Donna interviews Lyanda Lynn Haupt, author of Pilgrim on the Great Bird Continent

I found Pilgrim on the Great Bird Continent: The Importance of Everything and Other Lessons from Darwin's Lost Notebooks by Lyanda Lynn Haupt by chance on the new books shelf at my local chain bookstore (alas, we have no local indie in my town). The cover was interesting, and since I was in the middle of a Darwin binge, I picked up a copy and read it right away. I am always afraid of being disappointed by a book that looks good but ends up being boring. But in this case, my worries were for naught. Pilgrim on the Great Bird Continent is one of the best books I’ve read in the past several years. The writing is lively and engaging, the ideas are thought provoking, and the research is impeccable.

We started reading this book in Skeplit last month. But since August is such a lazy time, and we wanted to change the Skeplit schedule to post the author interviews before we read the book, the discussion will be extended until September 15th. I hope more of you can join us in reading this interesting book.

We’ll be reading The Republican War on Science by Chris Mooney in September. And please take a moment to vote in the forum for your choice of what to read in November. All of the choices have been recommended by forum members. A few weeks ago, I sent author Lyanda Lynn Haut some questions about Pilgrim on the Great Bird Continent and her experiences writing the book. Here’s what she had to say.

Skeplit: With a degree in environmental ethics and philosophy, how did you come to be so interested in ornithology and how did that interest lead you to write a book about Darwin?

Haupt: Like many “nature-people,” I’ve always loved the outdoors, and I’ve been fascinated by wild creatures for as long as I can remember. I grew up in Kent, Washington—today it’s a Seattle suburb, but in those days it was still surrounded by farmland. Our cul-de-sac bordered a canyon, and I would climb down the ravine and spend hours by myself with my toes in the creek, studying the frogs, ferns, and birds. Growing up, I remained intrigued by the ways that the human and natural worlds interact, and grappled with questions about how our knowledge of wild things can and should inform our actions. By the time I was in graduate school I knew that my own interest in these subjects was best pursued in the humanities, and so I studied environmental ethics and the philosophy of science. But I also completely overloaded my schedule by taking any available seminars in ornithology and conservation biology, and developing as a student of birds in the field.

For anyone interested in studying the natural world firsthand, Darwin’s writing is irresistible. His first book, the Journal of Researches, was drawn from diaries he kept while he was a young man touring southern South America on the H.M.S. Beagle; it’s a vivid, wonderful account. And of course Darwin’s Origin of Species is essential to any study of the history of evolutionary thinking. As a philosopher, I was drawn to the original sources, and read most of Darwin’s work. The more I read, the more I saw his personality coming through, shaping his insights. Following that thread, I was drawn more deeply into his lesser-known writings—his notebooks, letters, and diaries, many of which are in print, though it can take tracking down some pretty esoteric publications to get your hands on them.

Skeplit: How long did it take you to research and write Pilgrim on the Great Bird Continent? You have seamlessly integrated many quotes from Darwin into your narrative. How did you go about choosing the pertinent quotes from all of the field notebooks that you read?

Haupt: The actual writing took a little over a year, but the research took about three years. The question of integrating quotes is a good one, and it’s one I have myself. By this I mean that when I look back over some of the chapters in the finished book, I wonder, “How did I remember to put that quote in there? Where did I find it?” Writing is sort of mysterious that way—after it’s done, you forget how you did it. But in general I keep a three-ring binder with little tabs for each chapter that I plan to write for the book. When I have an idea for the chapter, or when I come across a quote that would be particularly appropriate, I jot a reference to it under the proper tab, so when I set to work on drafting the chapter, the thoughts and quotations I’ve gathered over the months are in one place. Of course, only a fraction make it into the book.

Skeplit: You spend a lot of time on Darwin’s early years then skip ahead to the end of his life quite quickly. How did you decide what portions of Darwin’s life to include in your book?

