the uncertainty about what one is buying. As suggested by Trope and Liberman (2003), as temporal distance grows there are more generalized representations of issues that lead, as suggested above, to universal or macro-justice being the level at which justice issues are verbalized. This does not necessarily mean that strong policies for future generations are only vaguely supported or that these attitudes are ephemeral, it’s just that the means of delivering them may be hard to imagine in the medium- to long-term future. People may have strong views about intergenerational equity in terms of preserving water bodies for the benefits of future generations in metropolitan regions but be uncertain about what specific benefits will be derived from current preservation policies in the light of population increases and technological changes. There may also be uncertainty about how the benefits bestowed by current preservation will be realized. Syme et al. (2006) derived a cross-cultural model of perceptions of fairness and judgment in ecological risk policy in Germany and Australia. Endorsement of both intergenerational equity and environmental rights were determinants of justice perceptions. As may be expected, group and individual self-interests had nearly no effect on global issues, but situational principles, presumably including group interest, did have an effect on more localized issues. The trouble in applying the discount rate of time is that the studies tend to use money amounts, which doesn’t account for the possibility that different ethical judgments may be made if environmental or intergenerational choices are offered. Nevertheless, the temporal construal literature would suggest that longer term issues are mentally represented vaguely, with less detail than near events, which may result in more focus on what is closer in time and easy to understand in terms of the need to invest in action. This is often reflected in the tendency for humans to act on a day-to-day basis in a hyperbolic manner when they think about the future (e.g. Azfar, 1999; Settle & Shogren, 2004). That is, more emphasis is placed on immediate certain reward than on a possible greater Page 13 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions reward at some uncertain time in the future. It may be said that such discounting is equally likely to occur in policymaking settings as for individuals. Nevertheless, there is room for considerable research on the relationship between the (p. 106) nature of the discount problem presented to people and how it is framed in temporal terms. Chapman (2001) found in an experimental situation that varying the length of time being considered for the discount problem resulted in very long periods (up to 900 years) being discounted less than for shorter time periods. Attitudinal studies have also demonstrated that many may not want to apply a discount rate for the future (Dietz, Dan, & Shwom, 2007; Milfont & Gouveia, 2006). Studies have tended to support this in that future orientation has been shown to predict support for long-term climate change policies. Nevertheless, there is a need for more detailed justice research unpacking what is meant by intergenerational equity and how justice concerns are expressed, and at what level. This research needs to be undertaken at both community and policy-maker levels. Hyperbolic discounting, as Loewenstein (1996) has noted, is particularly the case in addiction where immediate visceral rewards are available. Loewenstein pointed out, among other things, that “we tend to be less altruistic to others than we would like to be when visceral factors intensify” (p. 275) and “people underestimate the impact of visceral factors on other people’s behaviours” (p. 276). Both of these statements are relevant to achieving longterm intergenerational and environmental justice. Clayton and Opotow (2003) have noted that there are many visceral components associated with justice and particularly lack of justice issues. These are likely to occur in the context of proximate allocation decisions and particularly when water resources are to be taken from an individual or group. Visceral responses can occur at two levels, firstly in terms of the threat to personal and group identity and secondly in terms of the emotion resulting from lack of courtesy associated with poor interactive justice. Prime examples of this occur when project proponents or government personnel conduct public meetings and interject when citizens are trying to give their views, or publicly discount the local knowledge. In these cases there will be, as Loewenstein (1996) suggested, a tendency to think more of one’s immediate needs than those of an undifferentiated future generation or an environment that might be altered anyway because of climate change. Interaction-based short-term visceral justice issues may limit tolerance between decision makers and the community as each underestimates the stress placed on others by unpleasant encounters. This process tends to heighten conflict and reinforces the dominance of short-term issues. In summary, there are many factors that might influence the discounting of the future in the heat of a short-term allocation issue, and this will have the tendency to provide unjust decisions for future generations. This psychological problem is exacerbated by the multiple time frames of human decision-making and ecological and biophysical cycles (Wood, 2008), which leads us back to the issues faced in fisheries by Fulton et al. (2010) as depicted in Figure 6.2. To alleviate this problem, we need to provide a balance and consistency that allows long-term justice principles to be activated within short-term decision-making cycles, as several authors have demonstrated that psychological engagement with the long-term future is considerably less than with the short term. To achieve this, perhaps justice researchers should be looking at the adaptive environmental management literature in which long-term environmental goals are set, but feedback loops from monitoring systems are engaged to alter short-term behaviors when outcomes are unexpected (Allen & Stankey, 2009). This, of course, is not simple to do in complex organizational systems that often occur for multi-objective planning (Edelenbos & Klijn, 2007). Nevertheless, it is possible, as in the Syme et al. (1999) study, to relate the justice criteria in specific solutions to more universal or macro-justice judgments. If such a technique were developed on a longitudinal basis and incorporated within the adaptive learning framework for environmental management, it could have a powerful effect on improving justice outcomes, particularly those associated with intergenerational equity and the rights of the environment to exist. The Past As already noted, environmental allocation decisions do not occur on a one-off basis. For example, the solution to one water problem is likely to raise awareness of several others. For this reason, the past has an equally important role in justice considerations as the future. As van den Bos et al. (1997b) have noted, “What is fair depends more on what comes first than on what comes next”(p. 95). This is pertinent to both the individual and wider community decision-making spheres. This is perhaps why procedural and interactive justice evaluations of ongoing decision- Page 14 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions making are so vital. If the last interaction with a decision-making agency was perceived to be unjust or disrespectful, the level of (p. 107) perceived justice and trust is likely to be less generous. Certainly van den Bos et al. (1998) found that those who had no knowledge of an agency tended to be more attentive to procedural justice issues than those who had experienced procedurally just processes in the past. Presumably this was because trust had started to develop among the latter group. Long-term dysfunctional interactions between agencies and community interest groups have greatly marred debates of justice and injustice in many water issues in many countries. There is a need, therefore, for research that evaluates the impact of past interactions and perceived injustices to find ways of creating procedurally just decision-making processes that explicitly deal with past issues in the context of the new sharing problem. That is, the allocation issues are presented deliberately in past, present, and future contexts and the justice issues explored in that light. There has been very little research on this issue in the natural resources area. Conceptually, it would seem that past experiences in relation to justice are likely to affect future acceptance of allocative decisions. There are several issues that may be considered. For example, do people discount past injustices backward in time, and if so, what does it mean? Are there thresholds of injustice that will motivate justiceand fairness-related conflicts in the future? Is there a “forgiveness” that will pardon earlier injustices by taking the visceral component of injustice out of decision-making after a period of time? While there has been some research in the workplace on the effects of past perceived injustices (Lilly, Virick, & Hadani, 2010), these important questions do not seem to have captured the interests of psychologists researching and evaluating justice in the wider real-world decision-making context. The discussion of time and the potential significance of procedural justice have highlighted the dearth of longitudinal studies of justice in environmental issues. There are many long-running water disputes in the local, regional, and international contexts, so that the opportunity to develop justice theory and practice while assisting in attaining fair resolutions of these problems is high. Society and Justice The most well-known of the theories in this area is Opotow’s (1993) scope of justice. Opotow saw the scope of justice as the psychological boundary for justice and fairness. This author found that moral or justice considerations were not typically applied to nonhuman entities but the boundaries varied among individuals: some people would include animals, and many excluded certain categories of people. Those outside the scope, including animals, are vulnerable to harm at worst or lack of consideration at best. Those factors that influenced inclusion included perceived similarity, closeness of the relationship, the extent to which the “target” was seen as beneficial or harmful, and whether the person’s or group’s goals or needs were compatible with the “target.” Failure to be within the scope also had widespread ramifications, such as lower support for social policies to help the target group, denial of legal assistance, and apathy toward mistreatment (see Hafer & Olson, 2003, for review). Opotow’s scope of justice (1993, 1994, 1995) provided a very useful framework for those involved in environmental justice, as it reminded environmental managers that there were social distances that needed to be considered, as well as the geographical distances. Hafer and Olson (2003) suggested that there should be more attention to understanding the mediators of these scopes of justice responses. They also suggested that an alternative explanation is in deservingness, which is a justice consideration itself—that is, whether the target person or environment deserved positive or negative outcomes. As discussed earlier, this in turn may be mediated in part by accountability. As with Tversky’s (2003) comments on space, this dimension is likely to vary from individual to individual and also from problem to problem. As Skitka (2009) pointed out, the activation of people’s perceptions of justice depends on their material, social, and moral needs. What is within scope (or is deserving) may alter from macro- to microjustice issues. The activation suggested by Skitka is likely to occur in the micro-setting if the personal effects of water allocation will be felt. The systematic measurement of both scope of justice and deservingness over variations of space and time would be of interest theoretically if all dimensions were to be considered in environmental justice. A mapping of both would also be a good point from which to start when planning procedurally just public programs to ensure voice for all parties (including the environment). The importance of explicitly incorporating the environment in planning for procedural justice reasons is often seen in the development Page 15 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions of regional or “whole of river” plans that deal with the major allocation issues. In these cases often the hydrological scale is forgotten as well as the differential effects of water allocation on hydrologically discrete reaches of a river. By including spatially based hydrological (p. 108) variability and their environmental sustainability requirements, environmental justice interests can be more cogently addressed for regional planners and within their processes. Social Discounting Rachlin and Jones (Jones & Rachlin, 2006; Rachlin & Jones, 2008) have approached the issue of social discounting in a slightly different way from others by providing monetary choices for forgoing personal benefit and sharing between imaginary people who were either very close or relatively far away in terms of their acquaintance. This research uses a methodology very similar to experimental economics approaches to establishing the discount rate over time. As with many time/reward trade-off findings, there appears to be a hyperbolic relationship between perceived social distance and willingness to share. Thus as you get further away from someone in terms of their psychological perceptions, you are more likely to be discounted in terms of sharing. For example, it can be reasonably hypothesized that people are less likely to “discount” the interests of family than would an anonymous bureaucrat from another city when it comes to willingly sharing resources. This relates to more utilitarian theories of altruism (e.g., Osinski, 2009; Rachlin & Jones, 2010). As with the scope of justice work, the mechanisms for this social discounting have yet to be explicated and the findings have yet to be related directly to the justice literature. Nevertheless, Skitka (2003) suggested through her accessible identity model that justice reasoning occurs when issues are close to one’s identity, whether social or individual. It is reasonable to hypothesize a relationship between social discounting and justice salience. Further, is there a relationship between this discounting and the scope of justice and justice perceptions? Do people include the environment as an entity in social discounting and if so, where and how? Jones & Rachlin (2006) in their experiment asked people to make choices about allocation on a hypothetical scale from 1 to 100, with 100 being those people furthest away, in order to demonstrate social discounting. There is no reason that this methodology could not be expanded to include the local and wider environment by modifying the instructions about closeness. For example, consider the people and things including the environment that are important to you and rate them on a degree of closeness from 1 to 100. If necessary, prompts could be given. The same experiments could then be conducted. If social distances can be assessed for real actors in water allocation debates, does social discounting occur in the same way as for imagined people of different closeness? It would also be challenging to include a time dimension (e.g., intergenerational) in the description of the actors, first to establish the social and temporal interaction distance, and second to see how these dimensions affect both macro- and micro-justice perceptions. In summary, justice judgments occur in spatial, temporal, and social contexts. To better integrate with environmental management systems within which these contexts occur, there is a need for us to take greater pains to understand how the well-established theories of justice can operate more dynamically within these systems. Conclusions and Future Directions This chapter has used the vehicle of water allocation to demonstrate current understanding and future challenges for justice research in the environmental and conservation psychology areas. Throughout the chapter it is acknowledged that justice judgments have both rational and visceral components that will have different but important effects on specific justice judgments. The visceral feelings of injustice can often drive action. It is important to understand justice and ethical judgments at a universal as well as situational level and that as far as possible these should be integrated to attend to longer term issues such as environmental conservation and intergenerational equity. The chapter outlines why justice is so important for our adequate management of the environment and allocation of natural resources. Through the benefits framework it is clear that nations need to move well beyond utilitarian economic analyses and that water acts simultaneously to uphold our well-being in areas from health to spirituality. In this way, there is no reason to believe that water is any different from other aspects of environmental management and allocation. For example, much has been written about the value of green space to mental health and well-being of people (e.g., Burls, 2007; Heynen, Perkins, & Roy, 2006). The benefits approach can be Page 16 of 23 Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future Directions combined with the traditional justice concepts of procedural justice, distributive justice, equity, and fairness to provide a much better understanding for decision makers on how to arrive at sustainable solutions. The watershed development example demonstrates that justice research has to be closely entwined with the scales conventionally adopted by (p. 109) hydrologist and economists. Fulton’s management cycle provides clear indications of where social justice research can provide a significant impact on environmental decisionmaking. The role of the fairness concept, in particular, has the potential to make significant contributions in reducing uncertainty in public decision-making processes. It must be remembered, though, that justice judgments also have their own psychological contexts when they are applied to micro- and macro-environments, and these may need to be matched to regional, national, and international matters. A range of possible determinants of judgments of fairness and justice varying in dimension and scale have been identified in this section. It must be understood that justice judgments occur in a dynamic and interactive envelope of time, space, and society. These have yet to be considered as a system in the environmental social justice literature. For example, the social discounting literature does not include the environment as an entity and deals specifically with money. The time discounting literature is poorly related to the social discounting literature. Perrings and Hannon (2001) introduced the concept of spatial discounting, which they see as analogous to time discounting. Many of these gaps require attention if psychology is to make a holistic contribution to justice research in real-life decision-making. In this regard many research questions spring to mind. Do people who discount time hyperbolically or parabolically similarly discount people, and how is that related to issues of intergenerational equity? Are either forms of discounting related to the temporal construal effect? If the construal effect relates to environmental issues and the time, space, and society dimensions, how do we keep long-term justice issues relevant as we struggle with short-term environmental conflicts and sharing arguments? How can we integrate justice research into adaptive environmental management? The time discounting literature is also not dynamic when it comes to discounting. If people feel that relevant past environmental decisions have been unjust either procedurally or in terms of distribution, they may formulate their current justice priorities quite differently. Obviously no one study can include all these variables to compare and contrast the determinants of justice and their interactions cross-sectionally, and for enough variety of environmental allocation decisions. Longitudinal studies to understand the dynamics of such decisions would be even more difficult to perform. Nevertheless, studies that attempt to piece together at least some of the strands of psychological investigation in these areas are essential if we are to gain a more coherent understanding of how justice concerns can be included to a greater degree in environmental allocation decision-making. This is important, as governments, when faced with potentially painful reallocation decisions, have a tendency to look to market and economic efficiency mechanisms to provide a “hands-off” decision and thus avoid complex justice arguments. In Australia and elsewhere, the social dimension has been left as third priority. When decision makers in government or industry consider social issues in relation to policies or development projects, they tend to concentrate on social impact assessment. Often how social impacts are interpreted for final decisions is not explained. The justice dimension is coming in a poor fourth, partly because we lack the variety of messages and tools to offer the decision maker, and partly because we lack coherence in explaining justice issues. Perhaps one way to gain commitment and interest by decision makers is to use the water benefits framework to clarify what is being allocated in terms of well-being, what can be potentially achieved with revised management or allocations, and what are the key water management criteria to achieve maximum beneficial returns. This directly relates the natural resource to benefits and then a clear understanding of who wins and who loses in any particular allocation decision. 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Gross national happiness and environmental status in Bhutan. Geographical Review, 96, 657– 681. Notes: (1.) Virtual water is the water used by the exporting country in producing food and manufactured goods. Geoffrey J. Syme Geoffrey J. Syme Centre for Planning Edith Cowan University Perth, Australia Blair E. Nancarrow Blair E. Nancarrow The Fenner School of Environment and Society The Australian National University Ellery Crescent, Acton, Australia Page 22 of 23 Children and Nature Oxford Handbooks Online Children and Nature Olin Eugene Myers Jr. The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology, Developmental Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0007 Abstract and Keywords This chapter summarizes current knowledge about children’s relationships to nature. While nature has always been part of childhood, concern about whether it will retain its traditional roles has risen apace with reduced exposure to it in the West. The chapter first examines Western cultural associations between children and nature, then presents contemporary psychological theories and methods used in this field. Key themes from research include that children are losing access to nature and inhabiting it less; that play in nature is varied and shows developmental patterns; that nature provides both powerful positive and negative emotional experiences; and that children are cognitively equipped to understand the living world. Technological simulations of nature may not provide all that real nature provides. This may include a wide range of physical and psychological benefits that are increasingly recognized. Keywords: children, nature, use of environments, ecological knowledge, psychological benefits Introduction The study of children’s relationships to nature entails considerations particular to the early part of the human life span intersecting with the features of the natural environment. Both childhood and nature show marked variability (across cultures, individuals, and natural settings) as well as potential commonalities. Given this complexity, together with the comparatively limited attention given this relationship within psychology, our knowledge is expectably modest. Nonetheless, the subject has garnered sustained attention by researchers and the public, and interest in it is enjoying a renaissance. What is “nature”? Although humans themselves are of nature, here we consider nature to be the nonhuman environment—encompassing (potentially) all biomes, landscapes, the waters, atmosphere, and heavens surrounding the earth, as well as all the orders of its nonhuman living occupants. Increasingly there is a fuzzy line between what is human-modified and what is not, at all levels of nature as we experience it. In this chapter we accept in principle this full gamut of modification: the child-nature relation includes everything from wild landscapes and animals to restored areas, manicured zoos, domestic and companion animals, and tended plants. For any given person, these settings vary in closeness and accessibility; degree of familiarity versus novelty; control by human versus nonhuman forces; and scale. The common denominator is the presence of some degree of natural process, but which natural process, how this occurs, is framed, and experienced, seems to fall roughly along a domestic-managed-wild continuum. Nature also includes symbolic and technological mediation and simulation of natural entities and settings. Although such a broad scope is impossible to fully treat, it allows realism as well as comparisons that may inform us about what the dimensions of “natural” phenomena singularly afford children. In general the scope of (p. 114) this entry reflects the predominant literatures that focus on typical natural or naturalized spaces that children inhabit. Page 1 of 18 Children and Nature “Children” is likewise a challenging term to define. Here it means roughly from early childhood (about age 4) through adolescence (up to age 18), with an emphasis around the middle years (6 or 7 to early-adolescence years). Childhood may be radically different across cultures. Yet biologically based commonalities are also suggested, such as aspects of how children classify and think about living things, quickly learned fears of snakes and spiders, and possibly which features of landscapes are attractive, relieve stress, or help restore directed attention. Person and social context interact pervasively in development, but their nuances in the case of our topic (as with others) are incompletely mapped empirically and are parsed differently depending on theoretical assumptions. Nonetheless, the full range is in principle on the table. Many aspects of children and nature are not treated here. Child development intersects with all basic areas of psychology. Some important intersections that are only mentioned here include sensation and perception; children’s spatial cognition; “vicarious” nature in traditional media; and psychopathology related to nature (e.g., animal phobias). For a review of risks to children caused by pollution and conditions of the built environment, see Evans (2006). The pathways to caring, concern, and action for nature, including the contributions of experience in nature to these, are discussed in this volume by Louise Chawla and Victoria Derr. This chapter will summarize the history of child-nature associations, the study of children and nature and psychological lenses for that task, children’s time and activities in natural settings, their affective and cognitive experiences of it and simulations of it, as well as the benefits nature may provide. More broadly, the chapter touches on but does not definitively answer some driving and deep questions that are pressed on psychology by human modification of nature that has become so pervasive as to threaten human values, and by technologies that structure more of children’s time and interactions. What does nature uniquely contribute psychologically to childhood? What would be—or is being—missed without it? And what forms of social mediation are important in children’s experience of nature? Children and Nature in History and Culture Interest in nature is no doubt perennial across the human story (see below on evolutionary perspectives), as evidenced by the documented immersion of hunter-gatherers in nature and by the practice of pet-keeping among many groups—for example, among Warao and Comanche (Serpell, 1988). Children and nature have been explicitly associated, however, since the origins of Western thought. In one association, “the child” figures as a “natural” counterpoint to the fully rational “civilized man” in Greek, Christian, and early modern speculative anthropologies. Romantic-age thinkers inverted this association. Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778) posited a natural inner essence in the child, whose development was encouraged by direct sensory contact with nature. English Romantic poets such as Wordsworth (1770–1850) conceptualized child development as a movement away from an original integration of self and world, followed by a progressive reconciliation and recovery of memories of unity with nature (see Chawla, 1994). Educators such as Pestalozzi (1746–1827) implemented Romantic ideas of child-nature relation, including having students investigate local natural features. Pestalozzi’s student Friedrich Froebel (1782– 1852, also the inventor of kindergarten) added a spiritual element, which was reconciled via evolutionary thought as the creative and unifying force behind both nature and man. Froebel (1826/1912) wrote that in middle childhood the child should early view and recognize the objects of nature in their true relations and original connections; he should learn by his longer walks to know his own neighborhood from beginning to end; he should roam the adjoining country; he should accompany his brook or little river along its course from it source to its mouth… [So that] by direct view of nature itself, not by explanation in words and ideas for which the boy has no intuition, there shall dawn upon him early… the great thought of the inner, continual, vivid connection of all things and phenomena in nature. (pp. 234–235, cited in Hutchison, 1998, p. 86) But Froebel felt this outcome was not assured: adult guidance was essential, too. The idea of nature playing an integral role in child development is expressed in the holistic theories of educators Maria Montessori (1870–1952) and Rudolf Steiner (1861–1925), whose philosophies still underlie schooling practices they initiated (see Hutchison, 1998). American Romantic philosophers, the transcendentalists, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) and Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862), formed (p. 115) similar ideas. Like that of their counterparts across the Atlantic, their Page 2 of 18 Children and Nature orientation to children and nature was part of a broader rejection of emerging industrial society: materialism, objective science and its products, and commercial or bureaucratic institutions. These, they felt, threatened authentic individual experiences that could reveal higher truths. Nature, however, could provide such experiences. Thoreau’s school, the Concord Academy, rejected narrow pedagogies and embraced a broader moral vision. He provided direct experience, including time outside using the senses and immersion in the landscape to learn natural history and related subjects. By the turn of the 20th century, Romantic thought funded a deep and often spiritual interest in “Nature Study” in the United States (see Armitage, 2009). Nature study was seen to appeal to the heart, to lead a natural progression toward observational learning and scientific concepts. But its particulars were also controversial. Some advocated a strong mythical dimension, others strictly the scientific. Others felt the science side needed to be bounded by ethical duty toward nature. The tensions reflected social ill-ease about scientific resource management and conservation, and wide-scale demographic upheavals. Nonetheless, nature study was vastly popular, and not only throughout the schooling system. Millions pursued amateur interests in nature (botany, entomology, etc.) as pleasurable (Armitage, 2009, p. 26). New literatures helped unfold the powerful spiritual potentials of nature experience, and the writings of John Muir (1838–1914) and other preservationists extolled the healthy effects of time in nature for the masses (or in practice for the middle and upper classes). Evolutionary notions played an especially strong role in tying the child to nature in turn-of-the-century thought, particularly psychological thought. G. Stanley Hall (1844–1924) adapted the widespread notion of recapitulation— that child development retraces the development of the species. In his view the period of childhood before adolescence (itself a new period he denoted and conceptualized as the movement from animal existence to selfconsciousness) should take place in nature, just as change in primitive societies took place there, too. Combining Romantic and evolutionist thought into America’s earliest homegrown popular developmental theory, he prescribed exploration of “field, forest, hill, shore, the water, flowers, animals, the true homes of childhood in this wild, undomesticated state from which modern conditions have kidnapped and transported him” (Hall, 1904/1969, quoted in Armitage, 2009, p. 75). Although social evolutionist and recapitulationist ideas were later discredited, the popularity of nature study itself continued. As one indicator, Anna Botsford Comstock’s (1854–1930) voluminous how-to guide, Handbook of Nature Study, was published in 1911 and translated into eight languages. Its 24th edition went through reprintings up to 1957, and it has been back in print continuously since 1986. In 2005 journalist Richard Louv published Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder, highlighting recent decreases in the amount and quality of American children’s time outdoors, the causes, and the possible consequences (admittedly perhaps overstated by the title). Coming on the heels of 50 years of increasingly widespread environmental concern, the book hit a nerve with adults old enough to have experienced nature on somewhat less restricted terms. But it was not couched in terms appealing only to environmentalists. Without doubt it generated the widest public interest in children and nature since the nature study movement. In response many groups have initiated (or recast) programs to get children outside, and in addition to existing academic centers at several universities and the journal Children, Youth, and Environments, the Children and Nature Network (www.childrenandnature.org) has emerged as a central “movement” clearinghouse. As the movement a century earlier may have been partly a response to the shift from farms to cities as contexts of childhood, the new movement blames a shift to childhood spent in structured, indoor, and electronic contexts. The older mind-set was inspired by vaguer, more suggestive Romantic ideas, whereas the recent one frames concerns in more psychological or “common sense” terms. Both denote fairly widespread anxieties and potentials. The history of the child-nature association highlights how it reflects the material, social, and ideological constructions within which childhood takes place. In both periods above, psychological study of children, not isolated from broader social trends, has both generated and responded to child-nature concerns. The history is therefore important for the double caveat it raises. On the one hand, while being responsive to society’s needs, psychology must approach this area of study with its rigorous and skeptical scientific lens. But on the other hand, given that childhood is indeed a response to social-cultural conditions, expanded potentials of human experience in nature cannot be dismissed due to historical associations such as those reviewed above, (p. 116) or because they do not fit predominant theoretical-methodological frameworks or modal social experience (Evernden, 1993; Chawla, 2002). As Chawla (2002) pointed out, theory needs to make space for the possibly divergent forms of consciousness and experience that children as distinct from adults may have in nature. The psychological study of Page 3 of 18 Children and Nature children and nature partakes of the complex and multifaceted nature of knowing in the social sciences. Psychological Methods and Theoretical Traditions of Study Children’s relations with nature have been studied using a wide range of psychological theories and techniques. Early environmental psychologists used observational methods to study children’s “naturalistic” (i.e., typically occurring) environmental behavior patterns, emphasizing the ecological validity of these methods so that results can be generalized to more lifelike contexts than in lab studies. Pioneers in child-nature studies Hart (1979) and Moore (1986) described children’s use of familiar natural spaces, and added participant-observation methods, roaming with children and asking them to map, show, and converse about the areas with which they were familiar. This tradition has revealed patterns in how children perceive and use natural (and built) spaces across development and in contrast to adults, and gave rise to a moving interview method called the “neighborhood walk.” Such work includes child-participatory methods to empower children in the study, design, evaluation, and/or amelioration of conditions in their environments (Hart, 1997). An associated theoretical perspective is that of ecological psychology (Gibson, 1982; Reed, 1996), which holds that environments contain “affordances,” or features that enable or encourage certain activities (see Heft, this volume). More formal behavior tracking methods using a variety of time, place, or individual sampling schemes and technologies including video, pedometers, and accelerometers have been widely employed in more recent years to examine how children use features of a variety of environments, and physical characteristics of their activities. These methods are prominent in environmental design approaches that combine such objective data with interviews or other more qualitative measures, with the purpose of including nature more optimally into built spaces, such as in the notion of biophilic design (Moore & Cooper Marcus, 2008). Observational methods can yield “hard” behavioral data, or data that are so well interwoven with contextual description that their validity can be cross-checked. But many psychological questions require access to the subjective experiences, feelings, or thoughts of subjects. One approach is retrospective: asking adults or older children to reflectively reconstruct their experience and its meanings (or the researcher doing so secondhand via biographical accounts or other documents). Dependent on memory, this has obvious fallibilities, but the broad strokes of memory may nonetheless be reliable (Chawla, 1998). Further, meaning in human life inherently may not be knowable until subsequent experiences put earlier events in context. A body of literature relating to the “significant life experiences” of committed environmentalists has developed based on these methods (see Chawla & Derr, this volume), suggesting unstructured time in nature plays a unique role. Such findings have been triangulated across countries, and attempts have been made to determine developmental changes across time in individual children, by longitudinal study designs. Cognitive developmental psychology inquires into the changing content and processes of children’s thinking. Piaget’s early inquiries touched on children’s conceptions of natural objects and processes, and he used openended questioning and interactions to explore their thoughts. The basic method here is cross-sectional, where developmental patterns are inferred by sampling individuals of different ages. Piaget’s successors in structuraldevelopmental theory or more broadly cognitive perspectives use structured or semi-structured interviews, often with a target object, to probe children’s conceptions of plants, animals, ecosystems, technological simulations, and of human interactions with these. These methods have been used to some extent cross-culturally, including some of Kahn’s (1999) research into children’s moral reasoning about nature, or Atran and Medin (2008) and colleagues’ research on concepts of living things. These two particular research corpuses illustrate the use of developmental methods to formulate and test various positions on the (ill-phrased) “nature versus nurture” question. Particularly, how much (and in what ways) is the child’s mind “prepared” to conceptualize natural phenomena (or our obligations regarding them) in certain ways, and how do socialization and/or individual mental processing explain their ideas? Other lines of inquiry are more concerned with exploring constructs of affective or motivational relations to nature (not that these are separate from cognition, or from nature-nurture questions). (p. 117) Qualitative tools include drawing/interview protocols, giving children cameras and asking for their interpretation of photos of “nature,” and interviews. Some researchers have described the nature relations of specific small contextualized groups of children, an example of the “ethnography of childhood.” Other studies use stimuli such as videos or pictures and/or tests or psychometric instruments tapping constructs such as ecological knowledge or relatedness to Page 4 of 18 Children and Nature nature. As with other topics, these may be explored in descriptive, experimental, or quasi-experimental ways. Clearly reports of children by others (parents, teachers) or the use of existing data sets (for example, on park use) may be of use. Extent of Children’s Activity in Outdoors and Nature A primary basis for concerns raised by Louv (2008) is that children are spending less time in natural settings than in previous generations. Unfortunately, few data were collected in past decades for comparison. But several studies have supported this conclusion. Studies of parents’ and/or children’s reported exposure to nature show less time outdoors. Clements (2004) surveyed 830 mothers online in the United States, 87% of whom were ages 25 to 44, about their childhood outdoor play as compared with their children’s. Seventy percent reported they played outdoors every day as children but that only 31% of their 3- to 12-year-old children did so. When the mothers were outside, 56% reported being out three hours at a time or longer, whereas only 22% of their children did so. Analogous changes were found in an English study: 40% of a sample of 1,150 adults reported playing in natural areas when young, whereas only 10% of 502 seven- to eleven-year-old children did so (England Marketing, 2009). Interestingly, Clements found (as had other researchers in England) that there was little difference between rural and urban portions of the sample (balanced to allow this comparison), suggesting that farmlands and other rural features do not counterbalance other factors. The mothers in Clements’s (2004) study identified TV and computer use (85%) as the main reason for their children’s play patterns, 82% cited crime or safety concerns, and 77% felt they lacked enough time to spend outside with their children. Children’s time has been measured directly by diaries of children’s time use. Hofferth and Sandberg (2001) used researcher-administered time diaries and found declines in time spent outside from 1981 to 1997 in a representative US sample. In 2003 Hofferth resampled participants focusing on children ages 6 to 12 (a total of 2,791 diaries). She found a further decline from 16% in 1997 to 10% in 2003 in numbers taking part in outdoor activities, reflecting a broader decrease in children’s discretionary time, including sports (Hofferth, 2009). The decline in time outdoors was greater among the older ages (from 16% to 8%). Hofferth also estimated average weekly time budgets and found an overall decrease from 36 minutes to 25 minutes. Younger children had increased slightly, while ages 9 to 12 decreased most, from 39 minutes to 18 outdoors. Across all ages the change was not distributed evenly by gender, with boys showing a significantly greater decrease (boys: 30 minutes to 15; girls: 41 minutes to 34) (Hofferth, 2009). In the years since Louv’s book, surveys have been launched to track outdoor use, though their baseline is very recent. Findings vary. The National Kids Survey found that between 2007–2008 and 2008–2009, modest amounts of time were spent outdoors (two hours a day for 60% to 70% of samples). Younger children (age six to teens) spent more time outside, and there was a slight decrease in children spending no time outdoors (Cordell, Betz, & Green, 2009). The Outdoor Foundation (2011) has conducted online interviews on large systematic US samples since 2006, and while overall outdoor use has held steady at about 49% of the population undertaking one of 35 activities, youth participation (ages 6 to 17 years) has dropped from about 78%, though at about 62% in 2010 it is still higher than the population overall. This represents an overestimate of “nature,” however, as it includes activities such as running and bicycling. Another strategy has been to compile existing data on visits to specific outdoor destinations. In general, the same pattern emerges. After 50 years of growth in US per capita use of public parklands (state parks, national parks and forests), a decline began in 1987 (Pergams & Zaradic, 2008). The researchers showed that just five variables were able to explain 97.5% of the most recent 16-year trends in national park attendance: hours spent at home watching movies, playing video games, or using the Internet; time spent in movie theaters; and oil prices (Zaradic & Pergams, 2007). They dubbed the trend “videophilia,” or “the new human tendency to focus on sedentary activities involving electronic media” (p. 130). As Clements (2004) also found, new media are keeping people inside at home. Other studies directly demonstrate this extends to children. In a survey of 1,000 parents of children (p. 118) ages six months to six years, 83% of children used some screen media each day. Fifty percent of children ages four to six played video games, averaging a little over an hour a day (Rideout, Vandewater, & Wartella, 2003). With older children and more recent data reflecting yet more pervasive computer, social networking, and handheld technologies, it seems very likely this trend is strengthening (see technologically mediated nature, below). Page 5 of 18 Children and Nature Whether children spend time in nature depends partly on access to nature. Open-space losses may have exacerbated declining access, as have land use patterns. Moore and Cooper Marcus (2008) suggested clustered housing, cul-de-sacs and greenways, alleys, and home zones as neighborhood layout strategies that increase children’s access. Socioeconomic inequalities also affect access. Lower SES (socioeconomic status) 8- to 12-yearold children had to travel twice as far or more as mid- or high-SES children to get to their most used park (on the other hand, their allowed independent travel distance was greater) (Veitch, Salmon, & Ball, 2008). Perception of economic and racial unequal access to nature has been acute in the United Kingdom, where one study found that neighborhoods with over 40% black or ethnic minority residents have 11 times less green space than areas with nearly all white residents, in part reflecting correlation of demography and urban density (CABE, 2010). Children’s Activities in Nature Click to view larger Figure 7.1 Sources of developing place attachments in early and middle childhood and adolescence (Chawla, 1992, reproduced with permission of Springer Science and Business Media). Children’s use of space shows a pattern