(Oxford Library of Psychology) Susan D. Clayton-The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology-Oxford University Press (2012) PDF

Oxford Library of Psychology
Oxford Handbooks Online

The Oxford Handbook of Environmental and Conservation Psychology
Edited by Susan D. Clayton
Print Publication Date: Sep 2012 Subject: Psychology
Online Publication Date: Nov
2012

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Peter E. Nathan
AREA EDITORS:
Clinical Psychology
David H. Barlow
Cognitive Neuroscience
Kevin N. Ochsner and Stephen M. Kosslyn
Cognitive Psychology
Daniel Reisberg
Counseling Psychology
Elizabeth M. Altmaier and Jo-Ida C. Hansen
Developmental Psychology
Philip David Zelazo
Health Psychology
Howard S. Friedman
History of Psychology
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David B. Baker
Methods and Measurement
Todd D. Little
Neuropsychology
Kenneth M. Adams
Organizational Psychology
Steve W. J. Kozlowski
Personality and Social Psychology
Kay Deaux and Mark Snyder
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
The Oxford handbook of environmental and conservation psychology / edited by
Susan Clayton.
p. cm.(Oxford library of psychology)
ISBN 9780199733026
1. Nature Psychological aspects. 2. Environmental psychology. 3. Human
ecology Psychological
aspects. I. Clayton, Susan D., 1960BF353.5.N37O94 2012
333.7019dc23
2012020048
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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[UNTITLED]

[UNTITLED]
2012
(p. v) This volume is dedicated to Gabriel Moser, who died in April 2011 shortly after
completing work on his chapter for the handbook. Moser was an important figure in
environmental psychology, particularly in Europe, where he was the first professor of
environmental psychology in France. He had a direct influence in training and supporting
young researchers and new groups in environmental psychology in many countries. In
addition, he strengthened the institutional framework for environmental psychology,
particularly through his efforts on behalf of the International Association for PeopleEnvironment Studies, of which he was president from 2004 to 2008. His many books and
papers, which emphasized the urban environment, will have a lasting impact on the field and
his warmth and generosity will be remembered by the many colleagues who also consider
themselves his friends. (p. vi)
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2012

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Peter E. Nathan
Editor-in-Chief
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About the Editor

About the Editor
2012
About the Editor

Susan D. Clayton
Susan D. Clayton is Whitmore-Williams Professor of Psychology at the College of Wooster in
Ohio. With a PhD in social psychology from Yale, she is a fellow of the American Psychological
Association and a past president of the Society for Environmental, Population, and
Conservation Psychology. Her research addresses the social context surrounding peoples
relationship with the natural environment. (p. xii)
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Contributors

Contributors
2012
Contributors
Susana Alves
Faculty of Engineering & ArchitectureDepartment of Architecture
Okan niversitesi
Tuzla KampsAkfrat-Tuzla/Istanbul, Turkey
Cludia Campos Andrade

Instituto Universitrio de Lisboa (ISCTE-IUL)
Centro de Investigao e Interveno Social (CIS-IUL)
Lisbon, Portugal
Clare L. Barratt
Department of Psychology
Texas A&M University
College Station, TX
Page 1 of 14
Contributors
Brittany Bloodhart
The Pennsylvania State University
University Park, PA
Marino Bonaiuto
CIRPA (Centro Interuniversitario di Ricerca in Psicologia Ambientale)
Dipartimento di Psicologia dei Processi di Sviluppo e Socializzazione
Sapienza Universit di Roma
Rome, Italy
Mirilia Bonnes
Department of Social and Developmental Psychology
Sapienza University of Rome
Centre for Inter-University Research in Environmental Psychology
Rome, Italy
Barbara B. Brown
University of Utah
Salt Lake City, UT
Page 2 of 14
Contributors
Giuseppe Carrus
Department of Cultural and Educational Studies, University of Roma Tre
Rome, Italy
Louise Chawla
College of Architecture and Planning
University of Colorado
Boulder, CO
Charlotte Clark
Centre for Psychiatry
Wolfson Institute of Preventive Medicine
Barts and the London School of Medicine and Dentistry
London, UK
Susan D. Clayton
The College of Wooster
Wooster, OH
Page 3 of 14
Contributors
Vctor Corral-Verdugo
Division de Ciencias Sociales
University of Sonora at Hermosillo
Los Portales Hermosillo, Mexico
Rosanna Crombie
London, UK
Judith I. M. de Groot
School of Design, Engineering & Computing
Bournemouth University
Dorset, UK
Victoria Derr
College of Architecture and Planning
University of Colorado
Boulder, CO
Page 4 of 14
Contributors
(p. xiv) Ann Sloan Devlin

Connecticut College
New London, CT
Blanca S. Fraijo-Sing
Martha Fras-Armenta
Robert Gifford
University of Victoria
Victoria, Canada
Page 5 of 14
Contributors
Ferdinando Fornara
University of Cagliari
CIRPA (Centre for Inter-University Research on Environmental Psychology)
Cagliari, Italy
Harry Heft
Denison University
Granville, OH
Florian G. Kaiser
Department of Social Psychology
Otto-von-Guericke University
Magdeburg, Germany
Elisabeth Kals
Professor of Social and Organizational Psychology
The Catholic University Eichsttt-Ingolstadt
Eichsttt, Germany
Page 6 of 14
Contributors
Kalevi M. Korpela
School of Social Sciences and Humanities
University of Tampere
Tampere, Finland
Michael K. Lindell
Hazard Reduction & Recovery Center
College Station, TX
Ezra M. Markowitz
Environmental Studies Program
University of Oregon
Eugene, OR
Melinda S. Merrick
Department of Geography and Environmental Studies
Northeastern Illinois University
Chicago, IL
Page 7 of 14
Contributors
Taciano L. Milfont
Centre for Applied Cross-Cultural Research
School of Psychology
Victoria University of Wellington
Wellington, New Zealand
Gabriel Moser
Institute of Psychology
University of Paris Descartes
LPS, University of Aix-en-Provence
Paris, France
Markus M. Mller
The Catholic University Eichsttt-Ingolstadt
Eichsttt, Germany
Olin Eugene Myers Jr.

Huxley College of the Environment
Western Washington University
Bellingham, WA
Page 8 of 14
Contributors
Blair E. Nancarrow
The Fenner School of Environment and Society
The Australian National University
Ellery Crescent, Acton, Australia
Susan Opotow
John Jay College and The Graduate Center
City University of New York
New York, NY
Kimberly A. Rollings
Department of Design and Environmental Analysis
Cornell University
Ithaca, NY
Keith C. Russell
Department of Physical Education, Health and Recreation
Western Washington University
Bellingham, WA
Page 9 of 14
Contributors
Charles D. Samuelson
College Station, TX
(p. xv) Henry Sanoff

College of Design
North Carolina State University
Raleigh, NC
Carol D. Saunders
Department of Environmental Studies
Antioch University New England
Keene, NH
Massimiliano Scopelliti
LUMSA University
Rome, Italy
Page 10 of 14
Contributors
P. Wesley Schultz
California State University, San Marcos
San Marcos, CA
Henk Staats
Instituut Psychologie, Sociale en Organisatiepsychologie
Leiden University
Leiden, The Netherlands
Stephen A. Stansfeld
London, UK
Linda Steg
Faculty of Behavioural and Social Sciences
University of Groningen
Groningen, The Netherlands
Page 11 of 14
Contributors
Peter Suedfeld
University of British Columbia
Vancouver, BC, Canada
Reuven Sussman
University of Victoria
Victoria, Canada
Janet K. Swim
The Pennsylvania State University
University Park, PA
Geoffrey J. Syme
Centre for Planning
Edith Cowan University
Perth, Australia
Page 12 of 14
Contributors
Csar O. Tapia-Fonllem
Jennifer A. Veitch
NRC Construction
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Joanne Vining
Department of Natural Resources and Environmental Sciences
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
Champaign, IL
Rotraut Walden
Institute for Psychology
University in Koblenz
Koblenz, Germany
Arjen E.J. Wals

Education & Competence Studies
Wageningen University
Wageningen, The Netherlands
Page 13 of 14
Contributors
Nancy M. Wells
Department of Design and Environmental Analysis
Cornell University
Ithaca, NY
Richard E. Wener
Department of Humanities and Social Sciences
Polytechnic Institute of New York University
New York, NY
Carol M. Werner
University of Utah
Salt Lake City, UT (p. xvi)
Page 14 of 14
Introduction: Environmental and Conservation Psychology

Susan D. Clayton and Carol D. Saunders
Print Publication Date: Sep 2012
2012
Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0001
Abstract and Keywords

