Non-duality as Ecological Design Ontology
“Living in and through transitional times calls for self-reflection and new ways of ‘being’ in the world.” (Irwin, Kossof, and Tonkinwise 2015, 6). Design is ontological — it directly sets the conditions for new modes of being. The question which is investigated in this dissertation is then: what ontology? What is the modus operandi under which we live and act, and as such conduct design practice? Virtually all of us is embedded within a dualistic ontology: we see a world of subjects and objects, and as such see our “selves” as something separate which need to be protected. This condition is deeply embedded in the fabric of our civilisation, but is also cause for a great deal of suffering. Moreover, it is the root cause of the particularly corrosive notion of anthropocentrism, which has gradually led this planet to its impending sixth mass extinction. What is laid out in this text is an investigation into the non-dual perspective, an investigation which is anchored in the self, and the realisation of said self. Embracing and embodying a non-dual worldview provides a much deeper approach to ecology, because one identifies with other beings and non-beings, rather than simply working within an an.thropocentric, moral obligation. This self-perceptual expansion is accessible through practice of self-inquiry and artistic discipline. This worldview extends in to design practice, which is radically transformed on the basis on this ontological shift, and may just be the shift we need to imbue the world with a different set of attitudes in the coming transition.
This thesis is an attempt to reframe the question of how design can help mitigate the impending ecological and existential disaster by shifting the ontological basis on which we apprehend the world, and our place in it. Indeed, it is this very conception, a collection of subjects in a world of objects, that I believe to be a fundamental factor in what is becoming the sixth mass extinction in our planets history. With this dissertation, I wish to propose an alternative ontology to the prevalent Cartesian rationality, which is the belief in an ontological duality in which mind and body are separate, and the “thinking man” is separated from, and can thus exert force over, an inert universe, which is seen as a collection of objects which can be quantified, categorised, and talked about. This thinking has effectively separated humans from their embeddedness in nature, and created a logic where humans are at the centre of the world. I believe this dualistic ontology is the foundation of the alienation of the self, and the destruction of the environment, as well as our arguably misguided efforts to save it. In this dissertation I will argue that in order to create a truly sustainable design ontology, it will require a complete paradigm shift in which the questions of how or why we design are investigated, but also the problem of who designs is profoundly addressed. The main body of this thesis is therefore an investigation into the self, how we realise said self, and how that realisation in turn informs our ecological interaction as individuals and as designers.
Part I outlines the current state of design and design ontology. It argues the case that design is fundamentally ontological, and has the potential to make an enormous impact on the world, in which the world, in return, impacts design. The prevailing ontology has been one of duality, which in turn informs a growth-oriented, anthropocentric and divisive paradigm, now reaching its breaking point with political upheaval, economic crisis and alienation from community and nature. These are all consequences, I claim, of a highly destructive conception of the self which is held to paramount importance while remaining alienated from virtually all other beings and non-beings. This informs how design is widely practiced today, which is still enveloped in the growth-paradigm, and approaching sustainability as a moral obligation and hindrance to design development.
Part II proposes a radical reframing of design practice through a non-dualist ontology. This shift would entail a relinquishment of the self as an outsider who manipulates, transforms or exploits a given set of surroundings for any ulterior motive, but rather one who works with nature and community as an extension of the oneself.
Part I: Design and Dualities
Ontological Design
The story of design usually begins with the first use of a tool to manipulate or transform the environment. It was these early ancestors, sometime two and a half million years ago, which allowed humanity to gain increasing control and dominance over their environment, laying the foundation for the history of the entire world. Today, the word “design” has a multiplicity of definitions and uses, all however relating back to that same basic incentive to manipulate and transform our surroundings. Design theorist Ezio Manzini gives the definition: “Design is a culture and a practice concerning how things ought to be in order to attain desired functions and meanings.” (Manzini 2015, 53). This is a fairly agreeable definition. However, what succeeds this initial definition is a fact which is rarely recognised. He writes: “It takes place within open-ended co-design processes in which all the involved actors participate in different ways. It is based on a human capability that everyone can cultivate and which for some — the design experts — becomes a profession.” (Manzini 2015, 53). This opens up to the idea that design is not simply a one-sided practice of creatively manipulating the environment, but a dialogical, mutually expressive process of world-making. In this framing, design relates directly to modes of being, as with every iteration of change enacted upon the world, the world responds, and thus creating entirely new conditions for being (Willis 2006, 80). This cyclical theory of design is termed “ontological design”.
