War Against Ourselves. Jacklyn Cock
help finance the conservation of endangered species. Increasingly the marketing potential of nature is being exploited to promote consumerism, as Soper writes: ‘Margarine comes to us from dew-bedecked pastures, cider from the age-old orchards of country hamlets, whiskey out of Scottish burns (or Irish mists), mineral water direct from a Samuel Palmer landscape’ (Soper, 1995: 194).
This pastoral imagery is used to hide the actual conditions of production and ‘protect the consumer from a too direct confrontation with the facts of modern industrial processes’ (Soper, 1995: 210). The ‘facts’ include such cruel practices as battery farming of chickens, while the Rainbow Chicken advertisement on South African television depicts healthy birds trying to gain access to Rainbow farms.
Not only factory farming, but much food production involves both cruelty to animals and exploitation of workers. For example, in the case of Ceres liquifruit, the idyllic pastoral scene on the container distracts us from the living conditions of the Western Cape seasonal fruit pickers employed in its production. The people living in this lush, sun-drenched valley experience desperate poverty. Half the households in Ceres surveyed recently earned low wages, and about 70 per cent of respondents indicated that their households had experienced a food shortage at some time during the previous 12 months. About a quarter of children exhibited a degree of stunting (Du Toit, 2005).
Appeals to a ‘closeness to nature’ are a frequent theme in the promotional literature of estate agents. The new Edens of golf estates and gated communities generally involve the destruction of the indigenous vegetation, and sometimes even of wetlands. The manicured parklike landscapes of country clubs and golf courses involve massive consumption of water. Wild nature is destroyed at the same time that it is reduced to a set of symbolic meanings.
But according to golf course designer Sabine Sabring-Gould, ‘a golf course is man interacting successfully with nature’ (cited in Mail and Guardian, 2006). Zimbali Coastal Resort, north of Durban, describes itself as ‘one part golf, two parts paradise’ and claims that the Zimbali ethos is ‘living in harmony with nature’. The marketisation of nature is clear in its advertisement, which reads:
Start living your dreams. Imagine waking up every morning to a view over the Indian Ocean with schools of dolphins surfing among the breakers. Imagine having two championship golf courses to choose from, any time you feel like playing a round. Imagine living among indigenous coastal forest with natural lakes, bushbuck and blue duiker, sea with pristine golden beaches (Zimbali Coastal Resort, 2006).
For those indifferent to the environmental impact and with millions to spend on a house (one sold in December 2006 for ZAR 19 million), this could be a reality.
But this process of the marketisation of nature has reached its zenith in the enclosed shopping mall, what the American eco-feminist Caroline Merchant terms, ‘the modern version of the Garden of Eden’ (Merchant, 2004). Surrounded by concrete parking lots and garages, these climate-controlled malls often feature life-sized trees, goldfish ponds, waterfalls and fountains in ways that ‘simulate nature as a cultivated benign garden ... Within manicured spaces of trees, flowers and foundations, we can shop for nature at the Nature Company, purchase “natural” clothing at Esprit, sample organic foods and “rainforest crunch”’ (Merchant, 2004: 168). Merchant describes how this process is exemplified in the West Edmonton Mall, ‘in a palm-lined beach, an artificial lagoon, an underwater seascape, performing dolphins, caged birds and tame Siberian tigers. Sunlit gardens, tree-lined paths, meandering streams, and tropical flowers adorn courtyard restaurants’ (Merchant, 2004: 169). Artificial nature has replaced what she terms ‘natural nature’. A sad irony is obscured in this process: the consumer culture that the shopping mall represents is destroying much of wild nature.
This appropriation of wild nature is also found in corporate headquarters, as well as shopping malls and entertainment centres. Local versions are the plastic ducks and star-studded sky at Montecasino in Johannesburg, Sun City or ABSA’s Johannesburg head office. Bounded by Commissioner, Marshall, Troye and Mooi Streets, the latter’s three linked office towers contain indoor atriums housing an art gallery, a clinic, mobile sculpture, ponds, bridges, palm trees and a miniature rainforest.
