Language and the Perception of the More-than-Human: An Etymological and Philosophical Journey
Language shapes how we perceive the world. Words, phrases, and metaphors direct our attention, filter our experiences, and imbue phenomena with particular meanings. When it comes to how we understand the more-than-human world—the vast assemblage of beings, forces, and entities that exist beyond the human domain—the role of language becomes paramount. Terms like nature, the great outdoors, the countryside, the environment, and the land are central to how we conceptualize, relate to, and engage with this world. However, the meanings of these words are not static; they carry historical, philosophical, and social baggage that has evolved over time, profoundly influencing the aesthetic, ethical, and existential relationships we form with the more-than-human.
Nature: The Immanent and the Other
The word nature comes from the Latin natura, which itself derives from nascor, meaning "to be born." Originally, it referred to the essential qualities of things, their inherent characteristics, or the "birth" of something. Over time, nature came to refer more broadly to the physical world and, often, to the world as distinct from human influence.
Philosophically, nature has always been a fraught term, torn between conceptions of immanence and transcendence. In ancient Greece, physis (the Greek counterpart to natura) referred to the intrinsic order of the cosmos, with philosophers like Heraclitus viewing it as a dynamic process of change, and Aristotle exploring it as a teleological principle, where every natural object has an inherent purpose. This intrinsic relationship to purpose and order in nature created a framework for seeing the more-than-human as something that had its own integrity, separate from human design.
However, during the Enlightenment, particularly in the works of philosophers like Descartes and Bacon, the relationship between humans and nature shifted dramatically. Nature became something to be known, conquered, and manipulated for human benefit. Bacon’s vision of science emphasized the extraction of nature's secrets, positioning it as an object of human control. Descartes' dualism, separating the thinking subject (the human) from the extended substance (nature), cemented this division.
The result was that nature came to be viewed as "other"—a domain separate from human civilization. Romanticism, while often credited with promoting a reconnection to nature, paradoxically reinforced this separation by idealizing nature as something pure, sublime, and untouched by human hands. Wordsworth, Coleridge, and other Romantic poets drew from nature a source of spiritual renewal, but in doing so, perpetuated an aesthetic of the pristine, distanced from human presence. This tension—between nature as something we are part of and nature as something outside us—continues to influence contemporary discourse, particularly in environmental activism, where "nature" is often framed as something to be protected from human interference.
The Great Outdoors: The Realm of Escape
The phrase the great outdoors emerged in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, coinciding with the rise of urbanization and industrialization. As cities became denser and more polluted, the idea of "the outdoors" took on a new cultural significance. It came to represent a space of freedom and health, contrasting with the perceived artificiality and confinement of urban life.
Etymologically, outdoors simply refers to that which is outside of the door, emphasizing a spatial distinction between indoor, human-made environments and open, non-constructed ones. However, the addition of "great" imbued the phrase with grandeur, connecting it to ideas of vast, sublime wilderness. The American wilderness movement of the late 19th century, championed by figures like John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt, helped popularize this conception. For Muir, the outdoors was a sacred space where one could commune with the divine, echoing Romantic notions of nature as sublime and restorative. Roosevelt, on the other hand, saw the great outdoors as a site for rugged masculinity, where American identity could be cultivated through direct engagement with the wild.
In both cases, the "great outdoors" became a cultural construct tied to specific ideals: spiritual renewal, rugged independence, and escape from civilization. This framing has persisted in contemporary outdoor recreation, where the outdoors is often viewed as a temporary refuge from the stresses of modern life, rather than as a space where humans and the more-than-human co-exist in ongoing, everyday relationships.
The Countryside: Nostalgia and Rurality
The term countryside derives from the Old English counte, meaning "territory" or "district," and side, implying a division. Historically, it referred to areas outside of urban centers, rural lands often associated with agriculture, pastoralism, and simpler ways of life. The countryside was seen as the opposite of the city—sprawling, quiet, and inhabited by the rhythms of the natural world.