The theory of ontological design shall serve as the framework for this exploration. Once we accept the theory of ontological design, the natural next question is: what ontology? What are the drivers in how we as designers view ourselves in relation to the world?
Duality
Duality is separation by definition. The ability to differentiate is crucial for the survival of any species. Any species intuitively and instinctively distinguish between what is dangerous and what is safe, what is up and what is down, and so on. A truly dualistic system arose with language, as in order to be able to separate “that thing” from “that other thing”, and “me” and “not me”, there needs to be a system for effective communication and cooperation, meaning that dualistic systems can likely be traced back many millennia. The Greeks developed practices like logic, geometry, ethics, mathematics, and grammar are all devised from dualistic ontologies, and gave humanity a degree of control, tangibility and agency in the chaos of worldly existence (Lent 2017, 150–151). With the release of his seminal Discourse on the Method in 1637, philosopher and mathematician René Descartes laid out the foundation for the mind-body duality, in which he separated the self, ego, from matter, his body and everything, spawning the famous phrase: “I think, therefore I am” (Descartes 1637, 46). With his formulation, he successfully argued how the mind is separate from the body, and claimed that a fundamental difference between humans to non-human animals and non-beings, based on the observation that “man” possess an eternal soul and an ability to think rationally and communicate what he thinks, and non-human animals are irrational, soulless and insensitive. Descartes attempted to apply the rigour of science to the realm of philosophy, which until that point had a mystical undertone to it. Along with the work of Descartes’ notable contemporaries, namely the advent of classical mechanics and the scientific method, truth entered the domain of human comprehension, and Nature could be explained in terms of laws, deductions, equations and inferences. Science kept developing in this tradition until today, further separating the universe into incrementally smaller and understandable parts, reaching its near climax in the paradoxes of quantum mechanics such as superposition and Heisenbergs uncertainty principle, struggling to fully explain the true nature of the universe in mechanistic terms. However, this rigorous scientific investigation of ontology has not yet provided any conclusive answers, but rather a kind of ontological tail-chasing. The inability to gain any firm ontological ground from this method of inquiry is termed Cartesian anxiety (Bernstein 2011, 16). As Zen master D.T. Suzuki writes: “The Western mode of thinking can never do away with this eternal dilemma, this or that, reason or faith, man or God, etc.” (Suzuki 1959, 361). The history of dualistic philosophies is succinctly explained by Buddhist scholar and philosopher David R. Loy: “…the very impetus to philosophy may be seen as a reaction to the split between subject and object: philosophy originated in the need of the alienated subject to understand itself and its relation to the objective world it finds itself in.” (Loy 1988, xx).
René Descartes is but one of many who has tried their hand at tackling the very root of our existential dread. What made Descartes’ formulation so particularly powerful, however, came as a consequence of the time it was written. As stated previously, Descartes worked in the heyday of reason, when humanity could accurately and empirically make statements about the universe. Descartes, then, effectively cemented our given, evolutionarily determined dualis.tic inclinations into absolute, rational, irrefutable science. As a matter of fact, therefore, we are separate from matter and animals as we have been granted reason by the Gods. The Cartesian logic devolved into a particularly destructive breed of anthropocentrism which have permeated our attitudes for the centuries after. It is, however, worth noting that humans are naturally anthropocentric. Indeed, how could we not be? Any being could rightly be said to exist within their own form of “centrism”. However, what differentiates this evolutionarily motivated self- centredness from this particular type of anthropocentrism is that humanity is the only species who are able to reason themselves to a empirical conviction in an actual separation, and thus grounds for dominion, ownership and exploitation of other beings and non-beings. This is what has been termed a “Cartesian licence”, a reformulated a scala naturae with humanity at the top (Escobar 2018, 80–81).
While we, as a civilisation, are thankfully moving away from the extreme ends of the Cartesian rationale, it should by now be evident how the core of the Cartesian tradition is much still embedded in our foundational ontologies, namely the subject/object- and mind/body-dualities which shape our image of self and other. It is these misapprehensions, I claim, which determine our attitude in designing the world. It is therefore necessary, in our time of ecological calamity, to confront these underlying ontologies head on.