Environmental psychology has been an established field for half a century. The term conservation psychology
has a much more recent history. What is conservation psychology, and what is its relationship to environmental
psychology? How will the combination affect the further development of the field? This chapter provides a definition
and places the terms in a historical as well as a functional context. After an explication of the name of the present
handbook, a framework for the organization of the book is presented.
Keywords: history, terminology, environmental psychology, conservation psychology
Introduction
It is probably fair to say that in the mind of the general public, psychologists focus more on what happens inside a
persons headthe mental and neurological processes that constitute experience and determine behaviorthan
on what is happening in the surrounding environment. But from the fields earliest origins, psychologists have
recognized, and emphasized, the ways in which people are affected by their environments. Many studies have
documented ways in which the social environment is influential, through parental socialization, conformity to social
norms, and so on; it is a fundamental tenet of social psychology that we should consider external causes of
behavior before making attributions to internal dispositions. Equally important is the physical environment. In
addition to providing the materials that either promote or compromise well-being, it shapes behavior through
reinforcement contingencies as well as through affordancesalthough as Gifford (1976) has noted, people are
often unconscious of environmental impacts and changes. Because the built environment is amenable to change
and to intentional design, its effects have been well studied by psychologists as well as by researchers from other
fields. Although the natural environment has received less attention, it was still recognized as important by early to
mid-20th-century psychologists (e.g., Adler, 1956).
The environmental challenges that have become salient as we begin the 21st century provide a pressing reminder
of the ways in which human well-being is bound up with environmental health. These challenges also illustrate the
reverse relationship: the impact of human perceptions, attitudes, and especially behavior on environmental wellbeing. This handbook addresses the expanding body of research on these relationships and presents a snapshot
of current work on environmental and conservation psychology. Such a snapshot captures a moment in time for an
evolving and increasingly important area of research. To understand what this handbook will and will not do, this
introductory chapter will situate the field within its temporal context, describing some of the history behind this area
as well as its goals.
Environmental Psychology
Environmental psychology began to emerge as a self-identified subdiscipline in the 1950s. Certainly (p. 2) the
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visibility of the environmental movement in the 1960s, and the accompanying awareness of limits on environmental
resources, were part of the context that led to the institutionalization of the field. Concerns about population growth
and environmental degradation during the 1960s led to two task forces within the American Psychological
Associationone on psychology, family planning, and population policy and one on environment and behavior
which later joined together to form Division 34, on population and environmental psychology (Richards, 2000).
The first core text in environmental psychology, Environmental Psychology: Man and His Physical Setting, was
published by Proshansky, Ittelson, and Rivlin in 1970. The same year saw environmental psychology described in
American Psychologist (Wohlwill, 1970) and in a volume on new directions in psychology (Craik, 1970). Key
topics in environmental psychology at this early stage already included perceptions of the environment, social
uses of space, use of environmental resources, perceptions of environmental risk, and attributes of built
environments. Environmental psychology was alert to social issues involving the natural environment and natural
resources. It recognized, too, that a psychological experience of the environment incorporated a confluence of
social and physical environments, and that the relationship between people and their environments was
bidirectional. However, only a subset of research within environmental psychology is substantially relevant to the
natural environment or to problems concerning environmental degradation or depletion of environmental
resources. Indeed, in a key article reflecting on the identity of environmental psychology, Stokols (1995) described
five promising research trends, only one of which involved threats to and change in the natural environment.
One of the main periodicals in environmental psychology, Environment and Behavior, was established in 1969 as
an interdisciplinary journal that would publish rigorous experimental and theoretical work focusing on the
influence of the physical environment on human behavior. Despite the unidirectional nature of this statement
(influence of the environment on humans), the journal also welcomes research on the ways in which people
conceptualize environments and on policies or planning aimed at changing environments. It is published in
association with the Environmental Design Research Association and has traditionally included a strong focus on
design and on the built environment. Nevertheless, the publication has also incorporated topics as abstract as
morality, attachment, and religious perspectives on environments, as well as practical topics, such as recycling,
composting, and energy conservation.
A journal more specific to environmental psychology is the eponymous Journal of Environmental Psychology,
established in 1981 to serve individuals in a wide range of disciplines who have an interest in the scientific study
of the transactions and interrelationships between people and their physical surroundings. Topics covered in the
journal are very similar to those in Environment and Behavior, with perhaps a greater emphasis on human
cognition, human experience, and theory. The inaugural issue included a reflective essay by David Canter and
Kenneth Craik that reviewed the progress of the field, including a significant number of international societies and
edited volumes, and attempted to define the field.
Reflecting its growing influence, environmental psychology was further described in a comprehensive, two-volume
handbook edited by Dan Stokols and Irwin Altman in 1987. This handbook included chapters on all the core topics
of the field: cognition, personality, and emotion; children and aging; human spatial behavior, territoriality, and
crowding; and environmental stress. It also covered a variety of environmental contexts, including residential,
school, and work environments; environmental problems including crime, transportation, and diminishing natural
resources; and environmental psychology in a number of different countries, from Europe and Asia to Latin
America and the Soviet Union. In addition, the 1987 handbook engaged in an extensive evaluation of the field,
beginning with four chapters on the origins and scope of environmental psychology and ending with four chapters
looking toward its future.
A second edition was published in 2002, edited by Robert Bechtel and Arza Churchman. This volume did not try to
repeat the focus of the original handbook. Instead the emphasis was on demonstrating the breadth and applicability
of environmental psychology. It included chapters making connections to other disciplines, such as anthropology,
sociology, and clinical psychology, and others describing applications in specific settings (work, museums), for
specific groups (women, children), and to specific problems (conflict, disasters, climate). This volume also reflected
on emerging new conceptual and methodological approaches within environmental psychology. Particularly
significant to the current handbook, the 2002 version included a chapter by Bonnes and Bonaiuto that described a
(p. 3) shift over time in environmental psychologys focus, from an emphasis on the physical environment to a
greater concern on sustainable development. They argued for a full ecology perspective that would recognize
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human beings as the major force or organizing principle ofevery ecosystem and thus would attend to human
dimensions of environmental issues (Bonnes & Bonaiuto, 2002, p. 34).
Environmental psychology emphasized three significant themes that were often overlooked or minimized by other
areas of psychology. One was the need to understand behavior in context: people in a specific place. Although
controlled laboratory research is valuable, it can never provide a full understanding of behavior, learning, or
motivation, any more than the behavior of a caged laboratory rat can tell us everything about rat behavior in the
wild. The second was a recognition of the reciprocal relationship between people and their environments. Although
people are affected by their surroundings, they also both choose and modify their environments; arguably, this is
one of the characteristics that distinguish humans from other species, whose impact is more gradual and less
deliberate. This indicates the important practical implications of environmental psychology: understanding how
people are affected by their environments might suggest helpful ways to modify those environments, and
understanding how people choose and modify their environments suggests some of the ways in which they are
affected by those environments. For example, recognizing that people benefit from views of nature suggests that
buildings be designed to provide such views, and the fact that people spend great amounts of time personalizing
their homes and gardens implies that gardens can affect their sense of self. Finally, a third theme is that from its
beginning environmental psychology has emphasized the need to be interdisciplinary: to interface with urban
planners, architects, sociologists, biologists, educators, and others to both benefit from their knowledge and share
what psychology has to offer.
Conservation Psychology
These themes are particularly relevant in conservation psychology, which emerged in the late 1990s and early
21st century. At this time, interest in the natural environment was blossoming, with a growing number of academic
programs devoted to environmental studies and an increased awareness of looming environmental problems. A
small group of psychologists set about quite deliberately to address a few lacunae: the near-absence of
psychology from discussions about environmental issues, both within the academy and in the public sphere, and
the limited focus on the natural world in mainstream psychological research. There was also a desire to refocus
efforts to use the insights and tools of psychology toward understanding and promoting human care for nature.
Several names were considered: Green psychology? Ecopsychology? Psychology of sustainability? Conservation
psychology was selected as the name for this new effort, in part because it paralleled the history and goals of the
existing field of conservation biology. The term conservation does not, in this case, take a position on the
historical debate between conserving resources for human use versus protecting nature for its own sake. Rather, it
reflects the conservation movement of the late 20th century and particularly the movements political focus on
responding to environmental challenges, such as pollution, loss of biodiversity, and (more recently) global climate
change.
Conservation psychology deliberately enlists contributions from the many subdisciplines within psychology toward
understanding and promoting healthy and sustainable relationships with nature. The tools it brings to bear are the
conceptual and methodological techniques of empirical research in psychology. Like conservation biology,
conservation psychology is distinguished by a clear set of goals and values: it values human and ecosystem
health, and aspires to enhance the healthy relationship between humans and the rest of nature. Conservation
psychology is not just an applied field, and is not just about understanding determinants of pro-environmental
behavior. It is about theory and research aimed at understanding the interdependence between human and natural
well-being, and its goal is to make linkages between basic academic research and practical environmental issues.
Beginning in 2000, a series of workshops hosted by the Chicago Zoological Society and a conference funded by
the Rice Foundation brought together groups of researchers to discuss the parameters of the field and the best
way to move forward. An early outcome was a special issue (2003) of the journal Human Ecology Review, edited
by Carol Saunders and Gene Myers, that focused on conservation psychologydescribing it, defining it, and
suggesting some important directions. The definition in this issue described conservation psychology as the
scientific study of the reciprocal relationships between humans and the rest of nature, with a particular focus on
how to encourage conservation of the natural world (Saunders, 2003, p. 138).
(p. 4) Theoretical perspectives emphasized in the special issue focused on behavior change; emotional
connections to natural entities (especially animals and places); and communication about environmental issues. A
Page 3 of 8

2005 paper by Clayton and Brook followed, making a further argument for conservation psychology and illustrating
a social psychological model of behavior with reference to conservation behavior.
Conservation psychology did not represent a new area of study. What it intended was to offer a new label for
previous work that existed, which would in turn establish a new focus to motivate future work and a new identity
for psychologists interested in this area, encouraging new opportunities for collaboration between conservation
professionals and psychologists. Conservation psychology was established in part to provide a framework for work
on the topic that met the accepted standards of psychological research and built on established psychological
theory. Sommer (2000), discussing ways in which environmental psychology in general has struggled for a clear
label, provides a useful definition of the difference between a subdiscipline and a field of study. According to that
definition, conservation psychology is more clearly a field: it comprises people who have been trained in different
areas, particularly in the various subdisciplines of psychology, and focused on a common problem area. It draws
from research in all the established subdisciplines of psychology, including social, developmental, cognitive, and
clinical, in addition to environmental.
Despite the long history of environmental psychology, there is currently a clear desire among psychologists to
have a more explicit focus on the natural environment and to have this focus recognized. In a 2000 article in the
flagship journal of the APA, American Psychologist, Stuart Oskamp issued a call to arms, asking psychologists to
play a bigger part in addressing environmental challenges (a call that was still seen as necessary by Robert Gifford
in 2008). At the same time, conservation professionals had a corresponding desire to learn more from
psychologists. In 2003, Mascia et al. wrote an essay in Conservation Biology calling for greater involvement of the
social sciences in conservation efforts. As recently as 2008, prominent environmental writer David Orr wrote (also
in Conservation Biology):
This is an urgent challenge for the discipline of psychology and students of mind more broadly to apply
their professional skills to better understand our connections to nature and how to help foster the
psychological traits of mind and behavior necessary for a decent future. (p. 821)
Expanding Interest
Response to the challenge from both within and outside the discipline of psychology has been accelerating.
Several recently established journals reflect this interest. For example, Ecopsychology, whose goal is to make
connections between environmental and psychological well-being by publishing papers on such topics as
therapeutic aspects of human-nature relationships and concern about environmental issues, first appeared in
2009; PsyEcology, a bilingual journal on topics in environmental psychology, was first published in 2010; and the
Journal of Fostering Sustainable Behavior, whose goal is to provide practical research of use to those designing
environmental programs, launched its first call for papers in fall 2010. Somewhat further afield, Environmental
Communication, which began in 2007, includes work from the field of psychology, as does Conservation Letters,
which appeared in 2008 and explicitly encompasses conservation work from the biological and social sciences.
New books continue to appear, including Gardner and Sterns (2002) Environmental Problems and Human
Behavior, Schmuck and Schultzs (2002) Psychology of Sustainable Development, Ray Nickersons (2003)
Psychology and Environmental Change, and Koger and Winters (2010) The Psychology of Environmental
Problems. Clayton and Myerss (2009) Conservation Psychology was the first text to use this term. A listserv and
website for conservation psychology have been constructed, and Division 34 of the American Psychological
Association recently voted to change its name from the Society for Population and Environmental Psychology to the
Society for Environmental, Population, and Conservation Psychology. A number of other organizations around the
world promote and support research on the relationships between humans and the natural world, including Division
4 of the International Association for Applied Psychology, the International Association for People-Environment
Studies, and the Australian Psychological Society.
In addition to academic literature and organizations, psychologists have been working to integrate environmental
topics into the curriculum (Koger & Scott, 2007) and to make the results of psychological research more available
to conservation practitioners. Recent examples of this include a task force of the American Psychological
Association that was (p. 5) convened to examine psychology and global climate change (APA, 2009), and
several publications from the World Wildlife FundUK, one of which examines the relevance of identity factors in
promoting conservation (Crompton & Kasser, 2009) and another emphasizing the significance of cultural values
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and frames in encouraging human protection of the natural world (Crompton, 2010). These initiatives are important
reflections of the desire to utilize research results to advance conservation initiatives. As conservation
practitioners recognize that simply providing people with information is not enough to promote sustainable
behavior, there is increased interest in hearing about relevant psychological research (Fraser & Sickler, 2008).
Toward an Integration
The relationship between environmental and conservation psychology has been somewhat ill-defined and has led
to spirited debates. Some have argued that all the topics within conservation psychology are already present in
environmental psychology; others disagree. There are clearly different points of emphasis and different
subcultures of people involved, but there are also exciting synergies. As Schultz and Kaiser state in this volume,
research on pro-environmental behavior, with its emphasis on changing the person, did not fit easily within
environmental psychology, with its emphasis on specific physical contexts. The field of environmental psychology,
as a whole, does not have the emphasis on protecting the environment that conservation psychology represents.
However, as many of the chapters in this handbook illustrate, themes relevant to conservation psychology can be
discerned in most of the core topics of environmental psychology. The goal of the present volume is to present an
integration of the established subdiscipline of environmental psychology, and the new field of conservation
psychology. Such an integration should acknowledge both the rich history of environmental psychology and the
urgency and vision of the conservation agenda; it also helps to overcome the impulse to divide one from the other
by making forced and artificial distinctions between theory and application, physical and social, or built
and natural environments. Both environmental and conservation psychologies encompass theory and
application, physical and social environments, natural and more engineered settings. Some, but not all,
environmental psychology is conservation psychology. Some, but not all, conservation psychology is
environmental psychology. In the end, they may represent inextricably intermingled bodies of work, distinguishable
if at all by the purpose and professional identities of the researchers and practitioners.
The aims of this volume are both similar to and different from the two earlier handbooks of environmental
psychology. Like the first (Stokols & Altman, 1987), this handbook strives to include many of the foundational areas
within environmental psychology, but in a way that promotes their applicability to current environmental issues. A
number of the topics from the original handbook are revisited, because they are so central to the field and continue
to generate so much new research. But we have not attempted to replicate the ambitious scope of that set of
volumes. Like the second handbook (Bechtel & Churchman, 2002), the present one emphasizes applied problems,
but with an even greater focus on the natural environment.
The chapters are organized so that they proceed from the more abstract and conceptual to the more applied.
Environmental and conservation psychology are not purely applied fields but rather include much basic theory and
research on how people think about and respond to their environments. Within sections, we also proceed from the
more manufactured to more natural environments. Thus, the first section encompasses research and theory on
human perceptions, attitudes, values, and emotions. We also look at the role of environments, particularly natural
environments, in childrens development and in the development of a sense of self and identity. Acknowledging
that the physical cannot be fully separated from the social environment, we include an examination of cultural
differences in attitudes and perceptions.
The next section examines some specific environments that have prompted extensive research. We start with built
environments, such as residential and work environments; move through environments that are explicitly focused
on effecting change in their occupants, such as schools, health care settings, and correctional environments; and
end with natural and extreme environments. The focus of these chapters is on understanding these environments,
in ways that may contribute to our understanding of human psychology as well as enhancing our ability to design
interventions that make the environments more healthy or effective.
The third section emphasizes the ways in which people are affected by their environments. Much of this research
has focused on negative influences: environmental stressors, such as noise, and natural (p. 6) disasters, and the
characteristics of environmental conflicts. But environments also have great potential, in a way we are just
beginning to recognize, for positive effects. We include research on therapeutic effects, restorative effects, and
the role of nature in promoting health, peak experiences, and positive social interactions.
Page 5 of 8