Haupt: I used birds rather than strict chronology to frame this book, and could get away with doing it because I never pretended to be writing a straight biography. The major ornithological events in Darwin’s life after the Beagle journey ended occurred with the identification of the finches in London, and later with his work in the pigeon fancy. So I just followed along those paths. As it was, they worked perfectly for highlighting the philosophical issued I wanted to raise.

Skeplit: In the introduction to Pilgrim on the Great Bird Continent, you call yourself a naturalist, “someone who comes to understand biological life and ecological relationships of a particular place with some depth and seeks to use this understanding to forge an appropriate relationship with earthly life.” Darwin, a self-trained naturalist who had been educated to be clergyman, would probably not be welcomed into the scientific community today, and neither would most people who call themselves naturalists. You’ve noticed this yourself in chapter 1 where you wrote, “Today there is little room for naturalizing in biological science, except in the realm of the amateur hobbyist.”
Why do you think this disdain for naturalism exists? Do you think this is ultimately useful or harmful to the communication of life sciences to the public, and to the future development of science itself?

Haupt: Part of the marginalization of natural history—the things we can learn from close, first-hand observation of organisms—comes from the rise of molecular biology and genetic research. In part, this is obviously useful—such fields yield fascinating and significant insights. But study of the “whole” organism in its environment is also material, especially when facing an extinction crisis as we do today. Modern students of biology and zoology can attain their degrees—even their PhDs-- without a hands-on knowledge of organisms in ecosystems, sometimes without even leaving their offices and computer screens. It is my hope that the pendulum swings back into balance, with mathematical modeling, molecular biology, and good natural history working together to form an integrated vision of the natural world, which is much-needed if conservation efforts are to be effective and sustainable.

Skeplit: You quote Wendell Berry several times in your book and include his works in the bibliography. Berry, if I understand his writings correctly, believes that science is a modern superstition. Although I enjoy his writing, I can’t follow him to most of his conclusions. As I understand the terms, science is based on empirical evidence and observations that lead to an understanding of the way the physical universe operates, while superstition is based on traditions that most often arise from a lack of knowledge about the workings of the universe.

Do you agree with Berry’s sentiments about science? If so, how do you integrate your obvious respect for science with the idea that science is a form of superstition that is many times harmful to the modern world?

Haupt: Great question. I have to admit I struggled with including the Berry references. He has been an important thinker for me, but I agree that it’s difficult to swallow him whole. For Berry, science becomes superstition when it oversteps its parameters—that is, rather than claiming to be a way of understanding the physical universe, it claims to be the only valid way to know anything. As you know, he and E.O. Wilson have gotten into some ugly tussles about this. I also love much of E.O. Wilson’s work—he is one scientist who began when natural history was a valid branch of scientific study, and his work as a naturalist has informed his entire career. He is also a lucid writer. Wilson, though, is a strict humanistic materialist and a sociobiologist (I am neither) and I felt it was disingenuous to quote him in my book (though I did in earlier drafts) without explaining all of this, and also explaining the rift between he and Berry if I continued to include the latter. Ah! So I chose to keep the Berry quotes for their intelligence, their poetry, and in acknowledgement of Berry’s rare understanding of human connection to the earth. This question ties in nicely with your next one—more on this there…

Skeplit: In chapter three, Darwin begins his transformation from “unfinished naturalist” to the person who eventually writes the classic scientific treatise, On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, years later. Darwin is associated with atheism by fundamentalist creationists today, and yet he used the words “creation” and “Hosannah” (a breath of praise to God) in his early writings, and even later in life, he considered himself agnostic (one who does not know) with respect to the existence of the biblical God.

Why do you think so many people feel that recognizing the reality of evolution would require them to abandon their belief in God? Do you think this rejection of scientific knowledge will spread and ultimately be detrimental to society as a whole? Is there anything we can do to work against this false dichotomy?