Duality in Design
Designers today are tasked with employing all their creative powers to listen to the calls of the world, and respond with new and innovative strategies for sustainable development. In the current accepted terminology, “development” is given at the very least equal import as “sustainability”, and effectively perpetuates the same growth paradigm which allowed humanity to become such a destructive force on the planet to begin with, only with more stringent moral considerations in how we engage ecologically. While some efforts has successfully put a halt to some of the exploitations of people and natural resources, the landscape remains much the same as the last century, at least ontologically speaking. Sustainability, and by extension sustainable design, is still an act of restraint and compromise. This paradigm is perhaps symptomatic of the failure to realise humanity’s embeddedness and indivisibility from ecosystems, thus viewing non-humans as first and foremost a resource — a fallacy that is predicated on the misapprehension that we are fundamentally subjects existing in a world of objects. It is therefore of crucial importance to call into question the ontological basis for this dualistic paradigm, a narrative in which the modern designer is absolutely enveloped and culpable.
Part II: Non-duality
Non-duality is a central tenet in Hindu and Buddhist philosophy, and is riddled with a multitude of often contradicting and difficult definitions. Providing a satisfactory definition is perhaps the most challenging section of this essay, for reader and writer, navigating the verbal minefield that is communicating the inherent ineffability of non-duality in dualistic terms. For a start, one can view non-duality as the opposing ontology to the Cartesian duality that was laid out in part one. However, non-duality is not contradictory to a mechanistic model of the Universe, it simply disregards the labels that come with that model. Non-duality is not in conflict with these conventions, it simply accepts them as such. A sufficiently acceptable definition for our application, then, is: the systems by which humans apprehend the world does not constitute an ontological or epistemological certainty, but rather a set of systems, which remain, and shall forever remain, merely representational of an infinite, indivisible whole.
Design as Beautiful Action
The core argument of this thesis is predicated on the notion that design is fundamentally ontological; it is a cyclical, complex act which directly stipulates the conditions for being, and thus designing. However, this idea is rarely realised, as design theorist Anne-Marie Willis writes: “…design is something far more pervasive and profound than is generally recognised by designers, cultural theorists, philosophers or lay persons.” (Willis 2006, 80). Realising the nature of what design truly is may already be enough to give all designers a renewed sense of responsibility and humility in their endeavours. We will therefore, before we delve into the nature of who designs, return to the concept of what an act of design means, and how adapting the theory of ontological design in practice can be viewed as inherently non-dual.
“We design our world, while our world acts back on us and designs us”, writes Anne-Marie Willis (Willis 2006, 80). This means that an act of design is never done in isolation, as something separate. It is merely a minute part in, and an expression of, a virtually infinite ecosystem where each alteration to any component has ramifications for the future conditions of being. It goes without saying, this neglect of interdependence has proved highly destructive. Even “sustainable” design solutions such as electric vehicles, for example, do little to mitigate problems related to obesity, delocalisation and consumerism. While there is much to blame globalisation, market economy and industrialisation for in this issue, I believe the problem also lies in the moral incentives for designing and acting sustainably.
The conventional approach to sustainability stipulates a moral obligation to act sustainably, which is interpreted as acting through restraint and sacrifice, the same kind of morality that stops us from harming others, or perhaps eating meat. According to Kant, we act morally when we perceive of it as our duty, out of respect for the moral law, not because of any natural inclination to do so (Næss 2008, 134). This framing is by far the most pervasive doctrine in the realm of sustainability. While effective in many areas, I claim it drastically limits the scope of action on a physical and temporal scale. By our natural inclinations, we are not able to make profound moral judgments which may impact someone on the other side of the planet, or someone in 50 years. Therefore we abide by the moral laws of sustainability within our own direct sphere of perception. One designs as well as one can within ones own field, and putting aside more distant moral and sustainable considerations because they are “not my responsibility”, forgetting of course that every act of design has ramifications far beyond the design itself. Designing strictly under moral prescriptions leaves us effectively still enveloped in the same paradigm as ever, and even while there may be a greater sense of responsibility and stewardship towards nature, the landscape for design remains virtually unchanged, except for the strict moral codes enforcing restraint and compromise in every design decision. As Arne Næss writes: “We need environmental ethics, but when people feel that they unselfishly give up, or even sacrifice, their self-interests to show love for nature, this is probably, in the long run, a treacherous basis for conservation.” (Næss 2008, 85). Because this ethical framing is so pervasive, we believe that we can still act ecologically on a global scale, precisely because we believe it to be a moral, and thus, an inherently good act, but it remains as Arne Næss correctly notes: “a treacherous basis for conservation”.
