PREFACE
FIGURE 0.1 Cherishing a rare flower.
Darwin posed for this pastel drawing with his older sister Caroline in 1816 at age six or seven. Decades later, after he overturned our understanding of life, Darwin’s son Francis, who became a botanist, reminisced: “I used to like to hear him admire the beauty of a flower: it was a kind of gratitude to the flower itself, and a personal love for its delicate form and color. I seem to remember him gently touching a flower he delighted in; it was the same simple admiration that a child might have.” Darwin shared his love for flowers with his wife, Emma, who also had quite the green thumb, and their home was a haven for flowers, as well as a veritable botanical research station. Orchids were Darwin’s favorite. He devoted a tome to them, full of detail and passion: “The contrivances by which Orchids are fertilised . . . are almost as perfect as any of the most beautiful adaptations in the animal kingdom. . . . Orchids . . . rank amongst the most singular and most modified forms.” The “entangled bank” Darwin depicted in the much-quoted last paragraph of On the Origin of Species was a real one, near his home, full of wild orchids, inspiring hours of scientific scrutiny and, always, evoking in him biophilia’s simple admiration. In this drawing by Darwin family friend Ellen Sharples, Darwin cradles an exotic treasure, Lachenalia aloides, a native of southernmost Africa.
Source: Reproduced with permission from John van Wyhe, ed., The Complete Work of Charles Darwin Online, 2002–, http://darwin-online.org.uk/. The original is held in the Down House collection of the historical preservation group English Heritage.
MY BOOK IS a project of consilience, defined as “jumping together”—in my case, the joining of different forms of knowledge to gain new insights. In his 1998 book Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge, Edward O. Wilson wrote that “consilience is not yet science. It is a metaphysical view. . . . The strongest appeal of consilience is in the prospect of intellectual adventure and, given even modest success, the value of understanding the human condition with a higher degree of certainty.” This book is, I hope, such an intellectual adventure. I draw on ideas from aesthetics, anthropology, astronomy, biology, evolutionary theories of many stripes, philosophy, physics, poetry, primatology, psychoanalysis, and theoretical physics. One line of poetry, one theory by a philosopher about the origins of the universe, have, for me, as much gravitas as a rigorous biological study or aesthetic analysis in helping to understand biophilia and its place in Darwin’s life and work.
Biophilia— a love of life—is an obscure term of art and a vague concept, but it has a provenance in the thought of a few influential intellects, such as the psychoanalyst Erich Fromm and the modern naturalist Edward O. Wilson. Fromm based his idea of biophilia on the drive for survival, and he emphasized a love for whatever serves survival, including altruism. Wilson uses the term to describe the love of nature and the unity of all living organisms. Other theorists have proposed similar ideas in other terms. Biophilia is an “omnibus” term, as the philosopher Akeel Bilgrami points out, especially as figured in my study, where it includes everything from the reflexive survival instinct to the deliberate cultivation of beauty. There is no one-size-fits-all definition of biophilia, but it can be seen in
characteristic patterns. There is an old saw in philosophy that what cannot be defined may still be fleshed out as a reality via description. That is my project here.
My guiding premise is that Darwin’s evolutionary views, as described in his writings and analyzed in his private notebooks, are shaped by biophilia and that much of what he saw was biophilia in action. His singular case of biophilia primed him to see what others did not. Darwin did not use the word biophilia, but other words harking to the concept: “there is one instinct to all animals,” “one thinking principle,” “one living spirit.” The Darwin scholar Howard E. Gruber wrote, “We need to understand what forms of thought he used.” This book shows biophilia as one of those forms.
My book is a thought experiment, an imaginative exercise, an impressionistic painting in words about the perception and psyche of a giant in history. This is not an academic study, not an act of scholarship, but a personal book. Darwin praises the scientist Alexander von Humboldt for his “rare union of poetry with science.” That is my goal and method in this book. I am neither fish nor fowl but a quirky hybrid chasing consilience. I fell in love with Darwin the minute I began reading On the Origin of Species. Between the lines, I saw someone who seemed extraordinary: careful with fact but sweeping with theory, charming but also logical, precise with language but in an embrace with the unknown, with a gentle voice but a bulldozer’s forward momentum. My ever-present question when reading Darwin was: Who is this guy? This project was in service to a mystery in my mind. My ever-present question while writing this book was: Would Darwin think this is true?
The seven chapters constitute a set of interrelated essays on the theme of Darwin’s biophilia. In “A Study in Biophilia,” the first chapter, I introduce the concept and give an outline of Darwin’s singular case of biophilia. Each of the next six chapters examines one facet of Darwin’s work or life and how it was sculpted by his love of life. The topics are: dogs (chap. 2), facts (chap. 3), thought (chap. 4), emotion (chap. 5), and beauty (chap. 6). The final chapter (chap. 7) portrays Darwin’s marriage and domestic world, focusing on his wife, the heiress Emma Wedgwood, as a woman who shared his biophilia. I peer into their partnership and home, which was full of a love of life that left its own legacy.
The topics are increasingly complex, and for the reader progressing straight through, they accrue to give a deepening understanding of how biophilia influences Darwin’s work and life. The concept of biophilia likewise unfolds more and more over the course of the book. But other than the essential introductory chapter, the book is modular: readers can jump to whatever topic interests them without any loss of continuity.
In The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Thomas S. Kuhn wrote, “Philosophers of science have repeatedly demonstrated that more than one theoretical construction can always be placed upon a given collection of data.” After the placement, of course, scientists next examine the fit. I have placed my theory about biophilia over a collection of data. Please examine the fit.