© Philip Bess Professor, Andrews University, Michigan - Notes

I. Introduction

II. The Nature of the City

III. Sources of Renewal

IV. Theology, Nature, & Architectural Education

July 2001

THEOLOGY, NATURE, AND ARCHITECTURAL EDUCATION

'd like to conclude with a brief consideration of how architectural education seriously engaged with an intellectual tradition grounded in religious community might differ today from architectural education not so grounded; and my sense is that this issue could be approached from a number of different directions. I've written elsewhere at some length about the difference between ethics and architecture grounded in traditional communitarian sensibilities, and ethics and architecture grounded in contemporary individualist sensibilities.[5] But this is only one area where contemporary attitudes about architecture and the city will logically differ between communities of shared belief and "communities" of shared unbelief.[6] One might just as profitably consider the formal differences that would likely manifest themselves as a consequence of different understandings of human freedom; or of the relationship between memory and hope, and the relationship of these to the creative act; or of the notion of artistic inspiration as it might relate not to the zeitgeist but rather to the heiligegeist. But here let me limit myself to a consideration of different views of nature and human nature; and on the one hand suggest some implications for the architectural community that follow from an understanding of nature as a product of chance; and on the other hand some implications that follow from a Christian (and antecedently, and still, Jewish) understanding of nature as created by God--a topic I choose in part because of the currency of and enthusiasm for the idea of "sustainable design."

          Many today regard the belief that nature was created and is sustained by God to be irrational; and find it more rational to believe that nature is a product of chance. But although there are reasons given and evidence marshaled to support either of these conclusions, in a fundamental way both are theories about mystery; and neither can be certified by the kind of logical proof that we customarily associate with either science or mathematics--indeed, scientists and mathematicians come down on both sides of the issue. In the view of nature as created, nature is regarded as somehow purposeful, and this is seen as a sign of God's providence. In the view of nature as a product of chance, there is no purpose in nature beyond what human beings attempt--nobly or pitifully--to impose upon it.

          In the chance view of nature, the only "law" discernible is the law of struggle, a process Darwin referred to as natural selection, guided by an impulse that Nietzsche referred to as the will-to-power; and human culture is to be understood above all as a series of power relations. The traditional virtue of justice, for example, becomes in this view an ever shifting compromise between parties of relatively equal power; and all historic so-called "morality" is seen as a mask that disguises each individual's will-to-power (most often from him or herself).

          Now I concede that there is substantial evidence all around us to warrant such an interpretation of both nature and culture. But we need to recognize that such an interpretation of nature makes it hard to make a coherent and persuasive case for developing communal sensibilities in architectural education; or for encouraging an ethic of environmental responsibility; or for promoting, say, racial and gender equity in the architectural profession. The fact that some persons simultaneously seem able to hold both this "chance" view of nature and these aspirations for architectural education can perhaps be attributed to personal sentiments and cultural habits that have not quite caught up with thought--or vice-versa. Regardless, with the premise that nature is a product of chance that issues in a war of all against all, one might well develop for purposes of self preservation the kind of respect for nature that one develops for a crafty and powerful enemy; but likewise, one could not in (quite precisely) good faith engage in sustained community building and communal enterprises without in some fundamental way engaging in intellectual self deception. For to engage in such communal activities in good faith and not be self deceiving implies a different understanding of nature.

          Consider therefore an orthodox Jewish and Christian theology of creation and some of its implications for a theory of urbanism and environmental responsibility. In this view, the first fact about nature is that it is created by God (which, incidentally, implies neither a literal six-day creation, nor a static view of nature, nor that everything and every impulse found in nature is good). The second fact about nature is that human beings are both part of and different from nature, an understanding which also expresses a common human intuition that human beings occupy a kind of intermediate place in the universe. Philosophically, this view of nature (and human nature) distinguishes itself immediately from at least three other views of nature prominent in the contemporary intellectual landscape.

