The philosophy of nature is at least as old as the presocratics, but has undergone comparative neglect in philosophical circles this century until recently, at least in English-speaking lands. The philosophy of science concentrates on scientific concepts and methods and the interpretation of scientific theories, rather than on the concept of nature itself, while, with significant exceptions (e.g., Hepburn, 1984), aesthetics focuses on the experience of art rather than on that of nature. Meanwhile moral, political and social philosophy has focused on the social environment, but the natural environment has often been lost to view. Indeed it has been argued, with some cogency, that mainstream Western metaphysics, epistemology and ethics have historically been inhospitable to conservation, to environmentalism and to their values (see Hargrove, 1989; Attfield, 1994a).

I offer myself as a nature guide, exploring for values. Many before us have got lost and we must look the world over. The unexamined life is not worth living; life in an unexamined world is not worthy living either. We miss too much of value.

Some people think that nature has intrinsic value, that it has value in itself quite apart from its present and future economic, intellectual, recreational and aesthetic uses. Some people think that nature's intrinsic value grounds an obligation to preserve it and to minimise human interference with it. I agree. It is important, however, to try to say exactly why nature has intrinsic value, to go beyond merely stating some idiosyncratic attitude and to provide some justification of that attitude with which others might engage. Presumably there are properties that wild nature exemplifies in virtue of which it is intrinsically valued. Only when these are indicated is rational debate as to whether wild nature has intrinsic value possible. Only when these are indicated is it possible to begin to persuade dissenters to change their views. Indeed, unless one can at least begin to say what these properties are it is not clear that the attitude could have any meaningful content. While it is perhaps possible to value something without immediately understanding what it is about the thing that makes it valuable, the failure to come up with any candidate value-adding property after some reflection suggests that the initial value-judgment is vacuous.

Can nature be reconstituted, recreated or rehabilitated? And would the goal of doing so be a desirable one? There again, is wild nature intrinsically valuable, or are parks, gardens and farms sometimes preferable or of greater value? This cluster of questions arises from recent debates about preservation, restoration, wilderness and sustainable development. In discussing them I hope to throw some light on both the concept and the value of nature, and in due course on the attitudes which people should have towards it, the policies which should guide their practice, and thus on the proper role of humanity with regard to the natural world.

Many environmental thinkers are torn in two opposing directions at once. For good reasons we are appalled by the damage that has been done to the earth by the ethos of heedless anthropocentric individualism, which has achieved its colossal feats of exploitation, encouraged to selfishness by its world view—of relation-free atoms—while chanting ‘reduction’ as its mantra. But also for good reasons we are repelled, at the other extreme, by environmentally correct images of mindless biocentric collectivisms in which precious personal values are overridden for the good of some healthy beehive ‘whole’.

By 2030, according to one reliable source, the world's population will have increased by 3 · billion, demand for food will have nearly doubled, and industrial output tripled (World Bank, 1992, p. 2 and passim). Consider two possible histories of the world in this period:

The Admirable (A) History. Wastage of energy and natural resources is reduced, as is poverty in developing countries. Pollution decreases. Greenhouse warming slows. Biodiversity is preserved. The natural environment is protected. Food is not short.

This paper will argue for a conception of intrinsic value which, it is hoped, will do justice to the following issues:

(1) that Nature need not and should not be understood to refer only to what exists on this planet, Earth;

(2) that an environmental ethics informed by features unique to Earth may be misleading and prove inadequate as technology increasingly threatens to invade and colonize other planets in the solar system;

(3) that a comprehensive environmental ethics must encompass not only our attitude to Earth, but to other planets as well—in other words, it must not simply be an Earthbound but virtually an astronomically bounded ethics.

Are human beings in some sense central to the cosmos? It used to seem obvious that they were. It seems less obvious now. But the idea is still powerful in our thinking, and it may be worth while asking just what it has meant.

The social and environmental problems that we face at this tail end of twentieth-century progress require us to identify some cause, some spirit that transcends the petty limits of our time and place. It is easy to believe (or to pretend to ourselves that we believe) that there is no crisis. We have been told too often that the oceans will soon die, the air be poisonous, our energy reserves run dry; that the world will grow warmer, coastlands be flooded and the climate change; that plague, famine and war will be the necessary checks on population growth. But here we are: sufficiently healthy and well-fed, connoisseurs of far-off catastrophe and horror movies, confident that something will turn up or that the prophecies of doom were only dreams. We are the descendants, after all, of creatures who did not despair, who hoped against hope that there would still be life tomorrow. We no more believe in the world's end than we believe that soldiers could break down the door and drag us off to torture and to death: we don't believe that they could even when we know that, somewhere altogether elsewhere, they did. Even if we can force ourselves to remember other ages, other lands or other classes, we are content enough.