In our last section, we flip the causality around. Given the many ways in which humans have harmful effects on the
natural environmentfrom habitat destruction and pollution to global climate changehow can people be
encouraged to behave more sustainably, to minimize their environmental footprint? Starting with child development,
we examine the promotion of pro-environmental behavior more generally; look at specific examples related to
water conservation and cooperation over environmental resources; and focus on effects that occur at a societal
level, through education. We close with a review of how psychological research may be able to help mitigate the
effects of global climate change, or at least identify ways in which we can adapt.
It is not possible to define environmental and/or conservation psychology as static areas of research. Awareness
of societal concerns, developing theoretical perspectives, and cross-fertilization from other disciplines all serve to
generate new research questions and methodologies. A final chapter looks back at the chapters that make up the
volume to consider what it means to combine environmental and conservation psychology and to sketch out
directions in which we see the field developing. One thing that is clear is that environmental and conservation
psychology must speak to those outside psychology as well as professional psychologists. Thus, this handbook
aspires to serve as a resource for both audiences. The need, and the responsibility, for psychology to contribute
to current environmental challenges are urgent.
Acknowledgments
We thank the Ittleson Foundation for its contributions to advancing the field of conservation psychology, as well as
its support for this handbook and for the integration of conservation with environmental psychology.
References
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Association (Vol. 5, pp. 113136). Washington, DC: American Psychological Association.
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8)
Susan D. Clayton
Susan D. Clayton is Whitmore-Williams Professor of Psychology at the College of Wooster in Ohio. With a PhD in social psychology
from Yale, she is a fellow of the American Psychological Association and a past president of the Society for Environmental,
Population, and Conservation Psychology. Her research addresses the social context surrounding peoples relationship with the
natural environment.
Carol D. Saunders
Carol D. Saunders Department of Environmental Studies Antioch University New England Keene, NH
Page 7 of 8
Foundations of an Ecological Approach to Psychology

Harry Heft
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0002

Environmental psychology developed in the midst of a wave of scientific and social movements of the past century
rooted in large measure among the ecological sciences. And yet work in the field proceeded mostly untouched by
an ecological perspective, as it remained wedded to a mechanistic mode of thought that has long gripped
psychology more broadly. Frameworks more sympathetic to ecological thinking had been simmering among
psychologys early writings, notably in William Jamess radical empiricism and Kurt Lewins field theory, but became
realized only in the 1960s through the works of James J. Gibson, Roger G. Barker, and others. These frameworks
share many of the assumptions of the ecological sciences and, collectively, can be located within a transactional
worldview. When applied to psychology, this perspective emphasizes the central place of meaning in
psychological phenomena. These approaches can function to guide environmental psychology into the fold of the
ecological sciences.
Keywords: ecological psychology, eco-behavioral science, affordances, behavior settings, ecological sciences, meaning
Introduction
The value of theories and concepts reside in their possibilities for ordering our thinking, and in doing so, for
directing further inquiry. This value can be undercut, however, when the same label is used to refer to different
theoretical approaches, and when concepts rooted within a particular theoretical perspective are detached from
that perspective and employed in an eclectic manner. As a case in point, consider ecological psychology.
The designation ecological psychology was adopted by three psychologists over the second half of the 20th
century to describe their distinct, independent theoretical approaches and associated research programs: the
perceptual psychologist James J. Gibson (19031979), the child/social psychologist Roger G. Barker (19031990),
and the developmental psychologist Urie Bronfenbrenner (19172005). Even a cursory examination of their
writings shows minimal overlap in the psychological issues they each explored, and few instances where they
even cite one anothers work. That all three approaches at one time or another adopted the label ecological
psychology has no doubt been a source of confusion to many, while diminishing the distinctive character and
value of each.
As it turns out, this problem of multiple referents for ecological psychology resolved on its own accord over time
due to changes within these frameworks. At present, Gibsonians alone have retained the term ecological
psychology, whereas Barker eventually came to call his approach eco-behavioral science, and Bronfenbrenner
later employed the bio-ecological model to describe his program of research. But only those closely following the
developments within each approach are likely to be aware (p. 12) of these changes. The initial adoption of
ecological psychology by all three is apt to be a lingering source of misunderstanding.
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One goal of this chapter is to bring some order to this potentially confusing state of affairs. An obvious step to take
is to articulate the differences between these programs, and this I intend to do. However, while drawing distinctions
is vital, it is not enough. Despite their minimal overlap, there are striking underlying commonalities among at least
two of them: Gibsons and Barkers frameworks. These commonalities reveal a broadly similar style of thinking and,
for this reason, open up possibilities for identifying what an ecological approach to psychology entails. Further, the
relationship between these approaches reflects the nested hierarchical perspective so characteristic of
Bronfenbrenners framework and the ecological sciences more generally. (For the purposes of this chapter,
however, remarks about Bronfenbrenners framework will be limited.)
A theoretical approach in a science can be viewed as belonging to a family of theories that share common metatheoretical assumptions. By meta-theoretical assumptions I mean the set of basic tenets presupposed and often
unstated in a particular theory that operate at a fairly high level of abstraction. They function as over-arching
presuppositions applied to the principal subject matter of a theory. Two theories that focus on somewhat different
subject matter may share a set of overarching assumptions. In this chapter, I argue that despite their obvious
differences, Gibsons ecological psychology and Barkers eco-behavioral science share many meta-theoretical
commitments. Importantly, to a considerable extent what they share reflects their connections to the ecological
sciences generally. In this respect, these two ecological approaches stand apart from many others that have been
employed by environmental psychologists over the fields brief history.
The value of a theoretical perspective can also be undercut when key concepts rooted within it are extracted from
that perspective and employed in a different theory, especially one that embraces contrasting meta-theoretical
assumptions. The eclectic use of concepts has understandable appeal. When attempting to formulate an account
of some issue, it often seems desirable to draw together potentially useful concepts from diverse approaches.
Central concepts from Gibsons and Barkers approaches, such as affordances and behavior settings,
respectively, have both been employed in just this way. Frequently such uses helpfully extend thinking, but more
often than not they do so at the cost of watering down the concept in question. Over time such eclecticism can
drain the initial power of the concepts at hand, and their distinctive contributions can be lost. The fresh insights and
new directions that a perspective might offer can be squandered when its concepts are lifted from their theoretical
moorings and included in a mash-up of concepts from diverse frameworks.
This concern is not merely terminological quibbling. There is a practical value in being sensitive to the metatheoretical commitments of concepts and of theoretical approaches. Viewing theories and their attendant concepts
within the wider meta-theoretical framework to which they belong will help to keep our thinking clear and
consistent, and in turn will contribute to the development of a conceptually coherent perspective. And it is from a
well-ordered, conceptually coherent perspective that advances in science are usually made. Environmental
psychologists are often fond of invoking Kurt Lewins (1943) comment, There is nothing so practical as a good
theory (p. 69). I couldnt agree more!
The first half of the chapter will examine some of the foundational issues that underlie an ecological approach to
psychology. The initial step in spelling out these foundational issues will be to identify some of the distinctive
features of the ecological sciences, followed by a consideration of the broader transactional metatheory that
illuminates some of the qualities that underlie an ecological mode of inquiry. After that, some formative, historical
antecedents for an ecological approach within psychology will be examined. These sections will be largely of a
philosophical and historical nature, and they will set up a more targeted focus on ecological psychology in the
remainder of the chapter. Accordingly, the second half will offer a detailed examination of two recent products of
this style of thinking as it has been applied to psychological concerns, Gibsons ecological psychology and
Barkers eco-behavioral science.
Ecological Science
Primary Attributes
Ecology is a subdomain of biology that is concerned with dynamic, interdependent processes constituting natural
systems that are comprised of living and nonliving things. Such systems are referred to as ecosystems. They are
dynamic in the sense that ecosystem processes are continually in flux even as they function to maintain the
Page 2 of 33