of increase over development as children gain mobility and independence from their home base. This pattern extends to nature, as childhood ethnographies have shown. Hart (1979) in the United States and Moore (1986) in the United Kingdom developed rapport with existing mixed-age groups of middlechildhood subjects and learned directly from them that they preferred interstitial spaces, vacant land, neglected, and semi-wild spaces over more manicured ones. Their landscapes were imbued with meanings that derived from the children’s own activities and interactions with both nature and other people. They felt strong identification and special meanings with certain spaces and found or made hideouts in vegetation or other locations. Similar patterns, including the spatial increase of “home range” over development, are documented in children’s maps of their “neighborhood” (Sobel, 1993). Chawla (1992) synthesized factors affecting this tendency, as shown in Figure 7.1: motivations pulling one outward or toward home base, social factors, and identity development. Interestingly, adolescents show a drop in (p. 119) interest in nature, at least nature experiences that are not undertaken by their preferred environment: peers (Kaplan & Kaplan, 2002). Studies have shown that children prefer natural areas for play (Maxey, 1999; Chawla, 2002; Korpela, 2002). Play is a universal way children learn about their environment and gain skills in a nonthreatening context. Play is a varied concept, but children’s play in nature has been categorized by Frost (1992) as functional play (running, tumbling, climbing, sliding, etc.), constructive play (building huts, playing with “loose parts,” etc.), and symbolic play (roleplay, dramatic play). Alternately, several dimensions have been delineated: stationary or exploratory; socially facilitated; distance from home; interspersed with chores or other activities; and type (fantasy, creative, gaming, or searching and trapping) (Vadala, Bixler, & James, 2007). In agreement with affordance theory, environmental variables have been shown to affect the quality and type of children’s play. As compared with playgrounds without vegetation and trees, children engage in more physical, constructive, and symbolic play when plants are present (Fjørtoft, 2004). On more naturalized (higher biodiversity) play spaces as compared with more simple playgrounds, children tend to engage in more varied, functional, constructive, and symbolic play and are more oriented to nature (Samborski, 2010). Children in very different cultures and climates create or find their own private spaces, for example, constructing shelters in nature, a desire that peaks between ages 8 and 11. Boys tend to range farther and build actual dwellings, and girls tend more to make playhouses and small worlds. Both genders enjoy searching and gathering or making collections of objects found in nature (Sobel, 1993, 2008). Children observed in naturalistic free-ranging contexts (such as by Hart or Moore) tended to take risks and Page 6 of 18 Children and Nature perhaps had more accidents than is typical now. But they balanced risk-taking with self-generated precautions about hazards they perceived. Natural settings afford more active physical play than indoor ones do, and children naturally challenge themselves to become competent at a wide range of locomotor skills through play. Sensory abilities develop in tandem with physical movement, as do feelings of competence and confidence. These gains, however, presume risk-taking opportunities, through which the child learns his or her limitations and gains a sense of accomplishment (Henniger, 1994). The benefits of risk-taking extend to traits of relevance to all areas of life: resilience, persistence, problem-solving, and independence. Increasingly restrictive regulation of children’s play, including nature play, may threaten these broad benefits as well as the development of risk evaluation skills (Little & Wyver, 2008). Environmental features that increase children’s outdoor play and parental perceptions of safety include cul-de-sac streets, larger front yards, lower crime, and more interaction among neighbors (Handy, Cao, & Mokhtarian, 2008). On a wider scale, however, cul-de-sac development limits children’s safe range of movement and decreases walking to school because walking routes are indirect and funnel into higher volume streets, whereas urban grids let children choose safer and more pleasant routes (Gallimore, Brown, & Werner, 2011). Other factors influencing parents to restrict what children may do outdoors include fear of children being injured or victimized, community covenants restricting play, and fear of liability lawsuits (Clements, 2004; Louv, 2008). Children’s activity in nature is only sometimes solitary. The natural environment interacts with social development, and children’s activity patterns reflect this interaction. In traditional “hardscaped” play settings, social groupings tend to be structured according to hierarchies based on physical competence, but Herrington & Studtmann (1998) found that more natural landscapes encouraged fantasy play and social hierarchies based on command of language, creativity, and imagination. Plantings that create differentiated spaces or “green rooms” offer important social play opportunities. Fjørtoft (2004) reported that a prickly juniper bush was highly favored because it offered several enclosed spaces as well as a view to the outside, accommodating a group of 12 children in games of pirates, house, cowboys, and so on. Affective Experience of Nature Nature can evoke vivid emotions that leave lasting impressions on children. The positive emotional and creative potential of nature for children was influentially conveyed by Edith Cobb, an independent scholar who studied childhood memories in about 300 autobiographies of notable Europeans and North Americans (Cobb, 1959/1977). She believed that these autobiographies demonstrated that nature in part funded their authors’ creative power. Chawla (1990) put these ideas to a more methodologically rigorous test, examining a broader sample. She found that only authors who were involved in the arts or humanities (15 of the 38 in her sample) described vivid senses in nature as children, (p. 120) and she characterized these as “ecstatic” and “exciting all five senses and inspiring exuberance, calm or awe” (Chawla, 1992, p. 74). She also concluded these authors associated nature with a sense of inner strength more than creativity. Similar retrospective accounts of powerful, nearly mystical moments in nature were gathered by Hoffman (1992). On the other end of the emotional-evaluative dimension would be experiences of nature as threatening, uncomfortable, or repulsive (Bixler & Floyd, 1997). Phobias of certain dangerous animals, such as snakes and spiders, are learned readily and persist, in contrast to culturally identified dangerous objects, such as guns (Öhman, Dimberg, and Öst, 1985). Such reactions depend on the aspect of nature encountered, and with what assistance from more experienced others. In between the very positive and very negative must lie a vast range of degrees and qualities of emotion, however incompletely mapped for children. Aesthetic feelings and judgments play a role in children’s relation to nature. Billmann-Mahecha and Gebhard (2009) found reflections of several major theories linking nature and aesthetics in the qualitative responses of 57 children between 7 and 18 years of age. Children as young as 8 years, unprompted, express the emotion of beauty in response to nature. This emotional and core aesthetic sense may underlie their judgments about environmental ethical dilemmas, becoming explicit in adolescence. The linking of nature aesthetics to moralization was anticipated by Kant. Billmann-Mahecha and Gebhard (2009) also found that children experience nature as also lifeenriching and as providing unique and sensuously rich senses of “atmosphere.” Retracing broader ideas in aesthetics, they conclude overall that across development, nature acts as a “reservoir of symbols” for the self. Children’s drawings also provide a window to their sense of aesthetics. In a study asking children who were attending a zoo to pick a favorite animal and draw (with open prompts if necessary) all that the animal “needs,” Page 7 of 18 Children and Nature some children spontaneously conceptualized their animal’s needs in terms that were categorized in classically aesthetic terms: completeness, harmony, and wholeness (Myers, Saunders, & Garrett, 2003). These children tended to be younger (out of a range of 4 to 14 years) and significantly more were girls. Dominant themes in other children’s drawings were physiological, ecological, and conservation needs, with a minority expressing psychosocial conceptions. A theme in the drawings of 7- to 16-year-old Swedish children depicting “what you think about when you hear the word ‘environment’” was beautiful, unspoiled, idyllic, clean landscapes such as forests, meadows, and mountains. The opposite, a polluted world, was depicted by some children evenly across ages (Alerby, 2000). Attention Restoration Theory (Hartig, Mang, & Evans, 1991; Kaplan, 1995), widely used to interpret adults’ responses to landscapes, appears to apply to children’s experiences also. A restorative environment allows one’s directed attention to rest by capturing involuntary attention and allowing the person to become absorbed. Many natural environments offer such features. Particularly, the dimensions of “fascination,” “being away” (physically and psychologically), “compatibility” (with the person’s intentions), and “extent” register distinctly with children (Bagot, 2004; Bagot, Kuo, & Allen, 2007). This theory may offer a key perspective on the psychological function of school recess, and may have important implications for the design of playground environments. Another theory with fundamental implications for emotional experience in nature is evolutionary psychology. It can be used to predict emotions related to safety (threatening humans or other species, natural hazards and topography, shelter), foraging and feeding, and finding a place to live (Heerwagen & Orians, 2002). Interestingly, early relevant (but not direct) studies did not support predictions about children’s responses to landscape features typical of savannahs, with teenagers giving lower preference scores to landscapes than did third graders. Also in more recent work, while children ages 8 to 15 reliably recognized degrees of prospect, refuge, and hazard in landscape paintings, and while preference was related to perceptions of prospect and refuge, age was not a factor in the relationship. Gender did matter, with boys (but not girls) preferring pictures of scenes they perceived to be more hazardous than others (Fischer & Shrout, 2006). Thus, prospect-refuge theory and related ideas may show unexpected developmental patterns, a matter of rather little investigation. Attachment theory suggests one more important route by which children’s emotions and identity may become entwined with nature (Chawla, 2007). Analogously to a parent who provides a secure base, a solid relation to a place allows freedom to explore with confidence. Korpela (2002) identified themes of privacy, control, and security in memories of childhood nature. On the other hand, an unstable environment may foreclose a (p. 121) secure place attachment or incorporation of place into one’s identity. Not only natural places but animals may also figure in children’s developing identities (Myers, 2007). Interestingly, across ages 4–5 to 17–18, children showed a decreasing tendency to identify with animals symbolically associated with food, weakness, or femininity (Myers, 2002). Bruni and Schultz (2009) piloted a children’s version of an Implicit Association Test (IAT) computer game to measure how strongly the self is associated with the natural versus the built environment and found that 96% of the 30 children (ages 10 to 12) showed a preference for natural associations with the self. Girls had significantly higher nature-association scores than boys, consistent with adult gender differences using this instrument. Although a number of variables showed no correlations, several relationships were found in the direction expected based on other work discussed here: nature-self implicit association correlated negatively with hours reported watching television or playing video games, and time spent indoors. Concepts of and Knowledge About Nature The past two decades of research have established that children—and humans more generally—are cognitively prepared to attend to, categorize, and conceptualize the living natural world. Whether the mind is prepared “architecturally” or in a more specific representational sense, along with other questions, is debated (see Astuti, Solomon, & Carey, 2004; Atran & Medin, 2008). The ability to recognize and categorize living things is served by specific brain areas in adults (Kurbat, 1997; Mendez, Kremen, Tsai, & Shapira, 2010). Contrary to Piaget’s early ideas, children do not typically confuse living and nonliving. Specific features of “naive biology” (also common to many ethnobiologies) are concepts of biological inheritance, health/illness, growth, and death. The type of category children use for plants and animals is also particular. Specifically, they believe that superficial changes could not alter a plant’s or animal’s underlying essence, and this is used to make some predictions about relatedness (despite external differences) and internal anatomy (Coley, Solomon, & Shafto, 2002). Page 8 of 18 Children and Nature It is also clear that beliefs about living nature are sensitive to both cultural construction and individual experience in nature—contrary to either strict nativist positions or ones that hold that children necessarily use human social behavior as the model for thinking about animals (Ross, Medin, Coley, & Atran, 2003). The latter position (e.g., Carey, 1985) may be an artifact of studying urban children with limited experience in nature: Native American (Menominee) and rural white children do not use a human model but think in more biological terms (Ross et al., 2003). Naive biological concepts change to scientific ones (for example, evolution replacing essentialism) only when specific experiences destabilize the early structures, often as a result of instruction. Research has not, however, suggested a similarly robust early developing set of ecological concepts. Compared to correct scientific concepts, children (and most adults) hold incomplete or incorrect ideas about food web relations, energy in ecosystems, carrying capacity, niche specificity, and population dynamics. Further, connections of ecological concepts to everyday experience are weak (Brody & Koch, 1989; Furuness, 1992; Munson, 1994). Limited, non-system-like models of ecological relations were retained even among 11-year-olds who completed a monthlong unit that involved constructing and manipulating mini-ecosystems (Hogan, 2000). Children tend to think in anthropomorphic or teleological terms about systems, rather than in interdependent terms (Leach, Driver, Scott, & Wood-Robinson, 1996a, 1996b). But ecology, integrating physical and biological basic sciences, sets a high bar. Palmer and Suggate (2004) reported that four-year-olds can understand the effects of environmental changes on habitats and living things, and that by age 10 children are able to explain some relationships among living things and their habitats, as well as some of the effects of change on the global environment. Instruction, parents and media are the clearest sources of simpler understandings (Palmer, Suggate, & Matthews, 1996). A more immediate form of knowledge is natural history, or more broadly local ecological knowledge (LEK)—varying widely by place and culture. Natural history builds on the capacity for biological knowledge, can be learned from direct experience, and coheres around organisms and phenomena that are directly available. Natural history is also conveyed in many cultural forms, including narrative and art as well as science. Most notably, children learn from their own observation of natural phenomena. The status of natural history knowledge, however, has been a subject of concern among scientists and others who recall the earlier era where nature study ensured a common base of knowledge. Nabhan and Trimble (1994) noted a distinct gap between generations of Tohono O’odham people (in southern Arizona) in knowledge of plant names. More (p. 122) recently, Wyndham (2009), investigating a similar setting, found Rarámuri (in Chihuahua Mexican) children had overall low knowledge of plant names (though most did know a common core of about 10) but higher knowledge of plant uses. Moreover, the distribution of knowledge within the community—with some individuals specializing and showing great proficiency in each cohort—suggests a possibly more stable structure of nature knowledge. Nonetheless, there are strong indications that in general firsthand knowledge of local nature is decreasing. A negative correlation between botanical knowledge and income was found within local communities in India, Indonesia, and the United Kingdom, but even more across the three countries, which vary dramatically in per capita GDP (Pilgrim, Cullen, Smith, & Pretty, 2007). Resource dependency and frequency of interaction with nature were dictated by community monetary wealth: “Where a community has become industrialized and largely independent of local environmental goods and services, knowledge of species names and functions on the whole is low, difference in knowledge level between old and young are large, and variance between experts and nonexperts is great” (p. 1007). High-school-age youth in the United Kingdom showed very low levels of ability to identify common wildflowers (Bebbington, 2005). Not surprisingly, as children’s exposure to nature is decreasing, their knowledge of it—whether firsthand or from education increasingly devoted to narrow academic targets—is as well. A telling finding is that British children’s ability to identify Pokémon characters increased more across ages 4 to 11 years than did their knowledge of common wildlife (Balmford, Clegg, Coulson, & Taylor, 2002). A constructivist perspective is essential in understanding the children’s relations to nature. Constructivism holds that the individual makes sense of his or her interactions with the world, creating conceptual schemas that organize ideas and experience. The structure of these schemas is suggested partly by innate predispositions, but is also influenced by the environment—both social and natural. The sociocultural environment offers ways to construe experience, but the individual’s position within it may determine what knowledge and perspectives are available. Experience with nature will of course vary with what activities the child undertakes in what locations. In any case, the individual processes incoming information firsthand, taking it initially at least, as the taken-forgranted condition of the world. As elaborated by Kahn (2002, 2011), this poses a dilemma peculiar to environmental change: “We all take the natural environment we encounter during childhood as the norm against Page 9 of 18 Children and Nature which we measure environmental degradation later in our lives. With each ensuing generation, the amount of environmental degradation increases, but each generation in its youth takes that degraded condition as the nondegraded condition—as the normal experience” (Kahn, 2002, p. 106). Kahn calls this “environmental generational amnesia.” It is related to the “slipping baseline syndrome” noted by ecologists and as analytically distinguished from memory illusion, personal amnesia, and change blindness (Papworth, Rist, Coad, & MilnerGulland, 2009). Although some examples above are suggestive, the methodologies of most studies are as yet inadequate to distinguish these forms. Still, the notion is intuitively compelling. It also interacts with another major change in society, technology (Kahn, 2011). Technologically Mediated Nature At the same time that screen technologies may be capturing children’s time, nature experience may be mediated by symbolic media and technology. Kellert’s (2002) category of “vicarious nature,” indicating non-firsthand experience, includes contexts like zoos and aquariums and a wide range of media from print to film, television, electronic, and all manner of ways we accessorize our lives with nature objects, symbols, and imagery. In general such media allow their creators great informational and narrative creativity in representing nature. Kellert (1996) believed that vicarious nature “may constitute an anesthetized experience of nature fundamentally compromised by its occurrence within the comforts and artificial confines of human habitation” (p. 90). Many such venues focus on entertainment, adventure, and action, and lack the multisensory immersion of the complex and uncontrolled natural world. This view may, however, underestimate the ways that nature experience is socially mediated. Moreover, vicarious experiences may constitute the majority of some children’s nature exposure, can develop interest in learning or doing more, and have played important roles in conservation campaigns. Studies of zoos and aquariums in particular suggest they contribute in various ways to development, including concern for animals, and children’s moral development (Clayton, Fraser, & Saunders, 2009; Fraser 2009). New technologies allow access to nature, or information about it, more flexibly and portably than some nonelectronic media. Nature can also (p. 123) be simulated, where a technology does not display or symbolize but mimics a natural phenomenon. Traditional simulations might be theatrical presentations or inanimate objects. Today, apparently autonomous or highly convincing simulations of nature are available, allowing limited but unprecedented inquiry into which specific attributes of nature have which effects. The technological environment of childhood is changing at a rapid pace, and enabling compelling, dynamic, interactive experiences. As Freier and Kahn (2009) pointed out, significant challenges are to determine appropriate baselines from which changes can be evaluated, and to design technologies within a full conception of child development. Newer technologies augmenting interaction with nature include portable devices with information such as bird identification information, guide-like information for investigating a specific site, and activities such as geocaching (finding a hidden object using a global positioning system, or GPS, unit). Also electronic media allow enthusiasts to take and share photographs or other natural history data (now with GPS information incorporated if taken with smart phones) through social network media. Examples include iNaturalist.org and many citizen science projects available via the Cornell University Lab of Ornithology (www.birds.cornell.edu/citscitoolkit). Chavez (2009) asked youth participants (ages 6 to 17) about geocaching and photo safari as well as a range of traditional nature activities and found higher enthusiasm for the former. Harmon and Gleason (2009) found 10- to 15-year-olds responded positively to using a remote-controlled underwater vehicle to explore an otherwise inaccessible marine offshore environment. Open-ended questions suggested a general factor that may influence such positive assessments: the novelty of any new technology. Real natural areas afford multiple sensory experiences, dimensions, signals, modes, and facets, and can support individual initiative in exploratory and other learning. How does a field trip to such an area compare to a simulation? A cutting-edge video game version of a field trip to a specific natural area allowed a counterbalanced design study that made a comparison to an actual trip with a guide who facilitated child-initiated inquiry (Harrington, 2009). The game allowed child-initiated exploration and navigation by mouse or keyboard; it simulated events in sound and two dimensions, allowed multiscale movement and viewing, and offered facts about plants. Comparison of tests and interview responses showed that both offered students initiative, but the real trip was multisensory and allowed the naturalist to incorporate unexpected findings into the curriculum in a responsive fashion. The ability of the virtual trip to conform to varied wishes seems to underlie many things the children liked most about it: they could fly Page 10 of 18 Children and Nature around or pretend to be another creature; all the flowers were in bloom; they could see things from different points of view. There were no complaints about not being allowed to go off trail, getting tired, or bugs, as a few children expressed about the real field trip. The majority found the virtual trip more exciting than the real one, but overall more positive emotions were reported from the real trip. Further, the real field trip supported inquiry learning: children felt they learned more, including particularly more unplanned and off-curriculum experiences that proved to be exceptionally memorable. Technological mediation or simulation of nature raises intriguing questions from a constructivist developmental standpoint. Kahn (2011) has pointedly raised the conjunction of declining nature access and experience with increasing computationally simulated nature. In a series of studies he compared the experience of a natural entity affording psychological benefits (e.g., a view of nature from a window; a pet dog; tending a garden) with its absence, and with a technological simulation of it (a plasma screen projecting a view; an advanced robotic dog; a computer-interface/mechanically tended “telegarden”). Although only the dog studies included children, the general pattern held: “Technological nature is better than no nature, but not as good as actual nature” (Kahn, 2011, p. xvi). In the case of the dogs, children clearly differentiated the real from the robotic, treating the latter as they might an unfamiliar toy, and the former with more socially positive actions. Nonetheless, large majorities of children attributed mentality, sociality, and moral standing to the robot. In response, and in subsequent studies, Kahn has speculated that perhaps children identify personified computational objects as an entirely new kind of thing, and one with ambiguous moral entailments. It is practically impossible to keep pace with technological change and determine the effects on child development. Instead, Kahn proposes a “value-sensitive design” approach. It would be concerned with larger questions, such as whether people come to accept simulated nature as adequate substitutes for the benefits and enriching experiences possible only with real nature, and whether simulated nature can provide (p. 124) the deep patterns of interaction with nature that, by dint of our evolutionary heritage, make us fully human (Kahn, 2011). Benefits of Nature to Children The health and psychological benefits of time and activities involving nature have received considerable research, and that research has been reviewed extensively, and to a lesser extent critiqued (Moore & Cooper Marcus, 2008; Bell et al., 2008; Muñoz, 2009; Charles & Senauer, 2010). Numerous studies have shown that across age groups, time outside has numerous physical health benefits, such as lowered rates of obesity, deriving from greater levels of physical activity (e.g., Cleland et al., 2008). Studies suggest that green environments lead to lower rates of asthma and myopia, better recovery from hospital stays, and enhanced immunological responses. For ages five to seven years, the physical affordances of a complex natural play setting (including trees, rocks, uneven ground, shrubbery, etc.) result in greater physical motor development, including agility and balance, in comparison to a less-varied, manicured play setting (Fjørtoft, 2004). Conversely, children in environments heavy with auto traffic and lacking in green spaces that adults can oversee showed less physical development gains (and their parents were more strained), in comparison to children in environments that offered outside play (Huttenmoser & Meierhofer, 1995). Numerous psychological benefits of nature have also been identified. Green views from homes are associated with better attentional capacity and increased concentration, self-discipline, and impulse control (Wells, 2000; Faber Taylor, Kuo, & Sullivan, 2002). Natural areas help adolescents calm down and gain perspective after stressful events (Korpela, 1992). Although not from research with adults, this finding is similar to Herzog, Black, Fountaine, & Knotts’s (1997) finding that nature, as distinct from other restorative environments, affords reflection. Even differences in natural environment among rural homes (controlling for demographics) were associated with ability to cope with stress (Wells & Evans, 2003). Creative play is greater among preschoolers with green play spaces (Faber Taylor, Wiley, Kuo, & Sullivan, 1998). The opportunity to explore a relatively unstructured physical environment is important in developing a sense of direction as well as problem-solving abilities (Wohlwill & Heft, 1987). Among children diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder symptoms, Kuo and Faber Taylor (2004) found that parents reported that their children showed reduced symptoms after activities in natural settings as compared with indoor and built outdoor settings. The positive effect of a green setting was found even after controlling for the social setting and the activity itself (e.g., reading). Not surprisingly given the findings of cognitive benefit mentioned above, some academic benefits have been Page 11 of 18 Children and Nature associated with nature exposure. For example, comparing landscape features of 101 high schools and controlling for SES and school characteristics, larger classroom windows, more views of nature and views of close vegetation were associated with higher test scores, graduation rates, and college attendance (Matsuoka, 2008). Numerous other academic gains occur when natural settings are incorporated in schooling, using environment as an integrating context for learning (Bartch, 2003). Conclusion Natural surroundings are no doubt an essential part of humanity’s common patrimony, which, according to Locke, should be handed down in “as good” condition to succeeding generations, affording basic needs as well as options. From what we understand at this point, to this set of physical conditions should be added the many psychological experiences, challenges, and benefits children derive from natural settings. Lacking these (and considering their possible technological substitutes), it is an urgent question what the pathways of human development can produce. At this point, it is fair to say the answer is that impoverished exposure to nature will result in deficits of which we may not be aware. While this lack of awareness can be rectified through further research, and through attention to children’s own voices, it also calls for a critical rethinking of major institutions structuring childhood and its environments, as well as management of natural spaces. Future Directions Many avenues of research need further attention in this field. A clear and conceptual mapping of the affordances of the range of natural settings, including what children actually do in such settings, is still not possible from the literature. This would be necessary to get beyond the tantalizing suggestions of the developmental sequelae of various nature experiences we have. More rigorous designs are needed, particularly if there is the hope that claims of health and psychological benefits will gain traction in major institutions. Of course, however, wellcontrolled (p. 125) experiments may deliver narrow-scope results, and longitudinal or cross-sequential designs are practically difficult and funding is scarce. Not only that, the target is hardly sitting still. So rather than aiming for comprehensive knowledge, it may be more important to pursue research that tests both theory and practical intervention strategies. Researchers and practitioner allies could use the best hints from what we know, and seek, for example, through educational or design-oriented work, to create positive outcomes for children. The children should be prime stakeholders in such participatory processes as they grow in real communities. They should be partners, empowered to describe their experiences and be part of their communities’ efforts to enhance both nature and human flourishing. References Alerby, E. (2000). A way of visualizing children’s and young people’s thoughts about the environment: A study of drawings. Environmental Education Research, 6(3), 205–222. Armitage, K. (2009). The nature study movement. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Astuti, R., Solomon, G. E. A., & Carey, S. (2004). Constraints on conceptual development: A case study of the acquisition of folkbiological and folk sociological knowledge in Madagascar. Monographs of the Society for Research in Child Development 69( 3, Serial No. 277). 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Müller The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0008 Abstract and Keywords This chapter illuminates the role of various categories of emotions in the context of the natural environment and their influence on pro-environmental and environmentally risky decisions. First, some examples of emotional reactions toward environmental problems are given. After discussing the question “what are environmentally relevant emotions?,” a classification of these emotions is proposed, followed by a close look at the relations of emotions and environmentally relevant activities and the special behavioral impact of the emotions not only on proenvironmental but also on environmentally risky behaviors. The chapter closes with a discussion of how knowledge about emotional factors can be used in the environmental debate and shows ways to reach a deeper understanding of the dynamics and impact of these emotions. This knowledge can enrich models of environmentally relevant behaviors as well as action models in psychology in general. Keywords: emotions, environmentally relevant decisions, natural environment, emotion work, conflict resolution Introduction The natural (synonymously “ecological”) environment—defined as our environment with its multiple components, such as air, soil, and water—is the fundamental base for human life, but without doubt it is set at a serious risk by exploitation and modern behavior patterns (IPCC, 2007; WCED, 1990). Worldwide pollution of air, water, and soil, the greenhouse effect, damage to the ozone layer, and the extinction of species are some examples of the ecological problems (Pawlik, 1991) caused by modern societies with an energy-intensive lifestyle. Therefore, Maloney and Ward (1973) called the energy crisis of the 1970s a “crisis of maladapted behavior”; nearly a decade later, Devall (1982) spoke of a “crisis of culture.” Today, despite numerous attempts to reduce environmental threats, most of the global ecological problems and their long-term effects still are not under control (IPCC, 2007). The solution of these environmental problems is a technical challenge to the natural and engineering sciences, but even more to psychology as the science dealing with human behavior and experience (Gifford, 2008). Above all, environmental problems are caused by human behavior and decisions, and therefore should be addressed by analyzing the underlying motives of the relevant behaviors. Based on this understanding of the underlying motives of pro-environmental behaviors as well as behaviors that harm the environment,1 efficient intervention strategies can be derived. In environmental psychology there are research traditions on both tasks; however, the special role of emotions is not always taken sufficiently into account: although at the very beginning of environmental psychology, emotions were taken into account (cf. Amelang, Tepe, Vagt, & Wendt, 1977), a phase of strong cognitive bias, mainly omitting (p. 129) emotions, followed. This goes hand in hand with the development of models aiming to explain environmentally relevant behaviors without integrating emotions. In line with the explanation of human behavior in other action fields, the significant role of emotions was, consequently, for a long time mainly overlooked. Instead, Page 1 of 24 Emotions and Environment behavioral decisions were often construed as rational processes, based, for example, on judgments of expectation-values (cf. Kruse & Schwarz, 1988). As a consequence, it is especially the environment-specific behavior models that include emotions. These are mainly responsibility-related emotions, as pollution control can be regarded as a moral, social task, as most environmental problems are not limited to a local area but are global problems: the pollution of air caused by individual car driving, for example, is not limited to one’s own living space but contributes to global environmental problems in the long run. As a consequence, there are worldwide changes in the geosphere and biosphere, such as the increase in earth surface temperature. Pawlik (1991) spoke of timelinked demographic and social changes. The emission of greenhouse gases, for example, does not have direct consequences for the current generation but will probably become a main problem for future generations. Moreover, there are geographic changes. Problems will, for example, arise for populations in different areas or even continents (such as the “third world”) that never contributed to this situation or took advantage of the positive effects of polluting activities, such as a high living standard. These spatial and temporal distances are causing a great social distance between actors and victims of global environmental change (Pawlik, 1991). Under these high distance conditions, social learning is very difficult. Low subjective cost-effectiveness of proenvironmental behavior makes personal sacrifices for the natural environment even more difficult. This mechanism is described as a “social trap.” It is difficult to overcome this social trap and to bridge the spatial and temporal distances. Gaps between ecological knowledge and attitudes on the one hand and actual behavior on the other (Schahn & Matthies, 2008) demonstrate these difficulties. This is partly due to interest conflicts between individuals and society. Overcoming these conflicts can be regarded as a moral task. A successful fulfillment of the task is signaled by taking over personal ecological responsibility and experiencing corresponding emotions, such as guilt with regard to the formation of ecological problems, or indignation about insufficient pollution control. Besides these “moral” emotions, many other emotions can help to overcome the gap and to promote pro-environmental behavior, for example, affective connection to nature. These different emotion clusters will, therefore, be regarded in depth in this text. The interest conflicts between individual self-interest and social responsibility, which are at the foundation of the socio-ecological dilemma (cf. Hardin, 1968), already point to the tension within the field of environmental protection. This is reflected in the change of paradigms from environmental protection to sustainability. The research of environmental psychology picks up this complexity by analyzing both types of behavior (pro- and risky environmental behavior), by looking for positive motivators as well as boundaries of both behavioral categories, and by analyzing interpersonal conflicts that derive, for example, when the question of the site of a new incinerator is discussed controversially (Linnerooth-Bayer & Fitzgerald, 1996), leading to the formation of citizens’ initiatives (Rohrmann, 1990). Emotions play a significant role in all these research questions. The analysis of ecological conflicts is, however, the silver bullet to analyze environmentally relevant emotions and to get direct practical profit from this analysis for resolving the conflict. This is well recognized and used within the field of psychological mediation of conflicts (Jones, 2006). Another important research field concerns the conceptualization, realization, and evaluation of environmental education within various fields (schools, companies, mass media, etc.). Here, knowledge about the motivational base of pro-environmental behavior is an efficient tool for avoiding bad investments and demotivation of the participants of the programs as well as the initiators. In this field, responsibility-related emotions are not the central issues. Instead, there is a wide field of environmental education that offers practical experiences with nature (Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989), although without referring to the scientific research on affective connection to nature. The present chapter picks up these research questions by focusing on environmentally relevant emotions and their special role in research. Much of this research has been done in environmental psychology, but some of the relevant research has been done within applied social psychology or even within the more general field of emotion psychology. Our aim is to bring together the various disciplinary approaches and traditions within psychology as well as within neighboring disciplines, showing the big impact emotions might have for model building, (p. 130) for the explanation and control of ecologically relevant behavior, for promoting pro-environmental behavior, and also for resolving ecological conflicts. Environmentally Relevant Emotions Page 2 of 24 Emotions and Environment In recent years, there is a growing interest in emotional processes in psychology in general and in conservation psychology in particular, mainly because empirical studies show that emotions explain distinct parts in the variance of environmentally related behavior (Carrus, Passafaro, & Bonnes, 2008; Kals, 2000). Before this is discussed in depth, a definition of environmentally relevant emotions is necessary. What Are Environmentally Relevant Emotions? We will start the closer look at the role of emotions in conservation behavior with some examples that match the categorization of emotions that will be introduced later: • A couple is flying to South Africa to enjoy the breathtaking landscape and the wildlife, mainly ignoring the social and the rising ecological problems of the continent. Their first significant impression is, however, the dust, dirt, and blighted environment of Johannesburg and its townships. They feel threatened about this unexpected state of at least parts of the “African environment.” • A student who has grown up using the car as main means of transportation decides to take part in a project that bans car use for one month. He enjoys walking or riding a bicycle to his college, and is proud about his success. • A family takes a winter walk in the woods, and while playing in the snow with the children, the parents feel relieved from their day-to-day worries and enjoy being in nature. • In an apartment building, one family puts its waste into the paper recycling bin when the other bins are full. The other residents become more and more upset about this and start complaining. This list of examples could easily be extended. The examples have in common that the emotions directly refer to the natural environment or to entities (subjects, people, own and other behavior, etc.) that are linked to this environment. Both forms, the direct and indirect link to the natural environment, are subsumed under the construct of “environmentally relevant emotions.” Emotion is a very diverse concept, embracing many facets.. While many definitions of emotions exist, there is relative convergence to consider emotions as complex processes that involve a variety of components (Moors, 2009; Scherer, 2000, 2005). The number and content of the various components vary, but the key components are cognitive appraisals of stimuli and situational conditions, a physiological activation or arousal component, a motor and motivational aspect, which includes intentional control processes, and subjective feelings. This component idea shows how tightly the terms “emotion” and “feeling” are related. In this text, we will use the term “feeling” when subjective experiences are central (for example, the fear of the consequences of nuclear power). We will use the term “emotion,” instead, when the subjective feeling is one of many other components (for example, the complex processes involved in emotions of anger). Cognitive Emotion Models Given the complexity of emotional processes and of the components involved in emotional episodes, there is also a great variety of theories about what causes emotions and how the different components interact. A special merit of psychological research and theorizing in the field is to create an awareness of the role of cognitions and appraisals in these processes, while lay theories of emotions tend to focus on the somatic and feeling components, thus underestimating the impact of the mind on how we feel about stimuli and situations in the environment. The present article will put special emphasis on these cognitive models of emotions. Cognitive or appraisal theories understand emotions as consequences of cognitive processes (e.g., Arnold, 1960; Frijda, 1986, 1993; Lazarus, 1991; Montada, 1993; Roseman, 1984; Scherer, 1984; Smith & Ellsworth, 1985). The core idea of these theories indicates that it is not an event itself or bodily reactions that directly elicit emotions, but their individual interpretations, which means that the same stimulus can lead to different emotions. As an example, moral outrage about behavior that harms the environment is based on the following set of appraisals (Kals, 2000): Page 3 of 24 Emotions and Environment • Environmental protection is regarded as a moral norm. • The person is convinced that behavior that puts environmental protection at risk is a norm violation. • The acting person is considered as having control over his or her behavior and having alternative possibilities for action. • The acting person is made responsible for the behavior and its outcome. (p. 131) • Possible explanations and apologies (such as lack of time or knowledge) are not accepted. By testing these components, a considerable amount of the individual variance in moral outrage can be explained in multiple regression analyses (Kals & Montada, 1994). The same is valid for the prediction of feelings of environmental guilt. These feelings can be explained by the following set of appraisals: • A general awareness of ecological problems. • High internal locus of control, which means that the person feels that he or she has efficient strategies to reduce ecological problems. • The person feels moral responsibility to act pro-environmentally. • Arguments against conservation (such as the lack of adequate knowledge about behavior strategies, or the acceptance of competing norms) are denied. • The person behaves in contradiction to pro-environmental norms. In line with this finding, self-blame, indignation, and anger within the context of nature protection can all be explained by cognitive models of emotions. There is a long-lasting discussion about the question of whether emotions are pre- or post-cognitive (Zajonc, 1980). This question, however, is relevant only when cognitions are understood in a very narrow sense. In line with current research on emotions (cf. Herzberg, 2009), we argue that cognitions do not necessarily need to be conscious, reflected, and formulated thoughts, but can also embrace automatic and pre-conscious processes. A cognitive model of emotions has specific advantages for the theoretical understanding and practical use of environmentally relevant emotions: • A cognitive model of emotions