The counterpoint to acting morally, in Kantian terms, is to act beautifully. The distinction is such that, rather than simply abiding by a set of arbitrary rules and principles because one believes it is ones duty, one acts ”morally” because it is ones natural inclination to do so (Næss 2008, 134). This distinction shoehorns nicely in the shift to a broader ontological orientation of design. To embrace the theory of ontological design is to realise the profundity and potency of design, however small the act. If one begins to view ones contribution to the ecosystem as something that is inseparably intertwined with everything else, and as something of far greater consequence than is conventionally appreciated, one effectively broadens the scope of ones perceived influence and impact. This further inclines the designer to act beautifully, as opposed to strictly morally in working with the world, as the designer also creates the conditions for their own being. To reiterate, when a designer, professional or otherwise, accepts the theory of ontological design, it would behoove the designer to act with more consideration, as it is seen as in their interest to do so. Witnessing oneself as mere component of an ecosystem rather than an isolated entity acting upon it completely shifts the ontological framing, and thus the conditions for designing. To truly embrace ontological design in practice is to relinquish a moral obligation to design ecologically in favour of working to sustain a flourishing ecosystem of which one is but a mere part. Thusly, one can view ontological design, if completely embodied, as inherently non-dualistic, as one embodies the whole, a widened self, as a foundational precondition for designing. Most crucially, this framework sees design as an act of working with the world, not for or against it.
The Making Self
We have seen that a shift in perception of what design is already contains the necessary groundwork for beautiful, ecological acts of design. We shall now turn to the question of who it is that designs, and the influence it has on how we design. What is then the condition with which the designer confronts the world they are making? To begin to answer this question, we must venture beyond the limits of design thinking in favour of a more holistic approach to being. As such, what the next chapters are proposing are not systematic changes to how we conceive of and perform design, but rather an ontological framework wherein the individual may gain authentic self-knowledge, which can then be applied to any practice.
Self-realisation
”That which gives an individual ultimate satisfaction is the actualization of the individuality of the self — that is, the displaying of one’s own distinctive characteristics in practice.” (Nishida 1990, 137). The state of the human condition has elicited a multitude of responses of varying efficacy. As discussed in the last section, we have taken the view that it is our moral obligation to act in an ecologically responsible manner. This doctrine has seen responses in legislation in many parts of the world, and has indeed proved moderately effective. However, it is the framing of moral contrary to beautiful action which I believe to be the most pervasive. We have been asked with sacrificing our individuality for the greater good, but what if cultivation of the individual may just bring about the kind of change we need?
Realising ones inherent and unique potentials is considered to be the highest good for any individual. Indeed, in the widely accepted Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, self-realisation(sometimes self-actualisation) is on the very top of the pyramid. We need our basic physiological and social needs met, but these do not adequately satisfy us in the long run. The human condition is defined by this deep longing for fulfilment of which self-realisation in its various manifestation is the process by which this longing is lessened. However, it is my contention that our dualistic notion of the self severely misconstrues how that realisation might occur. Self-realisation is by definition guided by our self-interest, and we find that our self-interest rarely extends beyond our selves, and perhaps our closest social ties. As the most of us view our selves through this narrow lens, self-realisation tends to become directed towards a feeding of the ego through acquisition of money, power or fame, and indeed, this pursuit is encouraged through our deeply embedded societal attitudes. As Arne Næss puts it: “The ego-trip interpretation of the potentialities of humans presupposes a major underestimation of the richness and broadness of our potentialities.” (Næss 2008, 86). This framing is also what we think of as our individuality, the one we feel the need to sacrifice in the face of crisis. But, as Næss points out, this is an underestimation of the innate capacities of the individual. Kitarō Nishida writes: “To follow the sincere internal demands of the self — to actualize the true personality of the self — does not mean to establish subjectivity in opposition to objectivity or to make external objects obey the self. Only when we thoroughly eliminate the subjective fancies of the self and unite with a thing can we satisfy the true demands of the self and see the true self.” (Nishida 1990, 134). Discovering this true self is a potential well of deep satisfaction, and the aim of non-dual spiritual inquiry. We shall venture beyond the narrow constraints of the Cartesian ego to discover how engaging in a discovery of a true, authentic self can provide the necessary impetus for a deeper connection to the world, and as such, beautiful and effortless ecological action.