stability of the system as a wholethat is, they are quasi-stable systems. Ecosystems are self-organizing, which
means that their dynamic structure arises from the ongoing interrelationships among their constituents. The (p. 13)
quality of interdependence that is characteristic of ecosystems refers to the fact that any living constituent of the
system is viable only as a participant in that network of interdependent processes over time. From an ecosystems
perspective, it is apparent that living things function neither in isolation as self-contained units nor as individual
passive entities that are solely shaped or buffeted by external influences. Rather, living things viewed from an
ecosystems perspective are active participants in a web or network of reciprocal influences.
Importantly, this network of ecosystem interdependencies is in place as a result of the individual and joint histories
of constituent processes. An ecosystem, considered at a specific moment in time, is a resultant of a particular
functional history, and the character of the ecosystem cannot be adequately appreciated without an awareness of
that history. Over time, the dynamic integrity of systems is likely to be threatened by new contingencies, and
systems successfully continue to operate only by effectively preserving the existing dynamic relations (stabilities)
through adjustments within the system, or less commonly by settling on a new quasi-stable pattern of dynamic
relations. In short, ecosystems have a history that is continually taking shape in the face of ongoing, contingent
events. For this reason, an essential quality of an ecosystems perspective is time: the temporal course of events
that has led to the present circumstances; the temporal course of ongoing events within the ecosystem; and the
possibilities for change over time that either preserve some fundamental properties of the system or transform
them.
An ecosystems perspective also recognizes the fact that natural systems operate at multiple, nested levels of
organization. As we have seen, any single system is constituted by the collective, dynamic relations among its
components. Loosely, we might think about these relations as upward influences that constitute overarching
system properties. Reciprocally, the operations of this system as a whole limit or constrain, in a downward
fashion, the functioning of the constituents that generate it. This is because in their functional interdependency that
constitutes the overall system structure, component functioning must be self-limiting in particular ways. For
example, a collection of cells must function in a particular interdependent manner so to constitute a functioning
organ of the body. Moreover, a set of systems that operate at a comparable level of organization can be
functionally interrelated such that they constitute a higher-order or superordinate system. Several organs of the
body, for example, operate jointly to constitute a functional system of the body, for example, digestion. And again,
systems functioning at this level of organization can operate as constituents of higher-level systems, and so forth
(Weiss, 1973). From an ecological perspective, natural systems function within nested, hierarchical structures, at
successively more macro- and microlevels of organization, including influences both upward as well as downward
between adjacent system levels.
Although this viewpoint has been commonplace in the biological sciences for a very long time, it has had
surprisingly little effect on the way in which psychological issues are conceptualized and research is conducted.
Ecological approaches to psychology are the exception here. Indeed, Bronfenbrenner was particularly explicit
about the need for a hierarchical systems approach in fashioning an adequate psychology, memorably employing
as an analogy nested Russian dolls (matryoshkas). While useful as a starting point, this analogy remains quite
limited in that it fails to convey the dynamic qualities of both within-level processes and between-level processes
that must be in place for nested systems to be viable. Bronfenbrenner (1994) was somewhat more sensitive to
these issues in later writings concerning chronosystems.
In summary, the distinctive qualities of an ecosystem include the following: (a) its constituents function as
participants in a dynamic network of interdependent processes (within system relations); (b) the system operates
dynamically to maintain the existing quasi-stable patterns of relationships, or failing that, either collapsing or giving
rise to a new quasi-stable pattern; (c) systems are nested hierarchically such that between-level influences are
operative; and (d) the system grows out of a history of relationships among its constituents that is continually
taking shape in the face of ongoing, contingent events that often originate in comparatively more macro- and
microlevel systems.
Historical Considerations
This way of thinking grew out of extensive studies of natural history in the 18th and 19th centuries, the most
famous of which to modern readers is the voyage of the Beagle (Darwin, 1839). The culmination of this line of
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investigation was, of course, Darwins account of natural selection. The term ecology is attributed to the German
biologist Ernst Haeckel (18341919), who was (p. 14) Darwins chief expositor among European scientists
(Richards, 2009).
At first glance, the intrinsically dynamic character of ecosystems may seem at odds with the mechanistic manner
in which Darwins ideas are often portrayed. This neo-Darwinian take has it that new forms of life are randomly
tossed off mostly through mutation, and then passively winnowed out by selection processes. However, to see
Darwin as a mechanistic pure and simple is an erroneous reading. It is important not to confuse the dispassionate
and purposeless direction of natural selection1 with the dynamic and historical character of the natural processes
that Darwin studied in such meticulous detail (Richards, 1989). Haeckels formulation of ecology flows directly from
this dynamic viewpoint.
The timing of these ideas, coming in the second half of the 19th century, points to the beginnings of an important
transformation in scientific and philosophical thought. In the sciences there is the start of a dramatic shift in
emphasis from mechanistic models based on Newtonian physics to the emerging relativistic field theories, and
decades later in the life sciences, to the rise of systems theory. With a few notable exceptions, mainstream
psychology has been unaffected in substantive ways by these changes occurring in other sciences.
This field-theoretic trend in the sciences was paralleled by proposals in late 19th-century American philosophy that
called for a shift from a focus on elements and their causal connections to relational, process thinking. At the
forefront of this wave of ideas are the American pragmatists: C. S. Peirce, William James, and John Dewey. Their
process ontology makes explicit what scientific practice reveals, namely that inquiry does not lead to fixed, settled
truths, but instead to empirical truths that are provisional. This point of view stems from embracing Darwinian
thinking (Bernstein, 2010; Menand, 2002).
The emerging dynamic, field-theoretic approach represented a break from existing mechanistic modes of thought.
The ecological approaches in psychology developed separately by Gibson and Barker bear the qualities of the
ecosystems perspective, and in the case of Gibson, at least, of pragmatist philosophy (Heft, 2001). Indeed, it is
their common connection in ecosystems thinking that partially accounts for their compatibility, while also pointing to
one way in which they both stand apart from other theories within psychology. To illuminate this style of thinking,
let us briefly consider one account of the range of approaches that have been employed in psychology.
Worldviews in Psychology
In the first Handbook of Environmental Psychology (Stokols & Altman, 1987), Altman and Rogoff presented a
masterful elucidation of the principal metatheories or worldviews that have influenced 20th-century psychology,
and environmental psychology in particular. They based their analysis on the seminal work World Hypotheses
(1942), by the philosopher Stephen Peppera book that for decades had been passed around quietly in some
corners of psychology. Taking a long historical view, Pepper proposed that each philosopher and scientist brings
to his or her work a broad conceptual framework (world hypothesis) that serves as an organizing structure for
making sense of their subject matter. World hypotheses are typically tacit, always operate at a very high level of
abstraction, and have their origins in the cultural and pedagogical climate within which individuals develop
intellectually.2
Altman and Rogoff (1987) identified four worldviews or metatheories (I will use these terms synonymously here)
modeled on Peppers (1942) scheme and within which psychologists have been working since the beginning of the
20th century. They designated the four metatheories as the trait, the interactional, the organismic, and the
transactional worldviews. (Pepper used a slightly different nomenclature.) The first three of these metatheories,
trait, interactional, and organismic, have been much more in evidence within psychology than has
transactionalism, which subsumes ecosystem thinking. Below I describe these three metatheories briefly, while
giving transactionalismour primary concern herecomparatively greater attention. For a more detailed
discussion, see Altman and Rogoff (1987).
1. The trait metatheory adopts as its unit of analysis the individual as a semi-isolated, bounded, self-contained
entity. Examples of the expression of a trait metatheory in psychology are attempts to explain behavior with
reference primarily to intra-psychic variablesthat is, qualities or dispositional properties within the person
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such as personality or temperament that operate independently and somewhat autonomously of environmental
circumstances. Within environmental psychology, the trait approach has played a relatively minor role because
the environment is treated as a subsidiary factor much of the time.
2. The interactionist metatheory, in contrast, has been without question the most influential approach not only
in environmental psychology, but also in the discipline of psychology as a whole (p. 15) over the past 100 years.
It has dominated theoretical and conceptual formulations, problem selection, and research methodology. In
essence, this manner of conceptualizing psychological processes takes the individual as a bounded, independent
entity existing among other independent entities and their influences. The image that is often invoked to illustrate
this view is a collection of billiard balls, each fully independent of all the others, while being susceptible to a change
of state (position) as a result of impacts from any of the others (Clark, 2002). Pepper (who refers to this viewpoint
as mechanism) emphasizes that such an approach is driven most fundamentally by conceptualizing the
phenomenon in question in machine-like terms, with parts affecting other parts in a linear, causal sequence.
Western thought has a long history, going back to the 15th century, of invoking machine-like metaphors, such as a
clockwork, to explain natural occurrences. A mechanistic conceptualization of natural processes has profoundly
influenced scientific thought and technology, from Keplers description of the solar system in clockwork terms and
Descartes mechanical account of the body. This conceptualization is later formally articulated in the framework of
Newtonian physics. The philosophical roots of much psychological theory is based on British empiricist and
associationistic philosophy, which was inspired by Newtonian science. For the past 40 years in psychology, the
mechanistic metaphor of choice has been the computer.
Several features of this approach in psychology are especially important to emphasize in the present context.
Because these features are interrelated, there is some unavoidable repetition here:
(a) The unit of analysis is the individual viewed as a bounded, independent entity, operating separately
from the surround, while subject to influences from outside its boundaries. Two variations of this view can
be identified: (1) Typically, the individual is taken to be a passive receiver of environmental influences or
stimuli (inputs). The emphasis from this perspective is on the ways the environment shapes and fashions
the individual, or in more contemporary terms, eventuates in mental representations of the environment.
(2) Other proponents of this metatheory sometimes embrace the view that built-in biological tendencies
(e.g., instincts) are in place to direct behavior in certain ways. In modern form, this view assumes that
biological predispositions are in place due to the species phylogenetic history and that they are
triggered by environmental influences. This perspective was revived in the 1970s by sociobiology, and
in its contemporary form is self-described as evolutionary psychology. What both of these views share is
their treatment of the individual and the environment as distinct and separate domains that can each affect
the other.
(b) The source of change in the state of the individual, as indicated above, lies outside the psychological
domain, located either in the environment or among biological conditions or predispositions operating
within the individual. In these regards, the individual is either buffeted by outside causal influences (e.g.,
the physical environment) or pushed from inner forces (e.g., biological needs, genetic predispositions).
This is a mechanistic point of view whereby the individual is in effect like a cog pushed by extrinsic
forces, that is, by forces operating beyond the individual considered as a whole.
Since the 1930s, neo-behaviorist psychology has typically supplemented such mechanistic accounts by
positing mediating processes that are themselves products of environmental stimulation or of drive states.
Such processes are viewed as modulating an organisms responses to environmental circumstances.
Postulation of these processes marked a shift from S-R to S-O-R models. By the 1960s, this version of the
mechanistic account took on a more modern form as information-processing models posited linear and
iterative sequences of mediating cognitive processes intervening between stimulus input and response
output. This step permitted psychologists to propose models of memory, planning, concept formation,
and so on, while retaining the essentially linear causal structure between environment and the individual,
as well as their distinct natures, as is especially characteristic of the interactionist metatheory.
(c) Causal influences tend to be seen as operating linearly in an antecedent-consequent manner (i.e.,
classically referred to as efficient causality). This type of causal thinking has been so pervasive in 20th-
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century psychology that the word cause is typically taken to be synonymous with antecedentconsequent relations, despite alternative causal accounts as reflected in field theories and in systems
theories of the physical and life sciences.
That the interactionist metatheory has been the prevailing mode of thought within environmental psychology
should not be too surprising, because this framework has dominated thinking in its parent field for so long. The
individual frequently cited (p. 16) as a major precursor to environmental psychology, Kurt Lewin, is often
portrayed as advocating such an interactionist view with his formula B = f(P,E). As we will see, however, Lewins
proposal is in fact an explicit rejection of that viewpoint. Such is the power of dominating theoretical approaches