can explain that different people react differently toward the same event and— as a more complex explanation—that there is an intrapersonal variance in the emotional reaction toward the same event at different times, based on different appraisals of an event. • The model is of high conceptual value, as it implies the necessity to analyze cognitive components of specific emotions on a deeper level. • This leads to practical implications, because interventions can be based on specific cognitive components of emotions. For example, moral outrage is often based on an unproved belief that the other person acted deliberately. Research has shown that changing such beliefs into hypotheses that have to be tested empirically can be a successful way of reducing resentment (Bernhardt, 2000). • Cognitive models offer prognoses for the development of emotions. • Finally, cognitive models imply an idea of humans as acting individuals who can gain control over their emotions by reflecting and reframing cognitive schemas and automatic appraisals. Measuring Emotions It is comparatively difficult to measure emotions (Scherer, 2005). Taking component models of emotions as a theoretical base, one has to consider different aspects of emotions that cannot be measured by the same methods but require a wide range of instruments, such as standardized questionnaires, semi-structured interviews, physiological measures, behavioral observation, and so on. A special challenge is measuring the subjective component of feeling. It is unclear how well people can give an answer when asked about their feelings: Can they differentiate between emotions? Are they willing to answer such a personal question? In many cultural contexts, the Page 4 of 24 Emotions and Environment expression of certain emotions is sanctioned and considered inappropriate, and it is especially difficult to express emotions that do not correspond to one’s self-image. All these problems and discussions are also obvious when it comes to the measurement of environmentally relevant emotions (Kals, 2000). As a result of this discussion it became consensus to use self-disclosure measures with varying degree of directness of the measurement. The crucial question is how the items or stimulus requirements should be presented. The range goes from open questions (“Do you have any emotions or feelings with regard to this environmental topic?”) to specific questionnaire items (“When I am in nature, I have feelings of oneness with it”). The advantages and disadvantages of the various methods have been discussed at length. Some of the arguments are as follows: the standardization of measurement should be decided in accordance to theory building, research requests, and resources. Standardized methods are very efficient and result in quantitative data that can easily be analyzed but require, on the other hand, a precise model building and concrete hypotheses. Less standardized methods (such as the semi-structured interview) measure emotions and feelings more spontaneously and less reactively and are more appropriate for gathering hypotheses, as the results (p. 132) of single interviews can’t easily be brought together or compared. In the field of environmental psychology the great majority of studies measuring emotions refer to standardized methods in the form of questionnaires, even though results are critically questioned (Scherer, 2005). Nevertheless, the big advantage of gathering quantitative, comparable data outweighs the discussed disadvantages—provided reliability and validity of the scales are thoroughly ascertained controlled, which is mostly the case. One of the first standardized questionnaires within environmental psychology already embraced a scale of environmental awareness that includes the measurement of emotions (see Amelang et al., 1977). Today, the list of scales measuring environmentally relevant emotions has become quite long, although they are used mainly in the context of research and are seldom widely available or systematically published in a compilation. Classification of Emotions There is a broad discussion concerning the taxonomy of emotions. The easiest taxonomy distinguishes between emotions experienced as positive or negative, but such a classification is unclear because although it seems plausible at first sight, so-called positive emotions can also have negative consequences and vice versa. There are more complex, often linguistic classification systems (e.g., Frijda, 1986; Lazarus, 1991; Scherer, 1984), which are primarily of heuristic value as they offer a structure to bring order to the diversity of emotions. However, they are not very helpful to distinguish emotional categories (for example, resentment, moral outrage, and indignation) or to get a deeper understanding of their underlying structure. Therefore, we propose a general framework of emotion clusters that closely belong together with regard to theoretical model building and their specific impact on environmental behavior. This leads to four categories or clusters, some with subgroups: (1) emotional burdens and worries; (2) emotions associated with environmentally relevant behavior; (3) affective connection to nature; and (4) moral emotions. Emotional Burdens and Worries Emotional burdens and worries are caused by environmental threats. According to lay theories, fear caused by threats to the environment is highly relevant for pro-environmental motivation and action. Psychological theorizing and research, however, show that fear is not directly linked to behavior that protects the environment (Hazard, 1998). Rather, these emotions motivate reactions to cope with this threat (Homburg, Stolberg, & Wagner, 2007; van Zomeren, Spears, & Leach, 2010), and the literature on coping has shown that there are several cognitive and behavioral strategies that can help reduce fear without taking action against the source of the perceived threat. Emotions Associated with Environmentally Relevant Behavior A second class of emotions comprises those associated with environmentally relevant behavior. Any kind of behavior can be motivated not only by goals and emotions related to these goals, but also by feelings accompanying the action: behavior itself can be of affective valence. For example, Ajzen’s (1991) concept of attitudes is based on the idea that behaviors can be attractive or unattractive and therefore have a positive or Page 5 of 24 Emotions and Environment negative emotional valence. Littering, for example, can be unpleasant and accompanied by negative feelings of disgust, or evoke positive feelings of satisfaction. However, the consumption of certified organic food is accompanied by many emotions experienced as positive, such as pleasure, positive taste, feeling good toward nature, and animal welfare (Kals & Odenthal, 1996). Marketing has discovered the pleasure associated with buying and consuming organic products, and many alternative supermarkets that sell biological food base their marketing strategies on hedonistic arguments, such as the pleasure of shopping and consuming tasty biological food (Hartmann & Apaolaza-Ibáñez, 2008). The literature on the choice of means of travel is a good example for these kinds of affects. Several authors (Becker, 1998; Carrus et al., 2008; Hunecke, 2000) have argued that cars, bicycles, trains, or buses are more than mere means of transportation, and the choice of how to get from one point to another is not based merely on rational choices for the most efficient or most environmentally friendly vehicle. Rather, the act of traveling as well as the vehicles themselves have an emotional valence that has a strong impact on individual decisions. In this way, pro-environmental behavior, such as choosing public transport instead of driving one’s car, can elicit either positive emotions, such as pride due to one’s contribution to pollution control, or negative emotions, due to giving up privacy or even social status. As a consequence, all categories of emotions can be related to environmentally relevant behavior. (p. 133) Affective Connection to Nature Affective connection to nature can be considered a distinct class of emotions related to the environment. It is closely related to the development of an environmental identity (Clayton, 2003; Eigner & Schmuck, 1998; Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989). The relationship of humans to nature can be understood in two ways: first, there are psychological correlates of time spent in nature that could be classified as emotions accompanying actions. Such a perspective is taken by Kaplan (1995). In his attention restoration theory, he argues that being in nature can have restorative impacts, and he makes a distinction among four components. The first is the feeling of “being away,” of being freed from mental activity. This does not necessarily presuppose that one takes a long way to get to a natural site; even a short walk in a park or a look out of the window can have a restorative impact (Kaplan, 2001). The second component is the fascination for nature, which has the effect of binding attention without effort. Third, feelings of greatness often accompany experiences in nature, most evidently in wilderness, but possibly also in parks or gardens. And fourth, Kaplan (1995) argued that there is a compatibility between human inclinations, such as locomotion or dominance, and nature, that can also lead to a positive valence of nature for human beings. A growing body of research shows that being in nature or merely in contact with nature can have a large number of positive effects, such as the restoration of attention (Kaplan, 1995), vitality (Ryan et al., 2010), but also on other aspects of well-being or on the reduction of aggressive motivations (Kuo & Sullivan, 2001). Although the findings from this research are quite robust and have been validated by many studies, it should also be noted that contact with nature can also lead to more negative feelings, for example, of disgust or fear (e.g., Bixler & Floyd, 1997). These results are also picked up in the chapter of Joanne Vining and Melinda Merrick on environmental epiphanies in the current book. One of the possible positive consequences of contact with nature especially in childhood and youth is that it can contribute to a relatively stable emotional attachment to nature (Kals, Schumacher, & Montada, 1999; Müller, Kals, & Pansa, 2009). Writers in environmental ethics have argued that humans can be considered a part of nature, an argumentation that has led to the “new environmental paradigm” (Van Liere & Dunlap, 1980). From a psychological point of view, however, the connectedness of humans to nature goes beyond this rational-cognitive perspective because it is also based on affective experiences in nature. The biophilia hypothesis (Kellert, 1997), drawing on Fromm’s psychoanalytic tradition, assumes that humans have an innate need to be part of nature, making contact with nature an important source of well-being and restoration (Eckardt, 1992). In their differential approach, Kals et al. (1999) argued that the attachment to nature is not a constant that is valid for all persons, but rather can be considered a trait that varies among individuals. Data from questionnaire surveys have showed that the time spent in nature in childhood as well as positive experiences in nature with significant others are strong predictors of this emotional attachment to nature (Kals et al., 1999; Müller et al., 2009). In recent years, several similar conceptions of human relationship to nature have been proposed (e.g., Clayton, 2003; Dutcher, Finley, Luloff, & Johnson, 2007; Hinds & Sparks, 2008; Mayer & Frantz, 2004; Nisbet, Zelenski, & Murphy, 2009; Schultz, 2000), but despite some Page 6 of 24 Emotions and Environment conceptual differences, they all argue that relatedness to nature varies among individuals and can be considered a relatively stable trait, and most of the authors argue that this relatedness is based on affective experiences rather than merely cognitive appraisals. Moral Emotions Moral emotions concerning behavior affecting the environment are a fourth class of emotions related to the environment that have been studied in more detail recently (e.g., Berenguer, 2010; Ferguson & Branscombe, 2010). This interest in moral emotions is due to the social, temporal, and geographical distance between actors and victims of global environmental change (Pawlik, 1991). Self-interest alone cannot explain why people make renunciations for the sake of the natural environment. The increasing interest in norms, values, justice, and other moral issues in conservation psychology reflects the fact that behavior to protect the environment is not merely based on social incentives or the fulfillment of self-interest, but is also driven by social responsibility and moral convictions. If morality plays a role in pro-environmental behavior, then moral emotions can be considered a direct reaction to behavior or rules or laws that are either compliant with these moral standards or deviant from them. Understanding Moral Emotions in the Light of the Social Trap The fourth category of emotions, moral emotions, is of special importance for motivating nature-protective (p. 134) behavior. This makes sense in the light of the so-called social trap or, as it is also called, the “commons” or “socioecological dilemma” (Hardin, 1968; Platt, 1973), which is, therefore, described in more detail. The Socio-Ecological Dilemma The socio-ecological dilemma describes interest conflicts between short-term individual and long-time societal interests. Personal renunciations for the benefit of the natural environment (such as using public transportation systems instead of one’s own car, donating money for ecological programs, installing expensive energy consumption systems in one’s own household that will not amortize) produce various costs, such as financial shortages, reduced comfort, and the efforts due to necessary changes in behavior patterns and daily routines. On the one hand, these costs are individualized, as they directly and exclusively fall back on the acting individual, whereas ecological benefits resulting from the behavior are externalized to the society as a whole. On the other hand, environment-endangering decisions have direct and personal benefits for the individual. A high living standard due to intensive energy consumption in one’s own household leads, for example, to increased comfort. Ecological risks and burdens that derive from these decisions, such as the effects of greenhouse warming due to intensive energy consumption, are external to the individual. In the long run, the immediate profit for the individuals making sacrifices is lower than for the exploiting individuals. One cannot, for example, expect a significant and stable improvement of the air quality in one’s own living space by using, as a lone individual, public transportation systems instead of one’s own car. These positive effects on air quality can be expected only as a long-term consequence of many individuals abstaining from using their own cars and when many other agents and mega-actors (such as decision makers in industry) reduce other air-polluting activities and processes. The socio-ecological dilemma serves as an explanatory construct to explain why pro-ecological behavior is avoided whereas ecologically risky behavior is shown. Besides correlational studies there is a long experimental research tradition on the dilemma that analyzes various conditional effects of the dilemma (cf. Biel, 2000; Ernst & Spada, 1993; Spada, Opwis, Donnen, Schwiersch, & Ernst, 1990). Without overlooking the theoretical and high methodological impact of this tradition, there is a broad discussion questioning the ecological validity of the laboratory experiments (cf. Biel, 2000). This discussion also affects the role emotions play in the experimental research on socio-ecological dilemmas: Cognitions (e.g., in the form of expectancy-value judgments) are in the center of interest; emotions are reported only in their function of validating the experimental findings (Bonacich, 1976; Dawes, McTavish, & Shaklee, 1977). The motivational function of emotions is mostly ignored (Müller, Kals, & Maes, 2008). This is especially the case for moral emotions, such as anger, indignation, and resentment, which are independent behavioral predictors in studies on real-life ecological conflicts (c.f. Montada & Kals, 2000). Page 7 of 24 Emotions and Environment These moral emotions already signal that the ecological dilemma is a moral conflict that can be overcome by taking over internal ecological responsibility and by accepting corresponding moral norms. In line with these arguments, the moral emotions should have a special impact on the behavioral decisions to protect but also to exploit nature. Feelings of moral guilt toward the ecological crisis and its underlying causes should, for example, be a positive motivator to avoid littering; the absence of guilt should, on the other hand, facilitate environmentally risky behavior. From Environmental Protection to Sustainable Development This already points to the fact that environmental protection is not a competitive free value but rather stands in tension with other norms and values that also have moral implications, such as individual freedom, economic growth, job security, and so on. Originally, small segments of the population have brought the subject of environmental protection into general discussion. Currently the topic is in the center of interest and public awareness; nearly all political parties have the topic in their programs. However, the construct is increasingly replaced by the key concept of “sustainability” (Kals & Maes, 2002). Sustainability takes into account the complexity of competing moral norms, aiming to balance them. Together with its related term “sustainable development”, it replaced the older concepts of “pollution control” or “environmental protection” (De Haan & Kuckartz, 1996). The latter focus primarily on pro-environmental aims and efforts, whereas “sustainable development” takes three different dimensions into account (cf. Jüdes, 1997; Kastenholz, Erdmann, & Wolff, 1996; Kreibich, 1996): environmental sustainability (e.g., protection of natural resources and ecosystems, (p. 135) reduction of pollution), economic sustainability (e.g., economic welfare, protection of job security, economic freedom), and social sustainability (satisfaction of basic human needs, in such a way as to avoid future conflicts over the distribution of resources are avoided). In sum, sustainability represents the normative demand to realize intergenerational justice, so the next generation can enjoy the same opportunities for economic and social development as the current one. There is a complex trans-disciplinary discussion about the “right” balance of these three dimensions to reach justice (Jüdes, 1997; Kastenholz et al., 1996; Kreibich, 1996): Should all dimensions be equally weighted or should, if necessary, one dimension be given priority? What dimension should this be and what reasons can justify this decision? To what extent can economic welfare be achieved without putting the ecological aim and dimension at risk? How can intergenerational justice be achieved without risking economic welfare? These questions reflect the competing character of the three dimensions (Hodge, 1997), which leads to the interpretation of sustainability as a “fuzzy set” (Linneweber, 1998). Its open space for interpretation is often filled by actors in a self-serving way and paves the way for social conflicts and hot emotions, when interpretation and realization of the dimensions differ between people or institutions. Therefore, in this text it is spoken of proenvironmental behavior when the behavior intends to give priority to the ecological dimension and of sustainable behavior when multiple interactions between the dimensions are regarded. In the same way, as described for the social trap, the competitive ways of interactions should provoke morally relevant emotions (e.g., anger due to perceived injustices). Emotions in Models of Sustainable Behavior Since the beginnings of environmental psychology, researchers have been looking for the motivational base that can explain individual differences in sustainable behavior (cf. Krampen, Martini, & Ronco, 1996; Kruse & Arlt, 1984). Although the first studies on the oil crisis encompassed the emotional base of the behavior (it was especially fear with regard to the crisis that was analyzed), the role of emotions was long neglected within this area of research. Model building and research questions put their focus on cognitions (Steg & Vlek, 2009). It is only since the past decade that emotions have been rediscovered and analyzed again. In a way it is a comeback of the emotion as a research topic within environmental psychology. The described models are structured into four clusters: (1) rational choice models, (2) general social psychological models of action and behavior, (3) environment-specific behavior models, which are differentiated into complex action models, and (4) empirically grounded structure models. All models are described and discussed with regard to the role emotions play within them. Page 8 of 24 Emotions and Environment Rational Choice Models Rational choice models increasingly find their way into environmental psychology through economic behavior analysis. A growing number of environmental psychological publications have been based on the underlying assumption of a rational choice theory, reflected in the formula of RREEMM (restricted, resourceful, expecting, evaluating, maximizing man) (cf. Abell, 1992; Coleman & Fararo, 1992). Following this formula, people struggle for their own advantages. They try to maximize their own profit and not that of others or the social community. This struggle is based on a rational calculus that is transformed into expectation-times-values formulas, which are applied to nearly all forms of human behavior, although the empirical base for such generalization is insufficient. Miller and Ratner (1996) therefore brought up the concept of “the myth of self-interest,” which is promoted by rational choice theory. Rational choice models can easily explain why people behave in a way that puts ecological protection at risk: as described within the concept of the social trap, for many polluters it is a “rational choice” to continue the polluting activities that add to their personal benefits at little immediate personal costs, as long as they do not expect social sanctions for their abusing behavior (Montada, 1998). However, it is difficult to explain by this theory why people take into account renunciations for the sake of the natural environment, without anticipating personal benefits from it. One popular assumption, based on this dilemma, is the low-cost hypothesis, predicting that renunciations for the natural environment are taken into account only in areas that imply low costs for the acting individual (cf. Diekmann & Preisendörfer, 1992; Schahn & Möllers, 2005). Obviously, some groups of people also act pro-environmentally despite high personal costs (in the form of money, time, limitations of mobility, etc.). One way to explain high-cost behavior is to look for masked self-interest. If people engage, for (p. 136) example, in protecting their personal environmental surrounding (such as in a local initiative engaging in the protection of local environmental goals), direct environmental benefits in the form of higher ecological quality might be expected. Engaging, however, in more global ecological aims makes it difficult to rationally expect measurable personal ecological benefits. In these cases, the assumption of masked self-interest is formulated, trying to keep up the scope of validity of rational choice theories. Such masked self-interests can be to demonstrate power and control, to experience self-efficacy, to aspire to social power, to raise self-esteem, and so on. Empirical proof for these assumptions, however, is scarce. Data show instead that the model of rational choice is not appropriate for political decisions, or cases of interpersonal solidarity (Maes, 2001). This statement is also supported by data from Sheldon and Schmuck (2001), showing that people are happier when striving for selftranscending goals. Similarly, and in contrast to rational choice theory, data show that a considerable amount of people are willing to act and actually act in a way to protect the global environment, without receiving or expecting any direct personal gain from it. Furthermore, the impact of social responsibility and justice show that there is a stable moral impact on pro-environmental behavior. What about the role of emotions? As already signaled by the key term “rational,” the role of emotions is explicitly ignored in traditional rational choice models. With a growing empirical foundation for the emotional impact on human actions, some authors integrated emotions as by-correlates of the key cognitive constructs. However, justice is not done to emotions when they are downgraded to by-products. They are independent motives by themselves and can contribute to the prediction of environmentally relevant behavioral decisions beyond the cognitions, as it is still to be shown. General Action Theories The second group of models refers to general action theories, like the theory of reasoned action (Fishbein & Ajzen, 1975) or its further elaboration to the theory of planned behavior (Ajzen, 1991). These theories assume that behavioral intentions are direct predictors of actual behavior. Attitudes toward the behavior, the subjective (social) norm with regard to the behavior, as well as the perceived behavioral control determine—mediated by the behavioral intention—the actions. These models are among the most often quoted and applied action theories in social psychology, which is also due to their economy, as the number of their model variables is very low. The disadvantages of this economy became highly relevant when the models were applied to the field of (pro)environmental action, such as recycling behavior or individual mobility decisions (cf. Bamberg & Schmidt, 1993; Hamid & Cheng, 1995; Lynne & Rola, 1988). In most cases, these applications are successful only when the Page 9 of 24 Emotions and Environment models are adapted to the specific features of the analyzed behavior and are expanded by specific variables (for example, Haustein & Hunecke, 2007). Often it is the supplementary constructs that are especially powerful in predicting the behavior. These specific variables also embrace emotions, as the theories of Fishbein and Ajzen do not make explicit reference to emotions. It might be argued that affect or feelings are dimensions of attitudes, but the concept of attitudes used in the theory of reasoned action or the theory of planned behavior is a cognitive one, and merely using the concept of attitudes to conceptualize emotions fails to take into account the complexity of emotions and their underlying appraisals. Therefore, it is a special challenge for environmental psychology to include specific emotions in models of pro-environmental behavior and to study the predictive power of these emotions in relation to more established variables. The norm-activation model by Schwartz (Schwartz, 1977; Schwartz & Howard, 1980) is another general action model that is often applied to environmentally relevant behavior. It explains behavior from the perspective of moral obligation that is rooted in an awareness of the problem and activated personal norms. The model is in accordance with the specifics of environmental behavior because, in the final analysis, individual behavioral commitments for environmental protection reflect social responsibility. Insofar it is a moral behavior task that belongs to the prosocial behavior category (Bierhoff, 2002). Correspondingly, the model was applied to various environmentally relevant action fields (for example, Fuhrer & Wölfing, 1997; Hopper & Nielsen, 1991; Stern, Dietz, & Kalof, 1993; Van Liere & Dunlap, 1980). In most cases, however, the model is applied dogmatically, but the two constructs of attribution of responsibility and awareness of behavioral consequences are brought into focus and are analyzed empirically. In the same way as the models of Fishbein and Ajzen, the norm-activation model does not explicitly include emotions, but in the pertinent research the attribution (p. 137) of ecological responsibility is often covered not only as cognition but also as an emotional variable. In sum, applying general action theories to the field of environmental psychology ensures research continuity and enables us to link the research within environmental psychology with neighbor disciplines. Moreover, some of the models are very economical with regard to the low number of model variables. However, the central disadvantage might not be compensated by these key benefits: the models cannot be applied mechanically to environmentally relevant behavior. This also refers to the necessary allowance of emotions, as most general action theories mainly have a cognitive-rational base. Moreover, the economy of the general action models implies the negative side that their predictive power is often lower than that of more complex models, and they do not offer many intervention strategies for concrete behavioral changes. The theoretical limitations and practical restrictions for deriving interventional approaches for behavior modeling led to the development of environment-specific behavior models. Specific Models of Pro-Environmental Behavior To fill the gap of knowledge, environment-specific behavior models were developed (for an overview, cf. Clayton & Myers, 2009; Steg & Vlek, 2009). Most of these models avoid the discussed disadvantages because they take into account the specifics and the underlying interest conflicts of environmentally relevant behavior. This leads to the models’ becoming comparably complex, which can be regarded as either a gain or a loss. A clear disadvantage of these models is their small validity and lack of generalizability to other fields with moral impact. As a consequence, it seems to be a helpful strategy to develop specific models with regard to existing general action theory. This has been done for a great number of models, such as the model to explain ecological behavior (Fuhrer & Wölfing, 1997) and the value-belief-norm theory by Stern and colleagues (Stern, 2000; Stern et al., 1993). Originally, the Stern model was a norm expectancy theory serving to explain the support of social movements, including the ecological movement. These models are complex action models that are, in significant parts, empirically proven. This is also true for the model of responsible ecological behavior, which has been tested by more than 20 studies (Kals, Becker, & Ittner, 2006). The model is theoretically related to the theory of planned behavior (Ajzen, 1991). However, the center of the models is willingness for continued ecological commitments or commitments that set ecological aims at risk (Montada, Kals, & Becker, 2007) instead of behavioral intentions. In longitudinal studies it could be shown that willingness is a valid predictor of the actual behaviors manifested later. The transfer from willingness to actual behavior is moderated in accordance with the model assumption by situational and social circumstances (Montada et al., 2007). In line with the other specific models, emotions play the same central role as cognitions. In detail the cognitive model variables for predicting willingness and actual behavior are: Page 10 of 24 Emotions and Environment • Appraisals of general risks from pollution and exploitation of the environment. • Appraisals of personal risks and personal harm from pollution, noise, etc. • Attributions of responsibility for ecological damages to oneself, the citizens, the population(s), industry and business, the state(s). • Acceptance of arguments against nature-protective measures and commitments. • Appraisals of justice/injustice of the distribution of profits from pollutive activities and the exploitation of nature, and the distributions of harm and risk caused by pollution. Concerning emotions, the following variables are included: • Emotional affinity respectively affective connection to nature (with interest in nature and various experiences with nature). • Indignation and anger about insufficient nature protection by others. • Indignation with regard to various ecological injustices. • Guilt due to one’s own polluting behavior. • Fear and experienced local burdens (only for some of the behavioral criteria). These predictor variables are able to explain a considerable amount of the criterion variance of pro-environmental commitments and activities and of environmentally risky decisions. Besides these complex action models, empirically grounded structure models do exist. They form the majority of corresponding research studies. These structure models subsume different constructs from a varying theoretical background. The predictive power of the heterogeneous constructs is empirically tested, mostly by regression analyses. (p. 138) The Impact of Emotions on Environmentally Relevant Behavior Based on the described models and theories, empirical research on the impact of various motives and variables on environmentally relevant behavior was conducted, questionnaire studies being the main research methodology. From this bulky research the following statements on the impact of the four emotion categories introduced above can be regarded as validated: Emotional Burdens and Worries These emotions are primarily part of environment-specific behavior models. At first glance, fear about being personally affected by ecological risks and damages, together with the experience of emotional burdens in one’s own living space, seem to represent a convincing motivation for acting in a sustainable way for reducing these risks. Research on models of pro-environmental action that incorporated feelings of fear and threat, however, shows consistently that these emotions do not play an important role in explaining pro-environmental commitment and behavior (for an overview, see Hazard, 1998). The processes that are invoked by feelings of threat are complex, and some research begins to look more closely at how people react to threat and how these reactions are related to their attitudes and behavior toward the environment. There seems to be an inverted U-shaped association between anxiety and pro-environmental behavior (Hazard, 1998): low anxiety might signal that ecological problems are denied; very high anxiety might provoke psychological mechanisms of rejection and denial of the problems to avoid panic. Thus, fear caused by threats to nature or by environmental hazards is not directly linked to pro-environmental behavior. Rather, it causes a multitude of coping reactions, and the mechanisms of these reactions are still poorly understood. This is in line with recent studies that could show that strong forms of threat, such as existential threat caused by mortality salience, can even reduce pro-environmental motivation (Fritsche & Häfner, in press). The authors argued that existential threat will lead to a stronger focus on the self and the in-group, thus reducing biocentric motivation that is one of the core motivators of pro-environmental behavior (Stern, 2000). However, research has also shown that if valued in-groups strongly hold norms of environmental protection, then threat can lead to proenvironmental motivation not out of biocentric concern, but rather because it motivates people to identify with Page 11 of 24 Emotions and Environment norms and values of the in-group to transcend the individual’s mortality (Fritsche, Jonas, Kayser, & Koranyi, 2010). Experienced local burdens, on the other hand, have an emotional impact, such as fear of being personally affected by environmental threats. These emotions based on local burdens have differentiated effects on various behavioral criteria: they qualify only for activities that are directed toward the protection of one’s own living space, for example, political involvement in an activist group, trying to avoid environment-endangering projects on a local level (Rohrmann, 1990). This makes sense, as only these kinds of activities should have a measurable positive impact on burdens experienced in one’s own backyard. In correspondence with this finding, experienced local burdens do not qualify for the prediction of pro-environmental activities for global commons and long-term protection, which the great majority of studies focus upon (Kals et al., 2006; Montada & Kals, 2000). This finding is in accordance with the prediction of rational choice theory and can be explained by the socio-ecological dilemma. Emotions Associated with Environmentally Relevant Behavior Emotions associated with environmentally relevant behavior have been overlooked for a long time, although they seem to have a big impact on the actual manifestation of environmentally relevant behavior. This has especially been proven for behaviors setting environmental protection at risk, such as car driving or alpine skiing (Flade, 1994; Giese, 1997). This makes sense, as these activities normally have a strong motivational base in the form of their positive emotional valence. Car driving, for example, is based on many motives (Becker, 1998; Giese, 1997): it provides enjoyment and the feeling of self-control; it can be a source and indicator of social status. Car advertisements often argue that car driving provides life quality, freedom, safety, adventures, and so on. All these motives are not linked directly to the endangering of the natural environment, which is more or less consciously taken into account. This is in accordance with the rational choice theory, although it makes no prediction about behavioral decisions on the base of these emotions. The emotional valence of pro-environmental behavior, instead, varies a lot: supporting and consuming certified organic food can be experienced as joyful (Kals & Odenthal, 1996), but for many behavioral categories, especially renunciations for (p. 139) the sake of the natural environment (e.g., taking the bus instead of one’s own car, taking a short shower instead of a bath, etc.), a positive valence while conducting the behavior has neither been shown nor is it part of most of the environment-specific behavior models. Affective Connection to Nature Affective connection to nature is one of the emotional categories that most strongly stress experienced and intimate feelings. In this way it is most distinct from the rational choice theory. The most powerful emotion with regard to behavior prediction within this emotion category is emotional affinity respectively affective connection to nature (cf. Kals et al., 1999). Data support the hypothesis that this connection becomes stronger the more concretely nature is experienced in the field or in experimental settings (Calließ & Lob, 1987; Seel, Sichler, & Fischerlehner, 1993). Although this concept had already been used for a long time in the field of environmental education (cf. Calließ & Lob, 1987; Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989), it has been only in recent years that this category of feelings has gained attention in the empirical literature (Eigner & Schmuck, 1998). It could be shown that emotional affinity can be traced back to present and past experiences in nature (Müller et al., 2009) and is as powerful in the prediction of pro-environmental behavior as are, for example, indignation and interest in nature. Together these three variables explain up to 47% of the criterion variance (Kals et al., 1999). This is in accordance with other empirical results, which found that love of nature is instigated by experiences in nature, such as observing the change of seasons (Lyons & Breakwell, 1994). Moral Emotions This last category of emotions is the one that has been analyzed the best in empirical research of environmental psychology, although it cannot touch upon the overwhelming literature dealing with the cognitive aspect of moral ecological responsibility and justice appraisals. Nevertheless, moral emotions are part of many newer environmentspecific behavior models. Especially emotions that are related to the violation of norms, such as guilt, shame, indignation, or moral outrage, have been shown to be impactful variables that can explain distinct parts in the variation of behavior (Ferguson & Branscombe, 2010; Kals, 2000). They all imply the acceptance or refusal of ecological norms and responsibilities. Page 12 of 24 Emotions and Environment In the studies on the model of responsible ecological behavior (Montada & Kals, 2000), indignation qualifies in almost all varying regression analyses over many different studies and action fields. Indignation has been defined in two ways: indignation about insufficient pollution control, as well as about insufficient support of competing moral aims (such as economic growth, personal rights of freedom, etc.). Regression analyses show that the form of indignation that corresponds with the aims of the behavior has the biggest influence: indignation about insufficient pollution control is, for example, the most powerful predictor of pro-environmental willingness and behavior, whereas indignation about insufficient support of other socially accepted values and aims is the first predictor for environmentally risky behavioral decisions. However, additional criterion variance is explained by the denial of the reversed form of indignation, for example, the explanation of pro-environmental behavior by the denial of indignation about insufficient support of economic growth. This points to the fact that people engaging in pollution control or in competing aims do not simply ignore the arguments “of the other side” but deal with them to consciously refute them. This is in line with the descriptive analysis of the data set (Montada & Kals, 2000). These findings correspond with new developments in moral psychology that argue that emotions play an important role in human decisions about what is right or wrong (Haidt & Kezebir, 2010; Tangney, Stuewig, & Mashek, 2007). Environmental Education and Emotions There is no doubt that behavior changes are necessary to overcome the ecological crisis and to promote sustainable development, and that these behavioral changes can have a strong impact on the emission of greenhouse gases (Dietz, Gardner, Gilligan, Stern, & Vandenbergh, 2009). Relevant decision-making includes behaviors at a private as well as a political level that serve to protect the natural environment by taking into account the economic and social consequences of these behaviors. In this chapter it was shown why people are committed to sustainable development and behaviors, and why they act in ways that put environmental protection and pollution control at risk. Both questions were answered from an emotional perspective and are equally relevant: for the long-term establishment of sustainable development, not only does pro-environmental behavior need to be promoted and stabilized, but at the same time environmentally (p. 140) endangering behavior should be diminished and substituted by more adaptive ones. What is the use of knowledge about emotional factors in environmental behavior for reaching these aims? How can it be used in environmental education programs? In this text environmental education is defined in a broad sense, including all systematic strategies to influence people to change their attitudes and behaviors in a pro-environmental direction. Environmental education is not limited to the school setting but is part of a general social movement, taking place in general discussion, at adult education centers, in mass media, and so on. There is a long-lasting tradition in environmental school education, initiated by the UNESCO conferences in the 1970s: they gave impetus to make environmental education a part of general education programs and to integrate them in curricula (Bolscho, Eulefeld, Rost, & Seybold, 1990; Gigliotti, 1990). However, the school context is only one of many to systematically influence people’s attitudes and behavior. In these practical contexts, the power of environmentally relevant emotions seems to have been recognized earlier than in theoretical model development or empirical research. Already from the beginning, efforts can be recognized to use emotions as target aims for promoting pro-environmental interests and behavior (Bolscho et al., 1990). However, as sufficient empirical knowledge was not or still is not provided, many of the practical approaches are not sufficiently founded on theoretically grounded models or empirical findings. Therefore, efforts should take place to bring together the lines of environmental psychology and environmental education. One efficient way is to base practical interventions on empirical findings in the form of a systematic theoretical and empirical development of the action field. Recommendations should be derived from the empirical findings. In the context of the current paper, the crucial question is: How can findings on the behavioral impact of emotions be used to efficiently change environmentally relevant emotions? Although participation in intervention programs is always voluntary, broader intervention programs aiming to promote pro-environmental behavior in a community, such as a city, that directly intend to change emotions are confronted with more ethical problems than are programs exclusively aiming at cognitions. Nevertheless, emotions should not be ignored but rather handled with care. This can mean that targeting and intervention strategies for dealing with emotions should be fixed on an individual base and justified for the individual case. Taking this into account, there are some conclusions that can be drawn from the reported findings. Page 13 of 24 Emotions and Environment Emotional burdens and worries should not be evoked—especially as they are relevant for only a small sample of behavioral categories concerning local environmental interests. They should be addressed only when concrete threats of local living space are of relevance or when fear or threats are actively mentioned by members of the intervention programs. Feelings associated with environmentally relevant behavior could, however, be used much more systematically when target behaviors are to be achieved. Many environmentally risky behaviors are associated with joy and pleasure: positive feelings in the context of car driving, for example, show major changes during the life span and also vary between different population groups with different social norms. Driving a car has an especially positive connotation for young adults and during the period of getting the driving license (Flade, 1994; Giese, 1997). Later in life or in different social groups, driving a big car might not be honored by social acceptance or lead to carefree driving enjoyment, but rather lead to feelings of moral guilt. Reflection and change of corresponding norms might, therefore, change the feelings associated with the behavior so that, for example, also going by bike might be associated with joy, such as the direct enjoyment of nature or feeling good and healthy (Becker, 1998). Another important approach is to intend to change emotional attitudes by starting with behavioral change, thus providing positive experiences with the new, intended behavior. The provision of nature experiences is a well-established approach in environmental education programs to promote pro-environmental behavior. The psychological data can give the empirical foundation and explanation for this approach, as by experiencing nature, affective connection to nature can be established. This is especially the case when nature experiences are shared with significant others (Kals et al., 1999). These joint experiences seem to facilitate the integration of this experience into one’s own