The rainforest theme is prioritised by the Arabella hotel group in its marketing campaign to attract the world’s wealthiest tourists and be the most pampering and popular five star hotel and golf resort in South Africa. The hotel and spa near Hermanus is planning a rainforest experience involving different forms of humidity, from steam and mud to walking through scented mist (Arabella Sheraton Group, 2006a). This luxury hotel and spa frequently appeals to ‘nature’ in its advertising. For example, an advertisement quotes Paul Cezanne: ‘Art is in harmony parallel with nature’ (Arabella Sheraton Group, 2006b).
The marketisation of nature is also clear in Disneyland’s Animal Kingdom in Orlando, Florida with a Kilimanjaro safari, an oasis and a rainforest. These all package nature as an exotic and entertaining experience. The anthropomorphism of Disney films such as The Wild and Madagascar distort wild creatures into caricatures of human beings.
Theme parks illustrate this marketisation of nature and sometimes associate indigenous peoples with an exotic nature, e.g. ‘African people were settled into a theme village at an Austrian zoo … their huts placed next to monkey cages’ (Bond, 2006: xi). The reader will assume that this practice dates back to colonial times, but in fact it occurred in June 2005.
‘Nothing like the wilderness to calm your soul’, the brochure tells us. Nature tourism packages and sells nature as a product. While experiences such as river rafting, jungle safaris and mountain climbing feed appetites for adventure, for the exotic and the ‘different’, they don’t necessarily involve any appreciation of wild nature. And the multiplicity of these experiences involves the purchase of expensive hiking, climbing, camping and outdoor gear from stores like Cape Union Mart.
The most ironic marketisation of nature in my experience is the wheelcover on a new model Toyota Prado, which states, ‘society should reflect on the fragility of the earth’s environment’ or the Suzuki wheel cover claiming ‘Suzuki loves nature’. The irony lies in the fact that such 4x4s, often named in heroic terms such as ‘Defender’ and ‘Explorer’, contribute massively to global warming and use 22 litres of fuel per 100 km, compared to smaller, cheaper vehicles that would use up to 6 litres of petrol for that distance. Drivers of such 4x4s are often accused of causing soil erosion in game reserves, river beds and even on beaches.
All of this reinforces the notion of nature as a place apart, and is part of what Zerner has named ‘market truimphalism’, a trend whereby thought and action are dominated by economic models and nature becomes increasingly commodified, inscribed with the logic of consumption. As Zerner writes, ‘nature has become an emporium ... a commercial warehouse awaiting its brokers’ (Zerner, 1999: 12).
So while many people cherish nature and ‘the natural’ as a counterpoint to modernity and materialism, in relating to nature as consumers we help to destroy and debase it, a process that the iconic animal images on South African currency illustrate.
This commodification involves an ‘ecological alienation’, the rupturing of ties between the human and natural worlds. Whereas in the past these ties ‘were based on immediacy and close proximity, commodity logic enforces distance and imposes the use of money as an essential condition for accessing the elements of nature’, the environment is now reduced to ‘a collection of merchandise offered for sale’ (Ouedraogo, 2005: 28).
NATURE AS A SUBJECT OF SCIENTIFIC INVESTIGATION AND MANIPULATION
The natural sciences have much to offer in deepening our knowledge of nature. At the same time, scientific knowledge has increased human domination and control over nature, and this is generally understood as a marker of human progress. As Fowles writes, ‘it sometimes seems now as if it [nature] is principally there not for itself but to provide material for labeling, classifying, analysing’ (Fowles 2001: 135). This has reached a peak in nuclear technology and genetic modification.
Although ‘biotechnology’ and ‘genetic modification’ (GM) commonly are used interchangeably, GM is a special set of technologies that alter the genetic makeup of such living organisms as