that sometimes even rejections of the position are read as confirmations.
3. The organismic metatheory shares some of the features of the interactional metatheory. For this reason, to
streamline this presentation, I will keep the description of the organismic approach to a minimum. As in the
interactionist metatheory, the individual, on the one hand, and environmental features, on the other, are treated as
separate domains. In the organismic framework, however, the individual is seen as an agent, engaging or operating
on the environment, and undergoing transformations as a result of those actions. Operations are viewed as issuing
from active cognitive structures that stand apart from the environment, even as they are transformed by engaging
it.
The philosophical roots of organismic thinking rest in certain areas of Continental philosophy, in particular in
Kantian and neo-Kantian frameworks. Psychologists are apt to be most familiar with this metatheory as it is
expressed in Piagets genetic epistemology, and to some extent, in psychodynamic approaches stemming from
Freud. In the first decades of environmental psychology, some researchers drew on a Piagetian approach (e.g.,
Hart & Moore, 1973; Moore, 1976), and even some neo-Freudian-inspired writings (e.g., object relations theory)
have appeared (Chawla, 1992, 2007), but the influence of the organismic metatheory has remained somewhat
small to date.
4. The transactional metatheory takes as its unit of analysis the person-environment dynamic system. The
components of this system operate in a relational, interdependent manner, rather than as independent entities.
That being the case, they take on the functional character that they have by virtue of their place in the system
as a whole. Within psychology, we can distinguish between, on the one hand, those person-environment systems
that operate at the level of an individual-in-context, and on the other hand, those systems that are composed of a
collection of individuals functioning in context. In this section, we will concern ourselves only with the former
system, although much of what follows applies to both.
First, it is important to note that from a transactional perspective individuals are participants in a dynamic system.
Specifically, individuals are viewed as goal-directed agents whose actions are ongoing, and the form that their
actions take is contingent on a wide range of situational factors that themselves are typically changing. This latter
fact is a simple illustration of how components of the system are interdependent. Consider simple cases such as
reaching for and grasping a cup of coffee, or using a hammer to drive in a nail. Reaching for the cup is not an
action of an individual taken in isolation, because the form of the action is contingent on a variety of factors, such
as the size and position of the cup, and the shape and position of the handle; some of these factors are liable to
change from reach to reach, while others change across occasions. That is, reaching is an action that requires
continual attunement to changing circumstances, and its ongoing character reflects its place in the personenvironment action under consideration. It is for these two reasons that reaching, as well as all other goal-directed
actions, cannot be driven by a fixed, predetermined program, such as the running off of a motor schema or a
script. Action continually needs to be tuned and retuned with respect to such changing circumstances.
This point is even clearer in the case of hammering a nail. With each stroke of the hammer, the height and position
of the nail changes, and also most likely the position of the body. For these reasons, the hammering action must be
continually recalibrated on the fly over time, with its dynamic pattern taking shape within the cycle of action.
Although a person can try to engage in a highly repetitive, mechanical series of movements that run off in a scriptlike fashion, most of the time such a method would be highly ineffectual because the situation itself is fluid. Instead,
skilled actions are marked by a sensitivity and a responsiveness to a dynamic field of contingent factors. These
actions are effective because of their precise tuning and retuning in light of changing conditions. In short,
psychological functioning must be viewed with respect to a dynamic person-environment system.
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Second, the inclusive boundary of the person-environment systemthat is, what counts as the personenvironment system at any momentis not fixed, but instead continually shifts as the focus of the individuals
action changes. For example, when reaching for a cup, properties of that cup, its position, my body position, and
so on are among the circumstances that contribute to the form of the action, but the books on the shelf behind me
do not. However, when I turn to reach for a book on (p. 17) the shelf, the position of the cup will typically have
little bearing on that action. In short, the field of contingent factors that is operative when an individual engages in a
particular task shifts when a different action is taken up, and as noted above, actions are typically ongoing in
contexts. For these reasons, the inclusive boundaries of the person-environment system shift over time. This
quality of shifting inclusive boundaries in dynamic systems is rather inconvenient from the standpoint of those
worldviews wherein properties and their characteristics are relatively fixed. But it is inescapable in a dynamic
system.
Third, in addition to the boundary that encompasses the person-environment system at any given time, there is
also the boundary within the system that is often experienced between the self and the world. However, this, too, is
an ever-shifting boundary. Although we may commonly think of that boundary as being located at the surface of
the body, that is not always so. When we are using a tool, such as a hammer or even a pencil, the boundary
between the body and the world is not experienced where the hand grips the hammers handle, or the fingers grip
the pencil, but instead at the hammerhead where it strikes the nail, or at the tip of the pencil where it makes contact
with the paper. This consideration of self-world boundaries points to the fact that psychological processes
commonly extend to incorporate aspects of the environment, such as tools. Indeed, in some cases activities can
be so immersed in the field of action that a boundary between self and world is no longer apparent functionally. In
these respects, directed action cannot be said to be limited to processes occurring only in the person, much less
in the head (Clark, 2008; Wilson, 2004). It is commonplace to act and even to think with and through our tools.
Any boundary that is drawn between self and world within a person-environment system has only temporary
analytic utility.
Fourth, the person-environment system operates in an ongoing fashion to maintain its integrity in the face of threats
to its stability. For example, an object that one is engaging can change over the course of engagementthe nail
bends to one side with hammering or the pencil point breaksand the individual makes adjustments to restore
effective action. The system operates to maintain a dynamic or quasi-stability in the context of directed action.
Finally, to attain a thick appreciation of any particular instance of person-environment processes, it is necessary
to recognize that there is a nesting of processes operating over different time frames. Following Vygotsky, these
time frames are phylogenetic (species history), cultural-historical (the sociocultural context), ontogenetic (the life
history of the individual), and microgenetic (time course of the task). To return to the previous example of reaching
for a cup of coffee, reaching and grasping any object over a particular time span (microgenesis) are possible only
for organisms with a particular evolutionary history (phylogenesis). Further, the practices of imbibing coffee and of
drinking from cups are rooted in a particular sociocultural tradition (cultural-historical). From the perspective of
individual development (ontogenesis), drinking from a cup (much less drinking coffee) is an acquired action. This is
a mundane example, to be sure, but one illustrating that any goal-directed action can be understood as occurring
at the nexus of multiple historical currents.
In this light, it is worth noting that Pepper (1942) viewed the historical event as the root metaphor for
transactionalism. A historical event emerges with the confluence of multiple occurrences, each of which may have
very different qualities and may operate on different time scales. The historical event is not one thing, but a
textured multiplicity of many occurrences converging at a single period in time. The event in question is rarely
reducible to any single factor or to one underlying cause, any more than a confluence of tributaries giving rise to a
river is ultimately reducible to one of the tributaries. We should bear in mind the root metaphor of a historical event
when considering the bases for psychological events as well, which are rarely reducible to single causes.
It should be evident that these attributes of the transactional metatheory bear a close resemblance to the earlier
discussion of an ecosystem. Living things viewed from an ecosystems perspective are active participants in a
network of shifting interdependent relations. These relations stem from a history of intersecting contingent events,
and the system operates to maintain the functional stability of its processes. In addition, like ecosystems, personenvironment systems are embedded in nested processes operating over multiple time scales.
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A Transactional View of Person-Environment Processes
The transactional metatheory focuses on processes, and it adopts a relational view (ontology) of system
properties. As for the former, sometimes we find it difficult to think in such process terms because our (p. 18)
psychological language is so noun-based. We typically speak and write of faculties, such as perception,
cognition, thought, memory, and the like, rather than functions of biological organisms, such as perceiving,
thinking, and remembering. Processes characterizing living organisms tend to be obscured by such objectcentered language.
To illustrate this point, consider biological functions, such as respiration or digestion. First, and most obviously,
they are processes, not things. One cannot locate either respiration or digestion in a single bodily site. Instead,
they are processes that stretch across the coaction of multiple, interrelated structures. They are functions, and as
Dewey often pointed out, the use of nouns to refer to them is not helpful for promoting this understanding.
Breathing and digesting are surely more apt. The same point can be extended to psychological functions.
Terminology such as perceiving, thinking, remembering, and so forth keeps the emphasis on action and
function, where it needs to be.
Likewise, our use of object-centered language leads us to draw boundaries between things, while overlooking the
critical relational properties of living processes. Breathing is possible only when an animal is situated in an aerobic
environment. Strictly speaking, it is not a function of an organism, but of an organism in context. In the absence of
air, breathing does not occur. It is a relational functional property of an organism-environment system with a
particular history reaching back millennia. Reciprocally, the medium that supports breathing cannot be specified
independent of some organism, as is evident in the differences between terrestrial and aquatic animals. These
points are even clearer with respect to digestion. Digesting is a functional process of an animal-environment
system, not an animal considered in isolation, and what counts as digestible matter can vary across species. That
is, what counts as food can vary across different evolutionary histories, and such differences can be understood
only against such histories. In this light, food is a relational property of an organism-environment system. As the
pragmatist G. H. Mead (1934) once noted:
It is a difficult matter to state just what we mean by dividing up a certain situation between the organism
and its environment. Certain objects come to exist for us because of the character of the organism. Take
the case of food. If an animal that can digest grass, such as an ox, comes into the world, then grass
becomes food. That object did not exist before, that is, grass as food. The advent of the ox brings in a new
object. (p. 129, emphasis added)
This same point can also be demonstrated with respect to briefer historical time frames, such as change over the
span of generations, as in the case of human tolerance for dairy products coevolving with herding of cows
(Richerson & Boyd, 2006), and even dietary changes within an ontogenetic time frame, such as allergies. The
central point to be made here is: when our focus is on organism-environment systems, properties of this system
that are often of greatest interest to us will be relational in nature.
Furthermore, the causal processes that are operative in organism-environment systems are bidirectional and
reciprocal, not unidirectional. Although it is now commonplace to acknowledge the bidirectionality of causal
influences, in practice environmental psychologists tend to utilize unidirectional models. The reciprocal influences
at work in social interactions are difficult to overlook, but this quality holds as well for phenomena that are not so
immediately social. Take cases of niche construction that have been recently receiving much deserved attention.
Animals not only adapt to existing conditions, but also change the character of the environment to function better
in it. Examples of these phenomena run the gamut from spiderwebs and beaver lodges to bird nests and termite
hills to all manner of human construction (see Odling-Smee, Laland, & Feldman, 2003). Especially remarkable about
these phenomena, once our attention is drawn to them, is their sheer ubiquity across natural systems.
These instances of reciprocal influences further highlight the interdependencies among constituents of a dynamic
systems functioning over time. The mechanistic view of an isolated, bounded, ahistorical entity standing apart from
an environmentalong the lines of an individual atom sharing some spatial region with other individual atomsis
simply not viable when considering living things. Dewey (1938) put the point this way:
Whatever else organic life is or is not, it is a process of activity that involves an environment. It is a
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transaction extending beyond the spatial limits of the organism. An organism does not live in an
environment; it lives by means of an environmentThe processes of living are enacted by the
environment as truly as by the organism; for they are an integration. (p. 25)
(p. 19) Finally, in these general remarks let us consider a considerable conceptual benefit of a dynamic systems
mode of thinking. A major conceptual obstacle that has vexed psychology for centuries is how the stuff of the
environment out there crosses the body boundary and gets into the head. This, of course, is a variation of the
classic mind-body conundrum, and it is irresolvable as long as the environment and the person are viewed as
separate, bounded domains, typically of quite different makeup. From a transactional systems perspective, as we
have seen, there are no fixed boundaries that need to be crossed between the self and the world. Instead, as we
have seen, the structure of the person-environment field is reconfigured as task focus changes and as tools and
artifacts extend operations of the body.
Two Early Antecedents of an Ecological Approach