The Ego
To begin this exploration, we might ask: who are you? When asked this question, it wouldn’t be uncommon to point to your body. Yet, does the body fully encapsulate the complexity of you as a person? The body is an instrument of which the conscious mind depend to interact with, and make judgments about, the world outside of itself. As such we say that we have a body, as if it is something we own. Still, should you receive a total body transplant, as pointed out by neurobiologist Francisco J. Varela and colleagues, you would probably still count the new body as yourself (Varela, Thompson, and Rosch 1991, 66). The self we seek, therefore, cannot only be found by looking at our bodies. Perhaps we find it by following the wires from the various instruments of the body to the receiver: the brain. Yet, reducing the fullness of ‘me’ into a collection of neurological impulses still seems an incomplete and frigid picture. As we try to draw finer and finer distinctions between what is ‘me’ and what is ‘not me’, we find that the endeavour begins to seem more and more futile. We cannot come to a sufficient, empirical conclusion without also invoking an infinitely complex causal network, or as Carl Sagan stated: “If you wish to make apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe”. Thus, as one cannot truly separate one thing from the next, one cannot either isolate a self from any matter. This is not to make any claim on the non-existence of individual persons, it is rather the realisation that ‘self’ is nothing more than an abstract concept, a convention, a guiding fiction. To illustrate this point, we may look at another myth which is also held of supreme importance: money. Money is not inherently valuable, but gains its value from convention and is further reified when we use it to buy goods and services. The same is true for the self, whose belief is reified through dualistically informed logical and grammatical conventions of communication.
As much as we suppose the ego to exist, and indeed act as if it does, any empirical conclusion as to its existence has yet to be reached. This is well trodden terrain in scientific and philosophical inquiry, and is far beyond the scope of this text, so I rely on the work of Varela and colleagues, who conclude their comprehensive investigation in this manner:
…we have seen not only that cognition and experience do not appear to have a truly existing self but also that the habitual belief in such an ego-self, the continual grasping to such a self, is the basis of the origin and continuation of human suffering and habitual patterns (Varela, Thompson, and Rosch 1991, 80).
The suffering which is being described here is what in Buddhism and Hinduism is termed dukkha, and indeed, according to non-dual traditions, this delusional belief in a separate self is the root cause. Joanna Macy writes on the self: ”When you take it too seriously, when you suppose that it is something enduring that you have to defend and promote, it becomes the foundation of delusions, the origins of our attachments and aversions.” (Macy 1991, 141).
These “attachments and aversions” are founded on the dualistic contention that we are fundamentally subjects existing in a world of objects, a view propagated most notably in the Cartesian logic. This logic implies that the world is in some way ‘out there’, and as such we grasp for, and keep away from, objects and subjects in order to protect ourselves. This is the core of the non-dual teachings; to see that the unease and suffering we face is not to be mitigated by seeking to control or eliminate them, but to pursue a relinquishing of the self which is what sees these as inherently evil to begin with.
The Buddha has said to have discovered on the eve of his enlightenment not only the momentariness of the arising of the aggregates but also the entire edifice of causality — the circular structure of habitual patterns, the binding chain, each link of which conditions and is conditioned by each of the others — that constitutes the pattern of human life as a never-ending circular quest to anchor experience in a fixed permanent self (Varela, Thompson, and Rosch 1991, 110).
As we venture forth we shall see that our conception of a fixed self is indeed not at all fixed, and can, through rigorous self-inquiry, be expanded and perhaps negated altogether.
The Individual
The first step in realising the innate potentials of the self is a terminological shift from the notion of ‘ego’ to the much broader ‘individual’. The ego differs from what we conceive of as the individual. To merely begin to explain an individual, the first course of action is lay out the unique factors which shaped that individual. First and foremost, the individual is an expression of the combined DNA of two other individuals, and the time and place in which the individual was raised. As such, if we then begin to describe ourselves as individuals we must also incorporate these external factors in building a complete picture of ‘me’. Extending the causal network of what constitutes a person, one finds that one must invoke an infinitude of external factors without ever being able to draw a fine distinction of where “I” begin and end. This shift changes the perspective from the isolated “me” to something that is very much entangled with the world far beyond the boundaries of the ego. For all of us, our identity is tied up with and shaped by heritage, nationality, family, friends, trauma, and more.
An active shift in self-perception from an ego to an individual brings forth a key point, that of identification. How we choose to identify greatly impacts our actions and motivations, and brings forth a shift in what is considered to be in ones self-interest, which is the precondition for self-realisation. If ones self-interest lies in hoarding wealth or power, that will also become the basis for ones perceived self-realisation. However, if one extends ones identity to encompass close family, it becomes in ones self-interest to strive for the highest amount of flourishing within that family. When we identify beyond the scope of the ego, we act out of compassion and nurture, not sacrifice or duty. A key distinction is differentiating what one identifies with, versus what one identifies as. When taking care of a child or pet, one does not consider it a moral obligation to do so, one simply does it as naturally as taking care of oneself. It is also not uncommon to see these as part of oneself, and in losing these we might exclaim “I have lost a part of me”. It is this identification which separates a moral act from a beautiful act — what separates laborious sacrifice for something external, to an effortless act of care and nurture to something that is, in fact, rather internal.