self-concept and identity (Clayton, 2003). Who can be such a “significant other” depends on the age and the living circumstances of the person. Moreover, they change over one’s life span in the way that family members are more and more substituted by the ascending role of peers. This is in line with the findings of Eigner and Schmuck (1998), showing that (p. 141) environmental identity is evoked and stabilized by the interaction with other members (in-group) and by dissociating oneself from nonenvironmentalists (out-group). Therefore, the fostering of positive experiences with nature, preferably shared with significant others, is, even in environmental education programs for adults, a possibility to provoke interest and affective connection to nature and to overcome the interest conflicts between short-term self-interest and longterm ecological interest of the society as a whole. Finally, the findings on morally relevant emotions can be used directly by addressing the emotions (for example, in the form of theoretical discourses) or indirectly by addressing their underlying cognitions. Pride about personal renunciations for nature, for example, can be induced by promoting a general ecological awareness, accepting ecological aims as important concerns, stabilizing internal control by teaching knowledge on concrete actions that are efficient to reach ecological aims, and promoting internal ecological responsibility. For reaching these subgoals, the whole portfolio of psychological intervention strategies can be used (teaching, informing, confronting, group discussions, contrasting techniques, public statements of social models, etc.), which need to be adapted to the specific target group (cf. Calließ & Lob, 1987). All of the mentioned moral emotions imply the acceptance or denial of varying social and moral norms and responsibilities. In intervention strategies it is important to avoid partisanship for one group of norms or for one dimension of sustainability with the consequence of reactance. Instead, the complexity of the three dimensions of sustainability should be emphasized by ensuring that many contra-arguments of pollution control also represent moral and thus socially accepted norms. In this way the multifaceted dimensions of sustainability are accepted by avoiding a moral index finger. For all interventions that include environmentally relevant emotions, it is important that they take place in an atmosphere that is free of fear. The theoretical foundation is offered by Rogers’s (1972) construct of genuineness, based on the theories of humanistic psychology. Rogers identified three key conditions: genuineness (the researcher is truly himself or herself and effortlessly incorporates some self-disclosure), the researcher’s unconditional positive regard for the participants, and empathic understanding. Applying these key constructs to the interaction implies that rules of fair communication are intended and realized, such as: hearing a person out without interrupting, trying to understand the other person by listening attentively, avoiding the application of upper-hand strategies, and so on. This promotes interactive justice (Bies & Moag, 1986) and facilitates the successful and sensible modeling of emotions and feelings. Page 14 of 24 Emotions and Environment Emotions in the Context of Environmental Conflicts There is another practical implication of the presented findings. As pro-environmental behavior often requires personal restrictions or limitations and as pollution control and sustainability is potentially in competition with other goals that are also morally accepted, social conflicts are likely to occur. The analysis of the involved emotions is the silver bullet for the sustainable settlement of the conflict (Jones & Bodtker, 2001): if norms of justice are transgressed, feelings of outrage or indignation will arise (cf. Montada, 1998). Emotions also play a significant role for the course of the conflict, especially in the course of an escalation of the conflict, since they lead to a restrictive and narrow view of reality. The person’s own perspective on the conflict is seen as the only valid one without thinking of alternatives. Furthermore, emotions motivate behavior. In a siting conflict, for example, various citizens’ initiatives are involved, often fighting for diverging interests (cf. Linnerooth-Bayer & Fitzgerald, 1996). If group members feel outraged about the members of concurrent groups, they will be likely to react aggressively without paying attention to the arguments of the other group. If the other party reacts in an aggressive way (or in a way that is interpreted as aggression), an escalation will likely occur. In this perspective, the analysis of emotions is a good indicator for the virulence of the conflict (Jones, 2006). For conflict resolution, emotions are to be questioned by analyzing the underlying cognitions, interests, values, and motives. The basic concerns come to the surface and the deep structure of the conflict becomes obvious. In this way, emotions no longer stay taboo but are handled constructively, even in the political arena of decision-making, where most fights about ecological interest conflicts are fought. However, the basic attitudes toward emotions, as described in the context of educational interventions, need to be shown and special attentiveness should be paid to psychological mechanisms, such as the use of masked emotions or upper-hand techniques, as well as reactance toward attempts to clarify the deep structure of the conflicts through the analysis of emotions (cf. Montada & Kals, 2007). (p. 142) Conclusion In this text environmentally relevant emotions were analyzed theoretically and with regard to their power to predict pro-environmental and environmentally risky behavior. At the end of this text the state of the art is summarized and discussed in the form of questions that remain to be addressed in future research: What implications does the theoretical discussion of environmentally relevant emotions have for future theory and model building? On a theoretical level, a further validation and development of the classification system is necessary. This should be supplemented by further elaboration of theories that focus on emotion models of environmentally relevant behavior. These models should include pro-environmental as well as environmentally risky behavior, as most parts of research in environmental psychology still refer only to the explanation of pro-environmental behavior. The analysis of environmentally risky behavior is still rare. However, it can be shown that there is a significant overlap between the relevant emotional predictor variables of both behavior categories. The corresponding regression weights of those predictors are reversed (e.g., high affective connection to nature leads to pro-environmental behavior, whereas environmentally risky behavior is based on low emotional affinity), but there are some differences in the relative power of the emotions as was shown by the various forms of indignation. This reflects that for environmentally risky behavior, the acceptance of moral arguments against pollution control or sustainability is especially powerful. People behaving in an environmentally risky way often justify their decisions by pointing to corresponding moral arguments, such as economic welfare or personal rights of freedom, or by endangering the behavior of others who might profit from their own renunciations, provoking “free-riding” (Clayton, 2000; Montada & Kals, 2000). In future theories these varying moral norms and arguments, which are implicitly part of sustainability, should be covered on a cognitive and emotional level. Moreover, theories that focus on environmentally relevant emotions are still missing but would help to analyze the multiple interactions between cognitions and emotions as well as between various forms of emotions in depth: How are moral emotions influenced by nature experiences or affective connection to nature ? Can understanding and empathy for the position of the other parties in ecological conflicts be promoted when interactional justice in the process is experienced? What happens on an emotional level when people empathize with the emotional experiences of the conflict partners (in role-plays, through practical experiences, etc.)? What happens when the Page 15 of 24 Emotions and Environment cognitive level is completely left and when emotional work takes place in a situation of environmental conflicts, as in psychological mediation? More elaborate models of the role of emotions in environmentally relevant behavior can also enrich general action models in psychology. Sustainable behavior, with its complex motivations and conditions, is a very interesting and important field that can serve as a blueprint for research in many other fields of human behavior, such as health protection or pro-social behavior. All these fields of applied psychology are confronted with the same question of whether more general or more specific models of behavior should be developed. Using the concept of emotions can help bridge this gap by developing general emotional categories that can be defined and specified according to the necessities of the field. For example, moral emotions, such as indignation about the violation of norms, have been shown to be highly influential predictors of (pro-environmental) behavior, but the norms themselves have to be specified for the relevant context. Future directions What future tasks derive from the implications of the findings for practical intervention programs? In the preceding paragraph detailed implications for practical purposes were discussed. Many of them have already been realized. However, up to now only a few approaches have combined responsibility-related approaches with providing experiences with nature (cf. Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989; Lyons & Breakwell, 1994). The majority of educational programs either promote discussions on ecological ethics and norms, or exclusively provides experiences with nature (cf. Kruse & Schwarz, 1988). As a future task, the development and evaluation of integrated intervention programs for children and adults should be explored. Moreover, theoretical analyses and practical interventions should be more strongly related to one another: from theoretical analyses knowledge should be derived and communicated that can be applied directly to practical purposes. People working in the field should in turn use the knowledge and evaluate the effects of their (p. 143) interventions to further validate the underlying theoretical models and their working mechanisms. In this way there might be a mutual fruitful interactive collaboration. How can different samples and target groups be addressed? What different forms of research approach should be used? The presented data are based mainly on questionnaire studies with representatives of the general population as well as with members of criterion groups for pro-environmental behavior (for example, members of Greenpeace) and for environmentally risky behavior (for example, members of motorsport clubs). Data on decision makers in politics and economics are very rare, and existing research confirms the theoretical and practical difficulties of gathering the data (Niegot, 2003). On a theoretical level, the models need to be adapted to the specific level of decision-making behavior of these target groups; on an empirical level, it is especially difficult to gain the commitment of these mega-actors to fill in questionnaires for scientific purposes, which is also due to their full schedule. These problems get even bigger when the research is focused on emotions. These problems can be diminished by various strategies: the request to participate in the scientific study should be combined with a concrete occasion of environmental issues or conflicts currently debated. This would pave the way for this issue, as personal interests of the target people could be taken into account. If, for example, data are gathered in the context of the psychological mediation of an ecological conflict, data are not of pure scientific interest but can be directly used for resolving the conflict. The fact that decision makers are also willing to talk about their attitudes and emotions might strengthen their public acceptance. Moreover, scientists might think of different forms to measure emotions. Instead of standardized questionnaires, half-structured interviews might be more appropriate. If these interviews are conducted by “high potentials” who have already gained trust in advance, the readiness for the interviews and for open-minded answers will be improved. How could knowledge from neighboring disciplines be integrated? An important task on the level of political science is to strengthen emotions as a research topic within environmental sciences. Still today there is a dualism between the social and behavioral sciences on the one side and natural-technical sciences on the other. The analysis of emotions is a core issue to demonstrate how important the so-called soft sciences are to understand, and to solve ecological problems and crises by changing human Page 16 of 24 Emotions and Environment behavior. Ideally, this should be done in an interdisciplinary research context, including various social sciences as well as technical and economical sciences, commonly directing the target of behavior changes efficiently to the right direction. The neuropsychology of emotions (e.g., LeDoux, 1997) should also contribute to this interdisciplinary research. For example, recent research has confirmed the importance of “mirror neurons,” as nerve cells in the brain activate the same potentials during the passive observation of a process that would also take place when the process would take place actively. In recent years the role of the mirror neuron system was analyzed in a number of experiments in the context of empathy (e.g., Gallesse, 2001; Rizzolatti & Craighero, 2005). It would be interesting to analyze these kinds of processes, for example, in the context of emotional experiences with nature (many parallel neuropsychological processes are evoked, just as during empathetic reactions). In a further step, the role of the mirror neuron system could be analyzed in the process of psychological mediation: What neuropsychological processes take place during what stage of conflict? What specific reactions do role-plays or other instruments evoking empathetic reactions provoke? What is happening on a neuropsychological level, when modeling behavior is observed? It is a long way to go to bring the various approaches to understand emotion development altogether, but it would be a promising future task. What implications do the findings have on a more general level? In many social contexts, emotions are still taboo or are devaluated as “irrational.” Cognitive emotion models and their empirical confirmation strongly speak against this valuation. However, this valuation is in line with the still dominant rational-choice tradition, whose basic assumption is at the core of the economical sciences and also influences political debates. Discussions on the existence and influence of environmentally relevant emotions could promote the necessary debate on the varying models and the underlying ideas of man. 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Experimental evidence for a dual pathway model analysis of coping with the climate crisis. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 30, 339–346. WCED (World Commission on Environment and Development). (1990). Our Common Future. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Zajonc, R. B. (1980). Feeling and thinking: Preferences need no inferences. American Psychologist, 35, 151–175. Notes: (1.) In this text the opposite of pro-environmental behavior is not called contra-environmental behavior, but this form of behavior is circumscribed (e.g., “behavior that sets the protection of nature at risk”). These behavioral decisions do not intend to set ecological aims at risk, but these risks are more or less consciously accepted as negative side effects of enjoyable or profitable activities. This is the case for private behavior (e.g., car driving) but also for political decision-making or industrial production. Elisabeth Kals Elisabeth Kals Professor of Social and Organizational Psychology The Catholic University Eichstätt-Ingolstadt Eichstätt, Germany Markus M. Müller Markus M. Müller The Catholic University Eichstätt-Ingolstadt Eichstätt, Germany Page 23 of 24 Place Attachment Oxford Handbooks Online Place Attachment Kalevi M. Korpela The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0009 Abstract and Keywords The review is focused mostly on the dynamics of place attachment on the individual level and is structured according to the antecedents, development, and consequences of place attachment. It is concluded that dimensional frameworks and models of place attachment provide researchers adequate taxonomies with which they can locate their studies. More studies to verify causal sequences, underlying needs, and processes/dynamics of place attachment are needed. The interplay between automatic affective reactions, self, personality, learning, and culture in place attachment is described but remains a largely open question for future studies. Theories for understanding the development of place attachment include attachment theory, the mere-exposure hypothesis, the theories of self-regulation, privacy and friendship regulation, theories of coping (with developmental tasks and stress), theories of identity development, and self-theories. Evidence for the positive connection between place attachment and conservation behavior is still mixed. Future research to deepen and integrate the theoretical work on place attachment is called for. Keywords: automatic affective reactions, conservation behavior, development of place attachment, dimensional models, self-regulation Introduction Research on place attachment has been rapidly expanding during the 2000s (Lewicka, 2010). A search in ScienceDirect on October 29, 2010, with “place attachment” in the “title, abstract, or key words” in “journals or books” within psychology, social sciences, arts and humanities, nursing and health professions, environmental science, and decision sciences found 143 articles. These articles were published between 2000 and 2010 and the figure counts 72% of all place attachment articles published between 1993 or earlier and 2010. However, as some mismatches were obviously included in the results, a correct figure from 2000–2010 is approximately 112 articles. As at least 15 review articles published between 1992 and 2010 are within this field (Lewicka, 2010), the current review is not an all-inclusive one but focuses mostly on the dynamics of place attachment (including consequences for conservation behavior) on the individual level. The chapter is structured according to the antecedents, development, and consequences of place attachment, but with a limited amount of accumulated causal knowledge it is difficult to rigorously argue whether different processes or variables are consequences/outcomes, antecedents, or mediating/moderating processes. Measurement methodology is left largely aside in this review (for review, see Lewicka, 2010; see Clayton, this volume, for a review of environmental identity measures). How Is Place Attachment Defined? The beginning of the study of affective bonds between humans and places has been dated to the (p. 149) 1960s (Giuliani, 2003; Hammitt, Kyle, & Oh, 2009) and in particular to the article by Fried (1963). In 1992, a whole book in Page 1 of 19 Place Attachment the series Human Behavior and Environment was dedicated to place attachment (Altman & Low, 1992). It was noted that the scale or scope of environments to which people are attached may vary from microenvironments, such as personal objects, to homes, settings of care, local environments, and larger-scale environments, such as towns or cities. Place attachment has been defined as an integrating concept incorporating several interrelated and inseparable aspects of people-place bonding (Altman & Low, 1992). Affects, emotions, and feelings—both positive and negative—are central to the concept, although often accompanied by cognition and action (or behavioral intention; see Jorgensen & Stedman, 2001). Thus, more specific definitions of place attachment include “a positive affective bond between an individual and a specific place, the main characteristic of which is the tendency of the individual to maintain closeness to such a place” (Hidalgo & Hernández, 2001, p. 274), “affective relationship between people and the landscape that goes beyond cognition, preference or judgment” (Riley, 1992, p. 13), or “a state of psychological well-being experienced by a person as a result of the mere presence, vicinity, or accessibility of the place” (Churchman & Mitrani, 1997; Sharpe & Evert, 2000). The place aspect of attachment includes not only tangible places of different scale but also symbolic or imagined places or objects. Objects may be temporally different: past, present, or future that may appear cyclically as well. In addition to individual attachments, collective, shared group, and cultural place attachments may exist. On the other hand, the object of attachment may not be only the physical environment but also the social relations that a place signifies. Place attachment is also a developing, temporal phenomenon (Altman & Low, 1992). In analogy to place identity literature including place identity and settlement identity (identification with types of settings; Feldman, 1990; Lalli, 1992), a distinction between a place-specific and a conceptual attachment (attachment to a type of landscape rather than to a particular place) has been made (Ryan, 2005). A fact is that a variety of operationalizations of place bonding/attachment have been used, with many concepts used interchangeably (Giuliani, 2003; Hidalgo & Hernández, 2001). To increase integration, however, several dimensional models of place attachment have been presented. For example, the theme of place attachment in the recreation resource management literature is around 20 years old and has been focused on the psychometric scales (for a discussion about several scales, see Giuliani, 2003; Lewicka, 2010) and models for measuring place attachment and the relationship of attachment to recreation behaviors (Hammitt et al., 2009). The first place attachment model used in recreation resource management literature was a two-dimensional model including place identity and place dependence (a functional reliance on a place) (Hammitt et al., 2009). Another two-dimensional model from recent environmental psychological literature suggests place attachment (emotional) and identification with a locally defined group as correlated but distinct dimensions (Rollero & De Piccoli, 2010). Recreation researchers have added dimensions to the model to introduce three-dimensional (place attachment, identity, and dependence), four-dimensional (social bonding, place attachment, identity, and dependence), and fivedimensional (familiarity, belongingness, rootedness, place identity, and dependence) models (Hammitt, Backlund, & Bixler, 2006; Hammitt et al., 2009). Recently, a three-dimensional synthesizing framework of the various definitions of the place attachment concept has been introduced (Scannell & Gifford, 2010a). The framework includes person, psychological process, and place dimensions. The person dimension acknowledges that place attachment occurs at both the individual and the group level. Psychological processes where place attachment occurs involve affect, cognition, and behavior. Place dimension is divided into not only a physical but also a social level, the former including various geographic scales. Moreover, the psychological functions of place attachment (conscious or unconscious motivations to form enduring bonds with places) are listed and include offering survival and security, supporting goal attainment and self-regulation, providing self-continuity, sense of belongingness, sense of identity, and self-esteem. To summarize, it seems that a considerable amount of taxonomical work of the place attachment concept/phenomenon and its relevant dimensions/co-processes has already been carried out (Scannell & Gifford, 2010a; Altman & Low, 1992). It remains to be seen whether such diversity of models means lack of clarity or inadequate theoretical development. For example, on the level of “place research” as a whole, several conceptual origins (social psychology, tourism and recreation studies, consumer research, environmental psychology, (p. 150) phenomenology) and research programs reflecting differing paradigms and worldviews can be discerned, and some regard this situation as a valuable diversity of thought (Patterson & Williams, 2005; Morgan, 2010). Page 2 of 19 Place Attachment In the present author’s opinion, dimensional and tripartite frameworks provide researchers taxonomies where they can situate their specific operationalizations and studies. Such a situation warrants effort to deepen the theoretical and empirical work related to the functions and processes/dynamics of place attachment in the future. This may include both quantitative and qualitative approaches. For example, in recreation research, emotional attachments to place have been studied as an antithesis to the commodity or consumer metaphor wherein settings are represented as collections of features, related to psychological experiences, from which an optimal combination for a given clientele could be selected (Brooks, Wallace, & Williams, 2006; Williams, Patterson, Roggenbuck, & Watson, 1992). In contrast, the place attachment or relationship metaphor emphasizes that places may be whole entities and valued in their entirety (Brooks et al., 2006; Williams et al., 1992). Moreover, qualitative researchers argue that the focus on measuring the strength of attachment with scales excludes meanings that people attribute to places and the dynamic processes of developing place relationships (Brooks et al., 2006; Davenport & Anderson, 2004). Thus, in addition to having a structural aspect, psychological processes, such as place attachment, are dynamic. An example of the dynamic nature of place attachments is a potential interplay between experiences of different places: places outside residence may influence the experience of residence (Manzo, 2003). The question of unconscious and conscious identity work through attachments to and relationships with places is a second example of important dynamics (Manzo, 2003). An overwhelmingly important question of why people develop psychological bonds with places has been answered by reflecting on the functions that place attachments serve (Scannell & Gifford, 2010a). The term “functions” of place attachment is somewhat technical because these functions actually represent basic motives, needs, or the guiding principles of human behavior and self-regulation. We now turn to the dynamics of place attachment in the subsequent paragraphs of the antecedent, developmental, and outcome processes of place attachment on the individual level. Dynamics of Place Attachment An important notion to start with is that physical and social attachments may develop at a different pace (Lewicka, 2010). Concerning physical attachments, it has been theorized that certain environmental features may have a capacity to elicit extremely rapid and automatic emotional responses from a strong preference to the feelings of dislike and fear. Furthermore, these responses may affect the subsequent cognitive appraisal of the environment, physiological responses, and behavior (Parsons, 1991; Ulrich, 1983; Ulrich et al., 1991). Environments indeed do elicit presumably automatic, affective reactions rapidly, in approximately 200 milliseconds. Priming experiments have provided evidence that the perception of physical environments may initiate rapid affective responses that cast their influence upon social perceptions, particularly on the recognition of facial or vocal emotional expressions (Hietanen, Klemettilä, Kettunen, & Korpela, 2007; Hietanen & Korpela, 2004; Korpela, Klemettilä, & Hietanen, 2002). For example, the recognition times of happy faces decreased as the amount of natural elements present in the environmental scenes preceding the picture of the face increased, whereas the recognition times of disgusted faces decreased as the amount of built material present in the environmental scenes increased (Hietanen et al., 2007). Studies on extraordinarily brief glances at novel scenes have shown that participants can classify a scene’s global properties (naturalness, mean depth, temperature, concealment, navigability, transience, or openness) more quickly—at 34 ms on average—than its basic-level category (forest, mountain, desert, lake, ocean, field, or river)—50 ms on average (Greene & Oliva, 2009). More interestingly, the image exposure thresholds (the shortest image exposures required for participants to achieve 75% correct classification of naturalistic scenes) among global properties were the shortest (19 ms) for classifying images according to whether they were natural. Thus, particularly natural and urban environments but also preferred environments within the natural-setting category induce different immediate emotional and physiological reactions in humans. In Dimberg’s (1990) study, subjects spontaneously reacted with increased activity of the facial zygomatic muscle (related to positive affect and smiling) to the 8-second presentations of preferred natural landscape scenes. On average, presentations of much preferred natural landscape scenes evoked more zygomatic activity than activity of the corrugator muscle (related to (p. 151) negative affect and frowning). Moreover, more preferred (spatially open) natural scenes evoked more zygomatic activity than less preferred (spatially enclosed) natural scenes. Noteworthy in the studies of rapid affective responses to environments is that such automatic evaluation of one’s Page 3 of 19 Place Attachment own environment may be a pervasive and continuous process in our lives. Arguments exist that this may hold even to such a degree that features of the environment may trigger processes that operate outside of conscious awareness and guidance and may determine a significant portion of our daily emotions, motivations, judgments, and actions (Bargh & Chartrand, 1999). Thus, perception may have automatic effects on action, goal pursuit, and evaluations of one’s experience. Some of the automaticities seem to require no experience, whereas other forms of automatic self-regulation develop out of repeated and consistent experience (Bargh & Chartrand, 1999). Note that this automaticity resembles the suggestion that nature attachment, that is, implicit connections to or identification with nature (measured with a modification of Implicit Association Test) operates outside conscious awareness (Schultz, Shriver, Tabanico, & Khazian, 2004). Similar ideas are seemingly included in the phenomenological descriptions where “body ballets,” that is, continual and continuous movements in space, are thought to produce the sense of existential insideness (a situation involving a spontaneous feeling of attachment, belonging, and at-homeness), which is one of the expressions used in describing place attachment (Buttimer & Seamon, 1980; Lewicka, 2010). Moreover, affective responses to environments are not limited to the first milliseconds or seconds of the encounter. Entering or moving through a place may induce changes in a person’s mood (Staats, Gatersleben, & Hartig, 1997; Kerr & Tacon, 1999) and metamotivational state (serious-playful, planning-spontaneous) (Kerr & Tacon, 1999). After stress manipulation, viewing or visiting natural environments promotes physiological recovery and relaxation evident within 3 to 40 minutes of the start of the exposure (Hartig, Evans, Jamner, Davis, & Gärling, 2003; Ulrich, 1981; Ulrich et al., 1991). This is indexed, for example, by lowered blood pressure, muscle tension, and skin conductance, and increased brain activity in the alpha frequency band (an index of wakeful relaxation); change to positively toned self-reported emotions and recovery of attention-demanding cognitive performances (Parsons, Tassinary, Ulrich, Hebl, & Grossman-Alexander, 1998; Ulrich, 1981; Ulrich et al., 1991). These types of positive psychophysiological changes are called restoration and the environments inducing these changes are called restorative environments (Hartig, Mang, & Evans, 1991; Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989; Ulrich et al., 1991). Perceptions of restorative potential are known to be associated with environmental preference judgments (Nordh, Hartig, Hägerhäll, & Fry, 2009; Pals, Steg, Siero, & van der Zee, 2009; Herzog, Maguire, & Nebel, 2003). Furthermore, recent studies suggest that being outdoors has also vitalizing (a positively toned, energized state) effects (Ryan et al., 2010) as well as positive effects on feelings of personal autonomy and intrinsic aspirations (inherently rewarding psychological needs, such as personal growth or intimacy) (Weinstein, Przybylski, & Ryan, 2009). How do we combine these studies and results to the development of place attachment and place identity? This work remains to be done in future studies in this field. However, we may note that the studies indicating rapid, automatic affective reactions and self-regulation give support to such definitions of place identity that argue that an affective process, that is, place attachment, is implicit or even fundamental in place identity, the development of which requires also conscious, more time-consuming, cognitive identity work (Korpela, 1989). In this interpretation, it is argued that place identity is fundamentally formed by the experiences and cognitions in places that have a role in a person’s emotion and self-regulation. This postulation has a predecessor in Zajonc’s (1980) argument that the initial level of response to environment is affective and that environmental stimuli are evaluated as “positive” or “negative” for the self at a preattentive level. This notion further opens up a connection to self-theories that acknowledge affective processes and preconscious conceptual systems, such as cognitive-experiential selftheory (CEST) (Epstein, 1985, 1991). These theories are described further in the subsequent paragraphs. What Are the Antecedent Processes of Place Attachment? Aside from socio-demographic (e.g., age, education, home ownership), social (e.g., community ties), and physical (e.g., building density, type of housing, presence of green areas) predictors—extensively described in Lewicka (2010)—at least two major antecedent processes become evident from empirical place attachment studies. The first reflects “the mere-exposure hypothesis” (by exposing (p. 152) an individual to a stimulus/place, a preference for that stimulus will emerge), emphasizing the relationship between the visitation frequency or length of residence and social and physical aspects of place attachment. The second describes the relationship between unconscious, preconscious, or conscious motivations (related to, for example, spiritual and aesthetic values, self, and well-being) and social and physical aspects of place attachment. Regarding the mere-exposure hypothesis, a meta-analysis of 10 recreation studies of the relationship between Page 4 of 19 Place Attachment retrospective accounts of past experiences (use history; years of visiting, times of visiting during the past year) of public lands and place attachment, including the dimensions of place identity (affective) and place dependence (functional), showed that the associations were weak to moderate (Backlund & Williams, 2003). The strongest overall association was between place identity and visitation in the past year, r = .25. The study showed that the mere-exposure effect accounts for some variation in the degree of reported affective connection with a place. The associations were very variable; the larger studies with more variation in the variables produced weaker associations (Backlund & Williams, 2003). The direction of causality is not altogether clear, as place attachment might lead people to evaluate their past use history incorrectly. However, evaluations of length of residence (the date of the change of residence is known or easily checked) might not be so prone to such a memory bias (cf. Conway, 1990, pp. 53–60), and these studies also provide some support for the mere-exposure effect. For example, in an Italian study with a two-dimensional model of place attachment, attachment to the residential area was associated with social relationships in the area and participation in local groups, whereas identification with local inhabitants was positively associated with length of residence and negatively with educational level (Rollero & De Piccoli, 2010). Length of residence was also correlated to social relationships in the area, which, in turn, was associated with residential attachment (Rollero & De Piccoli, 2010). An association between the length of residence and identification with the neighborhood was also reported in a French study (Fleury-Bahi, Félonneau, & Marchand, 2008). Length of residence seems to be the strongest predictor of place attachment; however, the increment is not linear but the highest increments of attachment occur in the first years of residence (Lewicka, 2010). Regarding motivations and values, a study on the relationship between landscape values and place attachment showed that the landscape perceptions of spiritual importance, wilderness and attractive scenery, sights, sounds, or smells (aesthetic values) were associated with the place attachment scales of place identity and place dependence (Brown & Raymond, 2007). Moreover, it was observed that aesthetic, recreation, economic, spiritual, and therapeutic landscape values spatially co-located with the respondents’ special places in the region measured by a map-based index. A map-based measure allowed the respondents to identify up to six special places in the region of the study (Brown & Raymond, 2007). In a study with a four-dimensional model of place attachment, motivation to visit a large urban park (to learn, to feel autonomy, to be active, to socialize, to enjoy nature, and to enhance health) was associated with the strength of attachment (Kyle, Mowen, & Tarrant, 2004). More specifically, motivations to enhance health and to feel autonomy were positively associated with place dependence and affective attachment. The motivation to enjoy nature was associated with affective attachment and social bonding. Lastly, the motivation to learn was associated with place identity dimension. In conclusion, length of time or exposure is associated with place attachment only partly (not all dimensions) and not very strongly. Moreover, length of time and related variables do not reveal psychological or other processes taking place during a certain time (cf. Lewicka, 2010). However, the mere-exposure hypothesis may include or subsume automatic processes that were discussed in this chapter earlier. Automatic processes may relate to evolutionary-based inclinations in place perception or place preferences. Evolutionary models of environmental perception postulate that the rapid and automatic processing of environmental features has developed during human evolution in savannah-like natural environments (Ulrich, 1983; Ulrich et al., 1991). More specifically, it is assumed that physical environments include preferenda, that is, gross features of a stimulus array (such as gross structural aspects, depth properties, and classes of content), which are analyzed very rapidly on the basis of crude sensory information in the subcortical structures of the brain (Parsons, 1991; Ulrich, 1983). Whether there are specific structures in the human brain for place preferences remains an interesting, open question (Kim et al., 2010; Epstein, Harris, Stanley, & Kanwisher, 1999). However, motivational processes relating place to self-regulation and identity processes (and thus to personality, learning, and cultural processes) (p. 153) are equally interesting in this respect and they are further discussed in the subsequent paragraphs. The combination of these two lines of research awaits further studies. How Does Place Attachment Develop? The issue of the development of place identity also seems to be at an early phase of inquiry, subsuming several different conceptualizations and awaiting an organizing theory or framework. Interplay Between Social and Physical Attachments Page 5 of 19 Place Attachment First, Morgan (2010) provides a review of attachment theory in developmental psychology to understand the emergence of (physical) place attachment in childhood. He proposes a model where place attachment arises from an interactional sequence of attachment and affiliation to a human attachment figure, which enables a child to explore and be fascinated by the physical environment and place. When place interactions stop producing the sense of mastery, adventure, and pleasure and produce pain or anxiety, the child seeks proximity to and comfort from the attachment figure. After emotional arousal is safely regulated and the sense of connectedness regained, the child is again drawn by environmental cues to explore the outer world. However, the model actually does not specify how attachment to place is generated. For example, is the sense of attachment to a human figure somehow transferred, generalized to a physical place (as in learning), or do the experiences of mastery and pleasure in the place suffice to create attachment toward a certain place? The results of an interview study with seven adults suggest that the latter might hold: the repeated enactments of arousal, interaction, and pleasure within the place seem to generate an internal working model of the child’s relationship with the environment. Furthermore, it is suggested that the soothing and restorative environmental qualities are analogous to the soothing effect of human caregiving (Morgan, 2010). The model seems to be in agreement with the mere-exposure hypothesis (by exposing an individual to a stimulus [place], a preference for that stimulus will emerge), which accounts for some variation in the degree of reported affective connection with a place (Backlund & Williams, 2003). Second, the role of social development and the interplay between physical and social attachments is an underinvestigated issue. A longitudinal study by Elder, King, and Conger (1996) on pupils in the 8th and 11th grades in rural Iowa is interesting with respect to this interplay of social ties and place attachments (in the form of migration plans). Adolescents who were not doing well in school and saw little prospect for college were inclined to favor a future adult residence near to parents, kin, and local community. Strong educational prospects, lack of socioeconomic opportunity, and relatively weak and declining ties to parents, kin, and religion were sources of a declining preference for living near family and in the local community. The study demonstrates that place attachment and place disruptions depend on life stage and require life course studies. Among adults, it seems that the physical setting and landscape features are also an important source of place meaning and attachment in the first encounters of a place, at least for vacation destinations of scenic beauty. This meaning does not disappear or become less important over time but other meanings, especially social and emotional, become added to the experience “transforming attraction to attachment” (Smaldone, Harris, & Sanyal, 2008). It is also possible that the basis of place attachment changes from physical to social over time or the meanings are simply added to an ever-richer conceptual structure but the salience of meanings may change. During old age, when remembering and organizing one’s life course becomes an increasingly important developmental task, place memories and attachments may foster the identity work and sense of continuity; attachments to a current place may also be a way of retaining positive self-image (Rubinstein & Parmelee, 1992). Third, from the perspective of children’s place preferences it has been theorized that the development of these preferences is tied to the development of self-identity, needs of privacy, and social affiliations (Chawla, 1992; Korpela, 2002). For example, middle childhood, ages 6 to 11, is characterized by expansive local exploration, cooperation with others in exploring and in games, self-identity determined by one’s physical strength and dexterity, and the creation of playhouses and forts in the nearby environment. After this expansive engagement with the local landscape in the company of same-sex friends, there comes a period of forming new mixed-sex groups and turning to the privacy of home or to more distant commercial or downtown settings in adolescence, ages 12 to 17. Place preferences during childhood and adolescence are assumed to provide support for the developing self-identity, the need for security, social attachments to caregivers and to the peer group, and the practice of (p. 154) social roles. Regarding social attachments, the concept of children’s friendship with place and its development has been introduced (Chatterjee, 2005). Children’s conceptions of friendship are assumed to develop from momentary physical interaction (ages 3 to 7) to autonomous interdependence (12 years to adult). It is proposed that child-friendly places could be evaluated with the essential elements (including mutual affection, shared activities, commitment, loyalty, self-disclosure, and horizontality) within these phases of friendship development, but whether children themselves select or evaluate places—consciously or preconsciously— according to such developmental criteria and phases remains an open question for further study. Page 6 of 19 Place Attachment Interplay Between Self-Regulation and Place Attachment Studies by Silbereisen, Noack, and Eyferth (1986); Noack and Silbereisen (1988); and Silbereisen and Noack (1988), in Berlin, Germany, were probably the first to adopt a self-regulative view of place selection. They consider individual development as action in context and suggest that adolescents regulate their own development by selecting and shaping appropriate outer contexts. For example, leisure time place preferences can be seen as one strategy of coping with developmental tasks such as forming a personal identity or peer-group relations. Self-regulation in the “environmental self-regulation hypothesis” implies that the psychological influences of any external factor, such as sensory stimuli, visceral processes, or social norms, are processed according to an individual’s conscious or unconscious mental activity that follows certain basic principles of motivation (Korpela, 1989). Cognitive-experiential self-theory (CEST; Epstein, 1985, 1991) describes the principles of self-regulation that have been applied to place identity and place attachment (Korpela, 1989). The principles are basically similar in many theories of identity and self (see Breakwell, 1986; Clayton, this volume; S. Taylor, 1991; Tesser, 1986), and these other theories have also been used in relating place and identity processes (Twigger-Ross & Uzzell, 1996). The principles of CEST correspond to psychoanalytic, learning, and phenomenological theories and integrate them (Epstein, 1983, 1985). The first principle is the “need to maximize the pleasure/pain balance,” which corresponds to the pleasure principle in Freudian theory and to the principle of reinforcement in learning theory. The second principle is the “need to assimilate the data of reality into a coherent conceptual system and to maintain this system,” that is, the unity principle, put forward by phenomenological