Before taking up the ecological approach to psychology specifically, it will be in keeping with the historical
character of this approach to consider briefly two of its antecedents within psychology. Although what follows may
seem to the reader to be tangential to the concerns of environmental psychology, I hope to show that, to the
contrary, it is quite central to them. . The primary value of the following discussion is to provide a deeper
appreciation for the issues underlying the ecological psychology frameworks of Gibson and Barker to be examined.
In addition, doing so will allow us to see that the ecological approach, rather than being idiosyncratic, is connected
to a wider set of slowly evolving ideas within psychology over the previous century. That said, it is important to add
that neither Gibson nor Barker would fully embrace all aspects of the antecedents to be examined, but it is fair to
say that they each stem from a shared theoretical impetus.
William Jamess Radical Empiricism

In psychologys early years, when the disciplines primary concern was identifying the contents of the conscious
mind, the difficulties accompanying psychologys long-standing embrace of environment-mind dualism were not
too pressing. However, the problem of how minds connect to the environment became a vital matteror should
have become oneonce psychology took a post-Darwinian functional turn. For how are organisms to function
adaptively if minds are cut off from the environment? No work had greater influence on initiating the functional shift
in thinking in psychology than William Jamess The Principles of Psychology (1890). And yet James was quite
ambivalent in this work about how to best handle the apparent dichotomy between an external world and an inner
subjective domain, and for the most part, he set aside that vexing issue in this book. In the decade following the
publication of The Principles, however, he formulated a resolution to this dilemma through his philosophy of radical
empiricism (James, 1912). Unfortunately, radical empiricism is little known among psychologists. Symptomatic of
this state of affairs are the numerous histories of psychology that write off Jamess later writings by stating he
abandoned psychology in the early 1890s for philosophy (e.g., Leahey, 2000; Hergenhahn, 2008; Mandler, 2007).
This assertion has little merit. The psychological and the philosophical both thread through Jamess writings over
the course of his career, and it is in his later writings in particular that he tries to come to grips with the relationship
between environment and mind.
Environment-Person Relations and Environmental Psychology

But why should environmental psychologists, who as a group are committed to practical matters, care very much
about philosophical concerns, such as the dichotomy between an external world and an inner subjective domain,
much less about historical matters? Environmental psychologists are typically focused on concrete, present-day
issues, after all. The reason they should is that environmental psychology adopted the traditional dichotomy
between environment and mind as a matter of course from its parent discipline, despite the fact that this framework
undercuts what should be environmental psychologys most distinctive contribution. Environmental psychology
arose in response to the disciplines long-standing neglect of the environment, which in turn handicapped efforts to
ameliorate conditions that adversely affect human well-being, and to explore conditions that promote human
flourishing. However, without a clear sense of how to best conceptualize the environment in ways that are most
relevant to psychological functioning, one is at a loss to know how to best intervene.
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The most obvious step to take, and among the most useful to date, has been to identify physical and
socioeconomic indices of environmental conditions that are correlates of psychological well-being. Such indices
include population density measures (especially at the level of dwelling space), ambient noise levels, measures of
poverty, and so on. Such (p. 20) measures are informative of environment-psychological relations at the
aggregate level. However, the limitations of such physical/demographic indices became apparent to researchers
early on whenever their focus became more aligned with the experience of individuals rather than populations.
Variables such as density, noise, and poverty per se proved to be less valuable as correlates of psychological
functioning than were factors such as crowding (as distinct from density), controllability of conditions, and
availability of social capital, none of which can be specified independently of an individual. Instead of being
properties of either the environment or an individual considered alone, they characterize particular environmental
conditions from the standpoint of an individual. Further, a critical environmental consideration in such cases is a
quality wholly absent from physical/demographic measures, namely, meaning. In the case of environmental
stressors, it is not usually the sheer presence of some conditions (e.g., noise) that produces adverse outcomes,
but the ways in which such conditions interfere with meaningful activities (e.g., communication). Likewise, social
capital and social support reside in the quality of meaningful interactions, not the sheer numbers of persons
residing in a residence or neighborhood.
And yet where do we locate meaning in our conceptualization of the environment-person relationship? Is it a
property of environments or a property of an individuals mind? If we hold on to a categorical distinction between
the physical environment and psychological processes, then the meaningful character of environments would
seem to stem from mind imposing meaning on neutral environmental experience. That appears to be the only
option, because clearly meaning is not a property of things of the world considered from a physical standpoint.
However, viewing meaning as having a solely subjective basis makes the environmental psychologists task nearly
hopeless. If meanings are judged as being imposed on the environment by minds, how can we identify
psychologically significant properties of the environment (Wohlwill, 1973; also see, Heft, 1988a)? We each remain
trapped in an enclosed mental realm, while the psychological character of environments will continue to elude our
grasp. For this reason, finding a psychologically adequate way of conceptualizing the environment-person
relationship is a vital interest for environmental psychologists.
These considerations lead us back to William James because he recognized the inadequacy of an environmentperson dichotomy for a host of reasons, and one of his greatest career achievements was to develop an
alternative that stems from his philosophy of radical empiricism (James, 1912). If readers limit their consideration of
Jamess writings to The Principles (1890)which is what environmental psychologists have done to datethey will
miss it. The practical value of these somewhat abstract ideas will become most apparent below when we turn to
Gibsons and Barkers programs.
Experience as a Function of the Individual in Context

Jamess intimate familiarity with centuries-long debates over mind convinced him that treating consciousness
initially as a subjective entity standing apart from a physical world only leads to a morass of problems. Three of
these problems are critically important for the development of environmental psychology. For one thing, as already
noted, taking the subjective domain as the seat of psychological experience over against the objective domain of
the environment begs the question of what properties of the environment matter from a psychological standpoint.
Second, if there is a sharp boundary (indeed, an ontological boundary) separating environment and mind, how
does the environment get into the mind? Third, if awareness is solely a subjective (inner) state possessed by
each individual, we are faced with the prospect of so many separate individuals trapped inside their individual
mental realms. This state of affairs would seem to make our social existence, and the communication and
coordination it requires, nearly impossible to explain.
For some of these reasons, as well as others, James (1912) urged that we abandon the view that consciousness or
immediate awareness is an inner subjective state, and instead he proposed that we view consciousness or
awareness as most basically a function of mind in context. We considered earlier respiring and digesting as
functions of organisms in context. Similarly, awareness is such a function, and in this case, the function is a
process of knowing. Further, as a function of mind in context, knowing has what James refers to as a doublebarreled character, simultaneously pointing to the knower and the thing known. We will return to the significance
of this point.
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To elaborate, the psychologicalwhat is experienced now (which for James is an extended present) by an
individualemerges from the intersection of two sets of simultaneously transpiring event streams: one specific to
the history of the environment within (p. 21) which the individual is currently situated, and the other specific to the
persons own life history. As an example, he suggests that his readers consider their immediate experience
(awareness) in the room where they are currently seated. The room has its own history, a lot of previous physical
operations, carpentering, furnishing, warming, etc., up to the present moment, and the individual has his or her
own embodied biographical history. The psychological is constituted at the intersection of these events.
Psychological phenomena are not in the environment in a physicalistic sense, nor are they located in the body,
except perhaps in some latent manner. The psychological arises out of the transaction of environment and person.
Further, because each stream of events at the moment of their intersection bears with it a history, for that
reason, the environment and the individual carry with them an inertia (hysteresis) that inclines each to a future
direction shaped by its past. In that way, when environment and person intersectall action is situatedthe
ongoing course of each event stream constrains the other. For example, a room that was designed for educational
functions rules out many other possibilities regardless of its occupants intentions, and inversely, environments
rarely directly determine an individuals behavior, which carries with it a history of habits or previous situated
actions.
In short, rather than taking the psychological to be an inner subjective state mirroring some outer reality that
somehow enters onto the mind (Rorty, 1979), the psychological is a relational domain that cuts across this
dichotomy, yet simultaneously is both at a particular time. As Gibson (1979) stated in a different context, It is both
objective and subjective, and yet neither.
Can we say more about experience as situated, rather than as an isolable state of mind? James (1912) asserts that
the pragmatic equivalent of awareness is to be found in realities of experience (p. 1, emphasis added). That is
to say, awareness in its most basic form is awareness of structure specific to the environment from the standpoint
of a perceiver, and this structure consists of objects and their relations. This simple claim has great significance
for psychology and for understanding knowing.
Historically, accounts of perception and cognition assume that immediate experience is composed solely of
individual units, such as objects or elements, and little more. The organization of experience is assumed to be the
contribution of the perceiver. Hence, relations between the objects of experience are assumed necessarily to be
inferred by way of cognitive processes, often on associative grounds, or imposed on immediate experience by
innate mental structures. But if this is soif order is imposed on the experience of the environment by way of
mental contributionsthen environmental experience is necessarily a subjective state as it stitches together the
objects of awareness. The individual mind stands apart from the environment, in effect, constructing a mental
replica of it. By asserting, to the contrary, that immediate experience consists of objects and their relations, James
is making the radical claim that the relational field constituted by the transaction of environment and knower has an
intrinsic order and that ultimately meaning resides within that relation (rather than being constructed in a separate
subjective realm). This radical empiricism framework is a wholesale abandonment of any form of environment-mind
dichotomy and its irresolvable problems. Its practical utility for environmental psychology, locating meaning as it
does within environment-person relations, will be cashed out below.
This very brief description of the starting point of Jamess radical empiricism captures several features of the
transactional analysis already discussed: (a) The unit of analysis for psychology is the environment-individual
relationship, or to use the terminology of the example just employed, the intersection of environmental events and
the individuals life course at a particular moment. (b) The properties of the psychological domain are relational in
nature, rather than residing solely on one side or the other of the environment-individual dichotomy. (c) Essential
for understanding the present psychological phenomenon is an appreciation of both the history of the
environment, which is in part a sociocultural history (see below), and the history of the individual, with respect to
species phylogeny and individual ontogenesis. (d) What is immediately experienced are objects and their
relations.
This Jamesian program, with its transactional character, is carried forward into the 20th century via two parallel
lines of philosophical thought. The more direct line is that of American pragmatism, and notably the work of John
Dewey. A less direct route is via European phenomenological thought at the outset of the 20th century. This is a
propitious time in the history of science because field theory in physics is also on the ascent. Field theoretical
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thinking and phenomenology merge in Gestalt psychology.
Kurt Lewins Field Theory