Ecological Self
Centuries of scientific and philosophical inquiry has sought to verify that humans are somehow separate from animals and nature — that is it there as a resource for us to possess, exploit and master. This separation is what laid the ground.work for what we know today as the anthropocene. This ideology is still very much pervasive, as Jeremy Lent notes: “Human supremacy is so embedded within our cultural norms that it is barely even discussed.” (Lent 2021, 275). We still speak of the conquest of nature, but, to paraphrase economist E. F. Schumacher: “if humanity wins the battle over nature, we quickly find ourself on the losing side.” (Schumacher 1973, 3). As we are realising, humanity is absolutely embedded in the highly complex and interdependent ecosystem which it has sought to dominate and domesticate. To broaden the scope of ones identity, then, one must identify as, and embody, this inseparable connection we have to the natural world. This is the notion of the ecological self, a term coined by Arne Næss to denominate this wider, deeper sense of self (Næss 2008, 82). This notion lays the foundation for the branch of ecology called deep ecology.
Here again we come across a shift in identification from something that, maybe, identifies with nature to something which identifies as nature. Furthermore, this effectively shapes not only which actions we take, but also the motivation behind them. Ecology, then, becomes the effortless and beautiful act of living according to nature. There is no need for moral prescriptions or legislations, because to embody the ecological self leaves every course of action as completely self-evident. As a consequence of this shift in identification, one may begin to experience a tremendous amount of grief in the face of ecological disaster. This, to many, is the necessary impetus that imparts a sense of urgency to ecological action. It also rids us from the pervasive doctrine of acting according to vain and arbitrary ethical guidelines, while absolving us from climate guilt, still keeps us in the same ‘man versus nature’-paradigm. One cannot keep a pleasant attitude to the climate crisis. A shift of this kind requires courage to embody, as it opens the space of rage and sorrow in the face of ecological and social injustice, because it is not happening ‘out there’, it is happening to all of us. Buddhist scholar and deep ecologist Joanna Macy writes: “Our pain for the world, when felt without fear, reveals our true nature as one with the entirety of life.” (Macy 1991, 141).
As it is now becoming evident, it is very much within even our most egocentric self-interest to act as ecologically responsible as possible. While some individuals may elude the most destructive consequences of the climate crisis, the same is not true for following generations if appropriate action is not taken. This is what Joanna Macy is referring to when she writes “the entirety of life”. It is not the broad scope of plants and animals we know today, it is also the generations yet unborn that will likely face the worst of what the future holds if we do not take immediate and radical action. As Sister Rosalie Bertell notes: “Every being who will ever live on Earth is here right now. Where? In our ovaries and gonads, and in our DNA.” (Macy 1991, 157). This is another crucial part of the deep ecological philosophy. We are not merely passing along a habitable environment, we are also passing on the conditions and attitudes to future iterations of ourselves.
Embodying an ecological self broadens the scope of identity, and as such empathy. It opens up for deeper connections to other humans, as well as to natural landscape and animals. This increased empathy signifies an increased maturity of the self and of our self-interests, and thus realises our inherent potentialities as selves (Næss 2008, 82). This quote from treasured spiritual teacher and activist Thích Nhất Hạnh perfectly sums up the synthesis between non-duality and ecological action:
Man is present in all things, and all things are present in man. There is a mountain in us, do you see? There are clouds in us, do you see? It’s not only that we were a cloud or a rock in the past, but we are still a cloud and a rock today. In former times we were also a fish, a bird, a reptile. We are a human being, yes, but at the same time we are everything. Seeing this, we know that to preserve other species is to preserve ourselves. This is interbeing, the deepest teaching of deep ecology. (Hạnh 2021, 23–24)
Satori and Art
To learn the Buddhist way is to learn about oneself. To learn about oneself is to forget oneself. To forget oneself is to perceive oneself as all things. Dōgen Zenji in Shōbōgenzō (Loy 1988, 216).
