"Given a chance, a child will bring the confusion of the world to the woods, wash it in the creek, turn it over to see what lives on the unseen side of that confusion."
—Richard Louv, from Last Child in the Woods
When he coined the phrase nature-deficit disorder in his bestselling Last Child in the Woods (Algonquin Books, 2005), Richard Louv hoped it would resonate with readers. He'd noticed that the children of the baby boomers and older generations were growing up to know the environment intellectually, not intimately. Louv is a journalist who, for the past 30 years, has written about rebuilding community through increased connection with the natural world. Louv cofounded and now chairs the Children & Nature Network, which is helping to build a movement to reunite children and wilderness for future generations. Louv's 2012 book, The Nature Principle, expands on his earlier work, documenting the effect of nature-deficit on adults and promoting balance between the environment and technology. At the core of Louv's work is an encouragement to reimagine our relationship with the wild. On October 21, Richard Luov will give a talk titled "The Nature Rich Life" at SUNY New Paltz Lecture Center, Room 100. Tickets are $13/$18.
In your book, Last Child in the Woods, you coined the term, nature-deficit disorder, which sounds like a reference to psychological terminology. How did you come to name this phenomenon?
I created that term to serve as a catchphrase. I always make clear that it’s not a medical diagnosis, but a useful term to describe the human costs of alienation from nature, as suggested by recent research. Among them: diminished use of the senses, attention difficulties, higher rates of physical and emotional illnesses, a rising rate of myopia, child and adult obesity, and other maladies.
From homesteaders to hunters to wayfinders to rock climbers, people from all walks of life enjoy the outdoors in their own ways. So why is nature deficit such a pervasive condition?
Human beings have been urbanizing, then moving indoors, since the invention of agriculture and, later, the Industrial Revolution. Social and technological changes in the past three decades have accelerated that change: poor design of cities, neighborhoods, homes, schools, workplaces; media-amplified fear of strangers; real dangers in some neighborhoods, including traffic and toxins; fear of lawyers (in a litigious society, families, schools, communities play it safe, creating “risk-free” environments that create greater risks later); the “criminalization” of natural play through social attitudes, community covenants and regulations, and good intentions; ecophobia, in David Sobel’s term (children are conditioned at an early age to associate nature with environmental doom). Much of society no longer sees time spent in the natural world and independent, imaginary play as “enrichment.” Technology now dominates almost every aspect of our lives. Technology is not, in itself, the enemy; but our lack of balance is lethal. The pandemic of inactivity is one result. Sitting is the new smoking.
What do you mean by "risk-free environments that create greater risks later”? Can you expand on that?
Risks in the form of physical challenges (such as climbing trees or even as simple as running), which are a part of growing up. Taking manageable risks mediate the greater risks of child obesity, mental depression, and other illnesses associated with the sedentary lifestyle. Also, learning to deal with small risks when you're young helps you deal more effectively with truly big risks when you're older.
A lot of the ways you suggest people be outside more sound like the childhood of older generations (backyard camp-outs, neighborhood play-watch groups, going fishing, etc). But many parents these days don’t spend a lot of time outside, and younger parents often didn't have that free-range childhood. What happened that people need instruction on this now?
The causes are deeply rooted, such as the over-organized childhood, the general devaluing of unstructured play, fear and a shift in societal priorities.
Some families and areas are able to continue the outdoor traditions and experiences of decades past. Others are connecting to nature in different and sometimes new ways. If we want our children or grandchildren to experience nature, we’ll need to be more proactive than parents of past generations.