Kurt Lewin (18901947) was an active participant in the early years of Gestalt psychology, (p. 22) although his
thinking soon took on its own distinctive character. He is most familiar to environmental psychologists for his
formula B = f(P,E), which sometimes has been taken as anticipating the later development of the field. Whether this
is so depends on ones reading of this assertion. If Lewin merely intended B = f(P,E) to indicate that explanations of
behavior must attend not only to the person but also to the environmentthat is, if he claimed that behavior is the
combination of these factors taken as separable, independent factorsthen it can be seen as foreshadowing of
those efforts in environmental psychology that adhere to an interactionist line of thought. The problem is,
however, that is not what Lewin intended with this formula.
Lewins Transactionalism
B = f(P,E) expresses Lewins view that psychological functioning (behavior) is to be explained with reference to
the psychological field at a given time (P,E), with person and environment jointly constituting the field of action.
The psychological field is not a product of two independent factors (P and E), but together they give rise to the
psychological field. Lewin (1946) was completely clear on this point:
In this formula for behavior, the state of the person (P) and that of his environment (E) are not independent
of each other. How a child sees a given physical setting (for instance, whether the frozen pond looks
dangerous to him or not) depends upon the developmental state and the character of that child and upon
his ideology. In this equation the person (P) and his environment (E) have to be viewed as variables
which are mutually dependent upon each other. In other words, to understand or to predict behavior, the
person and his environment have to be considered as one constellation of interdependent factors. (pp.
239240)
Lewin referred to this constellation of interdependent factors as a field in the scientific sense of a totality of
coexisting facts which are conceived of as mutually interdependent (p. 240). In short, Lewin was operating within
a transactional metatheory.
To make this perspective clearer, it will be useful to distinguish between interacting factors and interdependent
(constitutive) factors. The interaction of two (or more) independent variables indicates that some outcome measure
is not attributable to one or the other variable operating independently, but to their joint influence. However,
because these variables are independent of each other, either alone can also in principle produce an effect (main
effect) on an outcome measure. In the case of constitutive factors, the phenomenon (i.e., the effect) in question
exists only through the joint action of two (or more) variables. The presence of either one alone cannot produce or
generate the resultant in question. To borrow an example from Keller (2010), the sound of a drum is constituted by
a drummer and a drum. Considered independently, neither can produce any effect. The effect (the sound) occurs
at the intersection of these two events.
Let us examine what this claim means with reference to an example in a Lewinian vein. A plate of food (E) in the
vicinity of a hungry person (P) has the psychological character of a desirable object: it possesses a positive
valence in the psychological field. Conversely, that same object in the vicinity of someone who is ill may well have
an aversive quality (a negative valence). However, the plate of food considered independently of any person has
no psychological value, being describable solely in nonpsychological terms, such as its chemical composition. But
this does not mean that value is subjectively imposed on the object. A block of wood could not have a positive
valence for eating no matter how hard the person tried to construe it in that way. The character of the object
counts just as much as the current state of the individual. The plate of food as a desirable or undesirablethat is,
as a meaningful objectis a relational property.
The seemingly mundane character of this example belies its significance for psychology, for it speaks to the very
nature of psychological phenomena. Conceptualizing the person-environment field as a constellation of
interdependent factors, as Lewin did, opens the door to considering meaning or value as properties of the
psychological field, rather than an intra-subjective quality. What Lewin claimed, as James did before him, is that the
domain of psychological phenomena is to be found in a field of mutually interdependent factors. This is not to
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rule out examining the environment and the individual separately. Physics and neurobiology, respectively, as well
as some other domains of inquiry, do just that. When we are concerned with psychological phenomena, however,
the focus is on the field of properties jointly constituted by environment and person at a particular time. Likewise,
when we view the environment from a psychological standpoint, constituted by environment and person factors,
then meaning is a property of, is intrinsic to, the psychological field. As such, the essential and distinctive
phenomena of psychology cannot be reduced to either the physical or neurobiological alone.
(p. 23) Finally, one further feature of Lewins approach needs to be emphasized. Time, or the historical
dimension, plays a central role in his field theoretical analysis of psychological events. The field physics that
inspired Lewin takes space/time as its framework. From this perspective, the properties of any entityin the
present case, psychological phenomenonmust be taken in relation to where/when it is. In the previous
example, what is experiencedand experience is a uniquely psychological and natural phenomenadepends
on the individual being in the vicinity of food (where) at a time when he is hungry. Trait theories, as we saw
above, give short shrift to the where. Interactionist theories tend to be ahistorical, neglecting the when in the
sense of disregarding when in the course of sociocultural and ontogenetic histories particular psychological events
occur. In keeping with Newtonian physics, interactionism treats space and time separately. In contrast,
transactional theories take where and when as jointly fundamental to any considerations of the psychological.
The Environment Psychologically Considered

A science of psychology requires a way of conceptualizing the environment that meets the rigorous standards of
science, while at the same capturing the distinctive qualities of human experience. The standard approaches in
psychology that describe the environment utilizing reductive concepts from the physical sciences or information
theory admirably meet the first criterion, while failing at the second. Conversely, employing first-person
descriptions of psychological experiences, such as phenomenological descriptions that remain disconnected from
a public realm of experience and material properties, leaves individuals mental experiences adrift. These
shortcomings are clearly mirror images. They stem from efforts to describe the environment from either side of the
environment-mind dichotomy. Attempting to do so has produced predictable and justifiable complaints from
opposing camps. On the one hand, critics of physicalistic treatments judge them to be sterile, coarse, and remote
from human experience, while subjectivistic descriptions of environmental experience are often criticized as
lacking in rigor, at times romanticized, and verging on the solipsistic.
But, as we have seen, there is a third way. The transactional metatheory is grounded in relational thinking and
accordingly, has a dual character encompassing (pointing both ways) the environment and the person jointly.
James, Dewey, and Lewin made some initial efforts to elucidate this perspective. In each case, there is recognition
that in some fundamental way meanings and values are as much of the environment as they are of the mind. What
is at stake here from a transactional standpoint is the place of value in a world of facts (Kohler, 1939).
From a different quarter the renowned ecologist Wendell Berry (2000) has raised similar concerns about the use of
reductive language when considering the environment and experience. He wrote:
The problem, as it appears to me, is that we are using the wrong language. The language we use to speak
of the world and its creatures, including ourselves, has gained a certain analytical power (along with a lot
of expertish pomp) but has lost much of its power to designate what is being analyzed or to convey any
respect or care or affection or devotion to it. (p. 8)
The language of affordances and behavior settings would surely not satisfy Berrys wishes either: they are too
analytical in nature. Still, the relational perspective they embrace, and the first person perspective they are
ultimately rooted in, may help to move discourse further in the direction that he envisions.
After all, the features of the environment are experienced by us as being meaningful and value-laden. Examples fill
the environmental psychology literature. As we know from the environmental aesthetics literature, we are attracted
to some landscape features and wary of others. Or as we know from the children and environments literature,
children are drawn to engage some features of the environment, and over time establish attachments to objects
and places. Likewise, individuals develop feelings of ownership to possessions and to territories. These examples
all revolve around value. How do we even begin to make sense of findings that link meaning and value to the
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environment if we assume that environmental experience is something that happens inside the head? And how
could environmental psychology fulfill its intentions to contribute to environmental design if it has no way to embed
psychological experience in environmental properties?
Still, in my view, James and Lewin struggled unsuccessfully with reconciling these seeming contrary challenges.
Although they claimed that the object of psychological experience was relational, they lacked a systematic way to
connect the relational object to environmental structures. James, in particular, was painfully aware of this problem
as he struggled with the question, How can two (p. 24) minds that each have private experiences know the
same thing? (James, 1912, pp. 123136; also see Heft, 2002). We see this same dilemma in the case of Lewins
field theory, where those aspects of the environment not currently experienced are delegated to the so-called
foreign hull outside of the psychological field, lending a subjectivist cast to his account that has been difficult to
shake. How individual experience could be both personal and of the environmentneither subjective nor
objective, and yet bothis not well worked out in either case. It is here that Gibsons ecological psychology makes
a crucial contribution to the transactional approach.
James Gibsons Ecological Psychology