Up to this point, what we have discussed can vaguely be seen as following “the Buddhist way”. It is the process by which the self recognises itself beyond the narrow ego to encapsulate a wider and wider array of beings and non-beings. In the non-dual traditions, this quest has come to an end when the individual, as Dōgen wrote, “perceive oneself as all things”. This experience, known perhaps best colloquially as nirvana or enlightenment, denotes a liberation from the suffering which is so achingly characteristic of the human condition. In Zen, this experience is called satori.
Zen thus advises us not to to follow the verbal or written teaching of Buddha, not to believe in a higher being other than oneself, not to practice formulas of ascetic training, but to gain place in the deepest recesses in one’s being. This is an appeal to an intuitive mode of understanding, which consists in experiencing what is known in Japanese as satori. (Suzuki 1959, 218).
As D. T. Suzuki writes, this intuitive dissolution of the subject/object-duality is not to be found anywhere but deep within oneself — there cannot be a true understanding of satori in a conceptual way. A helpful parallel to draw in illustrating non-dual experience may be to art.
When one is deeply involved in artistic engagement, whether attentively perceiving or making art, one is in a state of flow, which is a state in which the self feels completely absent. This aligns with the non-dual notion of wei-wu-wei, which roughly translates from Chinese to mean action of non-action (Loy 1988, 94). We can use this term to understand the dissolution between subject and object in deep artistic engagement, when there ceases to be separation between the acted and the actor. As Kitarō Nishida writes: “There is no fundamental distinction between things and the self, for just as the objective world is a reflection of the self, so is the self a reflection of the objective world.” (Nishida 1990, 135).
Alan Watts writes in his seminal Way of Zen: “…the arts of Zen are not merely or primarily representational. Even in painting, the work of art is considered not only as representing nature but as being itself a work of nature” (Watts 1957, 174). This non-dual attitude towards artistic discipline is clearly visible in the works of 16th century Japanese painter Sesshū Tōyō, widely considered to be one of the greatest Japanese artists of all time. Kitarō Nishida, a great admirer of Sesshū, writes:
We reach the quintessence of good conduct only when subject and object merge, self and things forget each other, and all that exists is the activity of the sole reality of the universe. At that point we can say that things move the self and the self moves things, that Sesshū painted nature or that nature painted itself through Sesshū (Nishida 1991, 135).
Indeed, as researcher Adam Loughnane writes: “An ink landscape, such as Sesshū’s Hatsuboku Sansui, looks as if it came to be with the same spontaneity as leaves blowing across grass” (Loughnane 2019, 157). Sesshū Tōyō spent the majority of his life studying Zen, spending hours upon hours in silent contemplation, which is what allowed him to act completely spontaneously when appropriate.
Spontaneity is not a defining feature of our society today, however there are contemporary artists which embody the same principles of self-inquiry and the subsequent self-less, spontaneous expression. One of these artists is pianist Keith Jarrett. He is perhaps best known for his completely improvised solo concerts, which cannot truly be reduced to its dualistic components of player, notes, audience and so on, but must be seen as a whole. He is in complete flow in his dialogues with the piano, often invoking his characteristic idiosyncratic moaning, groaning, singing and erratic movements as he plays. The exclamation of one Zen master on his experience of satori comes to mind: “When I heard the temple bell ring, suddenly there was no bell and no I, just sound” (Loy 1988, 64).
Let this brief digression serve as an attempt to relay perceptible examples of how a non-dual approach manifests itself in the world. Art can be the transcendent gateway to provide insight to non-dual experience, wherein subject and object merges, and what’s left is merely the universe expressing itself.
Non-dual Design Practice
So today, we must expect to be living this turbulence for a long time, in a double world where two realities live together in conflict: the old “limitless” world that does not acknowledge the planet’s limits, and another that recognizes these limits and experiments with ways of transforming into opportunities (Manzini 2015, 2).
Design, we think, happens out there. We look to our current conditions to see weaknesses and needs for intervention, and as such we create new conditions and new modes of being. Our future conditions for being has perhaps never been jeopardised as much as they are for the times we are currently facing, as we are seeing the imminent breaking point of dualistic and anthropocentric rationale which has formed the very basis of our civilisation. Regardless of how the breaking point manifests itself, it will demand a radical paradigmatic shift in human consciousness on a fundamental level. How do designers work in a civilisation between these two radically different modes of being?
The era we are entering have been termed the great transition by design theorist Ezio Manzini, who describes it as: ”…a process of change in which humanity is beginning to come to terms with the limits of the planet, and which is also leading us to make better use of the connectivity that is available to us: a dual dynamics merging into a single process in which we can already see certain characteristics.” (Manzini 2015, 2).