In literary and cultural history, the countryside became a site of nostalgia and idealization, particularly in the wake of the Industrial Revolution. Poets like William Wordsworth and John Clare imbued the countryside with a sense of loss, portraying it as a vanishing world being swallowed by the advance of industrial modernity. This pastoral ideal, which harkens back to classical depictions of Arcadia, presents the countryside as a space of innocence, harmony, and simplicity, often eliding the complex and sometimes harsh realities of rural life, including labor, poverty, and environmental degradation.
The aesthetic of the countryside persists in modern imaginations, influencing how we relate to rural environments. For many, the countryside is a place to retreat to, a bucolic landscape untainted by urbanity. However, this perspective can also be exclusionary, overlooking the living communities—human and more-than-human—that make their homes in these spaces and shaping them into passive landscapes for aesthetic consumption.
The Environment: From Surroundings to Systems
The word environment comes from the French environner, meaning "to encircle" or "surround." It entered English in the 17th century, originally used to describe the immediate surroundings of a person or object. Over time, however, the term expanded to encompass broader ecological and biological contexts.
In the mid-20th century, following the rise of ecological science, environment became a key term in describing complex systems of interaction between organisms and their surroundings. Thinkers like Rachel Carson, in her groundbreaking book Silent Spring (1962), helped to popularize the term in its modern sense, where the environment is viewed as an interconnected web of life, one in which human activity has profound and often detrimental impacts.
This shift—from environment as surroundings to environment as a system—reflected broader philosophical and scientific changes in how humans understood their place within the natural world. The emergence of systems thinking in ecology helped to challenge the anthropocentric perspective, emphasizing the interdependence of human and more-than-human entities. However, the term environment can still be problematic in that it maintains a sense of separateness. It frames the more-than-human world as something external to humans, something we act upon rather than something we are embedded within.
The Land: Belonging and Ownership
The word land comes from the Old English land, meaning "ground, soil, or territory." In its most basic sense, it refers to the solid surface of the earth. However, land also carries deep cultural, political, and emotional significance, particularly in relation to ideas of belonging and ownership.
In many Indigenous cultures, land is not simply a physical resource but a living entity imbued with spiritual and ancestral significance. The relationship between people and land is reciprocal, based on stewardship and care rather than domination. However, in the context of Western colonialism, land became something to be possessed, commodified, and divided. The enclosure of common lands in England, the colonization of the Americas, and the expansion of agricultural frontiers all reflected a shift in the meaning of land—from something shared and lived with to something owned and exploited.
The philosophical shift toward land as property was influenced by thinkers like John Locke, who argued in his Second Treatise of Government (1689) that land became private property when mixed with human labor. This idea justified the dispossession of Indigenous peoples and the transformation of landscapes into sites of production. In contemporary environmental discourse, land is often invoked in discussions of conservation and land rights, but its colonial and capitalist histories continue to shape how it is perceived and valued.
Conclusion: Reimagining the More-than-Human through Language
The words we use to describe the more-than-human world carry with them centuries of philosophical, social, and cultural meaning. Terms like nature, the great outdoors, the countryside, the environment, and the land are not neutral descriptors; they are laden with assumptions about separation, ownership, aesthetics, and value. As we face unprecedented ecological crises, it is crucial to reflect on how these terms shape our relationships with the more-than-human.
Reimagining language offers an opportunity to cultivate deeper connections with the world beyond the human. By acknowledging the historical baggage of these terms, we can begin to use language that emphasizes relationality, reciprocity, and co-existence. This shift is not merely semantic but philosophical: it encourages us to move away from seeing the more-than-human as a backdrop for human activity and toward recognizing it as a dynamic, living system in which we are deeply entangled.
In this sense, language is not just a tool for communication but a pathway toward rethinking how we inhabit the earth. As we rethink these key terms, we may also begin to reimagine our place within the more-than-human world—one where we are not separate observers, but co-creators of the landscapes we call home.