Haupt: I think people tend to conflate science and philosophical materialism—a confusion to which both religious fundamentalists and scientists tend to contribute. Many scientists believe that science is—or eventually will be-- able to accommodate the entire spectrum of earthly experience, including all modes of human consciousness, emotions, and spirituality. But such pure scientific materialism is a worldview, based on philosophical assumptions as surely as a view that allows room for spiritual experience that is not subject to material laws. Though both perspectives—an allowance for spiritual possibility and pure secular materialism--have arguments to recommend them, neither are testable by the parameters of science, and both must be recognized as philosophical assumptions, with attending ideologies. It is vitally important to recognize that evolutionary science does not, of necessity, imply one or the other. Both secular scientists and religious fundamentalists contribute to a terrible confusion as they carelessly conflate pure science, particularly evolutionary science, with a personal material metaphysics. A fear of materialism need not keep modern thinking people from embracing good science.

The media perpetuate this myth as they accept the parameters of the intelligent design “debate” as it is articulated by fundamentalists. We need to speak up when the media oversimplify the arguments in this way. We also need to make ourselves visible—as intelligent, complex humans who are capable of both spiritual depth and a love of scientific knowledge.

Skeplit: In chapter six you spent a lot of time talking about animal testing, animal rights activists, and anthropomorphism. On page 119, you say that you feel Darwin’s use of anthropomorphic terms make his writing more lively, without detracting from the scientific content. Today scientists, especially students, are discouraged from using this type of lively language. I don’t see how anyone who has pets, particularly dogs or cats, can say that animals have no consciousness. Of course they don’t have language so their experiences will be vastly different than our own. But they obviously have emotions and awareness.

Why do you think the scientific community is so hesitant to recognize that animals may have consciousness or to talk about animals as living beings rather than as inanimate objects? Do you think this is starting to change?

Haupt: The scientific method is built around events that are replicable, quantifiable, and empirical/observable. The consciousness of another being, particularly a being of a different species, is none of these things. This is one of the reasons that behavioral psychology became so popular in its era—an attempt to make psychology into a hard science, based on data that might be entered into a tally sheet, rather than dealing with something as murky as consciousness. This is beginning to change, as I discuss in my book. A few prominent scientific voices are giving credence to animal consciousness as a valid field of inquiry, and pressing others to do likewise. But the methods of modern science are entrenched. I believe it will still be decades before these topics are treated with the intelligence they deserve by the scientific community as a whole.

Skeplit: Throughout the book, you’ve done an excellent job of tying together contemporary concerns and personal experience with history and Darwin’s mental and emotional life. I was particularly amused and interested in your discussion about your meeting with philosopher Bernie Rollin in Colorado. In the Skepchick forums, we’ve had several discussions about PETA and animal rights. On page 123, you describe your own views about animal rights and humane treatment of animals as “quite lofty, nonutilitarian, and hardcore.” On the following page, you show that Rollin’s views were much more practical, and that you learned a lot from his practical approach. Essentially, he would rather make research animals more comfortable than fight a losing battle to eliminate all animal testing, a goal that is arguably impossible in the foreseeable future. Can you elaborate on your current views on animal rights issues?

Haupt: I believe that all animals have some degree of sentience or consciousness, even though—say, in the case of a barnacle—it may be so slender as to be difficult for us to recognize as something akin to our own. Because of this, and also just because of the fact of their unique lives and life-histories, I believe all animals deserve our respect. To me, if I respect an animal’s life, I won’t harm it or kill it unless it is absolutely necessary. For some humans, killing animals for food is essential. But for most of us—I will venture to say everyone who is reading this—abundant, healthy food that doesn’t involve killing animals (and the horrors of animal agriculture) is readily available at a nearby grocery.

I still believe strongly that the use of animals in scientific and medical testing, and certainly in cosmetics, should be minimized wherever possible. I have definitely come to agree with Bernie Rollin, though, that the reduction of suffering is a higher goal than clinging to a personal idealism. I am saddened by the rift between animal and environmental activists—though it is important to understand that the two groups often have different agendas, it is also true that respect for life underlies the activism of both sides—seeking common ground will allow all to be more effective.