Be a hummingbird parent. As one parent says, “I tend to stay physically distant to let them explore and problem solve, but zoom in at moments when safety is an issue (which isn’t very often).” Notice that she isn’t hovering over her kids with nature flash cards. She stands back and makes space for independent nature play—albeit not as free as she experienced as a child, this play is important nonetheless. Teach your child to watch for behaviors more than for strangers. Create a play-watch group and ask fellow parents to sit on front stoops or porches or lawns several hours a week; that way, they are available at a distance as children play. Encourage kids to do nature activities together. Some young people are creating their own kids’ nature clubs. Create or join a family nature club. Nature Clubs for Families are beginning to catch on across the country; some have membership lists of over 1000 families. The idea is that multiple families meet to go for a hike, garden together, or even do stream reclamation. We hear from family nature club leaders that when families get together, the kids tend to play more creatively — with other kids or independently—than during single-family outings. Children & Nature Network’s Nature Clubs for Families offers a free downloadable guide on how to start your own. Ultimately we need the kind of cultural change that families in every kind of neighborhood (urban, suburban and rural) can create themselves and create it now.
You’ve said that time in nature can help children with cognition and creativity, not to mention health and happiness. And there’s a real emphasis in your writing on the importance of unstructured time in nature, which you’ve said utilizes a broader range of senses beyond our generally accepted five to create "an ultimate state of learning." How can parents respond to that information when many of them work and kids often go to school?
Not just parents—grandparents, aunts or uncles, educators—we all can spend more time with children in nature. This is quite a challenge—one that emphasizes the importance of exploring nearby opportunities, particularly unstructured time in nature. Schedule outdoor time, direct experiences in nature. Make getting outside in a natural area an intentional act—a healthful habit, if you will—that becomes part of your life.
You begin Last Child in the Woods with a conversation between you and one of your sons, which seemingly sparked your inquiry into nature-deficit. You also acknowledge your wife and sons for "living the research." What are some of the ways that you've brought your knowledge of nature-deficit disorder into your parenting practices and home life?
I never judge parents who feel afraid about letting their kids have more freedom to go outside, because my wife and I felt that fear, too – even though, in the late 1980s and 1990s, it was already clear that the reality of stranger danger was different from what news media depicted. Still, our sons did not have the kind of free-range childhood that I did. We did, however, *take* them outside and made sure they had nature nearby. I took my sons fishing every chance I had, and hiking, or camping in our old van. We lived on a canyon when the boys were smaller, and we encouraged them to build forts and explore behind our house. When I had interviews to conduct that involved the outdoors, I sometimes found ways to bring my sons along. Fortunately, my parents gave me a childhood that in turn gave me an intuitive love of nature—even without knowing about the growing research that supported that intuition. I hope I’ve passed this love along to my sons.
You’ve said that 80% of people live in metropolitan areas, and you’d like to see nature-rich cities where conservationists and developers get together to create greener neighborhoods with more biodiversity. Why do you think it's important for all facets of society to get involved with this? And what’s your vision for a rural landscape like New York’s Hudson Valley?
Every region is different. So, if we’re going to imagine a future, why not imagine a movement—what I call a New Nature Movement—that includes but goes beyond traditional environmentalism and sustainability, a movement that can touch every part of society?
A first step might be to convene educators, landscape architects, urban designers and architects, physicians and other professionals to plan the best approaches to re-nature the city or community. The common purpose: a reunion between humans and nature that will create or enhance human and economic potential. There could be discussion of the scientific evidence in support of nature contact, to include the recognition that a healthier habitat increases the human-nature social capital for everyone’s benefit. These professionals can write a health prescription for a city that will evolve into a rebuilding plan that makes practical sense. They might consider how to rebuild local food webs, how to establish an urban forest to help clean the air and provide shade, or how to encourage urban wildlife. They can talk about how to naturalize bicycle and pedestrian paths, how to offer cleaner public transport, how to develop policies to encourage the design of green roofs, green walls and green schoolyards. Cities can become engines of biodiversity.
As the designer William McDonough, who has done extensive work in China, would suggest, communities should be created that not only reduce our carbon footprint, but create wetlands and other wildlife habitat, even in densely populated cities. Such a movement might create a regional scorecard to include the economic benefits of greening the city, with consideration to the way a green city can reshape health care, tourism and law enforcement in positive ways.
Regions such as New York’s Hudson Valley would ideally be an incubator of biodiversity: restorative to human health and well-being, and a sanctuary to wildlife and native plants. And, from my earlier visits to the Hudson Valley, I’d say that movement is well under way.