This predicament, termed transition discourses, has elicited several responses tackling ground-up systematic reformulations of design practice and design thinking. One of these is the transition design framework, developed at Carnegie Mellon University by Terry Irwin, Cameron Tonkinwise and Gideon Kossoff. They formulated a framework which they describe as “Four mutually reinforcing and co-evolving areas of knowledge, action and self-reflection.” (Irwin, Kossof, and Tonkinwise 2015, 7). The four areas they lay out begins with visions for transition. These visions are devised as a counter-reaction to the various shortcomings and misgivings of our current ontological paradigm. Arturo Escobar explains: “Given its[transition discourse] subject and scope, this field necessarily has ontological implications, for behind any vision of transition there lies, to a greater or lesser extent, a substantial challenge to the onto-epistemic formation embedded in the current dominant form of capitalist modernity.” (Escobar 2017, 138). These challenges are tackled in the next point of the transition design framework which is labeled theories of change, which pose a theoretical framework for understanding the various dynamics at play, and how to contend with them. The final two points of the framework is posture and mindset, and new ways of designing, which are the main points of focus of our investigation. We have seen how the pervasive dualistic ontology is deeply entrenched in every aspect of our civilisation, and as such, how we conduct design practice. ‘Sustainable design’, for the most part, has been a way for designers of absolving themselves of climate guilt, while still servicing and profiting of a fundamentally unsustainable capitalist model. While I hesitate to be too prescriptive, what follows is the beginnings of the outlines of a framework for a new model of non-dual design practice rooted in the mindset and worldview of the designer, and how that informs a methodology for designing.
The first principle of design is empathy. To design successfully, one must have the capacity to put oneself in another, perhaps completely different, way of being. In conventional design practice, this is done through researching the needs and potentials among users. However, we have seen how, through a broadening of self-identity through self-inquiry, an individual is capable of empathising far beyond this narrow selection of people. With sufficient introspection and reflection, the designer can drastically broaden what they naturally empathise with beyond a narrow spectrum of interests. This, not only changes the outcome of the design, but also radically reformulates the role of the designer.
In design we are used to working within a set of beliefs and truths — a paradigm — in which all design practices are enveloped. If one adapts a stance of the self not within the narrow confines of the title of designer, but sees oneself as embedded within a complex ecosystem, empathy begins to gain another level of significance. As empathy is the foundation of design, this shift in consciousness to a broader self massively impacts the conditions for designing. At the start of any design process, one must cultivate a natural empathy, indeed identification, with a virtually endless array of beings and non-beings that is directly and indirectly impacted by the design. It goes without saying, this places massive restrictions on the possibilities of design, which has been massively corrupted through availability of affordable materials and cheap labour. However, design thrives on restriction, as it opens up for completely new ways of thinking locally and truly sustainably. Holistically incorporating true empathy, as an extension of the self, in the design process severely undermines the entrenched anthropocentric ontology. Designing in this manner is incompatible with the standard perception we have of design practice in all areas such as scale, budget, timescale, material, craft, reuse, community integration and so on. As such, it becomes an act of a kind of civil disobedience, a deliberate stance against the current practices which will ultimately aid us in the great transition to a new societal model. There is no better note to end on than the final sentence in David R. Loy’s comprehensive investigation into non-duality which reads: “Perhaps the future of our biosphere depends to some extent on the quiet, unnoticed influence of those working to overcome their own sense of subject-object duality.” (Loy 1988, 326).
Conclusion
“Living in and through transitional times calls for self-reflection and new ways of ‘being’ in the world”(Irwin, Kossof, and Tonkinwise 2015, 6). What I hope to have conveyed in these words is a glimpse into a different way of being in the world. In fact, it consists not in being in the world at all, rather of the world. This mode of being is not an ideological counterpart to the current paradigm. Non-duality is non-ideological, one acts upon what the expanded individual perceives as self-evident truths. These realisations contribute to an approach to ecological action and design practice by seeing oneself as a mere part of a vast ecosystem which must be maintained. Striving for this is not to be custodians of nature, and assuming a moral duty, but rather act so freely and naturally so as to be mere participants of the worlds self-healing. There is nothing prescriptive I can offer as guide besides engaging deeply with yourself to seek this understanding for yourself. Through design practice, then, can one slowly begin to shift the tide in the social consciousness. I claim this must occur on the individual level, and designer must help facilitate this perceptual shift. The world of tomorrow will be imbued with the attitudes with which it was designed.
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