personality theorists. The third principle is the “need to maintain a favorable level of self-esteem,” which is derived from the pleasure principle, and becomes important once a self-theory has been formulated. Thus, the pleasure principle in the form of regulating sensory pleasure and pain is dominant first and foremost in early childhood. The fourth principle is the “need to maintain relatedness,” that is, favorable relationships with significant others (Epstein, 1991). The principles are assumed to overlap and interact with one another. Thus, the four functions are all of central importance, and any one of them may have a dominant effect in a person’s self-theory, that is, self-experience, depending on the individual and circumstances. Thus, behavior is always viewed as a compromise among the four basic functions (Epstein, 1985). These principles can be related to place attachment when assuming that self-regulation proceeds with the application of mental, physical, social, and environmental strategies (Korpela, 1989, 1992). Environmental strategies of self- and emotion-regulation imply interaction with the environment, and involve the unconscious, preconscious, or sometimes conscious use of places and place cognitions and affects in the service of regulation. Self- and emotion-regulation enable an individual to function adaptively in situations that are, for example, emotionally arousing (Dodge & Garber, 1991). The concepts of self- and emotion-regulation are neutral and not synonyms for the concept of control, suppression, or elimination but can refer to remediation, enhancement. or maintenance as well (Izard & Kobak, 1991). CEST also postulates that human beings construct a personal theory of themselves and of the world that exists at a preconscious level of awareness and directs behavior. There are three conceptual systems: rational, experiential, and associationistic (Epstein, 1991). A personal theory of self and reality is governed by the experiential system at the preconscious level of awareness. The experiential conceptual system is closely related to emotional experience and could also be called the affective conceptual system (Epstein, 1983). Whereas the rational system operates primarily according to the conventional rules of logic, analysis, and external evidence, the experiential system is concerned primarily with feelings and personal welfare. The associationistic conceptual system operates according to associationistic thinking, wishful thinking, concrete (p. 155) visual imagery or metaphors, displacement, condensation, and lack of consideration of the constraints of time and place. Note the similarity of CEST’s conceptual systems at varying levels of awareness with the automatic, affective processes and Zajonc’s position on immediate responding to environments. In the self-regulation view, place identity is fundamentally formed by the experiences and cognitions in places that have a role in a person’s emotion and self-regulation. Thus, place attachment is implicit in place identity (Korpela, 1989, 1992). Attachments are formed to places that fulfill people’s emotional needs and enable them to maintain and develop their identities. The principles of self-regulation suggest that in this effort humans strive for cognitive integration and consistency, anxiety reduction, and self-esteem maintenance, and they use places to achieve these goals (cf. Proshansky, Fabian, & Kaminoff, 1983; Korpela, 2002). To begin with, cross-sectional self-report studies do indicate that favorite nearby places provide restorative, stress-alleviating experiences, such as relaxation, decrease in negative Page 7 of 19 Place Attachment feelings and increase in positive ones, and forgetting worries, and that people visit these places for the regulation of their self-experience and feelings (see Evans, Owens, & Marsh, 2005; Gross & Lane, 2007; Gulwadi, 2006; Jorgensen, Hitchmough & Dunnett, 2007; Knez, 2006; Korpela, 1992; Korpela & Hartig, 1996; Korpela, Hartig, Kaiser, & Fuhrer, 2001; Mason et al., 2010; Mason & Korpela, 2009; Newell, 1997; Regan & Horn, 2005; Smaldone et al., 2005). In line with this argument is also the finding that among 162 relatively distinct affect-regulation strategies, “going to a favorite place” is included (Parkinson & Totterdell, 1999). More specifically and regarding the early development of attachment and self-regulation within places, adults and children provide converging self-report evidence that emotion-regulation and self-regulation do occur in the favorite places of childhood. Studies of adults’ memories of childhood favorite places (Cooper Marcus, 1978; Hester, 1979; Sobel, 1990) indicate that they provided feelings of security, privacy, and control. The need to be alone, the importance of hiding places, and the need to escape from social demands are commonly reported in these studies. Findings from studies with children and adolescents corroborate the significance of both solitary places and social places (Abbott-Chapman & Robertson, 2001, 2009; Owens, 1988, 1994; Sobel, 1990). Moreover, an observational study with children ages 2 months to 11 years showed that nearly half of the children used (often solitary) informal retreat places in family care homes (Weinberger, 2006). Retreats were places where a child spontaneously chose to go to pull away from the activity of the group. Children observed to be in a negative mood were likely to be involved in passive behaviors (watching others, crying, cuddling comfort objects) during their retreat. Thurber and Malinowski’s (1999) study showed how emotional experiences and individual differences related to emotion may be responsible for differences in children’s place selections and use. They found that 8- to 16-year-old boys with higher levels of negative emotion were more likely to favor places where they could be alone in a residential summer camp, whereas happier boys favored places where they could socialize. Boys with higher levels of negative emotion also were more likely to visit new places at camp than their less distressed peers. As a particular aspect of self-regulation, restorative experience commonly appears in studies based on children’s accounts. For example, 9- and 12-year-old children described their favorite places as providing opportunities not only to enjoy many activities and play but also to clear their minds, relax, and pour out troubles (Korpela, 1989; Spencer & Woolley, 2000). For the 11- to 17-year-olds studied by Sommer (1990), favorite places provided relief from daily hassles and evoked feelings of well-being and peace. The 14- to 18-year-olds studied by Owens (1988) regarded natural settings as one of the best types of place to go for feeling better and getting things in perspective. A study on 13- to 20-year-olds again showed that natural environments provide important settings for recreation, restoration, and socializing (Owens & McKinnon, 2009). In a study of Finnish children aged 8–9 or 12–13, over half (55%) of the children appeared to use their favorite places for cognitive restoration, reporting a desire to pour out troubles, reflect on personal matters, clear one’s mind, and feel free and relaxed in the favorite place (Korpela, Kyttä, & Hartig, 2002). One-third of the children reported using their favorite places for emotion-regulation, reporting visiting the favorite place after setbacks, disappointments, and feeling down and lonely. Cross-sectional studies have shown mixed results concerning the relationship between childhood experiences and later experiences and use of woodlands. Childhood experiences may include therapeutic and restorative experiences but also scary experiences leading to the avoidance of woodland spaces (Milligan & Bingley, 2007). On the other hand, childhood involvement (p. 156) with the natural environment is related to pro-environmental attitudes (Wells & Lekies, 2006) and to frequent use and comfortable feelings in woodlands (Bixler, Floyd, & Hammitt, 2002; Ward Thompson, Aspinall, & Montarzino, 2008). Among adults’ favorite places, everyday natural settings, such as parks, beaches, or forests, have constituted the largest category (50%–63%) in the studies from Finland, Ireland, Senegal, the United States, and the United Kingdom (Evans et al., 2005; Gross & Lane, 2007; Gulwadi, 2006; Jorgensen et al., 2007; Korpela, 1992; Korpela & Hartig, 1996; Korpela et al., 2001; Newell, 1997; Regan & Horn, 2005; Smaldone et al., 2005). Providing evidence for environmental self-regulation hypothesis, attachment toward favorite places (measured by a two-item scale) was very strong, and favorite place preferences were not momentary choices but showed stability over a 10month period in a Finnish follow-up study with adults (Korpela, Ylén, Tyrväinen, & Silvennoinen, 2008). Restorative outcomes, that is, being relaxed, forgetting worries, and contemplation, have characterized visits to natural favorite places in particular (Korpela et al., 2001). Adults with high negative moods are more likely than low negative mood scorers to choose natural favorite places than other favorite places, such as sports, commercial, or community service settings (Korpela, 2003). Moreover, adults with a certain number of health complaints are more likely than few-complaint scorers to choose natural favorite places in the vicinity than to choose other favorite Page 8 of 19 Place Attachment places, such as sports, commercial, or community service settings (Korpela & Ylén, 2007). More important and indicating self-regulation is the fact that they also benefited more in emotional terms from their visits than did those with few complaints. Furthermore, a controlled, prospective field experiment showed that there is a kind of doseresponse relation between the frequency of visiting a favorite place and restorative experiences (Korpela & Ylén, 2009). Thus, the increase in the frequency of favorite place visits during five days increased the strength of restorative, stress-alleviating experiences. What Are the Consequences of Place Attachment? Consequences to Ecological and Conservation Behavior Place identity and place dependence, while moderately and positively correlated, had different psychological properties and different effects on evaluations of social and environmental conditions (e.g., trail development, use impact, depreciative behavior, perceived crowding, use conflict, and development encroachment) encountered along a nature trail (Kyle, Graefe, Manning, & Bacon, 2004). The results showed that as respondents’ scores on the place identity dimension increased, they were more inclined to perceive the condition encountered as problematic (e.g., “trail too developed,” “too many other hikers,” “conflict between different types of visitors”). The opposite pattern of relations was observed for place dependence. Studies on place attachment’s association with environmentally responsible attitudes and behavior have reported mixed results. For example, place identity as an emotional affinity to a locale was positively associated with the environmental attitudes of accepting the fragility of the balance between humans and nature in a study with Indian 16- to 60-year-old respondents (Budruk, Thomas, & Tyrrell, 2009). Place identity was also associated with weaker support for the notion of the dominant role of humans in nature. In turn, place dependence as a functional need for a specific place to recreate was not associated with these attitudes. Such results raise questions for future studies about the relationship between personality characteristics and attachments. For example, might the relationship between emotional sensibility to places and environmental attitudes be associated with a third variable—a more open and sensitive attitude toward everything? To date, it is not known, for example, whether both measures tap the personality trait called openness in the Big Five factor model of personality (Heine & Buchtel, 2009; McCrae & Costa, 1987). In a study with 14- to 17-year-old adolescents, it was noted that individuals with a high functional dependence on the local natural resource area (where they participated in a natural-resource-based work program) were more likely to identify emotionally with the setting (place identity) and as place identity increased, general (e.g., talking with others about environmental issues) and specific (e.g., joined in community cleanup efforts) pro-environmental behavior increased (Vaske & Kobrin, 2001). Thus, affective place identity fully mediated the relationship between place dependence and pro-environment behaviors. In a study of property owners in the United States, place identity was positively associated with intention and willingness to engage in behaviors that maintain or enhance the valued attributes of the local setting (Stedman, 2002). (p. 157) In contrast, some studies have found both positive and negative or no associations between place attachment and ecological attitudes. A study of two British neighborhoods found out that in one, both place identification and social cohesion contributed positively to place-related social identity, which, in turn, was positively related to attitudes and behaviors in respect of environmental sustainability, such as ecological considerations in the purchase of products. However, in the other neighborhood, place-related social identity was weakly and negatively associated with environmental sustainability, suggesting different kinds of collective social processes underlying environmental attitudes and behaviors than in the first neighborhood (Uzzell, Pol, & Badenas, 2002). In a similar fashion, a study of residents in two Welsh coastal towns indicated that public responses to offshore wind farms were different in these two towns (Devine-Wright & Howes, 2010). Particularly, trust in the key actors (developer and the opposition group) moderated the relationship between place attachment and project acceptance. For those individuals with a high level of trust in the opposition group, place attachment was negatively related to support for the wind farm (on attitudinal, emotional, and behavioral levels), whereas for those with a low level of trust, there was no relationship. In addition to mixed results concerning the direction of the relationship, studies on the relationship between proenvironmental behavior and emotional attachments have brought up an interesting difference between the Page 9 of 19 Place Attachment level/scale of the attachment object: a difference between attachment to a particular place and attachment or connectedness to nature (Gosling & Williams, 2010). Results of a survey among Australian farmers showed that on-farm vegetation protection behaviors (e.g., planting of native trees to improve degraded areas) were positively correlated to connectedness to nature but not to place attachment (to a person’s own farm). The relationship between connectedness to nature and protection behaviors was mediated by the importance given to the environmental benefits of vegetation management, such as the protection of native birds or contributing to the health of the landscape (Gosling & Williams, 2010). Measures of “environmental identity,” which also refer to the level of nature in general (incorporating emotional association and identity with nature, importance of nature, the extent of interactions with nature), not specific places, have had significant positive correlation to environmentally protective behavior (e.g., donating to environmental organizations, turning off lights) and to support for providing rights to animals and to the environment in general (Clayton & Myers, 2009; Clayton, this volume). Similarly, Schultz’s (2001) Inclusion of Nature in Self (INS) scale was quite highly (r = .43) correlated with the frequency of self-reported pro-environmental behavior, such as recycling newspaper or purchasing products in a reusable or recyclable container, among US undergraduates. In a similar sample population, a moderate positive relationship between biospheric concerns and implicit connections with nature, and a negative relationship between implicit connections with nature and egoistic concerns was found (Schultz et al., 2004). An on-site survey study with 20- to 71-year-old Canadian residents from two towns showed that attachment to the natural aspects of the local area was a significant unique predictor of pro-environmental behavior when controlling for the town of study, length of residence, gender, education, and age. In contrast, attachment to the socialsymbolic (civic) elements of the place was not a significant predictor of pro-environmental behavior once the other variables were taken into account (Scannell & Gifford, 2010b). Echoing the nature versus civic distinction, DevineWright and Howes (2010) found that natural places interpreted as psychologically restorative were most likely to be defended by the strongly attached local residents. The above-mentioned inconsistencies in the results may also partly reflect the current methodological problems in measuring emotional attachments to place with questionnaires. Namely, Perrin and Benassi (2009) reported on the basis of a series of studies that rather than measuring emotional connections, the connectedness to nature scale (Mayer & Frantz, 2004) measures cognitive beliefs about a person’s connection to nature. Consequences of Place Attachment in the Disruptions in Place Relationships When discussing the behavioral consequences of disruptions in place relationships, it is again difficult to argue whether we address consequences/outcomes, antecedents, or mediating/moderating processes. In the context of migration it has been proposed that the mediating processes that impact place attachment and place identity in the transition from home to university during the first year might include place significance, the occurrence and extent of social relationships, the sense of dislocation (e.g., place alienation), a person’s experience of continuity across time and situation, and proximity to home (p. 158) (Chow & Healey, 2008; cf. Schultz, Scopelliti, & Tiberio, 2010). Anecdotal evidence of refugees to Cyprus who have faced an involuntary relocation shows that place attachment may be a long-lasting memory (e.g., an image of an ideal home) that is continually kept or “cherished” even in a new settlement (Boğaç, 2009). Providing adequate housing may not alleviate the feelings of loss and alienation. This result of a “cherished image” is interestingly related to Korpela’s (1992) study of 17- to 18-year-old Finnish adolescents and Wölfing’s (1996) study of adult immigrants to Germany, which indicated that humanization (the act of ascribing humanlike attributes to a place, such as “an understanding listener”) and control of a place are important aspects of the experience of a favorite place. The feeling of control and the humanization of the place can be interpreted as functional temporary illusions, the maintenance of which guarantees that recovery from personal setbacks can happen in a favorite place. This interpretation is based on Taylor’s (1983) theory of cognitive adaptation to threatening events. It holds that when individuals experience personal setbacks, they search for meaning in the experience, try to regain mastery over the event, and try to restore self-esteem. Succeeding in this depends on the ability to form and maintain a set of illusions, that is, overly positive selfevaluations, exaggerated perceptions of control or mastery, and unrealistic optimism. Illusions have functional significance in contributing to maintaining the self as a highly organized system, producing behavioral persistence, and promoting psychological well-being (Greenwald, 1981; Taylor & Brown, 1994; for a discussion about the role of positive illusions in mental health, see also Block & Colvin, 1994; Colvin & Block, 1994). Thus, place attachment may also include illusory aspects (cf. Epstein’s [1991] associationistic conceptual system) that help to create or Page 10 of 19 Place Attachment maintain self and well-being in the disruptions of place relationships and attachment. Somewhat in contrast to the above mentioned study by Boğaç (2009) (refugees having difficulty in giving up a cherished memory, resulting in alienation in the new settlement), a study of young (11- to 19-year-old) refugees to Australia found that an individual’s active efforts toward place-making may provide therapeutic benefits and enhance becoming at home in a new country (Sampson & Gifford, 2010). Understanding such mixed results (the feelings of alienation, not giving up cherished memories vs. active place-making providing therapeutic benefits) requires further theoretical thinking in this area and may involve understanding the regularities in emotional reactions to negative and positive events. For example, there is evidence for the mobilization-minimization hypothesis assuming that adverse or threatening events evoke strong and rapid physiological, cognitive, emotional, and social responses (Taylor, 1991). Negative events elicit more causal attributional activity than positive events (Bohner, Bless, Schwarz, & Strack, 1988). People are also inclined to assume responsibility for positive outcomes but avoid it for failure, although sex, self-esteem, and achievement motivation affect this tendency (Zuckerman, 1979). The mobilization of the organism is followed by physiological, cognitive, and behavioral responses that minimize and even erase the impact of that event (Taylor, 1991). For example, the opponent-process theory of Solomon and Corbit (1974) holds that emotional states are automatically opposed by offsetting responses that reduce the intensity of the original emotional experience. Taylor (1991) assumed that the pattern of mobilization and minimization is greater for negative events than for neutral or positive events. The question of how such regularities of emotional and cognitive (attributional) processes affect place attachment and place identity cognitions poses an interesting challenge for future studies. Conclusion In brief, dimensional frameworks and models of place attachment provide researchers adequate taxonomies with which they can locate their specific operationalizations and studies. We need more studies to verify causal sequences, underlying needs, and processes/dynamics of place attachment, and we need more evidence to be able to differentiate between consequences/outcomes, antecedents, and mediating/moderating processes. Noteworthy in the studies of rapid affective responses to environments is that such automatic evaluation of one’s own environment may be a pervasive and continuous process in our lives. Such processes in future theories of place attachment have to be acknowledged. Automatic inclinations may be the first phase in our reactions to places but how self, personality, learning, and culture play upon these inclinations is a largely open question. The development of place attachment includes a complex interplay of automatic processes, social influence, individual and collective values and meanings, needs, and personality characteristics. To capture these developmental issues, several theoretical starting points are already available including (p. 159) general attachment theory; the mere-exposure hypothesis; theories of self-, privacy, and friendship regulation; theories of coping (with developmental tasks and stress); theories of identity development; and self-theories. Evidence for the positive connection between place attachment and conservation behavior is still mixed and we cannot be sure whether place attachment affects pro-environmental behavior or vice versa. Moreover, the scale of the object of attachment may be crucial, and from a psychological perspective there is little research on attachment to the globe or biosphere level. In this regard, studies on environmental attitudes (and their biases) might prove a fruitful direction of study (see Gifford et al., 2009). Disruptions of place bonds and relationships may be one window to further studies on coping with threatening events and the use of places and place attachment in the service of this coping. Future Directions The current situation warrants efforts to deepen the theoretical and empirical work in at least three directions. First, integrative work—even speculative to start with—bringing together theories and results from several areas of psychology, such as emotion, developmental, and personality psychology, with place research would be fruitful. For example, how do we connect place attachment to theories of affect and emotion (including automatic responses to the environment) and how do rational, experiential, and associationistic conceptual systems (described by CEST) operate in place attachment? How do attachments to different places influence one another? What views of personality functioning are included in the lists of the functions of place attachment? Why does the Page 11 of 19 Place Attachment human psyche develop attachments in the first place? Second, questions concerning the role of pleasure and human attachment figures wait for further study. For example, what is it that provides pleasure in the place? Why do experiences of pleasure create attachment and not just the sense of security or familiarity? What creates arousal and motivates a child to seek pleasure in places and what is the role of human attachment figures in this? Is place attachment a substitute for the lack of human attachment? Third, the development of place attachment in different types of places deserves further study. For example, does place attachment grow and develop on the basis of restorative, vitalizing, or autonomy-enhancing experiences in personally important places? Do natural settings provide a different basis for place attachment than built environments (cf. Scopelliti & Giuliani, 2004)? Does the basis of place attachment change from physical to social over time or vice versa? What is the interplay between aesthetic, cognitive, emotional, and social needs in the development of place preferences and place attachment? Questions abound but the door to a deeper understanding about place attachment is invitingly open. References Abbott-Chapman, J., & Robertson, M. (2001). Youth, leisure, and home: Space, place, and identity. Society and Leisure, 24, 485–506. Abbott-Chapman, J., & Robertson, M. (2009). Adolescents’ favourite places: Re-defining the boundaries between private and public space. 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Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0010 Abstract and Keywords Identity is a core psychological construct: a way of describing an individual that locates him or her within a social and political context. It has become an increasingly prominent topic in psychology, and one with clear relevance to environmental attitudes and behaviors. But definitions of identity and of the role of the natural environment in identity remain imprecise, just as attempts to include measures of identity in environmental research have proliferated. This chapter will discuss the psychological construct of identity and describe how it is relevant to the natural environment. I review research that has directly or indirectly addressed environmental identity, and that has shown the importance of identity in predicting behavior. I conclude with a call for further research that is clearly grounded in theory about identity, as well as research on the ways in which societies and environments can facilitate a strong environmental identity. Keywords: identity, self, environmental attitudes, ideology, behavior, measurement, values Environment and Identity Identity is a prominent and growing topic in psychology. Key developments since 2000 include the Handbook of Self and Identity (Leary & Tangney, 2005), the Handbook of Identity Theory and Research (Schwartz, Luyckx, & Vignoles 2011), and the journal Self and Identity, which was first published in 2002. The concept of identity has been utilized in psychological research to inform topics from race and gender, morality, development, and social groups, to less obvious areas such as leadership, organizations, economics, and foreign policy; this doesn’t even take into account much related work in sociology, philosophy, and political theory. Within a focus on the natural environment, we see reference to “environmental identity” (Clayton & Opotow, 2003; Weigert, 1997); “ecological identity” (Thomashow, 1995); “environmental self” (Cantrill, 1998); “environment identity” (Stets & Biga, 2003); and “ecological self” (Bragg, 1996; Naess, 1989). At this writing, a keyword search for “identity”—though by no means exhaustive—turned up 44 articles in the Journal of Environmental Psychology, all since 1996. The journal Environment and Behavior has a longer but less comprehensive history, with 34 articles that reference identity, of which only 5 were published before 1990. (The earliest, notably, was by Harold Proshansky, one of the first people to study place identity.) Clearly, identity is both an important psychological construct and one that is increasingly recognized as relevant to environmental issues. This chapter will not try to impose uniformity on such a diverse and evolving topic, nor attempt a comprehensive review of all relevant literature. Rather, by reviewing the literature and focusing primarily on work within psychology, it will address several intertwined questions: What is identity, particularly as it pertains to the environment, and how can environmental identity be measured? Why does it merit our attention—how does it impact (p. 165) experience as well as behavior directed at environmental protection and conservation? Throughout, how does an environmental identity fit into a social context? I begin by discussing the construct of Page 1 of 21 Environment and Identity identity in general, the sources of identity, and its psychological significance. I then describe the role of natural environments in identity and examine some ways of measuring this environmental component to identity. Finally, I review some of the research suggesting the relevance of identity for understanding environmental behavior. I close with a suggestion for future research directions. Identity Some of the earliest work in psychology focused on the self, including work by William James, early social psychology by George Herbert Mead and Charles Horton Cooley, and more psychodynamically oriented explorations of the topic by writers such as Albert Adler and Erik Erikson. Although the behaviorist revolution eschewed a focus on such abstract and ill-defined topics as the self, the limitations of the behavioral approach quickly became clear and psychologists turned their attention again to cognition, emotion, and finally identity. That identity emerged as an important topic reflects its central role in the way humans process and respond to external stimuli. Fundamentally, a discussion of identity is required by the recognition of the importance of the individual: people are not passive recipients of experience, but active constructors of that experience. When we start to think about what it is that selects and interprets information and constructs a narrative about experience, in ways that result in different narratives for different individuals, we open the door for discussions of identity. Identity is fundamentally a way of defining, describing, and locating oneself. There are many possible definitions that can be generated, and most theorists would agree that people have multiple identities, which can vary in salience and significance over a lifetime and across different social contexts. McGuire (1984), for example, found evidence that the salience of one’s own gender was greater when it was a distinguishing characteristic. An identity can be generated from within, when people choose their own labels, but it can also be imposed by others. An internal or self-generated identity, one that represents the way in which one represents oneself, to oneself, is a self-concept or sense of self. An identity is not just a self-concept, however, but also a label that locates a person within a broader social context. Societies have certain semi-fixed categories and emphases that serve to highlight particular identities for their members. One’s position in regard to the natural environment and environmental issues, for example, is more relevant to society than it was a few decades ago. The dividing line between an internal and an external source of identity is not firm. Internal identities that are selfconsciously adopted by a person are likely to have an effect on the way in which he or she is perceived by the rest of society, and external labels that are imposed by society, even when they are not freely chosen by the individual, will probably affect that person’s self-perception. Attributes that are considered to be important by a society, such as gender and some ethnicities, are more likely to form the basis for an enduring identity than ones that are not particularly relevant to a culture, such as eye color and handedness. The impact of societal stereotypes on people’s sense of themselves has been demonstrated by a wide body of work on self-fulfilling prophecies (Snyder & Swann, 1978) and stereotype threat (Steele, 1997). People who are stereotyped as “flaky environmentalists” may develop attitudes and behaviors that are consistent with that identity. Alternatively, people whose identities are thought to be anti-environmental, such as industrialists and members of the Republican Party, may begin to act in more environmentally unsustainable ways to uphold the norms they associate with those identities. Identities are acquired over time (Ryan & Deci, 2003) and within particular sociopolitical contexts, as people develop a sense of how they fit into a particular place and time. Social contexts affect identities in several ways. One is by making certain attributes more salient and giving them specific significance. Cultures vary in the way they highlight specific attributes; for example, the importance of religious affiliation is far greater in some societies than in others, and although gender is important in every society, its specific implications vary widely across time and culture. A second impact of social context is the extent to which identities are fixed or fluid. In Western society today, people have far more choice in identities than they used to, with greater flexibility in geographical location, religious affiliation, political ideology, occupational identity, and even gender identity than was typical a century ago. This flexibility makes identities more responsive to political events, and more reflective of personal preferences, blurring the line between personal and social. Although some identities, such as ethnicity and gender, are (p. 166) still imposed, people are strongly defined by identities they choose, such as those based in political Page 2 of 21 Environment and Identity affiliation and occupation. Even the ways in which people define ethnic and gender identity, and the importance of those identities, are subject to individual preferences, which has opened the door to a wide body of research on individual differences (e.g., Bem, 1981; Helms, 1990). Identities describe not only personal attributes, but also connections and groupings: who we are like and unlike, and who we are tied to. A third impact of context is found in cultural differences in the extent to which one thinks of oneself as separate from, or connected to, others. Theorists have argued that some cultures are more collectivistic, stressing an interdependent conception of the self that emphasizes connections between individuals, with associated role demands and responsibilities; other cultures are more individualistic, stressing a more independent self that is defined in terms of individual attributes and goals (Triandis, 1995). The influence of social norms, and of connections to others, is likely to be greater in collectivist as compared to individualist cultures. Finally, identity also has instrumental aspects that give it a role within a given societal infrastructure. Thus, sociologists discuss movement identity and organizational identity (cf. Dunlap & McCright, 2008). Dono, Webb, and Richardson (2010) reviewed some of the distinctions between a focus on an environmental identity and an identity with environmentalism as a social movement. This chapter will focus primarily on psychological rather than sociological aspects of identity, but their relevance to political ideology and to collective behavior will be discussed below. Content Identity is a rich and complex topic in part because it can be viewed either as an object, whose content and organization demand elucidation, or as a process, whose impacts should be investigated. William James (1890) described this as the “me” and the “I”; more recently, McAdams, Jossellson, and Lieblich (2006) have referred to the self-as-tale-told and the self-as-teller. In describing the “objective” (i.e., self-as-object) self, one of James’s important contributions to our understanding of identity was to define three aspects: the personal or spiritual, social, and material. The personal self referred to inner states, felt experiences, and psychological dispositions; the social self to the recognition from, and relationships with, others; and the material to physical things associated with the self, including body, clothes, family, and property. James did not go beyond this to consider the wider environment, but in describing the material aspects of the self, he acknowledged that identity existed not just inside a person’s head, but also extended into the physical environment. He thus made room for a consideration of the relevance of natural entities to one’s self-definition. Within psychology, an important (but imperfect) distinction has been made between personal and social identities. Personal identities are generally considered to be those based on one’s individual traits, values, and abilities. Social identities are those that reflect one’s position in a social network: social roles and group memberships. Group identities (a subset of social identities) are based on shared attributes, including external features, such as skin color; internal features, such as values or attitudes; experiences; and heritage. They may be based on direct interaction with like-minded others, such as a political action group, a soccer team, or a book group, or merely on a perceptual grouping of oneself with similar others who may rarely or never meet in person, such as other New Englanders, socialists, or people with diabetes. The distinction between personal and social is inexact, because personal identities can become social when people with similar personal identities find each other and then a social meaning is attributed to that identity. Rather than consider personal and social identities as discrete categories, Clayton and Opotow (2003) argued that identities can be described according to the degree to which social forces have been influential. When social influence is minimal, the focus is on individual experience. As social influence becomes stronger, social connotations of identities and interactions with others become more important. Finally, the societal groupings and political implications of identities become salient when social influence is powerful. To the extent that identities have a social component, they are likely to acquire associated social stereotypes. According to Self-Determination Theory (Ryan & Deci, 2003), identities are adopted in the service of basic needs: the desire for relatedness or belonging, competence or esteem, and autonomy or independence. Identities can also serve a defensive function, as a way to resist influence or threats from others. Thus identities that are more effective in filling these needs are likely to become stronger and more salient. Both cultural context and personal experience will affect identity development (p. 167) through their influence here. People who experience Page 3 of 21 Environment and Identity belonging and esteem on the soccer field are more likely to develop strong identities as athletes than those who routinely fail to achieve their objectives. People who have positive social experiences in natural settings may associate such settings with a sense of belonging. Some cultures may stress social interactions as the primary source of esteem, while others emphasize individual achievement. Specific events may generate a need to develop a particular identity; for example, a strong ethnic identity may be developed as a way to resist assimilation into the mainstream. Process or Function Identity demands our consideration because of its function. Identities can affect attention, evaluation, memory, and motivation. Decades of research have shown, for example, that information that is self-relevant attracts more attention (Kihlstrom et al., 1988). The so-called cocktail-party effect references the fact that one’s own name will emerge and be recognized in a background hum of noise that is otherwise ignored. Identities tend to generate cognitive schemas that affect the way people organize and process information (Bem, 1981). Self-relevant information is also better remembered, as reflected in classroom study techniques that encourage students to apply information to situations in their own lives, and is likely to have more emotional significance because of its implications for one’s self-image and social standing. More insidiously, identities are responsible for information-processing biases. Best known is the tendency to evaluate oneself and one’s own groups as better, more worthy, and more moral than others on average. Selfserving attributional processes ensure that we tend to explain events in ways that enhance our own self-image. Ingroup biases show that we rate work by people with whom we share an identity as better than work by others. Beneffectance refers to the tendency to preferentially remember information that casts us in a positive light compared to information that portrays us more negatively. Identities even determine ethical standards; people who share an identity with us are evaluated according to a different standard than those who do not (Lerner & Clayton, 2011), and some people may fall completely outside the realm of moral relevance (Opotow, 1996). Relatedly, identities can both prescribe and motivate action. Role-based identities describe the social expectations for associated behavior. Across multiple different roles, we are motivated to behave in ways that are socially valued to maintain identities that present us positively to others as well as to ourselves. Even more important, perhaps, is the motivation to behave in ways that are consistent with our desired self-image. Research suggests that the desire for consistency can be stronger than the desire for a positively evaluated self. A greater degree of consistency across different life roles is even associated with greater well-being (Ryan & Deci, 2003). In a more abstract and indirect way, identities serve an important psychological function in allowing people to make meaning of their lives. Cary (1993) described symbolic beliefs, those connected with identity and values, as allowing people to “transform transient experiences into internal models” (p. 556); in other words, to construct an internal sense of self out of external experiences. Identity theorists (e.g., McAdams et al., 2006) have described identity as the “stories people construct and tell about themselves to define who they are for themselves and for others” (p. 4). These stories serve an important function in addressing developmental challenges (Erikson, 1963) and allowing people to maintain a sense of themselves as consistent and continuous over time. The success with which people construct an integrated identity for themselves will have implications for their psychological wellbeing (Hinds & Sparks, 2009), and the content of these identities will have a major impact on how people relate to the world. Environment and Identity Clayton (2003) has argued that people can develop a specific environmental identity: “a sense of connection to some part of the nonhuman natural environment that affects the way we perceive and act toward the world; a belief that the environment is important to us and an important part of who we are” (pp. 45–46). As earlier theorists noted, identity can stem from many sources, including personal values, social affiliations, and material possessions. What would make the natural environment particularly important to identity? That is, why would the natural environment provide relevant content for identity? For three reasons, described below: First, it is a particularly rich source of psychological significance. Second, it fulfills core self-relevant motives. Third, it has sociopolitical significance—partly because of its function in generating attention, evaluation, and action—and thus Page 4 of 21 Environment and Identity may be imposed or reinforced from the outside (Clayton, 2003; Clayton & Myers, 2009). (p. 168) The natural environment is associated with strong emotional (cf. Kals & Müller, and Vining & Merrick, this volume) and social experiences; for this reason, time in natural settings is likely to be well remembered and to help satisfy the need to belong. The natural world can help people to conceptualize their identities cognitively: anthropomorphizing interactions with animals (Myers, 1998/2007; Myers & Russell, 2003) and even plants (Gebhard, Nevers, & Billmann-Mahecha, 2003) provides opportunities for people to think about what it means to be human. Research showing that time in natural settings restores attentional capacity (e.g., Kaplan, 1995) and promotes cognitive functioning suggests that it may provide an appropriate context for reflecting on one’s own identity, goals, and values, and thus contribute to self-understanding. Indeed, people report that natural settings are desirable places for self-reflection (Korpela, Hartig, Kaiser, & Fuhrer, 2001). Experiences in nature also present an opportunity to fulfill other self-relevant motives. According to SelfDetermination Theory, these include desires for autonomy and esteem (Ryan & Deci, 2003). Autonomy could be enhanced by the opportunities for self-reflection, and the reduction in social imperatives, that are typically characteristic of natural settings compared to built environments. A recent experimental study, for example, found that “immersing” people in nature via slides or the presence of plants enhanced their perceived autonomy (Weinstein, Przybylski, & Ryan, 2009). Although I do not know of research addressing this directly, nature could contribute to esteem simply because it is not dominated by critical judgments from other people. Relatedly, people often report, as a positive attribute of relationships with pets, that they feel their pets accept them for who they are without judging them (e.g., Serpell, 1986). Certainly to the extent that an environmental identity reflects socially valued attitudes and behaviors, or that positive connotations are associated with environmentalism, an environmental identity can contribute to self-esteem (Fraser, Clayton, Sickler, & Taylor, 2009). Esteem can also be enhanced to the extent that the natural environment allows for a feeling of efficacy and competence. Barton and Pretty (2010) described evidence that as little as five minutes of exercise within a natural setting enhances self-esteem, particularly when that setting includes water. Fraijo, Corral-Verdugo, Tapia, and González (2010) discussed the ways in which perceived competence may function with regard to conservation behaviors. A more poetic description is found in an essay by nature writer Sharman Russell: When I open to the world, the boundaries of self, my worries and fears…all of it diminishes against the lift of land, colors, and cliffs. I’m as big as this view, five miles wide. I’m as powerful as the gathering storm….I feel special….I’m