Kant's ethics is widely viewed as inimical to environmental values, as arbitrary and morally impoverished, because, while exalting the value of human, rational, beings, it denies moral consideration to non-human, or non-rational, beings. In this paper I seek to show how, when specific statements of this general view are examined, they turn out to involve some significant inaccuracies or confusions. This will lead me to suggest that Kant might have more to offer to environmental ethics than has hitherto been acknowledged.

This is in part a reflection on issues raised by David Cooper in his paper entitled ‘The Idea of Environment’ (Cooper, 1992), a paper that I have an ambiguous attitude towards. On the one hand it has opened my eyes to a way of thinking about the environment, namely as a field of significance, but on the other hand it seems to be unfortunate in its tone of negative criticism of much of the thinking of deep environmentalists, and wrong in its dismissal of the idea that the environment as a whole should be a field of significance.

The distinction between chaos and order has been central to western philosophy, both in metaphysics and politics. At the beginning, it was intrinsic to presocratic natural philosophy, and shortly after that to the cosmology and social philosophy of Plato. Even in the pre-presocratic period there were important intimations of it. Thus Hesiod tells us that ‘first of all did Chaos come into being’ (Theogony, line 116, in Kirk et al., 1983, p. 35)—although exactly what is meant by ‘chaos’ in this context is not clear. (It could be some sort of undifferentiated, primordial mass, or just the separation (the gap) between earth and sky (Kirk et al., 1983, pp. 38–41). Nor does Hesiod concern himself with what Chaos came from (Barnes, 1987, p. 57).) The myth of origin in the Theogony, though, can be seen in contrast to the underlying theme of Works and Days, namely, Zeus's eternal rule over the world in accordance with Justice or Order (Kirk et al., 1983, pp. 34, 72). This point will become centrally important in what follows.

Interest in the concept of natural capital stems from the key role which this concept plays in certain attempts to elucidate the goal of sustainable development—a goal which currently preoccupies environmental policy-makers. My purpose in this paper is to examine the viability of what, adapting an expression of Bryan Norton's, may be termed the ‘social scientific approach’ to natural capital (Norton, 1992, p. 97). This approach largely determines the way in which environmental concern is currently being represented in the environmental policy community.

Since the late 1970s there has been within the world-wide environmental movement increasing dissatisfaction with moderate or reform environmentalism, and more radical tactics have been advocated and used to respond to the human destruction of nature. These range from typical kinds of political protest, such as rallies and marches, to environmental civil disobedience and the more militant environmental actions known as ‘monkey-wrenching’, ‘ecotage’, or ‘ecosabotage’. The use of these ‘ecotactics’ has led inevitably to controversy in the environmental movement itself and in public discussions of environmentalism in North America and elsewhere. The same cannot be said, however, about academic philosophy, where it is rare to find assessments of these actions or of their connections to the wealth of philosophical ideas in environmental ethics and ecophilosophy. At the same time there are many traditional philosophical theories that have implications for these kinds of behaviour even though the theories were constructed originally without examples of ecotactics in mind. In particular, theories about the nature and justifications of civil disobedience provide yardsticks by which some forms of environmental disobedience can be assessed, and I will turn to two widely known philosophical accounts, those of John Rawls and Carl Cohen, to consider how well they accomplish this task.

Philosophers, like generals, tend to fight the last war. While activists and policy-makers are in the trenches fighting the problems of today, intellectuals are typically studying the problems of yesterday.

There are some good reasons for this. It is more difficult to assess and interpret present events than those which are behind us. Time is needed for reflection and to gather reliable information about what has occurred. The desire to understand leads to a style of life that is primarily contemplative and retrospective.

A controversial question among contemporary scholars is whether advanced industrial societies are still in modernity, or whether they are on the threshold of, or even have entered, a new postmodern order (see, for example, Bell, 1973; Lyotard, 1986, p. 14; Lash and Urry, 1987). In The Consequences of Modernity Anthony Giddens writes: ‘Beyond modernity, we can perceive a new and different order, which is “post-modern”, but this is quite distinct from what is at the moment called by many “post-modernity”’ (Giddens, 1990, p. 3). However, he does recognize that there is something perceptibly different about the present, which he characterizes as ‘late modernity’ (or ‘high modernity'), an era in which the consequences of modernity are more radicalized and globalized than before (Giddens, 1990, pp. 3, 51).

Given this chance to express my general reflections on our collection of papers, I shall highlight the themes that are of greatest importance to me and make connections between my own views and the views of the other authors (about half the total) who have chosen to address the same themes. This exercise in triangulation on the logical map created by the collection has been illuminating for me; I hope the following may serve to make some of the major features of our common terrain come into focus more clearly, thus underscoring which important issues concern many of us at present, despite our specific differences.