Skeplit: In Chapter 12, “God and the Nightingales,” you talk about Darwin’s spirituality and the interaction of science and religion, something that you touched on at various points throughout the book. On page 237, you say, “Though Newton’s natural laws were allowed to prevail alongside God (who was, by virtue of astrophysics and gravity, no longer required to spin the planets and hold everything down lest if spiral off into space), supernatural intercession was still central to an understanding of earthly, biological life.” This seems to still be true today, at least in the United States where a large majority of the population believes in the literal biblical creation story.

Why do you think religions (except for some extreme fundamentalist groups) are now much more comfortable with the “hard” sciences like physics and chemistry, but still uncomfortable with the idea that evolution is the core of all modern biology? Do you think this will ever change? (After all, it did take 300 years for the Catholic church to admit that Galileo was onto something.)

Haupt: I believe that the creation myth, which is so deeply ingrained in the Judeo-Christian mind, has something to do with this. If the biblical mythology outlined the specific way that God kept the stars hanging and the planets revolving day-by-day, perhaps there would be more resistance to modern astrophysics as well, even when a scientific position is acknowledged, as it is in the case of evolution. Even among very intelligent people, who really do grasp the validity of evolution, there is something about the creation myth, with its prevalence in our art and literature, that doesn’t allow us to give over biological life entirely to evolutionary mechanisms. It’s a beautiful, complex myth, and certainly deserves a place in our cultural mythology, but for some reason we retain an almost mysterious reluctance to understand it as myth, with psycho-philosophical implications, rather than scientific—even if we see beyond it in a literal sense, there is some nagging psychological need to feel the hand of God in the day-to-day molding of earthly creation.

I also think our religious institutions suffer delusions of grandeur. I heard that Carl Sagan asked the current Dalai Lama what Buddhists would do if science could prove without a doubt that reincarnation is a falsehood. The Dalai Lama giggled, as usual, and then said very seriously, “Well, we would change our doctrine, of course.” Hmm. Where was such vision when Galileo’s head was on the block? And where is it today in the western Churches? Of course, most churches with a strong intellectual history, including Catholicism, recognize the scientific truth of evolution. But it sure took them long enough, and there are always prominent dissenters backsliding into the murky realm of “intelligent design.”

Skeplit: In the final chapter of Pilgrim on the Great Bird Continent, “The Naturalist’s Faith” you talk about how science has become so specialized today that “Much of Darwin’s most important work would be confined to the scientific rubbish heap labeled ‘anecdote’.” On page 257, you say “the language through which we come to understand the natural world has been steadily migrating out of the hands of the general public into the realm of pure academia, where journal articles, even those about subjects that might be readily understood by a knowledgeable amateur, are encoded in the secret language of the academic scientist.” You go on to say that this is not, in and of itself, a bad thing, but that “science alone” should not be allowed to hijack our understanding of biology and nature.

Besides science, who or what do you think should be involved in the development and communication of biological understanding in modern society? How can creative writers, artists, and knowledgeable amateurs help to make biology and evolution more approachable?

Haupt: I think we need to take more of our biological education into our own hands, to become intimate with nature by becoming more aware of the ecological relationships in the place we live, and by entering into that relationship, allowing our observations of the natural world—not just reading what others have found—to shape our intelligence, our lives, our art. Darwin was so beautifully fearless in his apprehension of wild things—he allowed his experiences to touch and shape him far beyond the norm for his time. And he communicated his experience to us—bequeathed it to us—in the form of his writing. We all have an art form in our own lives—raising children, baking, running a household—these are the most fundamental arts through which we can express and share knowledge, wonder, and ecological intelligence. More than anything, I believe that cultivating knowledge of the natural world through direct experience, and allowing that experience to touch and shape our lives, is the foundation of hope for continued evolution of wild life on earth.

Skeplit: What are you working on next?

Haupt: Well, I’m not divulging details yet, but I’m working on a super-fun book about crows.

Donna, thanks for this opportunity to talk with you, and the SkepLit readers. I truly appreciate your thoughtful, intelligent questions.