so cool to live in this place. (2011 , p. 52) Another list of identity principles, described by Breakwell (e.g., 1992), includes efficacy (which could be related to autonomy), esteem, continuity, and distinctiveness. The contrast between Breakwell’s “distinctiveness” and Ryan and Deci’s “connectedness” may be resolved by referring to Brewer’s (1991) optimal distinctiveness theory: what people really want is a sense of themselves as belonging to a group, and yet not wholly contained in or defined by that group. People in natural settings often report feelings of belonging and connectedness, but also the freedom to be themselves (Clayton, 2003). Social Identities Identity can be considered in many subtle and complex ways, but the more obvious components of identity should not be overlooked. Socially ascribed identities, based on characteristics such as gender, nationality, ethnicity, and socioeconomic status, have important implications for one’s relationship with nature. Identities affect access to nature and ability to benefit from natural environments, as well as vulnerability to environmental hazards (e.g., Bullard, 2000). The term “environmental injustice,” as used in the sociological or political sense, refers to the unequal distribution of environmental harms across social categories. These objective social realities, because of which the natural environment affords different experiences for different social groups, in turn become refracted into social identities that describe different relationships with nature. Many writers have examined and debated the extent to which national, cultural, gender, and ethnic identities are associated with differences in environmental attitudes. There has been much written by anthropologists and others about cultural differences in the ways people conceptualize their relationship with nature (see Milfont, this volume). Some Native American cultures, for example, Page 5 of 21 Environment and Identity are said to think of the natural world as interdependent with the human world, at times even sending animals as ambassadors to (p. 169) have a role in human society. As a result, nature demands respectful and fair treatment (e.g., Berkes, 1999; James, Hall, Redsteer, & Doppelt, 2008). Within psychology, there is little work that explicitly examines environmental identity in different cultures. In one example, Chang and Opotow (2009) interviewed a small sample of Americans resident in Namibia, and Namibians, concerning their thoughts about environmental identity, environmental values, and moral standing. Chang and Opotow found a sense of environmental identity among all respondents but noted that the Americans were more likely to root their descriptions in narratives based on childhood experiences, for example, with friends or family, that taught them to value nature. The Namibians, on the other hand, were more cognizant of generational changes in the valuing of nature such that younger people accorded more rights to nonhuman entities. Namibians were also more likely to note the sociopolitical connotations of different orientations with regard to nature. This small study illustrates the extent to which environmental identities depend on cultural context as well as specific experiences. Culture may have a direct impact on the perceived relationship between self and nature, or an indirect relationship mediated by social groups. In collectivist cultures, for example, people’s attitudes toward the environment may be affected by a general tendency to be mindful of social responsibilities, or by perceived social norms that encourage environmental concern. Ando, Ohnuma, and Chang (2007) found that subjective norms were a stronger predictor of environmental behavior in Japan than in the United States (though people in the United States were somewhat more affected by a more descriptive social norm). Clayton and Pape (2010), similarly, found that perceived social norms were a stronger predictor of environmental behavior intentions in China than in the United States. Specific sociopolitical contexts will also affect a sense of environmental identity. Environmental identities have a significance in the 21st century that differs from what they might have had in earlier years. Such identities may emerge in response to perceived threats to natural environments; in fact, environmentalists often report being motivated by an experience of environmental destruction (Kempton & Holland, 2003). They also may be associated with political realities that make environmental attitudes socially significant. Defensive attempts to protect one’s social identity can be responsible for some of the unsustainable ways in which people behave or how they react to information about environmental threats. Environmental messages are often perceived as threats to a lifestyle, for example, one associated with a particular social identity, and may be rejected on that basis (Clayton, 2011; Opotow & Brook, 2003). This is one reason for some of the politically associated differences in attitudes toward climate change, discussed further below. Creating Environmental Identity Several chapters in this volume (e.g., Chawla; Korpela; Steg & Abrahamse) describe some of the ways in which people construct an identity that incorporates environmental attitudes and values, or that describes oneself in relation to the natural environment. Most of this research has focused on the person and his/her repeated experiences over time. It is also possible to look at specific contexts that can be used to foster environmental identity. Zoos are an environment whose impacts on both visitors and volunteers have been examined. Research by Clayton, Fraser, and Saunders (2009) examined the ways in which zoo visitors might create a sense of shared identity with animals. In observations of almost 1,900 visitor comments, small but significant proportions of people were heard to make comments in which they imitated the animal, compared the animal to a human being, or took the perspective of the animal (i.e., spoke as if they were the animal). Almost 25% of visitors made a comment that reflected some inference about what the animal might be thinking. These responses all suggested ways in which the zoo visitors were creating some cognitive connection between themselves and the animal. Emotional connections were reflected in the high proportion of positive comments (about 22% of visitors). In follow-up research, Clayton, Fraser, and Burgess (2011) observed interactions within social groups that indicated ways in which people used the stimulus of an animal exhibit to create a sense of socially shared value and appreciation for nature. In research looking at a more explicit sense of identity, Fraser, Clayton, Sickler, and Taylor (2009) found evidence that zoo volunteers created strong social identities through their experience working at the zoo. These identities were positively valued and important to the volunteers, as measured by scores on a collective self-esteem scale (Luhtanen & Crocker, 1992). In interviews, the volunteers described the identities as satisfying personal needs and Page 6 of 21 Environment and Identity values, including the importance of animals (p. 170) and nature, affiliations to a specific place, and connecting to others who shared their values. Environmental identity can also be nurtured, and socially expressed, through gardening. An extremely popular leisure pursuit, gardening provides people with the opportunity to spend time in, and to appreciate, nature. It also serves as a form of public self-expression, through the planting choices and competence in caretaking, and as a way of affirming a social identity by contributing to the community (Clayton, 2007). Gross and Lane (2007) conducted in-depth interviews with 18 gardeners and found that identity was a strong emergent focus, primarily evident in themes of ownership and self-expression. Recently, Kiesling and Manning (2010) further investigated the expression of identity through gardening and its relationship to a more general environmental identity. In a sample of 466 urban gardeners, they found that people who rated the opportunity to connect with nature as a strong motivation for gardening tended to be higher in environmental identity as measured by the Environmental Identity (EID) scale. A few studies have looked at the effects of specific manipulations on sense of environmental identity. Bragg (1996) used the Twenty Statements Test, a standard measure of self-concept, to evaluate the impact of participation in a “Council of All Beings” workshop, which asks people to play the part of a nonhuman component of the natural world. Immediately after the workshop, participants described a greater ecological component in their selfdefinitions; however, this was not retained at a six-week follow-up. Schultz and Tabanico (2007) reported that a visit to the zoo appeared to increase participants’ level of implicit connection with nature (discussed further below), such that people had higher ratings of connection as they left the zoo than they had when they entered. However, there was no long-term follow-up. Environmental and Place Identity There is a well-established literature on the emotional attachments people form to specific environments and on the connections between identity and the physical environment (see Korpela, this volume, for an extensive discussion of place identity). Research on place attachment (e.g., Altman & Low, 1992) has examined people’s sense of connection to specific physical environments, including built as well as natural environments. It has primarily focused on connections based on residential experiences (but see Manzo, 2005, for an expanded discussion of place meaning). These identities, like an environmental identity, are based on experience and form the basis for both self-chosen and ascribed social labels. Although an identity rooted in a specific place may be related to general concern for the natural environment (Kyle, Graefe, Manning, & Bacon, 2004), it is conceptually distinct from a more general sense of connection to the natural world. One important distinction between a place identity and an environmental identity is that the latter should have implications for entities associated with nature and yet not affiliated with a particular place, such as animals. Research on environmental identity has, in fact, consistently shown that a strong environmental identity is associated with feelings of similarity to animals and with support for animal rights (Clayton, 2008). Twigger-Ross and Uzzell (1996) presented a thoughtful and thorough discussion of how identity principles may be satisfied by an identity linked to place, by distinguishing a person from others; by highlighting a characteristic one shares with others; or by serving as a source of pride. Much of what they say can also apply to a more general environmental identity. It is possible, though, that place is better suited to satisfy people’s desire for distinctiveness —for example, as Knez (2005) described, “I’m a Londoner, not a New Yorker”—whereas environment may be better at satisfying the need for connectedness, by encouraging people to recognize their interdependence with a larger system. Future research could examine this question. Measuring Environmental Identity Clearly, not everyone feels a high level of environmental identity; thus it is useful to find some way of assessing its strength. As with other identities, such as gender or ethnic identities, the strength of an environmental identity can be assessed as an individual difference variable. Many studies of environmental behavior measure identity by asking participants to respond to a few simple statements such as “I think of myself as someone actively committed to the environmental cause” (Castro, Garrido, Reis, & Menezes, 2009) or “I think of myself as an environmentalist” (Fielding, McDonald, & Louis, 2008). Others, however, have attempted to explore the psychological aspects of Page 7 of 21 Environment and Identity identity in more detail. In a sign that the topic is timely, a number of similar measures have been developed, many within a few years of each other, to assess this or related constructs. (p. 171) Environmental Identity Scale The 24-item EID scale was developed to assess the extent to which the natural environment plays an important part in a person’s self-definition. More recently a shorter form of only 11 items has been developed. It includes items relating to a sense of connection to the natural world as well as to its importance to the individual. The EID Scale also includes items related to competence, autonomy, and belongingness, and to engaging in outdoor activities. Reliabilities for the EID Scale are high, with alphas of about 0.90 in samples from the United States, Turkey, Spain, and Finland, both student and nonstudent, and it has shown the expected pattern of correlations with attitudes, values, and worldview: it is positively correlated with ecocentric attitudes, universal values, and horizontal collectivism, and negatively correlated with environmental apathy and vertical individualism (Clayton, 2003). Importantly, it also seems to reflect the internal cognitive structure of information related to environmental issues: in one study, people high in EID found it slightly easier to make decisions about environmental dilemmas and were more confident in their decisions. In research in a zoo setting, EID was related to a reported sense of connection to the animals and a perception of the animals as similar to humans. Zoo members also scored higher than nonmembers on a measure of environmental identity (Clayton et al., 2011). Although Clayton (2003), in a factor analysis of the scale among college students, found only a single dominant factor, Olivos and Aragones (2011) found evidence for five factors in a Spanish sample. The first factor, accounting for by far the largest proportion of variance (32.8%, with the second factor accounting for only 7.2%), was described as “environmental identity”; additional factors (after eliminating one that was represented by a single item) were identified as assessing time in nature, appreciation for nature, and environmentalism. Each subscale was correlated with pro-environmental behavior, but only the “environmentalism” and “environmental identity” subscales contributed unique variance in a regression analysis. Environment Identity Scale The Environment Identity Scale was also published in 2003 by sociologists Stets and Biga. They defined “environment identity” as “self-meanings in relation to the environment” (p. 401). This scale consists of 11 bipolar items that assess involvement with and emotional response to nature. Respondents are asked to select a point along the scale that best indicates their own position regarding the two endpoints: for example, detached versus connected to nature, concerned versus indifferent, advocate versus disinterested. Stets and Biga found a reliability of 0.91 for this scale, and it has been used in other research. However, one of their items asks respondents to indicate the extent to which they are “superior” or “inferior” to nature. Neither end of this scale indicates a true sense of identity with nature, so it is problematic to include this item as part of the overall identity score. Inclusion of Nature in the Self The Inclusion of Nature in the Self (INS) scale, developed by Schultz (2001, 2002), represents a very different structural approach. Based on Aron, Aron, and Smollan’s (1992) Inclusion of Other in Self scale, the INS measures the extent to which people perceive themselves as distinct from, related to, or commensurate with the natural environment by asking them to select from a series of seven pictures. Each picture depicts two circles, one labeled “self” and one labeled “nature,” which range from completely separate to completely overlapping. Schultz has found fairly high correlations between the EID and the INS (in one study, r = .65, p < .001). The INS is also a good predictor of behavior: Schultz (2001) reports an r = .41 between the INS and a measure of environmental behavior. Connectivity to Nature Dutcher et al. (2007) developed a measure of connectivity, which they defined as assessing “a fundamental sameness between [oneself] and the natural world” (p. 478). Their measure included some survey items, similar to those on the EID, and the overlapping-circles measure included on the INS, and was a stronger predictor of environmental concern than demographic characteristics such as age, education, gender, income, and political orientation. However, with an internal reliability of only 0.72 for the combined scale, it does not seem to represent Page 8 of 21 Environment and Identity an advance over previous measures. Implicit Connections to Nature Schultz (Schultz, Shriver, Tabanico, & Khazian, 2004; Bruni & Schultz, 2010) developed a form of the Implicit Associations Test that uses a reaction-time paradigm to assess the extent to which people have strong cognitive connections between themselves and nature. The advantage of such an approach is that it does not rely on selfreport; people may not (p. 172) have conscious access to their own sense of interconnectedness with nature, or their report may be biased by social desirability. Schultz found that a high degree of implicit connectedness to nature was associated with more biospheric, and fewer egoistic, concerns. This measure, however, does not always correlate with explicit measures related to identity or environmental concern (Bruni & Schultz, 2010). Further research is needed to assess the difference between implicit and explicit measures. Connectedness to Nature Scale Mayer and Frantz (2004) developed a Connectedness to Nature Scale (CNS), which they defined as a measure of emotional connectedness to the natural world. Similar to the EID in some ways, it is shorter and primarily focused on an affective response to the natural world. Like attitude measures, CNS is likely to be more responsive to situational manipulations than identity measures would be, and thus useful as a measure of contextual variability in perceived nature-relatedness (Frantz, Mayer, Norton, & Rock, 2005). However, there is some ambiguity over whether the CNS is primarily a measure of affective or cognitive response to nature (Perrin & Benassi, 2009). Kals, Schumacher, & Montada’s (1999) Emotional Affinity Toward Nature scale, or Perkins’s (2010) Love and Care for Nature scale may be more explicitly concerned with affective attachment. Related Constructs New Environmental Paradigm The New Environmental Paradigm (NEP; Dunlap & Van Liere, 1978; Dunlap, Van Liere, Mertig, & Jones, 2000) is a widely used and well-validated measure of what might be called an ideology or belief system concerning nature and the relationship between humans (as a species) and the natural world. The NEP has been shown to predict self-reported environmental behavior. Although it includes items regarding belief in the balance of nature, limits to growth, and human domination over nature, it is generally considered a unidimensional scale. Compared to identity, the NEP is a set of relatively cold cognitions about what nature is, while measures of environmental identity are more emotionally tinged assessments of the personal significance of nature. Nevertheless, endorsement of the NEP should be associated with a strong environmental identity. Data collected by Schultz (2002, personal communication) from 75 college students show a correlation of r = .44 (p < .001) between the EID and the NEP. Environmental Attitudes Scale The Environmental Attitudes Scale (EAS), developed by Thompson and Barton (1994), is designed to measure three different attitudinal stances toward the natural environment: ecocentrism, or a valuing of nature for its own intrinsic worth; anthropocentrism, or a valuing of nature for its utility to humans; and apathy toward the environment and environmental issues. The EAS correlates in expected ways with the subscales of the EID (see Clayton, 2003). However, the EAS is a measure of attitudes rather than a (part of a) self-definition. As such, it should be less predictive of self-relevant phenomena, and it has in fact been found to be a weaker predictor of behavior than the EID (Clayton, 2003). Stets and Biga (2003), using different measures, also found that attitudes did not predict behavior when controlling for identity. There is a potential for conceptual fuzziness here. Many writers have focused on emotional experiences in response to nature (Kals & Müller, and Vining & Merrick, this volume); indeed, the biophilia hypothesis suggests that we have an innate tendency to experience such emotions (Kellert & Wilson, 1993; Wilson, 1984). Others have described a relationship with nature, similar to a relationship that might exist between humans (Davis, Green, & Reed, 2009). Both emotions and relationships are useful constructs through which to consider the ways in which people relate to nature, and they are certainly related to the construct of identity, but they are not the same thing. Because identity refers to a self-concept or definitional label, a consideration of environment and identity concerns Page 9 of 21 Environment and Identity the extent to which the natural environment affects or is implicated in or overlaps one’s self-concept. An environmental identity, in particular, refers to a sense of self as conceptually interdependent with or connected to the natural world. This interdependence should imply an increased perception of similarity with, and moral standing accorded to, nonhuman natural entities, and a sense that threats to the natural world are personally relevant. Because of the multiplicity of similar, but not identical, measures, Devine-Wright and Clayton (2010) suggested several ways of distinguishing identities from related constructs. They proposed that identities should have implications for cognitive processing, for example, that people high in an environmental identity would pay more attention to environmental information, have a tendency to organize information on the basis of environmental implications, and respond more quickly (p. 173) to environmentally relevant decisions. They also suggested that identities be considered with reference to their social significance: that environmental identities, for example, should be able to characterize a group of people with something in common. One implication of this is that social stereotypes should be associated with these identities; another is that they should give rise to motivational ingroup biases on behalf of those who share an environmental identity. Similarly, Bragg (1996) noted that what she describes as an “ecological self” should lead to greater sensitivity to information about the environment as well as to greater feelings of sympathy or empathy with environmental entities. Although some research has been done along these lines, more is needed, especially on the implications of identity for cognitive processing. The Impact of Environmental Identity Emotional Significance Like other identities, environmental identities have strong emotional consequences. In a small study of British undergraduate students, Hinds and Sparks (2009) found a positive correlation between environmental identity and affective well-being. Emotional consequences of identity can be linked to specific environments, or to changes in environments. To the extent that people feel personally reflected in the natural environment, a beautiful environment can be a source of self-esteem. On the other hand, a contaminated environment can be a source of stigma. Those who reside in environments that are known to be toxic experience a range of effects including threats to their social identity, as they recognize not only the negative perceptions others have of their communities but also the limits to their own sense of self-control and personal security (Edelstein, 2002). Some authors have argued that a general tendency toward decreased psychological well-being stems from our attempts to construct a sense of self within degraded and industrialized environments (Jordan, 2009; Kidner, 2007). Frightening messages about environmental degradation or dangers may be personally threatening by evoking a fear of death. Terror management theory suggests that people respond to a fear of death by emphasizing and promoting personal values; that is, they respond by affirming their identities (Solomon, Greenberg, & Pyszczynski, 1991). Research has shown that mortality salience may encourage increased consumption, but that people who are self-defined as environmentalists, instead, are likely to affirm their identities by acting on their environmental values (Vess & Arndt, 2008). An environmental identity may provide a buffer that helps people cope with these frightening messages. On the other hand, it may increase the anxiety that is associated with environmental problems by making them more salient and self-relevant. Bearing in mind the core self-motivations of autonomy, connectedness, and esteem and the more basic need for security, as well as the possible ability of the natural environment to satisfy these needs, Kasser (2009) has argued for more research into ways to promote psychological well-being through environmental opportunities. Ethical Implications Identity matters in considering environmental problems because it is contested: Who counts? Who is considered? Standards of justice vary according to the status of those involved (Lerner & Clayton, 2011; Skitka, 2003); even the tendency to consider justice may depend on the extent to which personal identity is salient (Opotow, 1996; Skitka, 2003). Do animals have rights? Do trees have legal or moral standing (cf. Stone, 1974)? There is wide variability in the extent to which people believe that the environment, and nonhuman entities, are entitled to justice. Those who are defined as having an identity within a particular moral universe (Opotow, 1996) are entitled to just treatment; otherwise, their treatment is guided by purely instrumental considerations. Thus it is telling that an Page 10 of 21 Environment and Identity environmental identity, as measured by Clayton’s EID scale, predicts willingness to consider the rights of nature and the rights of future generations in resolving environmental dilemmas (Clayton, 2003). It is also associated with support for animal rights (Clayton, 2008). Similarly, many environmental problems have been characterized as commons dilemmas (cf. Hardin, 1968): situations in which a shared resource, available to all and regulated by no one, is depleted by being used at a rate faster than it can be replenished. The commons dilemma occurs because individuals make the rational decision to use as much as they can; benefits accrue to the individual and costs are shared across the group. Research shows that one of the best predictors of cooperation in a commons dilemma is a sense of group, or collective, identity (Brewer, 2000; Parks, Sanna, & Berel, 2001; Van Vugt, 2001). A recognition that all those who use the common resource share an identity means that they are more likely to care about each other’s welfare, trust each other’s (p. 174) intentions, and come together to formulate a shared plan for regulating the use of the resource (Dovidio, Gaertner, & Esses, 2007). James et al. (2008) described the joint US-Canadian management of the Great Lakes as an example of environmental regulations that are based on a collective identity (shared proximity to the Great Lakes) rather than on more individually focused identities. A specific test of this was presented by Bonaiuto et al. (2008), who found in a field study that those who had the highest level of identification with the local community were the most likely to voluntarily cooperate with appeals to conserve water. Similarly, Carrus, Bonaiuto, and Bonnes (2005) found that regional pride, suggesting a sense of self-esteem based on place of residence, was associated with support for a local protected area. In general, one might expect a sense of collective identity to be associated with increased concern for the environment and willingness to protect it. Research that has measured or manipulated such a tendency does tend to find such an association. For example, Arnocky, Stroink, and DeCicco (2007) defined a “metapersonal” selfconstrual as a tendency to think of oneself as having a deep interconnection with all forms of life; they found that this was associated not only with environmental concern but also with the tendency to cooperate in a commons dilemma. Buchan et al. (2011) found that a sense of national or global identity predicted concern about global issues, and cooperation in a social dilemma, across six countries. (One of the issues was global warming, but the authors grouped five issues together.) As described above, Clayton’s EID has been found to be associated with Triandis’s collectivism scale (Clayton, 2003); it is also negatively correlated with Social Dominance Orientation, which reflects a preference for hierarchical, non-egalitarian distributions of power and resources (Clayton, 2008). Winter and Chavez (2008), in surveys of visitors to California wilderness areas, found that higher scores on the EID were associated with greater support of managing natural resources for environmental protection. Experimental research by Clayton (1998, 2000) has also demonstrated that environmental appeals are more successful when they emphasize collective rather than individual well-being, and the reverse is true for antienvironmental arguments. Relatedly, a national study of American attitudes found that people who are concerned about climate change are more egalitarian—suggesting a moral focus centered on the collective—than those who dismiss it, while the reverse is true for individualism (Leiserowitz, 2005). In a country-level comparison, Gouveia (2002) found that collectivist values were related to an index of sustainable development. Behavioral Implications Identities make the link between abstract issues and personal relevance. One reason so few people take action to address environmental problems, such as climate change, is probably that it seems remote, and people do not feel personally responsible (Broder & Connelly, 2007). However, a strong place-based identity can motivate action to protect a particular location, and a strong environmental identity can motivate action to protect the environment. Schultz argued that environmental concern was a function of the extent to which “people include nature in their cognitive representation of self” (2000 , p. 403), and in a manipulation of perspective-taking he found that students who took the perspective of an animal harmed by environmental degradation showed greater concern about environmental problems. Berenguer (2007), in a similar manipulation, succeeded in getting participants to adopt the perspective of a tree, with a corresponding increase in environmental concern. In a sense, an environmental identity can serve to transform the motive for environmental behavior; when one shares an identity with another, promoting their welfare is selfish rather than altruistic. Some evidence for this Page 11 of 21 Environment and Identity transformational effect is suggested by a recent study (Fritsche & Häfner, 2011). The researchers found, consistent with previous research, that mortality salience decreased biospheric concerns but not egoistic ones; however, this was not true for people high in environmental identity. In other words, fear of death apparently leads one to focus more on self-relevant than on universal values, but for people high in environmental identity, environmental concerns are self-relevant. Using the EID measure, Clayton (2003) has found a strong relationship between environmental identity and selfreported tendency to engage in environmental behavior, as well as level of environmental concern. Kiesling and Manning (2010) found a strong correlation between EID and more environmentally friendly gardening practices. Though not measuring environmental identity directly, Bruyere and Rappe (2007) found evidence that deep-seated personal values were strong motivators for environmental behavior. They surveyed 401 volunteers for natural resource agencies about their motivations for volunteering. In response to both closed-ended (p. 175) questions and an open-ended question asking for “the most important motivation,” factors related to personal values (e.g., “the opportunity to express my values through my work”) were the second–most important motivations listed. The most important was the opportunity to help the environment, which may suggest, again, that the environment itself had become self-relevant. Many other researchers have found that considerations of environmental identity contribute to the ability to predict pro-environmental behavior, above and beyond the traditional variables of attitudes and social norms (Castro et al., 2009; Fielding et al., 2008; Mannetti, Pierro, & Livi, 2004; Terry, Hogg, & White, 1999; Whitmarsh & O’Neill, 2010) Values and Behavior Verplanken and Holland (2002) presented a useful discussion of the relationship between environmental identities, values, and behavior. They stated that values, defined as cognitions that help to interpret situations, elicit goals, and motivate behavior, “may form important ingredients of a person’s self-concept and thus contribute to a sense of identity” (p. 434). They distinguished among the range of values that individuals might endorse, noting that shared values may constitute the basis for group or collective identities, and particularly emphasized that values are hierarchically organized and vary in centrality. It is the more central values, they argued, that “make up part of one’s self-definition and, thus, contribute to one’s sense of identity” (p. 435). In other words, most people value pleasure, honesty, success, and so on, but only values that are central to identity are likely to affect behavior. Skitka (e.g., 2003) made a similar point when she proposed that certain moral values, central to one’s sense of identity, lead to the development of “moral mandates” that are experienced as compulsions toward action that is consistent with those values. Bolderdijk et al. (2012) hypothesized that people would consider protecting the environment to be a moral act, one that was consistent with moral values. As expected, they found that people anticipated more positive affect from responding to an appeal based on biospheric values than one based on economic values. In a field study, participants were more likely to engage in an environmental action (checking whether their tires were properly inflated) when that action was tied to biospheric values rather than economic values, but only when the relevance to the self and personal values was made explicit. In a series of studies, Verplanken and Holland (2002) demonstrated that environmental values will affect behavior (giving more weight to environmental factors in consumer decisions), but only if those values are (a) central, that is, rated as self-descriptive, and (b) activated by being primed or by an increase in self-focus. Interestingly, in line with the idea that identities serve to guide attention, one of their studies found that the impact of values on behavior was mediated by attention to valuerelevant information. Self-Presentation Perhaps the most overt way in which identities impact behavior is by setting up the presentational pressures that were described above. So, to the extent that behaving pro-environmentally is positively valued, people should want to present themselves as supporting the environment; to the extent that people think of themselves as supporting the environment, they should be motivated to act in a way that is consistent with that self-image. Crompton and Kasser (2009; Ecopsychology Roundtable, 2009) have argued for the importance of “identity campaigning” in attempts to promote pro-environmental behavior, campaigns that “understand how people think of Page 12 of 21 Environment and Identity themselves and understand…the dynamics around how people’s identities influence their behavior and influence their attitudes towards environmental outcomes” (Ecopsychology Roundtable, p. 169). Although pro-environmental behaviors are not always socially valued, perhaps because they connote costconsciousness and thus lower socioeconomic status (Sadalla & Krull, 1995), they can in some circumstances reflect a willingness to sacrifice personal comfort in the service of higher principles, such as the collective wellbeing. Griskevicius, Tybur, and Van den Bergh (2010) demonstrated that self-presentational concerns, when made salient by the presence of an audience and by the activation of status motives, led people to make product choices demonstrating “green” values—choices that they did not make when self-presentation was not salient and their behavior was unobserved. The Politics of Identity The shared values that form the basis for group identities have a fundamental link to social and political position. Social identities provide the foundation for the activation of group-based social norms that include not only behavioral expectations but also, potentially, ideology. McAdams et al. (2006) have said that identity is built upon ideology, in the (p. 176) sense that one’s identity reflects one’s values. An ideology is a coordinated set of beliefs, opinions, and values (cf. Freeden, 2003) that may or may not be held by a group of like-minded people, but that is often associated with motivational tendencies. The impact of ideology is particularly evident in the political sphere, referring to ideologies that are associated with political parties and the associated sets of policy preferences. Political ideologies are not themselves environmental identities; they are not founded around experiences with or understandings of the natural environment, nor do they typically have environmental issues as a central focus. They can, however, have significant implications for reactions to environmental issues. In the United States, environmentalism is associated with left-wing rather than right-wing tendencies. Surveys consistently find that Democrats are more supportive of environmental protection than are Republicans (e.g., McCright & Dunlap, 2008). A recent national survey of more than 2,000 Americans found that party affiliation was the strongest predictor of belief in climate change, with a greater impact than gender, race, educational level, or age (Borick & Rabe, 2010). In the United Kingdom, Whitmarsh (2011) similarly found that political orientation and endorsement of the NEP, taken together, were stronger predictors of skepticism about climate change than lifestyle or socioeconomic status; knowledge and education did not contribute predictive power at all. What could be the reason for this association? Several possibilities have been proposed. McCright and Dunlap (2008), for example, suggested that progressive ideologies share a focus on the extension and protection of rights. Similarly, environmental support has been found to be associated with egalitarianism (Clayton, 1998; Sabbagh, 2005), and environmental identity is negatively associated with social dominance orientation (Clayton, 2008). Thus, although environmentalism is not restricted to those on the Left, there may be an intrinsic compatibility between the collective, egalitarian orientation that is associated with a left-wing ideology and the emphasis on interdependence that is required by an understanding of ecology (Clayton, 2008). Kahan, Jenkins-Smith, and Braman (2011) described a kind of “cultural cognition”: cultural values shape individual information processing, partly through the creation of “identity-protective motivations,” to fit into a given culture or group. Jost (2009) has suggested that these ideological differences may even be hardwired, in the sense that they are tied to fundamental differences in personality that are heritable and lead to observable physiological responses. Others have noted the connection between resistance to environmentalism and system justification (Feygina, Jost, & Goldsmith, 2010), suggesting that the ideological stance may be associated with “acceptance of change” versus “support of the status quo.” System justification is the motivation to reduce anxiety and satisfy the need for certainty by endorsing the status quo. Because of the explicit or implicit critique of society represented by environmentalism, those high in system justification tendencies tend to reject environmental attitudes and beliefs. Notably, Feygina et al. (2010) were able to overcome the negative effect of system justification on environmental behavior when they rephrased their environmental message to make it consistent with respect for the system, as follows: “Being pro-environmental allows us to protect and preserve the American way of life. It is patriotic to conserve the country’s natural resources” (p. 333). This highlights the relevance of targeting environmental messages to specific audiences who can be described as having discrete identities. Page 13 of 21 Environment and Identity Conclusion The research reviewed illustrates that identity and environment have a bidirectional relationship. The natural environment, and one’s relationship with it, help to construct and activate an identity; this identity, in turn, influences the way people behave toward the environment. As the field of environmental psychology reminds us, all of these relationships exist within a social and physical context. The impact of environment on identity will be limited by the extent to which people are able to have a range of experiences with the natural environment. If only minimal experiences are available, environmental identities are likely to be weak. City planning decisions, as well as the influence of family, peers, and teachers, will determine whether individuals are likely to spend time in a natural environment. The impact of identity on environment is indirect. It is mediated by pro-environmental behavior, which is also powerfully affected by forces in the immediate social and physical context. In the long run, behavior toward the natural world—sustainable or unsustainable—is most strongly affected by the affordances of one’s physical environment and by one’s social context. Some living situations mandate a high-consumption lifestyle, others allow only (p. 177) a fairly low level of consumption, while still others provide possibilities for individual decisions about how to regulate their consumption. Some social groups provide norms that facilitate sustainability, while others discourage it. Thus, we should think about the role of identity in determining the contexts that people (choose to) occupy, and the specific ways in which contexts make identities salient. Schultz and Tabanico (2007), for example, found evidence that natural settings increased people’s sense of connectedness to nature. Some have argued that shifts in perspective are necessary to adequately address the environmental challenges we face: for example, James et al. (2008) called for “major reorientations in culturally based values and identities vis-à-vis nature” (p. 284). Research on identity and environment has thus far been primarily descriptive in the sense that it examines whether and how identity predicts behavior, and there is much scope for more research on this topic. However, it is time for more applied research on ways in which to create and nurture environmental identity. Future Directions Three foci for future research seem particularly promising to advance the practical relevance, and conceptual understanding, of environmental identity. First, as described above, given the evidence that environmental identity can contribute to personal and societal well-being, there is a need for applied environmental psychologists to consider how to design environments that nurture environmental identity. In addition, research is needed to further explore what it means to talk about environment as an aspect of identity, as distinct from an attitude or value. Conceptual confusion and lack of precision can be reduced by clarifying what it means to refer to an identity: how and why it becomes part of a self-concept, and how it affects psychological functioning. Two directions for such research can be described. The first would address the extent to which, and ways in which, an environmental identity helps to satisfy different core self-relevant needs, such as esteem, autonomy, and connectedness. The second would examine the effects of environmental identity on cognitive processes as well as on affective responses to others who share the identity. Finally, environmental identities clearly exist within a social context. Further research is needed to examine ways in which people create a socially shared sense of identity that links them to the natural environment. Given the social meanings that currently adhere to environmental attitudes and values, intra- and intergroup processes are implicated in the development of an environmental identity. Acknowledgements Many thanks to Kalevi Korpela and Wes Schultz for their comments on an earlier version of this chapter. References Altman, I., & Low, S. (Eds.). (1992). Place attachment. New York: Springer. 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Albany, CA: US Department of Agriculture, Forest Service, Pacific Southwest Research Station, Wildland Recreation and Urban Cultures. Susan D. Clayton Susan D. Clayton is Whitmore-Williams Professor of Psychology at the College of Wooster in Ohio. With a PhD in social psychology from Yale, she is a fellow of the American Psychological Association and a past president of the Society for Environmental, Population, and Conservation Psychology. Her research addresses the social context surrounding people’s relationship with the natural environment. Page 21 of 21 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement Oxford Handbooks Online Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement Taciano L. Milfont The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology Edited by Susan D. Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0011 Abstract and Keywords Cultural influences on environmental attitudes and behaviors have been examined in an increasing number of studies. This chapter provides an introductory review of cultural explanations concerning environmental engagement. Besides discussing theoretical models that explain cultural differences in human-environment interactions, the chapter summarizes recent research examining environmental attitudes and behaviors across cultures. The majority of studies have examined cultural differences at the individual level of analysis, but the past few years have seen the emergence of country-level studies as well as studies employing multilevel strategies to examine the effect of individual-level and country-level variables simultaneously. The review suggests that affluence and value orientations are the main determinants of the development of and differences in environmental engagement across cultures. The chapter also discusses important methodological issues for designing and evaluating cross-cultural studies and future directions for this developing field of research. Keywords: cultural difference, environmental engagement, environmental attitudes, environmental behavior, environmental issues, cross-cultural research Introduction Our individual lifetime represents only a fraction of the history of humanity, which in turn represents merely a fragment of the history of planet Earth. Yet, the impact of our individual actions upon the environment can last many lifetimes, and the cumulative impact of humanity on the planet is far greater than that caused by any other species. Human societies have always had to adapt to their surroundings, learn seasonal and ecological patterns, and change the environment to survive. However, in the relatively short time since the Industrial Revolution, humans have made unprecedented environmental transformations (Gardner & Stern, 2002; Millennium Ecosystem Assessment, 2005). The history of human-environment interactions can be broadly classified into five stages (Simmons, 1993): huntinggathering economy and early agriculture (fully established around 7500 BC in Asian regions), riverine civilizations (from about 4000 BC until about the first century AD), agricultural empires (from about 500 BC to AD 1800), the Atlantic-industrial era (from AD 1800 to about the 1960s), and the Pacific-global era (from about 1960 to the present day). The hunter-gatherer stage covered at least 99% of human history (Wilson, 1993) and its permanent impact upon the environment is well documented, including reduction or extinction of animal species and the clearance of land by fire. But recent environmental transformations are unequaled in their scale and impact. These transformations include the accumulation of materials in large concentrations and the creation of new materials unknown in nature, such as pesticides; the expansion of cultivated areas and unsustainable agricultural practices, leading to erosion, deforestation, and the extinction of many species; and the development (p. 182) of large conglomerates of humans in urban cities, resulting in resource shortages and increases in waste production. It is estimated that from 1800 to 1985 the world human population increased fivefold, and the proportion living in urban Page 1 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement areas rose from 2% to nearly 50%. These recent changes in the history of human-environment interactions have also led to the rise of global environmentalism, which is arguably the most significant social revolution in contemporary history (Brechin, 1999). These changes, coupled with the contemporary increase in globalization and migration, have resulted in a growing need to understand human-environment interactions across national cultures. Tackling environmental problems requires a cooperative effort from decision makers worldwide (cf. Brett & Kopelman, 2004), but their decisions to cooperate with or defect from any such wider effort will be made according to the values and behavioral patterns dominant in each national culture. This chapter aims to provide an introduction to the influence of culture on the way we deal with the environment. In particular, it reviews past research and current trends, and highlights new advances in the study of cultural differences in attitudes and behaviors toward the environment (see Gifford & Sussman and Schultz & Kaiser, this volume, for more on these topics). The chapter is divided into three main sections. The first section discusses selected theories and models describing cultural differences in humanenvironment interactions. The second section summarizes cross-cultural studies that assess environmental engagement. The third section considers some of the methodological concepts and issues that are important in the development of cross-cultural studies in this field. The chapter concludes by considering directions for future studies. Understanding Human-Environment Interactions Across Cultures Do cultural variables influence whether individuals are concerned with the environment? As it will be evident from the discussion in this chapter, the answer seems to be yes. It appears that the way members of a society relate to the environment is culturally patterned, which means that human-environment interactions differ from one society to another, and also between individuals within a given society. This section will summarize useful theoretical models for understanding human-environment interactions across national cultures. The models posit universal categories of culture, whereby countries or nations can be positioned on the scale expressed by each category. Culture is a contestable concept with hundreds of definitions proposed (Kroeber & Kluckhohn, 1952). To avoid getting into definitional issues, culture is broadly defined here as the human-made part of the environment that encompasses both material culture (dress, food, houses, tools) and subjective culture (the distinctive way a society perceives its social environment). Subjective culture forms cultural syndromes and behavioral patterns that can be identified among those who speak a particular language, in a defined geographic location, during a specific historic period (Triandis, 1996, 2002). The theoretical models discussed below all address subjective culture (see Atran, Medin, & Ross, 2005, for a different cross-cultural perspective). The list of models below is not comprehensive; many other models of cultural syndromes and behavioral patterns have been proposed in the past few decades (see, e.g., House, Hanges, Javidan, Dorfman, & Gupta, 2004; Leung & Bond, 2004; Smith et al., 2002; Trompenaars & Hampden-Turner, 1998). However, the models discussed are perhaps the most widely used to investigate cultural differences. Most of the models originated within other disciplines but have been extensively used in psychology. Commonalities between the models will be highlighted later. Kluckhohn The American anthropologist Florence Kluckhohn (1951, 1953) proposed a conceptual scheme distinguishing five basic human problems that all peoples across history must find some solution for. She argued that “specific patterns of behavior insofar as they are influenced by cultural factors (and few are not so influenced) are the concrete expressions reflecting generalized meanings or values” (Kluckhohn, 1953, p. 345). Table 11.1 presents Kluckhohn’s five problems and their possible responses. Another value dimension of space (here, there, or far away) was also later proposed but not fully developed (Kluckhohn & Strodtbeck, 1961). The five problems and their answers lead to cultural value orientations that are distinct from each other in terms of their main solutions to the universal problems, but are at the same time related. The second problem regarding the way humans relate to nature is the most relevant in the context of this chapter. In her seminal text, Kluckhohn (1953) illustrated possible cultural answers to this problem by arguing that Spanish-American cultures have a (p. 183) Page 2 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement Table 11.1 Five Universal Basic Questions and the Value Orientations Reflected in Their Answers (adapted from Kluckhohn, 1953; Hills, 2002) Human problems Type of solution/value orientation Human nature: What are the innate predispositions (basic nature) of humans? Evil (mutable or immutable). Born evil and capable/incapable of being changed. Neither good nor bad or mixed (mutable or immutable). Born neither good nor bad, and can learn (or not) good or bad traits; or born with both good and bad traits, and can learn (or not) to be either better or worse. Good (mutable or immutable). Born good and capable/incapable of being changed Humannature relationship: What is the relation of humans to nature? Humans subjugated to nature (submissive). Emphasis on lack of control over nature, and submission to the higher power of natural forces. Humans in nature (harmonious). Emphasis on partial control over nature and living in a balance with the natural forces. Human over nature. Emphasis on total control over nature and the supernatural. Time orientation: What is the significant time orientation? Past. Emphasis on the past (the time before now), and on preserving and maintaining traditional teachings and beliefs. Present. Emphasis on the present (what is now), and on accommodating changes in beliefs and traditions. Future. Emphasis on the future (the time to come), planning ahead, and seeking new ways to replace the old. Mode of Activity: What is the valued personality type? Being. Emphasis on “being,” on internal motivations, and activities valued by oneself, which are not necessarily valued by others in the group. Being-in-becoming. Emphasis on developing and growing abilities related to activities valued by oneself, which are not necessarily valued by others in the group. Doing. Our motivation is external to us, emphasizing activity that is both valued by ourselves and is approved by others in our group. Mode of social relations: What is the nature of the relationships of humans to other humans? Lineal (hierarchical). Emphasis on hierarchical principles and deferring to higher authority or authorities within the group. Collateral (equal). Emphasis on consensus within the extended group of equals. Individualistic. Emphasis on the individual or individual families within the group who make decisions independently from others. fate orientation toward nature, in which humans are subjugated to and victims of natural forces, while Chinese culture places humans in nature and sees humans and nature as equal parties in a harmonious whole, and American culture is oriented toward dominance over nature, in which the environment is to be put to the use of human beings. These cultural value orientations are thus theoretically useful for between-group comparisons (e.g., Werner, Brown, & Altman, 1997) and have been empirically applied for this aim (for a review, see Hills, 2002). Page 3 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement Hofstede The Dutch social psychologist Geert Hofstede (1980) proposed four dimensions of cultural variability based on impressive empirical data. He surveyed more than 88,000 employees of IBM from 72 countries (reduced to 40 countries with more than 50 responses each) and 20 languages, and later included 10 additional countries and 3 regions (i.e., Arab countries and East and West Africa). His work is arguably the most studied cultural values model currently used and has led to a great deal of further research due to its heuristic value. Hofstede used an ecological factor analysis, in which analysis is performed at the country level rather than at the level of individual responses, to initially propose four basic value dimensions: individualism/collectivism, power distance, uncertainty avoidance, and masculinity/femininity. Table 11.2 provides a description (p. 184) Table 11.2 Cultural Value Dimensions Proposed by Hofstede Hofstede’s dimensions Description Individualism versus collectivism Integration of individuals into primary groups. In an individualistic society, people are only supposed to take care of themselves and of their immediate families (e.g., Australia, United States, Netherlands). In a collectivistic society, there is a clearer distinction between in-groups and out-groups, and people expect their in-group to look after them in exchange of absolute loyalty to the in-group (e.g., Ecuador, Guatemala, Pakistan). Power distance Different solutions to the basic problem of human inequality. In a society with high power distance, people accept the fact that power in institutions and organizations is distributed unequally, and the level of inequality is endorsed by the followers as much as by the leaders (e.g., India, Malaysia, Panama). A society with lower power distance has less tolerance to inequality (e.g., Austria, Denmark, New Zealand). Uncertainty avoidance The level of stress in a society in the face of an unknown future. People in a society with high uncertainty avoidance feel threatened by uncertain and ambiguous situations and try to avoid these situations by creating societal mechanisms to foster stability, such as formal rules, intolerance to deviant ideas and behaviors, and support to absolute truths (e.g., Greece, Portugal, Belgium). People experience less stress to uncertain and ambiguous situations in a society with low uncertainty avoidance (e.g., Singapore, Jamaica, Hong Kong). Masculinity versus femininity Division of emotional roles between men and women. In a masculine society, there is a higher degree of sex differentiation of roles and the dominant values are related to assertiveness, the acquisition of money and things (e.g., Japan, Switzerland, Italy). In a feminine society, the dominant values are related to caring for others and the quality of life or people (e.g., Sweden, Norway, Costa Rica). Long-term versus short-term orientation Choice of focus for people’s efforts, on the future or the present. In a society with long-term orientation, people focus on future-oriented values such as persistence and thrift (e.g., China, Japan, Brazil), whereas in a society with short-term orientation people focus on past- and present-oriented values such as respect for tradition and fulfilling social obligations (e.g., Philippines, United Kingdom, Canada) of each dimension. Drawing from the findings of the Chinese Culture Connection (1987), he later introduced a fifth dimension related to temporal orientation: short-term/long-term orientation (Hofstede, 2001; Hofstede & Bond, 1988). None of Hofstede’s dimensions are conceptually linked to environmental issues. However, his dimensions have been empirically related to environmental engagement. For example, Hofstede (2001) correlated his dimensions to Page 4 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement two questions from the Health of the Planet Survey (Dunlap, Gallup, & Gallup, 1993). One question asked whether priority should be given to protecting the environment or to economic growth, and the second question asked whether respondents would be willing to pay higher prices to protect the environment. The first question was negatively correlated with power distance (r = -.42), indicating that respondents in countries with lower power distance were more in favor of giving priority to the environment. The second question was negatively correlated with both power distance (r = -.60) and masculinity (r = -.48). Hofstede also found similar results for public acceptance of biotechnology in 12 European countries, with respondents from masculine, large power distance cultures perceiving less threat from biotechnology. These findings suggest that the stronger the cultural emphasis on masculinity and power distance, the less people will be concerned about environmental issues choosing to instead rely on the judgment of the authorities to deal with such issues. Despite these findings, researchers have tended to focus on the individualism-collectivism dimension. Schultz (2002) used this dimension to explain the cross-cultural differences he found on emphasis attributed to egoistic or biospheric environmental attitudes. As a result of the focus placed on an autonomous self in individualistic cultures, individuals in those cultures could be expected to also place greater (p. 185) focus on egoistic attitudes. In contrast, individuals in collectivist cultures would place greater focus on biospheric attitudes because of the focus their culture places on relationships with others (which may also include the natural environment). Supporting this argument, research has shown that individuals holding collectivist orientations tend to express higher environmental concern than those holding individualist orientations (Arnocky, Stroink, & DeCicco, 2007; Clayton, 2003; Milfont, 2010; Olofsson & Ohman, 2006; Park, Levine, & Sharkey, 1998). Schwartz The American social psychologist Shalom Schwartz (1992, 1994a; Schwartz & Bilsky, 1987) expanded on Rokeach’s (1973) work to develop a broad model for classifying the dimensions of human values. Drawing from large cross-cultural data, he proposed 10 value dimensions that manifest universally in individuals and 7 dimensions that appear at the cultural level of analysis. A number of cross-cultural studies have demonstrated the usefulness of his model (e.g., Fontaine, Poortinga, Delbeke, & Schwartz, 2008; Spini, 2003). Schwartz defines values as trans-situational goals ordered by importance that serve as guiding principles in life. Examining the grouping of 56 value-items across 97 samples in 44 countries, Schwartz (1994a) observed the emergence of 10 motivationally distinct types of values: achievement, hedonism, stimulation, self-direction, universalism, benevolence, tradition, conformity, and security. These 10 motivational value types could, in turn, be located in a two-dimensional value space, grouped into four higher order value clusters: openness to change (values favoring change and independent thought and behavior), conservation (preservation of traditional practices and stability), self-transcendence (concern for the welfare of others), and self-enhancement (pursuit of one’s own relative success and dominance over others). Schwartz’s is the most widely used model of human values and has been used to explain environmental engagement. Cross-cultural studies have shown that environmental attitudes and behaviors are associated with greater levels of self-transcendence values and lower levels of self-enhancement values (Milfont, Sibley, & Duckitt, 2010; Schultz et al., 2005; Schultz & Zelezny, 1998, 1999; Schwartz, Sagiv, & Boehnke, 2000). Later, Schwartz (1994b, 1999; Smith & Schwartz, 1997) established equivalence for 45 of the 56 value-items and proposed a theory of cultural values, defining these as “the implicitly or explicitly shared abstract ideas about what is good, right, and desirable in a society” (Schwartz, 1999, p. 25). Using the same organizing principle used by Kluckhohn, Schwartz argued that there are issues that all societies must confront, but instead of Kluckhohn’s five “problems,” he proposed three basic issues with their resolutions leading to specific cultural dimensions. Table 11.3 provides a description of the resulting cultural dimensions. The first issue refers to the nature of the relations between the individual and the group, which yields a cultural emphasis on conservatism (person viewed as an entity embedded in the collective) on one pole of the dimension, and autonomy (person viewed as an autonomous entity) at the other pole. The second issue refers to ensuring responsible behavior that preserves the social fabric, which yields a cultural emphasis on hierarchy (socially responsible behavior ensured via power differences and hierarchical systems) versus egalitarianism (socially responsible behavior ensured via voluntary cooperation and recognition of others as moral equals). The third issue, which is most related to the context of this chapter, refers to the relation of humans to the natural and social environment. This basic issue leaves societies with two possible Page 5 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement approaches: either to fit harmoniously into the world and try to preserve it (harmony) or to exploit and change the world (mastery). Further to this conceptual link with environmental issues, the harmony dimension is measured by three value-items (unity with nature, protecting the environment, world of beauty) that overlap with environmental engagement and could be posited to express a cultural emphasis on “environmental values” (see Steg & de Groot, this volume, for more on this topic). Cultural Theory Cultural theory was originally proposed by the British anthropologist Mary Douglas, and further developed by other scholars including American political scientist Aaron Wildavsky and British anthropologist Michael Thompson. According to the theory, group and grid are the two dimensions of sociality that reflect ways of looking at the world (Douglas, Thompson, & Verweij, 2003; Douglas & Wildavsky, 1982; Thompson, Grendstad, & Selle, 1999). The group dimension refers to inclusion, or the claim of groups over members. High group indicates the extent to which the life of an individual is absorbed and sustained by group membership, whereas low group indicates the extent to which an individual avoids all group involvement. The grid dimension refers to classification, or the (p. 186) Table 11.3 Cultural Value Dimensions Proposed by Schwartz Schwartz’s dimensions Conservatism Cultural emphasis on maintenance of the status quo, and restraint of actions or inclinations that might disrupt the status quo or the traditional order (social order, respect for tradition, family security) (e.g., Nepal, Malaysia, Georgia). Autonomy Cultural emphasis on individuals’ uniqueness and encouragement of expressing of their own internal attributes, with two types. Intellectual autonomy refers to a cultural emphasis on encouraging individuals’ pursuit of their own ideas and intellectual directions (curiosity, broadmindedness, creativity) (e.g., Netherlands, French Canada, France). Affective autonomy refers to a cultural emphasis on encouraging individuals’ pursuit of affective positive experiences (pleasure, exciting life, varied life) (e.g., Greece, New Zealand, East Germany). Hierarchy Cultural emphasis on the legitimacy of inequality in the distribution of power, roles, and resources (social power, authority, wealth) (e.g., China, Zimbabwe, India). Egalitarianism Cultural emphasis on transcending selfish interests in favor of commitment to promoting the welfare of others (equality, social justice, responsibility) (e.g., Finland, Italy, Netherlands). Mastery Cultural emphasis on succeeding through active self-assertion (ambition, success, daring) (e.g., English Canada, United States, Japan). Harmony Cultural emphasis on fitting harmoniously into the environment rather than on changing or exploiting it (unity with nature, protecting the environment, world of beauty) (e.g., Slovenia, Estonia, Czech Republic). degree to which social interaction is subject to rules. High grid indicates the extent to which there is an emphasis on institutionalized classifications (based on class, social roles, ethnicity) in a society to regulate the interactions of its members and keep individuals apart, whereas low grid indicates the extent to which there is less emphasis on institutionalized regulations making individuals to negotiate their own relationships with other members in society. The interplay of the group-grid dimensions produces a fourfold typology of social solidarities: individualism, hierarchy, fatalism, and egalitarianism. Each of these four forms of social solidarities represent primary ways of organizing, perceiving, and justifying social relations (see Table 11.4). The social solidarities also correspond to particular myths of nature that are symbolized by the balance between the vulnerability of nature and Page 6 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement environment-risky behavior (Steg & Sievers, 2000; Thompson, 2003). Figure 11.1 depicts the four forms of social solidarities and their corresponding myths of nature and human nature. In this figure, the horizontal axis (competition) refers to the social dimension, while the vertical axis (transactions) refers to the grid dimension. For each myth of nature, the line or landscape symbolizes the vulnerability of nature, while the ball symbolizes the environment-risky behavior (Table 11.4 provides more detail). Since its inception, cultural theory has been applied to environmental risk assessment and management, and empirical studies have examined the associations between the myths of nature and environmental engagement. Research has shown that the four forms of social solidarity and myths of nature correspond to systematic individual differences and that, in line with this theory, egalitarians show stronger environmental concerns compared to individualists. These include higher awareness of the problems of car use and higher sense of responsibility for these problems and their solutions (Steg & Sievers, 2000), preferences for environmental risk management strategies related to energy use (Poortinga, Steg, & Vlek, 2002), environmental pollution concerns (Dake, 1991), and self-reported environmental behavior (Grendstad & Selle, 1999). These four forms of social solidarity are also related to other theoretical models used to understand cultural differences. For example, Fiske (1992) proposed four patterns of social relationship associated with the universal need to distribute resources in a society: communal sharing, authority ranking, equality matching, and market pricing. The social solidarities are also related to the typology of vertical and horizontal individualism and collectivism, in which Hofstede’s dimensions of power distance and individualism-collectivism are combined to create four constructs (Singelis, Triandis, Bhawuk, & Gelfand, 1995; Triandis & Gelfand, 1998). Hierarchy is related to authority ranking and vertical collectivism; individualism is related to (p. 187) Page 7 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement Table 11.4 Cultural Value Dimensions Proposed by Cultural Theory Cultural Theory’s dimensions Hierarchy Strong group involvement (high group) coupled with maximum regulation (high grid) produces social relations that are hierarchical. In this form of social solidarity, there are strong group boundaries and binding prescriptions. Individuals in this type of social environment are subject to the control/influence of other individuals and the demand of socially imposed roles. Inequality and autonomy are justified because imposing different roles to different people allows them to live together harmoniously. The world is controllable and nature is stable until pushed beyond discoverable limits set by certified experts and authorities (hence the perverse/tolerant myth of nature in which the ball is stable until pushed beyond certain limits). Hierarchists want to regulate the natural environment from the top down. Hierarchy items measure support for authority and respect for the past (“One of the problems with people today is that they challenge authority too often”; “The best way to provide for future generations is to preserve our customs and heritage”). Individualism Weak group involvement (low group) coupled with minimal regulation (low grid) produces social relations that are individualistic. In this form of social solidarity, individuals are not bound by group assimilation or prescribed roles. In this form of social solidarity, nature is a resilient system able to recover from any exploitation (hence the benign myth of nature in which the ball will always return to stability at the bottom of the landscape). Individualists oppose collective control and view the market system with its self-regulated networks as the best way to regulate the natural environment. Individualism items measure support for equal opportunity and the accumulation of property (“Everyone should have an equal chance to succeed and fail without government interference”; “If people have the vision and ability to acquire property, they ought to be allowed to enjoy it”). Egalitarianism Strong group involvement (high group) coupled with minimal regulation (low grid) produces social relations that are egalitarian. In this form of social solidarity, the natural environment is seen as an intricately interconnected system with a delicate balance that may easily collapse (hence the ephemeral myth of nature in which the ball has a fragile equilibrium). As a result, egalitarians are concerned with environmental problems and favor a concerted grassroots effort to solve these problems. Egalitarianism items measure commitment to make things equal (“What this world needs is a fairness revolution to make the distribution of goods more equal”; “I support a tax shift so that the burden falls more heavily on corporations and people with large incomes”). Fatalism Weak group involvement (low group) coupled with maximum regulation (high grid) produces social relations that are fatalistic. In this form of social solidarity, individuals are non-actors and excluded from group membership but experience strong binding prescriptions responsible for regulating their lives. Nature is seen as unpredictable and unmanageable and having no clear principles (hence the capricious myth of nature in which there is no obvious indication of the direction the ball will roll and the resulting consequences). Fatalism items measure individual inefficacy and the futility of cooperation (“Cooperation with others rarely works”; “It seems that whomever you vote for, things go on pretty much the same”). equality matching and horizontal individualism; egalitarianism is related to communal sharing and horizontal collectivism; and fatalism is related to market pricing and vertical individualism. Inglehart Page 8 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement Click to view larger Figure 11.1 Four Forms of Social Solidarity and Their Associated Myths of Nature (adapted from Thompson, 2003). The American political scientist Ronald Inglehart has developed a model to explain the development of modern societies that also addresses mass attitudes toward environmental problems. Based on data from the World Values Survey, which comprises representative national surveys from many countries, Inglehart (1977) argued that the increasing affluence and security achieved by industrial societies, especially after World War II, resulted in a shift from materialist values (personal and national security, economic well-being) to post-materialist values (quality of life, self-expression). He argued that this shift in values, led by economic prosperity and political security, resulted in societies’ becoming more environmentally concerned. Although some variations were found across countries, the overall finding from cross-cultural studies support this view by showing that the links between post-materialist (p. 188) values and environmental protection are stronger than those between materialist values and environmental protection (e.g., Grob, 1995; Inglehart, 1995; Olofsson & Ohman, 2006; Pierce, Lovrich, Tsurutani, & Abe, 1987). Several scholars have challenged Inglehart’s post-materialist values thesis because of its underlying assumption that concern for the environment can be found only among Western industrialized countries, and because of empirical evidence showing that participants from poorer nations also express high levels of environmental concern (for a discussion of this issue, see Social Science Quarterly, 78[1], March 1997). Indeed, Inglehart himself recognized that a shift to post-materialist values is not the only factor that could explain environmental concern; he later proposed a “challenge-response model” to explain public support for environmental protection not accounted by his post-materialist values thesis (Inglehart, 1995). Environmental concern, he argued, is also derived from direct experience of pollution and other environmental degradation. People who experience objective environmental problems in their own country will be more willing to support environmental protection than those who are not exposed to severe environmental problems. Environmental concern can thus be a response to environmental challenges experienced in one’s country. It worth noting that this view of greater environmental concern linked to greater exposure to pollution and environmental degradation has long been proposed by the environmental deprivation theory (Tremblay & Dunlap, 1978). When combined, Inglehart’s challenge-response model and the post-materialist values thesis are often referred to as the “objective problems, subjective values” hypothesis, and both are important for understanding and explaining global environmentalism (Brechin, 1999; Inglehart, 1995). According to this hypothesis, environmental concern stems from a negative effect of experienced environmental degradation and/or from a positive effect of post-materialist values. The materialist–post-materialist value dimension is still used extensively to compare countries, even though Inglehart went on to propose two different dimensions: one reflecting cross-cultural differences between survival versus self-expression values (similar to materialist–post-materialist values) and another reflecting differences between traditional versus secular-rational orientations toward authority (Inglehart, 1997). Analyses have (p. 189) been conducted to locate societies based on these two dimensions (Inglehart, 1997; Inglehart & Baker, 2000). Traditional societies (e.g., Nigeria, Pakistan, India) tend to have low levels of tolerance for abortion, divorce, and homosexuality, and tend to emphasize religion, deference to parental authority, and the importance of family life, while secular-rational societies (e.g., Germany, Japan, Norway) tend to have the opposite characteristics. Page 9 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement Analyzing cross-cultural data from 65 societies surveyed by the World Values Survey, Inglehart and Baker (2000) found that traditional values were positively correlated to an item expressing the view that environmental problems can be solved without international agreements, and that survival values were positively correlated with items measuring lack of environmental activism (has not recycled things and has not attended meetings or signed petitions to protect the environment). These findings support the view that environmental concern is higher in societies holding secular-rational and self-expression values. Linking the Models There are many commonalities among the theoretical models discussed above. First, the models either include a specific cultural dimension related to human-environment interactions or incorporate environmental issues in their premises. Second, the models focus (explicitly or implicitly) on value orientations from which national cultures can be compared. Finally, studies have found empirical links between the constructs proposed by the models most related to environmental engagement. For example, in comparing cultural theory with Inglehart’s theory in a large Norwegian sample, Grendstad and Selle (1999) found that egalitarianism correlated positively with post-materialist values. They also found that egalitarianism was positively related to environmental concern, while post-materialism values were not. Hofstede (2001) also reported correlations between his dimensions and the dimensions proposed by Schwartz and Inglehart. For example, Schwartz’s harmony was related to Hofstede’s uncertainty avoidance (r = .45) and mastery was related to masculinity (r = .53), while none of Hofstede’s other dimensions correlated with harmony and mastery. Besides these commonalities, the main contribution of these theoretical models is the empirical identification of meaningful dimensions of cultural variability, which allows researchers to place national cultures on these dimensions. To the extent that these dimensions can be used to explain cultural variability, many studies have incorporated them to understand cross-national differences on environmental engagement. Some of these studies are reviewed below along with other recent studies examining culture influence on environmental engagement. Cross-Cultural Studies on Environmental Engagement There is an increasing interest in understanding and measuring environmental engagement across countries (e.g., Kaiser & Wilson, 2000; Milfont & Duckitt, 2010). Many large international surveys have also incorporated environmentally related questions, including a 16-country survey (Louis Harris & Associates, 1989), the 24-country Health of the Planet Survey (Dunlap et al., 1993), the World Values Survey discussed above, and the International Social Survey Programme, which included environmentally focused surveys in 1993, 2000 and 2010. An increasing number of publications also covers the area, including books and book chapters (e.g., Brett & Kopelman, 2004; Ehlers & Gethmann, 2003; Garcia Mira, Cameselle, & Martinez, 2003; Gouveia, 2002; Werner et al., 1997). A recent review of three large databases (PsycInfo, Web of Science and Scopus) identified more than 100 crosscultural studies published over the last 35 years related to environmental engagement, including the topics of environmental concern, attitudes, beliefs, values or behavior (Milfont, Pérez-López, & Tabor, 2010). This section provides a brief review of several kinds of cross-cultural studies, distinguishing those conducted at the individual level of analysis and those conducted at the national culture level. Studies using individual-level analysis focus on cross-cultural comparisons of individual average scores on particular measures, with individual responses as the unit of analysis. Studies using culture-level analysis have national culture as the unit of analysis and focus on country-level aggregate scores for cross-cultural comparisons (Leung, 1989). Studies using multilevel analysis that incorporate both individual-level and country-level variables are reviewed in a separate section. Variables examined at the country level are not always culture variables strictly speaking (e.g., cultural values), but also incorporate macrolevel variables that might influence environmental engagement, such as the country’s affluence and environmental quality. (p. 190) Individual-Level Studies An increasing number of studies examine the influence of culture on environmental engagement and environmental risk perception (Ando, Ohnuma, & Chang, 2007; Chan & Lau, 2001; Lévy-Leboyer, Bonnes, Chase, & Ferreira-Marques, 1996; Lorenzoni, Leiserowitz, Doria, Poortinga, & Pidgeon, 2006). Additionally, research Page 10 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement examining the relationship between individual values and environmental engagement comprise most of the crosscultural studies available (e.g., De Groot & Steg, 2007; Leiserowitz, Kates, & Parris, 2006; Milfont, Duckitt, & Wagner, 2010; Milfont et al., 2010; Schultz et al., 2005; Schultz & Zelezny, 1998, 1999). This seems to follow a trend in cross-cultural studies to use values as a way to “unpack” cultural differences in psychological phenomena. These studies show that individuals holding altruistic, pro-social, post-materialist value orientations tend to be more environmentally concerned. Other studies have examined cross-cultural differences in the environmental attitudes of teachers and/or students (e.g., Bogner & Wiseman, 1999; Muñoz, Bogner, Clement, & Carvalho, 2009; Palmer et al., 1998; Uzzell et al., 1994; Van Petegem & Blieck, 2006). For example, the PISA (Programme for International Student Assessment) evaluates the academic performance of 15-year-old students across OECD (Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development) countries and other participating countries. With 400,000 students from 57 countries, the PISA 2006 focus was on science and included questions on sense of responsibility toward resources and the environment (OECD Programme for International Student Assessment, 2007). Although awareness of environmental issues varied by country and was stronger for students performing better in science (see discussion of Pauw & Van Petegem’s study below), within OECD countries 73% of the students said they were aware of the consequences of clearing forests for other land use, 58% said they were aware of the increase of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere, and 35% said they were aware of the use of genetically modified organisms. The questionnaire also asked students to indicate whether selected environmental issues will improve or get worse over the next 20 years. Some degree of pessimism was observed, with only 21% of students across OECD countries indicating a belief that problems associated with energy shortages would improve over the next 20 years and lesser percentages believing that other environmental issues would improve. The students most pessimistic about the future of the environment were those with higher performance in science and who reported greater awareness of environmental issues. This area of research is important because fostering care for the environment at schools will undoubtedly lead to pro-environmental actions in the future (see Myers, this volume, for more on this topic). Cross-cultural temporal pessimism in environmental assessment is not limited to young people (Dunlap et al., 1993; Dunlap & Mertig, 1995; Gifford et al., 2009). For example, Gifford et al. (2009) conducted a cross-cultural study in 18 nations to specifically investigate spatial optimism and temporal pessimism. Spatial optimism refers to the view that environmental conditions are better here than there, while temporal pessimism refers to the view that environmental conditions will get worse. They included the assessment of 20 environmental conditions, including the availability of fresh drinking water, quality of air, environmental impact of vehicle traffic, and the effects of greenhouse gases. Gifford et al. observed a cross-cultural trend for both spatial optimism and temporal pessimism. Positive assessments of environmental conditions decreased as spatial distance increased (i.e., “environmental conditions are better in my local area than in my country, which are better than the situation globally”) and assessments about the future of the environment were negative (i.e., “environmental conditions will get worse in 25 years compared to now”). Spatial optimism was also observed in a number of other studies (Dunlap et al., 1993; Milfont, Abrahamse, & McCarthy, 2011; Uzzell, 2000). Gifford et al. (2009) also performed country-level analysis by correlating assessments of current national conditions and spatial optimism scores with the 2005 Environmental Sustainability Index. They found that countries with higher sustainability scores were those in which respondents had more spatial optimism and had a more positive assessment of their country’s current environmental conditions. Culture-Level Studies Gouveia (2002) examined the associations between Schwartz’s cultural values and economic, environmental, institutional, and social indicators of sustainable development across 30 countries. By combining cultural values into self-centered (egalitarianism, intellectual autonomy) and social-centered (harmony, conservatism) values, he created individualist and collectivist scores. Individualist (p. 191) cultural values were negatively (albeit nonsignificantly) related to a general index of sustainable development, while collectivist cultural values were strongly and positively related to the sustainable development index. His findings support the individual-level studies linking collectivistic orientations and concern for the environment as discussed above. Oreg and Katz-Gerro (2006) analyzed data from the 2000 International Social Survey Programme across 27 countries and used structural equation modeling to test a mediating model of the influence of values on ecological Page 11 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement behavior. Their model posited that values precede environmental concern, which precedes intention (i.e., willingness to sacrifice for the environment), which in turn precedes ecological behavior. The full model can be depicted as: values → environmental concern/perceived threat → willingness to sacrifice for the environment → ecological behavior and perceived behavioral control → willingness to sacrifice → behavior. Overall, the mediating model was supported. More important, they found that Inglehart’s post-materialist values were positively related to environmental attitudes but that Schwartz’s harmony values were unexpectedly weakly and negatively related. The authors discussed this unexpected finding in terms of methodological limitations of the data. Nevertheless, the findings suggest that harmony values are negatively associated with environmental engagement, which contradicts the view postulated above. However, other studies provide support for the view that Schwartz’s harmony values are equivalent to environmental values. First, Hofstede (2001) critiqued the theoretical argument that harmony and mastery are two opposite poles on a single dimension dealing with the environment. Second, Milfont and Sibley (2012, Study 3) empirically examined the associations between harmony values and three other indices of country-level environmental indicators across 36 countries: (1) country-level scores on the New Environmental Paradigm (NEP) Scale (Hawcroft & Milfont, 2010); (2) the 2010 Environmental Performance Index (EPI, retrieved from http://epi.yale.edu), which ranks countries based on their scores on 25 performance indicators; and (3) an environmental concern score derived from 9 items from the 2000 International Social Survey Programme data (ISSP 2000, Franzen & Meyer, 2010). Correlations showed that harmony values were associated with the EPI 2010 (r = 0.49, p < .01, N = 29), but not significantly associated with country-level NEP score (r = 0.41, p > .05, N = 15) or the ISSP 2000 (r = -0.01, p > .10, N = 14), which might be due to small sample size. Similar results were reported by Gouveia (2002), who found a strong correlation (0.66) between harmony values and his environmental development index. These associations support the view of harmony as measuring environmental values and provide a reliability test for these values as country-level indicators of environmental engagement. Another large country-level study used publicly available data to investigate the relationships between the Environmental Performance Index and socioeconomic and sociopolitical variables across 168 countries (Mukherjee & Chakraborty, 2010). The researchers observed a linear relationship between environmental quality and both political freedom and level of corruption, with environmental quality being higher in countries with greater political freedom and a greater ability to control corruption. In contrast, they observed an S-shaped curve for the relationships between environmental performance and both per capita gross domestic product and Human Development Index. This index is a country-level measure of human development comprising three components: health (life expectancy at birth), education (adult literacy rate and educational attainment), and living standards (gross national income per capita). The nonlinear relationship indicates that environmental quality increases with income and human development, decreases with further rise of both, and then starts to increase again. That is, environmental quality initially increases as a result of wealth and living standards until reaching a peak from which it starts to decrease due to intensified economic activities, but with further rises in wealth and living standards, environmental quality starts to increase again. These findings suggest that environmental quality increases with income and human development up to a point, but it is still not clear what that point is or the basis for saying what stage of development is represented. A more recent study has examined the association between environmental quality and time perspective by integrating country-level data on time orientation dimensions from 73 countries (Milfont & Gapski, 2010). Factor analysis yielded two time orientation factors: Factor 1 grouped data measuring how cultures assign different meanings to past, present, and future temporal frames, with an emphasis on future orientation (fast pace of life, planning, and investing in the future), while Factor (p. 192) 2 grouped data measuring how cultures assign different meanings to time horizons, with an emphasis on long-term orientation (enduring goals, long-standing plans). Factor scores were computed and correlated with other country-level variables, including per capita gross national product, the 2007 Human Development Index, and the 2010 Environmental Performance Index. Factor 1 was negatively related to a country’s environmental quality, while positively related to national wealth and level of human development. Correlations for Factor 2 were nonsignificant. The negative association between country-level time orientation and environmental engagement contrasts with the positive associations found at the individual level (e.g., Corral-Verdugo, Fraijo-Sing, & Pinheiro, 2006; Milfont & Gouveia, 2006), and highlights the fact that individual-level correlations are not necessarily aligned with country-level correlations (this is discussed under “Ecological Fallacy” below). Inconclusive findings on the association between time perspective and environmental Page 12 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement engagement at the country-level were also reported in a recent article by Hofstede and Minkov (2012). Although arguing that long-term orientation should affect how societies handle its natural environment, they observe that China is a large polluter despite having a high long-term orientation. Multilevel Studies Some recent studies have used multilevel models to assess the combined effect of individual-level and countrylevel variables in explaining environmental attitudes. Cross-cultural studies often work with multilevel data. These data sets have a hierarchical structure in which observations at the individual level of analysis are nested within observations at the culture level of analyses (see Nezlek, 2011; Raudenbush & Bryk, 2002). In multilevel analyses, the effects of variables in each level of analysis on the outcome variable are estimated while controlling for the other variables, and cross-level interaction can also be estimated. Although not strictly using multilevel modeling techniques, Kemmelmeier, Krol, and Young (2002) examined individual-level and country-level variables in explaining environmental attitudes across 22 countries that took part in the 1993 International Social Survey Programme. At the individual level they observed no consistent effects of age and sex on willingness to protect the environment (measured by three economy-vs.