          One view holds that man is fundamentally separate from nature, and nature is simply raw material for human consumption--an operative (if often only implicit) post-sixteenth century notion fundamental to the industrial revolution and modern economies. A second common view of nature--in part a reaction to the first, but also with a long intellectual history of its own--would make no fundamental distinction whatsoever between the human and the natural. But this has the conflicting consequences of on the one hand rendering any human intervention in the natural environment inherently suspect, while on the other hand rendering any such intervention logically immune from criticism. Yet a third view of nature (common among today's critical theorists) holds that nature itself is a "construct," the alleged properties of which are human inventions rather than human discoveries; from which it would seem to follow logically that nature commands no inherent respect, if indeed nature can logically be held to exist at all.

          In contrast to these views, historic Jewish and Christian theology understands nature to exist independently of human beings; that "human nature" is part of nature; and that it is part of human nature to make culture--including physical culture, made from found nature transformed by human efforts into cultural artifacts. Human beings moreover are by nature social; and different cultures are the social and historical forms of individual and communal human aspirations for, and understandings of, the very best kind of life. The cultivated landscape, buildings, and cities are, in turn, the physical and spatial forms of culture. Arts such as agriculture, architecture, and city making are therefore cultural interventions in nature, but are also themselves in some sense natural. Indeed, it is in this sense that Thomas Aquinas meant that reason is the tool with and by which man (male and female) participates in nature, and that art is "reason in making." It is also this sense in which Aristotle meant that "art imitates nature," i.e., that the artist acts towards his or her desired ends in a manner analogous to the way that nature acts towards her ends, because such is man's place in nature as the "rational animal."

          To invoke Aristotle yet again is to underscore that divine revelation is not the sole source of this traditional western understanding of nature. But Judaeo-Christian religion has been and is today the institutional bearer of this understanding of nature; and Judaeo-Christian theology suggests at least two imperatives that should point architectural education to the ends of urban and environmental responsibility. One is a general imperative to cquire knowledge of nature, which in architectural education would be an imperative to cultivate among architects and their patrons that specific knowledge of nature germane to the art of building. The second imperative would be to promote an environmental ethic that in the Christian tradition falls under the rubric of "stewardship."

          Knowledge of nature "germane to building" includes an awareness and understanding of the variety of physical and social forces that influence the building design process and its results: physics, construction materials, climate, geography, human nature, etc. The virtue of stewardship implies both a uniquely human ability to be caretakers of the natural order and the responsibility to do so, precisely because creation belongs to God and not to us. Stewardship also implies a recognition that whatever else human beings are, we are also created beings and therefore "of nature;" and that to pursue through building and city making our own good independent of a knowledge of and respect for that larger created natural environment of which we are part is to misunderstand the nature of our own good. In the Judaeo-Christian view of human nature, the natural order is something which commands human respect, including on occasion an appropriate measure of fear that is itself natural; but the respect that this fear engenders is less like the grudging respect for an enemy than the respect for a friend whose purposes are sometimes but not always the same as our own.

          My comments here are neither an exhortation nor a plea, nor do they represent any sort of triumphalist political ambition for either Jewish or Christian religious communities. I'm just making observations. The culture of architecture, including architectural education, seems to me in disarray. We want artistic independence and communal belonging, a sense of inner-driven artistic vocation and more respect from other professions, equality of opportunity and guaranteed results, regional identity and a global economy, advanced technology and communion with nature, consumer goods and a simpler life; and we want it all, right now. I think we all understand these and other such desires, because desire is fundamentally human. But human life is a condition in which unlimited desire is certain to be frustrated; and part of the art of living well is learning how to order our desires. I have tried here to suggest the kinds of cultural and academic contexts that seem to me the most promising intellectual soil for nurturing and advancing a communal understanding of architecture, the city, and a sustained and sustaining natural environment. Whether this understanding will soon become central or long remain marginal to the culture of architecture, only God knows.

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