-environment trade-off items), but environmental protection was higher for those holding post-materialist values and with higher levels of education and income. At the country level, they found a linear relationship between a country’s wealth (measured by the gross national product per capita) and both post-materialist values and environmental protection, so that greater affluence is related to higher post-materialism and greater willingness to protect the environment. The authors also tested the mediating role of post-materialist values on the associations between affluence and environmental protection at both levels of analysis. This mediating model is derived from Inglehart’s theory and posits that post-materialist values can explain the impact of economic prosperity on environmental engagement. However, this position was not supported; the effect of personal income and the country’s wealth on environmental protection was not mediated by post-materialist values. Instead, they observed a cross-level interaction: the correlation between personal income and environmental protection was greater in countries that had experienced recent economic growth (for another study using the same data set, see Ignatow, 2006). Using data from the World Values Survey and European Values Study, Gelissen (2007) examined how support for environmental protection (measured by two economy-vs.-environment trade-off items) could be explained by a number of variables at the individual level (age, sex, household income, post-materialist values, environmental involvement, and educational attainment) and country level (national wealth, growth in national wealth, societallevel post-materialist values, and objective environmental problems—including population density, and air and water quality). Examining variables at the individual level first, Gelissen observed that older individuals with higher income who held post-materialist values, who were actively committed to environmental organizations either by membership or volunteer work, and with higher levels of educational attainment were those with greater willingness to make financial sacrifices to protect the environment. Unexpectedly, male and female participants did not differ on their support for environmental protection in this analysis. (Female participants often hold higher environmental concern and pro-environmental behavior than their male counterparts [see, e.g., Milfont & Duckitt, 2010; Zelezny, Chua, & Aldrich, 2000].) Examining country-level variables, Gelissen found that (surprisingly) national wealth was negatively related to public support for environmental protection, (p. 193) while higher levels of post-materialist values and growth in national wealth were related to greater public willingness to make financial sacrifices for the environment. None of the measures of objective environmental problems was significantly related to support for environmental protection. Taken as a whole, these findings support Inglehart’s post-materialist values thesis while rejecting his objective problems thesis. Liu and Sibley (2010) examined in 34 countries the association between perceived importance of global warming and participants’ willingness to make sacrifices in their standard of living to protect the environment; they also examined whether human development in the country would moderate that association. First, they observed that older and female participants were more willing to make sacrifices to protect the environment, and that greater importance placed on global warming was predictive of intention to make sacrifices. More important, they examined cross-level interaction effects in which observations at the individual level interact with observations at the country level. As they predicted, Human Development Index moderated the effect of perceived importance of global warming on willingness to make sacrifices to one’s living standard to protect the environment. That is, the influence Page 13 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement of perceived importance of global warming on intention to make sacrifices for the environment was higher in countries with higher standard of living than in those with lower standard of living. Another recent study used data from both the 1993 and 2000 International Social Survey Programmes to examine cross-cultural differences in environmental concern (Franzen & Meyer, 2010). They examined whether environmental concern could be explained by individual-level variables (age, sex, years of education, relative income within country, post-materialist values, knowledge about environment, and perceived environmental quality) and country-level variables (affluence, income inequality, educational participation, proportion of postmaterialists, environmental quality, proportion of urban population, and population density). All individual-level variables had an effect on environmental concern independently of the others. Environmental concern was highest for younger and female participants, for those with higher income and education level, and for those holding postmaterialist values, those having environmental knowledge, and those with a negative perception of environmental quality. At the country level, only wealth was significantly related to environmental concern, with concern higher in wealthier countries. Another consistent result across the 1993 and 2000 ISSP data sets was the effect of individual income on environmental concern. This relationship was nonlinear, showing that concern increases to a marginally declining degree with income. Overall, these findings support others (e.g., Diekmann & Franzen, 1999) suggesting that affluence is a stronger predictor of environmental engagement than post-materialist values. Finally, another recent study used the 2006 PISA data to examine the influence of individual-level variables (sex, science performance, family socioeconomic background) and country-level variables (Human Development Index, indices of environmental quality of the countries) on environmental attitudes (Pauw & Van Petegem, 2010). The results indicated that environmental attitudes were greater for 15-year-old students who were female, with a higher performance in science and coming from a more advantaged family background. Surprisingly Human Development Index had no significant effect on students’ environmental attitudes, whereas the environmental quality of their country of origin was a significant predictor. Environmental attitudes were higher for students in countries with more polluted environments, which is in line with the environmental deprivation theory (Tremblay & Dunlap, 1978) and Inglehart’s (1995) challenge-response model. Linking the Findings Taken as a whole, results from the studies reviewed above and others enable us to summarize pan-cultural effects. At the individual level of analysis, consistent cross-cultural findings show that environmental engagement is positively related to being female, post-materialist values, higher income, educational level, environmental knowledge, and negative assessment of environmental quality. At the country level of analysis, there is strong evidence that affluence and certain value orientations, such as self-expression/post-materialist values, lead to higher environmental engagement. But despite these convergences, it is still unclear what are the main country-level determinants of environmental engagement. Two important hypotheses arising from Inglehart’s models still need further testing. First, there is the hypothesis related to objective problem and subjective values, in which environmental engagement is a (p. 194) result of either a shift from survival/materialist to self-expression/post-materialist values or the experience of concrete environmental degradation. Second, there is the hypothesis related to modernization and affluence, in which environmental engagement is a result of an increase in income and human development. A number of studies have made a start on testing these hypotheses but no consensus has so far been reached (e.g., Diekmann & Franzen, 1999; Franzen & Meyer, 2010; Kemmelmeier et al., 2002). Methodological Considerations for Evaluating and Designing Cross-Cultural Studies Large international surveys are often well financed and follow strict methodological procedures in questionnaire translation and data collection. However, even such studies are not immune to methodological difficulties (see, e.g., Dunlap et al., 1993), and researchers aiming to gather cross-cultural data should consider the design of their studies very carefully. This section outlines practical methodological concepts for evaluating and designing crosscultural studies. These concepts have been extensively discussed in publications in the area of cross-cultural psychology, and their detailed discussion is beyond the scope of this chapter, but given the increasing number of cross-cultural studies in environmental psychology, even a brief discussion of the issues outlined below seems Page 14 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement warranted for this developing field (for a fuller discussion of methodological issues in cross-cultural research see Berry, Poortinga, Segall, & Dasen, 2002; Matsumoto & van de Vijver, 2011; Neumayer, 2002; van de Vijver & Leung, 1997). Culture as an Independent or Moderating Variable Cross-cultural studies are based mostly on quasi-experimental designs. In contrast to true experiments, such studies compare previously existing, intact groups; subjects cannot be randomly assigned to culture as a treatment or experimental manipulation; and culture is beyond experimental control (van de Vijver & Leung, 1997). Cross-cultural studies can be further classified in terms of the role of culture in the relationships being investigated. In cross-cultural studies using culture as an independent variable, observed differences between cultural groups on environmental attitudes and behavior are attributed to culture. Culture can also be considered as a moderating variable. There are at least three ways to examine moderating effects of culture: (1) one can first test whether people from various countries are significantly different on, say, environmental engagement and then, based on these differences, use country as a moderator; (2) one can test the moderating effects of culture using actual assessments of the cultural variable of interest (e.g., post-materialist values, individualism-collectivism orientations); or (3) one can first test the moderating effects of the cultural variable and then determine whether country explains additional variance (see Kirkman, Lowe, & Gibson, 2006). These approaches are useful when designing a study and are important for the proper “unpacking” of cross-cultural differences. Ecological Fallacy Ecological fallacy is the incorrect assumption that relationships occurring at the country level of analysis (or another aggregate or higher ecological level) are necessarily the same at the the individual level of analysis (Jargowsky, 2005). This fallacy often arises in cross-cultural studies when culture-level characterization is used ex post facto to explain relationships between variables at the individual level without any empirical justification. For example, it is an ecological fallacy to assume that all members of individualistic cultures hold individualistic values and that all members of collectivistic cultures hold collectivistic values, or to assume that because a strong and positive correlation was found between societal post-materialist values and environmental concern, the correlation between these two variables will have the same direction and strength for individuals. The reverse ecological fallacy occurs when it is assumed that relationships between variables at the individual level correspond to the same relationships at the culture level. Distinction Between Emic and Etic Approaches Cross-cultural researchers have drawn an interesting distinction between emic and etic approaches to crosscultural research (Berry, 1969). The emic approach is linked to a cultural perspective in psychology in which behavior is approached as culture-specific, and criteria to understand behavior are relative to internal characteristics and are understood in the culture’s own terms. In contrast, the etic approach is linked to a comparative perspective in psychology in which behavior is approached as culture-general and universal, and behavior is examined and compared across many cultures. The emic-etic distinction (p. 195) is useful for categorizing studies but can limit the development of cross-cultural research if an emphasis is placed on the shortcomings and pitfalls of each approach instead of a focus on their interdependency. This is because “local knowledge and interpretations (the emic approach) are essential, but more than one study is required in order to be able to relate variations in cultural context to variations in behaviour (the etic approach)” (Berry, 1999, p. 166). With a focus on the contributions of each approach, there is a clearer recognition of the existence of both culturespecific and culture-general aspects of a given phenomenon. For example, the use of clothing can be argued to be a universal human phenomenon, as it is observed across cultures, but at the same time variations in terms of its use and style are also observed. As a result, scholars in the area now emphasize a three-step process from imposed etics (where a construct from one culture is applied to another), to emics, to finally derived etics (where imposed etics is combined with emics to formulate knowledge that is valid cross-culturally) (Berry, 1999; Berry et al., 2002). First, psychological knowledge and perspectives are transported and tested in other cultures to assess their validity (e.g., use of an environmental attitude measure in another country). Second, new aspects of the given phenomenon are explored and discovered in the local culture (e.g., adapting and/or adding items to the measure). Page 15 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement Finally, the knowledge produced from these first two approaches is integrated to achieve a more universal description of the psychological phenomenon (e.g., validation of the measure across cultural groups). Research by Schwartz (1992) and Leung and Bond (2004) are good examples of the use of this three-step process and could guide research in our field. Issues of Equivalence and Bias Besides the more conceptual topics just reviewed, issues of equivalence and bias are important methodological aspects to consider when designing and analyzing data from multiple groups. Cross-cultural studies often compare groups on psychological variables, and an assumption is made that the scales used measure the same psychological construct in all groups. Despite its appeal, this assumption is often not justified and needs to be tested to see whether the measures are equivalent across the cultural groups investigated. Indeed, the establishment of measurement equivalence is a prerequisite for meaningful comparisons across groups. If the appropriate tests are performed and the measures are shown to be equivalent, then cross-cultural comparisons are valid and differences or similarities between cultural groups can be meaningfully interpreted. However, comparisons and interpretations are not fully meaningful if measurement equivalence has not been established. Four levels of equivalence can be distinguished (Fontaine, 2005): (1) functional equivalence implies that the theoretical variable of interest, say, environmental attitudes, has the same psychological meaning across the cultural groups; (2) structural equivalence implies that observed variables, say, items from an environmental attitudes measure, refer to the same latent variable in each of the groups; (3) metric equivalence implies that the weight parameter (i.e., measurement unit) between observed and latent variables, say, associations between items and the latent construct, has the same value across the cultural groups—thus allowing cross-cultural comparisons of score patterns; and (4) full-score or scalar equivalence implies that both the weight and intercept parameters (i.e., origin of measurement unit) of the relationship between observed and latent variables have the same values across the cultural groups. Lack of equivalence is likely to arise from multiple causes, including cultural specificity of the theoretical variable of interest, domain underrepresentation, and measurement problems such as method and item biases (Fontaine, 2005; van de Vijver & Leung, 1997). Although it is a challenging task to achieve measurement invariance in cross-cultural research, equivalence is a prerequisite to the meaningful evaluation of group differences. A group mean comparison on a scale can be meaningfully conducted and interpreted only if the scale items have the same meaning in each of the comparison groups. If the scale items denote one thing to one group and something different for another group—because of poor translation, cultural specificity of item contents, and so on—no comparison can be made. Suppose we are interested in measuring people’s feelings of guilt for not acting more environmentally. Research has shown that guilt feelings is an important variable in models trying to predict pro-environmental intentions (Bamberg & Möser, 2007; Kaiser, Schultz, Berenguer, Corral-Verdugo, & Tankha, 2008). Research has also shown that guilt can be understood as a communal-oriented emotion related to reactions such as norm violation, damage, repair, and others’ expectations (Fontaine et al., 2006). The importance of interpersonal (p. 196) relationships in guilt means that guilt feelings might vary from one culture to another. In collectivist cultures where the self is deeply connected with family, friends, and the group, guilt feelings regarding environmental inaction could be expected to be higher than in individualistic cultures. Despite this reasonable hypothesis, however, one could meaningfully compare and interpret group mean differences only after establishing that the guilt feelings measure is equivalent across the groups. Many authors have discussed ways of identifying and addressing measurement equivalence (Chen, 2008; Cheung & Rensvold, 1999; Fischer & Fontaine, 2011; Milfont & Fischer, 2010; Steenkamp & Baumgartner, 1998; van de Vijver & Leung, 1997, 2011; Vandenberg & Lance, 2000). In particular, a study by Milfont, Duckitt, and Cameron (2006) provided an application of measurement invariance testing in the area of environmental psychology. Conclusions and Future Directions This introductory review reveals substantial interest in exploring cultural differences in environmental engagement. The meaningful dimensions of cultural variability now available can help the selection of national cultures or cultural groups aimed at answering questions of theoretical significance, instead of using data collection driven by Page 16 of 24 Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement an easy availability of participants from two or more cultural groups. Researchers have progressed beyond simply pointing out similarities and differences between groups on indicators of environmental engagement, to focus on the development and empirical testing of theoretical models that can explain those similarities and differences. The majority of studies have examined cultural differences at the individual level of analysis, but the past few years have seen the emergence of country-level studies. More significantly, many recent studies have employed multilevel strategies to simultaneously examine the effect of both individual-level and country-level variables in explaining environmental engagement. Theoretical development in dimensions of cultural variability and the availability of socioeconomic indicators mean that researchers can better examine the effect of country-level indicators on environmental engagement. Some aspects not discussed in this chapter should be noted, including indigenous perspectives in humanenvironment interactions (e.g., Göbel, 2001; James, 1993). This chapter can be regarded as taking a Westernized and colonizer’s perspective, and viewpoints of indigenous peoples are essential for a complete understanding of human interaction with their surrounding environment. The chapter has also taken a causal approach in which culture influences views of the environment, but the reverse influence of the environment on culture also needs to be considered. A dialectic perspective on the mutual influence of culture and environment is important to better understand human-environment interactions (for such a holistic approach, see Werner et al., 1997). For example, there is evidence that climate (combined with affluence) has an important role in the creation of national cultures (Van de Vliert, 2009). How both climate and affluence determine cultural emphasis on environmental protection would be an interesting area to be addressed in future studies. Future directions for the field include the more extensive use of multilevel modeling for analyzing hierarchical, cross-cultural data, and not merely using culture as an independent variable but also designing studies to test the moderating role of cultural variables in explaining environmentally relevant constructs. To create the new generation of research addressing cross-cultural differences in environmental engagement, theoretical and methodological approaches developed and used in other fields could be drawn upon, especially those in crosscultural psychology. The increasing environmental problems we face mean that we will be forced to become more environmentally conscious. And as this chapter has shown, culture plays a major role in the development of environmental engagement. 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Clayton Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Online Publication Date: Nov 2012 Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0012 Abstract and Keywords This chapter considers urban territory as a place where more than half of the world population lives. After an objective description of the perceptions and images associated with a city, the physical and social environmental urban conditions are reviewed and their impact on the behavior and sociability of city dwellers is analyzed. City dwellers have been observed to have specific adaptive behavior patterns and sociability within the constraints imposed by urban stress and the bad conditions of urban life. Current city developments and especially the growing disparity within the population raises the question of the appropriation of the overall urban infrastructure and of a way of living together in cooperative harmony from the standpoint of an urban citizenship, indispensable for the sustained development of the megapoles of today. Keywords: urban environment, urban stressors, living conditions, density, adaptive behaviors, civility, social relationships, interpersonal relationships, appropriation, urban identity, urban dweller, sustainable development of cities Introduction Since the early 20th century, along with industrialization, populations across the globe have been concentrating in large urban structures. Cities spread out and transformed themselves in vast agglomerations. Today more than half of the world’s population lives in cities, many of them in urban structures of more than 10 million inhabitants, socalled megapoles, which offer particular living conditions. They give shelter to a diverse population from a wide range of backgrounds. This intermingling of cultures is certainly enriching, but it raises the problem of living together in cooperative harmony. Moreover, the built-up area, the physical urban environment (noise, pollution), and the social environment (density) trigger a number of repercussions on behavior patterns and conduct through the conditions of daily life, as well as on the individual’s interpersonal relations. These different aspects of the urban environment and the adjustments that result from them imply that the inhabitants of big cities have to face conditions that certainly make them more flexible, but at the same time expose them to more risks in their physical and mental health. And this is all the more true for those living in mediocre conditions, or in disastrous conditions, as is the case in the ever-present shantytowns in most big agglomerations over the world. The inhabitants of the big metropolises are often identified as such by their behavior. In this chapter, we will focus on objective urban characteristics and the perception of cities and different behavior patterns identified in the literature, as well as on urban sociability and the development of interpersonal relationships. The cornerstone of sustainable development of metropolises is the appropriation not only of the residential neighborhood but also of the city, itself a beneficiary of the individual’s (p. 204) investment in the urban territory and in a certain social cohesion. It is only under these conditions that an urban identity can develop, based on the physical as well as on the social aspects of the city. These different aspects are dealt with from a descriptive and perceptive view of the urban environment, city life, and typical urban behavior patterns. A final paragraph brings together the urban identity through the appropriation of the urban infrastructure and a certain social cohesion, conditions for the Page 1 of 21 Cities transition of the city dweller into an urban citizen concerned with sustainability. The Urban Environment The constant growth of the city population is due to the fact that cities offer a great variety of cultural, social, and material options to their inhabitants. But their attractiveness goes along with a mostly uncontrolled growing and spreading out, which is accompanied by particular conditions that negatively affect daily living of city dwellers. Cities as Specific Environments The more cities grow, the more they seem to lose their structure. Not only are the transformations into agglomerations noticeable in the structure of the built-up area but they also modify the activities of their inhabitants. According to Lefebvre (1970), the traditional city has three essential functions that distinguish it from loosestructured agglomerations: (1) an information function: the city is a perpetual source of information and the street occupies a central place in it; (2) a symbolic function: the architecture, the monuments, and the urban infrastructure form a social and cultural whole; and (3) an amusement function: enjoyable activities, such as games that bring people together, a variety of planned and chance encounters, the street as spectacle … Nowadays the traditional city, structured with a center of attraction and its own history, has been transformed into diffuse agglomerations composed of heterogeneous zones. Its expansion blurs the distinction between town and country, which is disappearing and being replaced by the notion of agglomeration, bringing together town and periphery (the center and suburbs nearby and farther away). For Proshansky (1978), the city is “a huge collection of people and activities concentrated in a given geographical place and destined to facilitate the dimensions of human life representing an organized society.” Barker (1968 ; Barker and Gump 1964; Barker and Wright, 1995) considered the city as an aggregate of behavioral sites, an organizational framework, with its facilities, behavioral resources, and activities. But as a collection of overcrowded behavioral sites, the city makes it more difficult for its inhabitants to directly involve themselves in collective activities, such as charity organizations, occasional help, and so on. This brings about a lowering in service performance and a lessening of individual responsibility and attention paid to others. The presence of a large number of different people in a restricted area is often considered to be the essential characteristic of a big city (Sadalla & Stea, 1978). The city is likely to modify behavior patterns reflecting the city’s characteristics: (1) The physical aspect: the buildings compartmentalize the space (transport, roads, housing, commercial centers, and factories) and also as a consequence compartmentalize the users of these different spaces. (2) The functional aspect: each built-up area has a specific function. (3) The cognitive aspect: the built-up area provides a framework for and acts as a guide to individual performances. (4) The affective aspect: the whole environment stirs the emotions. It is perceived and evaluated following personal values and cultural norms. In this way it is capable of providing a feeling of security and of being protected or, on the contrary, of giving individuals a feeling of insecurity. (5) The social aspect: the capacity of the environment to match the specific needs of the individual. Zeisel (1975, 2006) pointed to the importance of taking into account people’s needs in relation to their built-up environment. Needs are meant to apply to all sizes of environments, that is to say, just as much at a microlevel (individual housing) as at an intermediate level (neighborhood, residential blocks) and at a macrolevel (cities, agglomerations). Five needs can be identified: a need for security, a need for clarity and readability, a need for privacy, a need for social interaction (the built-up environment must make interaction easier as well as enabling isolation), a need for identity (the environment should favor identity through the relationship the individual creates with it). Do today’s cities meet the needs of their inhabitants? Sustainable cities cannot be achieved without reference to local culture and local needs and therefore also by taking into account the inhabitants and their needs. People do have environmental concerns, and the lack of environmental quality may be seen as an important threat to their well-being and thus impeding sustainability (Moser,2009). (p. 205) Characteristics of the Urban Environment Page 2 of 21 Cities Cities can be characterized by the opportunities and facilities they offer their inhabitants: school and educational opportunities, health care resources, leisure pursuits, cultural aspects. They can also be characterized by their principal activity (tourism, industry, commerce, university, or a mix), and they are often the mirror of their inhabitants, for example, industrial cities, touristic places, university cities (Thorndike, 1939). Cities are meant to determine behavior by providing the context in which practices are shaped (Wicker, 1979; Wirth, 1938). Big cities are perceived as culturally diverse, allowing for a free choice of the type or style of life, tolerant but overcrowded, noisy, exacerbating competition, anonymous, producing isolation, impersonal, and encouraging mistrust (Krupat, 1985). Noise and pollution, problems of security, inadequate facilities in the neighborhood, and lack of satisfactory transport are repeatedly mentioned by city dwellers as threatening their quality of life (Rizk, 2003). On the other hand, small towns are perceived as calm, safe, healthy, intimate, and relaxing, but the people are too concerned by what their neighbors are doing and do not like strangers. In a general way, city dwellers seem to be less satisfied and less optimistic about life than country dwellers (Hynson, cited in Krupat, 1985). The research concerning the perception of the city highlights the very personal knowledge of the people. Evaluations are based on four dimensions: an evaluative aspect of the environment (beautiful, rich); the presence of activity (busy, noisy); the spatial configuration of the buildings (horizontal, open); and the descriptive aspect (uniform, dense). Others have looked into the “emblematic” aspects of some cities (Milgram, 1970). In a research by questionnaire built on critical incidents, the author shows that New York is characterized by its physical attributes: its diversity, its size, its rhythm of life, the cultural opportunities it offers, the heterogeneity of its population, and the respective isolation of the different urban communities; London by its tolerance and the courteous relations between its inhabitants. Paris is the subject of evaluations focusing as much on its architectural aspects as on the special nature of its inhabitants: Parisians are perceived as being cold and unfriendly, even hostile; others mention the cafés, parks, and gardens illustrating the city’s charm. Environmental Stressors and Urban Living Conditions People need stimulation, complexity, novelty, and excitement (Geller, 1980; Geller, Cook, O’Connor, & Low, 1982). The environment is perceived and lived differently according to each person’s necessities and the city is an environment that does not necessary correspond with everyone’s life preferences. For some people the city with its opportunities is the ideal place. For these people the relative “understimulation” of rural life is certainly a less than attractive prospect. The city makes people smart in as far as they are confronted by a whole batch of novel situations of different kinds that they learn to face with flexibility (Proshansky, 1978). Nevertheless, most of the time citizens are exposed to visual and sound stimulations as well as high population density. Urban environments display three specific aspects: the prevailing physical conditions (essentially noise and air pollution), the social conditions (density), and overstimulation (exposure to a high number and variety of stimulations). Furthermore, the multiplication of visual and auditory stimuli to which the city dwellers are exposed is a constant informational overload, which increases fatigue. Generally, people are more likely to perceive environmental problems when they can hear (noise), see (smoke), smell, or feel them (Baum, Singer, & Baum, 1982; Evans & Cohen, 1987). Noise is the most spectacular stress to which city dwellers are exposed on a daily basis. It is the most frequently mentioned form of stress and the one that leads to the highest amount of complaints. One-fourth of urbanites are exposed to at least one loud noise at work, at home, or during transportation on a daily basis (Lévy-Leboyer, 1978). Cities also often accumulate different forms of density due to population concentrations. City dwellers may be exposed to social density outdoors (high number of individuals in the same place) and to spatial density in their habitat (lack of space per person). The image of city life differs according to the size of the agglomeration (Wright, 1967). Franck (1980) showed that students newly arrived in a big city admit to more stress than those who arrive in a medium-sized city. It has been noted that city dwellers complain more about problems they have with their physical environment (pollution, noise, density) than with their social environment (poor people, beggars, alcoholics, dirty individuals, etc.). But one must not forget that city dwellers are almost (p. 206) unanimously ready to sacrifice the environment for their careers, careers that are clearly followed more in big urban centers than in a rural setting (Lévy-Leboyer & Veyssière, 1978). Page 3 of 21 Cities Citizens not only are exposed to environmental stress factors, but also face bad living conditions. Urban mobility is more constraining than in small towns: commuting daily from residence to the workplace and facing frequent gridlock or crowded mass transit increases the stress of city dwellers. Their spare time is compressed because of larger commuting duration, and there is less time available for social interactions. Compared to inhabitants of small towns, city dwellers experience overall ever-increasing difficulties of access to various services due to increased competition (subway, taxis, lining up for services, etc.). And bureaucratic formalism is also more frequent in big cities than in small towns. However, despite being generally more exposed to environmental stress factors, the inhabitants of big cities, with the exception of newcomers, do not mention these factors as annoying them more frequently than the inhabitants of small towns or even than people living in rural habitats (Moser & Robin, 2006). Overall, city life seems to be constraining and demanding. All the analyses in terms of environmental overload, environmental stress, and behavioral constraint point out the potentially negative effects of life in big cities compared to life in small towns. Sustainable cities cannot be achieved without reference to local culture and local needs and therefore also by taking into account the inhabitants and their needs. People do have environmental concerns, and the lack of environmental quality may be seen as an important threat to their well-being and thus impeding sustainability (Moser, 2009). Vandalism, Criminality, and Insecurity Vandalism, criminal activity, and the feeling of fear that they instill are the aspects of life in large agglomerations that contribute to giving a bad reputation to certain urban areas, disturbing urban conviviality and thereby conditioning behavior patterns to a large extent. Vandalism is almost exclusively an urban phenomenon. It does not concern all environments indifferently: some environments are quickly degraded; others, on the contrary, seem to remain unscathed. These gratuitous degradations are an indication of societal dysfunction, of a disturbed relationship with the environment, and provoke a feeling of insecurity. All-pervading criminality is considered one of the most negative aspects of city life. In the United States in 1981, one-third of the inhabitants of big urban centers had been the victim of an offense at least once in the previous 12 months, and criminality is the most often cited reason for people moving house (Fischer, 1976). Certain categories of people, especially old people, will go out from their home only for exceptional reasons (Lavrakas, 1982). Generally speaking, there is more delinquency in city centers than on the periphery, no doubt because the center is denser and, because it is a focus of attraction, it acts as a drain on a sizeable proportion of the population of the agglomerations. Nonetheless, it is clear that there is a lot more to steal in the big city centers and less social control and mutual surveillance capable of dissuading potential thieves. On this point Zimbardo (1969) referred to the phenomenon of “de-individuation” to explain the high crime rate. The presence of an anonymous crowd is likely to protect the potential criminal, reducing the risk of being identified and punished. Finally, it seems evident that the mutual indifference and non-assistance to another person that one observes in big cities (Latané & Darley, 1970) contribute to the protection of the potential aggressor. The Feeling of Insecurity Insecurity unquestionably represents stress for the individuals who are exposed to it (Fischer, 1976; Moser, 1992). Anxiety about criminality and fear of being a victim in urban environments limit social contact (Newman & Franck, 1982). The feeling of insecurity has been considered for a long time to be the individual and emotional response to prevailing criminality. In this perspective, it would be the prevailing criminality that would generate a reaction of fear. However, the feeling of insecurity is more widespread than criminality, and many research projects have confirmed that fear is not directly related to, nor is it in any way “justified” by, criminality: the feeling of insecurity is not the simple consequence of the perception of real risks (Ackerman, Dulong, & Jeudy, 1983; Lagrange & Roche, 1987). McCann, Sakheim, and Abrahamson (1988) proposed a model according to which the perception of security, self-esteem, and self-confidence, and the feeling of control (the feeling that the situation can be mastered), all tend to reduce the sentiment (p. 207) of insecurity. According to Norris and Kaniasty (1991), Page 4 of 21 Cities victimhood makes people who have been victims believe they are vulnerable and incapable of protecting themselves. If the feeling of insecurity and vulnerability can be explained by a perceived loss of control, it can be analyzed in terms of personal control (Fischer, 1986; Moser, 1992). Distress, the feeling of insecurity, the fear of becoming a victim again, and the strong emotion, as well as the helplessness that follows the experience of an aggression, are clearly attributable to the perceived loss of control of the situation, as the victim sees no way of protecting him- or herself. Attributing the potential cause of such an event makes it possible to explain the emergence of a feeling of insecurity. Attribution theory has emphasized the relationship between internal explanations and the accompanying feeling of control (Kelley, 1967; Deschamps, 1990). On the other hand, the victim is likely to be all the more distressed given that he or she attributes what has happened to external causes, which are therefore, by definition, beyond his or her control, increasing the fear of being very probably a victim of the same incident again (Moser, 1988b). How does the feeling of insecurity express itself in environmental terms? The characteristics “dark,” “deserted,” “winding streets,” and “presence of graffiti” generate a feeling of insecurity, and this is even more the case in unknown environments (Moser & Lidvan, 1992). Familiarity with the environment turns out to be a key characteristic in the differentiated representation of the insecurity of a given place. Moreover, Newman and Franck (1982) showed that anxiety about criminality and fear of being a victim in urban environments differ according to the size of the housing estates; they explained this phenomenon by the lack of social contacts in the big estates. The nature of the built-up area would tend to encourage a person to extend the zone for mixing with others outside his or her apartment toward neighboring zones, which would increase or diminish the feeling of security. Likewise, Fischer (1976) and Hunter (1978) attributed the feeling of security to the sharing of the same behavior norms in a given residential environment. This approach is corroborated by other studies that highlight the link between the presence of graffiti and the feeling of insecurity (Skogan & Maxfield, 1981; Lewis & Salem, 1985). On the other hand, when there is no perceived incivility, the inhabitants would support a lower rate of criminality, which led Taylor, Gottfredson, and Brower (1984) to conclude that the feeling of insecurity is positively linked to the loss of territorial control. Living in Cities Behavioral Adaptation to Urban Living Conditions In 1903 Georg Simmel was already of the opinion that city dwellers based their relations with others on distance and otherness. The psycho-sociologists of the School of Chicago held that the inhabitants of big cities are able to adopt only an individualist mentality, to strive to be free and to avoid all collective restraints so as to guard against the unremitting stimulation to which they are subjected. Most of the analyses insist on the negative aspects of city life. The simultaneous presence of density, atmospheric pollution, and above all noise would constitute a stressful and essentially aversive environment. What are the effects, then, of urban conditions on the behavior of individuals? Adaptive Behaviors City dwellers seem to have special strategies for adapting: Franck (1980) noted, for example, that individuals newly arrived in the city are more involved in planning their actions and their movements. This is even more so if they come from a rural area than if they come from another big city. The latter are more relaxed, probably because they feel the stress of the city less, having already lived in one. People accomplish a certain number of activities more rapidly in big cities than in small towns (Lowin, Hottes, Sandler, & Bornstein, 1971). Wirtz and Ries (1992) observed that the speed at which people move around increases with the size of the agglomeration. The authors concluded that life in big cities is less easygoing due to its stress conditions. An extension of this study to cover a greater number of agglomerations confirms that the rhythm of life is faster in cities (Bornstein, 1979). In fact, the speed at which pedestrians move varies in a straight line according to the number of inhabitants. Marked cultural differences exist between reactions to environmental conditions: the Chinese accept conditions of high density; they are reserved at an emotional level and have a highly regulated family life, in all probability because of the high density of their living quarters (Mitchell, 1971). Canter and Canter (1971) pointed out that in Tokyo there is a very low rate of vandalism and delinquency because Page 5 of 21 Cities that city is made up of small districts organized as villages, which facilitate social control. Similarly, (p. 208) Rogler (1967) underlined the respect for intimacy and an intense community life in the shantytowns of South America. In the final analysis, there are multiple ways for city dwellers to adapt and adjust their behavior when they are provided with stable social structures. Urban Civilities Urbanity is rooted in the respect of individuals for a number of “routines” concerning relations with other people that define social order in a normative way (Goffman, 1974). Urbanity is commonly associated with civilization, with control of the self and its impulses (Elias, 1969), with good manners toward each other, and with socially acceptable practices; however, it is also known that the urban environment, by generating specific stressful situations, has a significant effect on interpersonal relations to the extent that they provoke indifferent and selfish behavior (Simmel, 1903). Urbanity functions like “a guide to managing social relations through observing current proprieties” (Bernard, 1997, p. 107). Rules of civility are tacit rules, a set of shared conventions concerned with the normal acts of daily life. Public spaces as places where community values are in evidence reveal the changing rules and codes indispensable to the individual by which he or she keeps his distance from others to protect personal space or, on the contrary, comes closer to them. Urban behavior is paradoxical: individuals must cooperate socially to maintain their anonymity. Indifference has to be cont

Susan D. Clayton The Oxford Handbook of Environment

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