The primary focus of James J. Gibsons research and writing over the course of his career was the nature of
perceiving. He developed his ecological approach to perception over many years, and it is most fully articulated in
two books that were published more than a decade apart: The Senses Considered as Perceptual Systems (1966)
and The Ecological Approach to Visual Perception (1979). Each book is devoted to developing different aspects of
the ecological approach, as we will see, with the later book also refining some earlier ideas.
Gibson begins both books by asking: How should the environment be conceptualized from the standpoint of the
active perceiver? Lets be clear at the outset what is meant by an active perceiver. It is common in many formerly
information-processing, now cognitive science approaches, to use the adjective active to refer to posited mental
operations, such as encoding, storage, assimilation, activation of mental representations, and so on. In the
ecological approach, active has a much more mundane, literal meaning. With respect to vision, it refers to
animate movements, such as moving ones eyes, head, torso, and whole body for the purposes of exploring and
detecting the properties of the environment. Although that observation may seem almost too obvious to make, the
fact is that very few psychological theories take animacy to be an essential quality of complex organisms, if indeed
it is a quality that is considered at all. There are encouraging signs that psychologys stance may be changing in
this respect, with the emergence in recent years of accounts of embodied cognition (e.g., Johnson, 2007;
Rowlands, 2010; Shapiro, 2011; Varela, Thompson, & Rosch, 1991), with Gibson typically cited as one antecedent
of these approaches. Especially important in the present context, if our analysis encompasses the active individual
as a whole, when our focus shifts to the environment, it is considered at a commensurate level of complexity rather
than reductively.
In contrast, the standard format for treatments of perception is to begin with analyses of the sensory processes,
and commensurately, the physical energies that initiate neural responses at the receptors. Consequently,
treatments of visual perception usually start out with a discussion of the physical basis for light, followed by a
neuroanatomical and functional account of the retina and the optical neural pathways. While such analyses are
invaluable at this more microlevel of analysis, they fail to consider perceiving as a function of an active individual
taken as a whole. In turn, the environment commensurate with the level of analysis of an active individualwhich is
where meaningful, functional properties are to be foundis completely overlooked.
From an ecological/evolutionary standpoint, the active individual is the appropriate place to begin ones analysis.
Natural selection operates at the level of the whole organism, not at the level of individual receptors or processes.
Fitness applies to the functioning of the organism as a whole, and reproductive successthe criterion for fitness
concerns the overall functioning of the organism. Whether a particular receptor system or process (or gene, for
that matter3 ) is adaptive depends on its place in overall organism functioning (Dupre, 2003).
With an active perceiver as a starting point, it is instructive to consider the relationship between perceiving and
acting. All living things require access to resources, and the capacity for animate motion, for example, locomotion,
widens enormously the possibilities for and access to needed resources. And yet, locomotion without some means
of guiding that action would be a rather hit-or-miss affair. For this reason, perceiving processes surely evolved
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alongside action possibilities as a means for guiding them. Further, and critically, not only does perceiving help to
guide action, but reciprocally, action facilitates the detection of environmental properties. For example, whereas
object perception can at times be equivocal from a stationary position, Gibson (1979) demonstrated that
distinctive, invariant object properties are revealed through movement. Hence, rather than treat perception and
action as separable processesa step that continues an unproductive tendency of designating distinct
psychological facultiesit is proper from a functional standpoint to view perception and action as operating
jointly as a common (p. 25) synergistic system, or a perceptual system (Gibson, 1966).
That said, what aspects of the environment should be the starting point for psychological analysis? Most
immediately relevant for the animate individual are those properties of the environment that have significance for
action. Gibson coined the term affordances to refer to those properties of the environment that have functional
significance for an active individual taken as a whole.
Affordances
The Gibsonian concept that is most familiar to the current generation of environmental psychologists is affordance.
Even though this concept appears explicitly only in Gibsons (1979) later writings, it is a good place to begin an
examination of ecological psychology because it reveals the distinctive character of the ecological approach,
while at the same time conveying its wider connections to a transactional style of thinking.
An affordance is a psychological property of the environment. That is to say, an affordance is a property of the
environment taken with reference to the functional possibilities of an individual. For example, a horizontal surface
that is approximately knee-height to an individual and whose material structure can support that individuals weight
affords sitting-on for that individual. Indeed, the surface is perceived as a place to sit. That same surface, however,
may not be perceived as affording sitting-on for another individual whose leg length and weight are quite different.
Affordances, in short, are perceived properties of the environment from the standpoint of an individual. They are
specified by properties of environmental features considered in relation to the action possibilities of an individual. In
other words, affordances are relational properties, referring simultaneously to the environment and the individual.
Individuals most immediately (nonreflectively) perceive the environment in terms of its affordances (Gibson, 1979;
Heft, 1993, 2003). One may adopt an analytical stance with respect to the environment, focusing on particular
abstract properties, such as the geometric shape of objects, but from an ecological perspective, the environment
is experienced most immediately with respect to its functionally (psychologically) meaningful properties.
Viewed from the perspective of an interactionist metatheory, affordances would seem to be conceptually
incoherent. Recall that for interactionism, there exist two autonomous domains of reality: the physical environment
(objective reality), on the one hand, and the psychological (subjective experience), on the other. And yet
affordances are posited to be psychological properties of the environment. How can a property of the physical
environment be psychologicaleven meaningful? The concept of affordance, however, is incommensurate with
interactionist thinking. Instead, affordance, and the ecological psychology framework out of which the concept
grows, abandons a dualistic mode of thought rooted in interactionism in favor of the kind of relational thinking that
characterizes the transactional framework.
Gibson was not the first person to call attention to such properties. In their own ways, and using different
terminology, James, Lewin, Merleau-Ponty, and Heidegger did as well (Heft, 2001; Johnson, 2007). What Gibson
uniquely accomplished, however, was to give the insight scientific, empirical footing by grounding it in an account
of environmental perception and ecological optics. This achievement can be illustrated with reference to W. H.
Warrens (1984) investigations of perceiving a step affordance. Warren tested a sample of individuals who were
either short or tall relative to the average height of his population. Each individual was asked to judge whether he
or she could walk up several sets of stairs that varied across trials in riser height, that is, the vertical distance
between the horizontal surfaces. Not surprisingly, short and tall individuals judgments varied systematically,
averaged over trials, with the riser height that was judged to be climbable on 50% of the trials differing between the
two groups. More critically, when judgments of both groups were evaluated in relation to individuals ratio of leg
length to riser height (pi = leg length/riser height), rather than an absolute height measure (leg length alone), the pi
value was constant across both groups. In other words, the riser height judged to be climbable 50% of the time was
constant across all participants when the stair height was scaled in relative rather than absolute terms. This finding
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indicates that the affordance, a climbable stair, was perceived relative to the individual. Notably, this affordance
property is objectively specifiablethe pi value is calculableas well as being perceptually meaningful.
The psychological literature is filled with references to properties of the environment that are either objectively
specified but lacking in meaning (e.g., wavelength composition of light), or meaningful, but difficult to ground in
some objective, measureable manner (e.g., the meaning of a place). The limitations of each type of description
derive from thinking about environment-person relations in a (p. 26) dichotomous manner. The concept of
affordance cuts across the standard objective-subjective distinction.
Investigations and Extensions of the Affordance Concept

A substantial research literature has developed within experimental psychology over the past two decades leading
to a deeper understanding of affordance-related issues. Studies have documented that children and adults
perceive the affordance properties of a wide range of objects and structures in relation to their own action
possibilities (e.g., Adolph, 1997; Carello et al., 1989; Mark, 1987; Mark et al., 1990; Wagman & Malek, 2008;
Warren & Wang, 1987). Research has also shown that a perceiver can judge affordances that require the joint
participation of a second person, such as in the case of an individual perceiving that he needs another to carry an
object (Richardson, Marsh, & Baron, 2007), and that perceivers can assess affordance possibilities for others
(Rochat, 1995; Heft & McFarland, 1999). Further, it is clear that perceiving affordances is a dynamic process rather
than a judgment gauged in relation to a fixed body standard (e.g., a motor schema). Mark et al. (1990)
demonstrated that when eye height is altered, as in the case of having individuals wear blocks on their shoes,
judgments of affordance possibilities of objects are recalibrated through action.
At times, ecological psychology, and the concept of affordance in particular, has been presented in the secondary
literature in an overly restrictive manner. I refer here to statements to the effect that affordances concern only
physical properties of the environment, while disregarding culturally grounded meanings. In this criticism we face
yet another dubious dichotomy, this time between the natural and the cultural (Gibson, 1979; Heft, 1989, 2001;
Reed, 1988). From an ecological perspective, perceiving is a process of detecting regularities in the environment,
and regularities arise not only from the furniture of the world, such as surfaces and objects, but also from actions
of others (Baldwin et al., 2008), from language (Saffran, 2003), and quite likely from the normative practices of
groups and the wider culture within which they participate (Heft, 1989, 2001).
Affordances, Direct Perception, and Environmental Psychology

The concept of affordance, and ecological psychology overall, would seem to have great utility for environmental
psychology because the focus of the ecological approach and the goals of environmental psychology appear so
well aligned in at least one respect. Both are explicitly concerned with, and take as primary, the relationship
between the environment and psychological functioning. In contrast, cognitivism, and the cognitive turn that
interactionist theories took post-1960, while often professing a focus on this relationship, promptly shift the analysis
primarily to one facet of this relationshipnamely, to the detached workings of the mind in its efforts to make sense
of the environment out there. Long before the cognitive revolution of midcentury, Dewey (1920) referred to
this approach pejoratively as the spectator theory of knowing, in contrast to a view in which the individual
actively engages the environment.
What is the rationale for a cognitivist stance in the first place? It is important to see that the inclusion of mentalistic
concepts into an account of psychological functioning is considered by many to be unavoidable because our
experience of the environment is underdetermined by the standard physicalistic descriptions of stimulation. After
all, in the case of vision we do not experience the environment in terms of wavelengths of light, or even as a flat
projection of objects on the retinal surface. Instead, we perceive objects and features of the environment that are
meaningful and that retain their constant size and shape as we move relative to them. Further, visual experience
has a quality of continuity rather than being a string of discrete retinal snapshots or pictures. For these reasons
and more, perceptual processes would seem necessarily to go beyond the stimulus information given. Visual
stimuli seem so obviously to underdetermine perceptual experience that the latter surely must be mediated by
enriching cognitive processes. This claim underwrites the epistemological position of indirect or representational
realism, which holds that perceivers can have indirect awareness of the environment only through mediating
mental structures or processes.
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However, if true, this position places environmental psychology in a rather peculiar position. It would seem to put
the environment necessarily out of reach not only of individual perceivers, but also of researchers and designers.
If the environment is experienced in the head, isnt it forever beyond the immediate grasp of perceivers?
Although such a view may not have troubled many 17th- and 18th-century thinkers, it surely should have become
unsettling once an evolutionary perspective took hold in psychology. Moreover, if the (p. 27) environment is
remote and out of reach epistemologically, how does one examine the properties of the environment for research
purposes? Or if the environment that is experienced is tucked away into so many separate brains of individual
perceivers, how does one design environments with a sensitivity to psychological criteria? If designs are intended
for users (in the plural), and yet experience is assumed to be idiosyncratic, what is a planner or architect to do?
Oftentimes, seemingly intractable problems can be attributed to the manner in which they are framed in the first
place. Perhaps that is the situation perceptual theoryand by extension, much of designhas created for itself
here. The apparent necessity of indirect realism may result from how the environment has been described
historically for the purposes of perceptual theory. Beginning with his first book, The Perception of the Visual World
(1950), Gibson proposed that the seeming inadequacy of environmental input to account for the experience of
the environment may be a consequence of the framework chosen to describe and measure the environment.
The ecological approach to visual perception took shape over the course of Gibsons later books (1966, 1979),
where he developed the complementary conceptualizations ecological optics and perceptual systems. With
ecological optics, Gibson analyzed how light from a radiant source is structured as it reflects off of object and
ground surfaces. He demonstrated how the structured array of reflected light (the ambient optic array) provides
information about the environmental layout to an active perceiver. In a coordinate fashion, as we have already
seen, he clarified how movements of the eyes, head, and whole bodythe visual perceptual systemplay an
instrumental role in the detection of the information in the optic array. It is in this respect that ecological optics and
perceptual systems are complementary facets of an account of the direct perception of the environment. (A more
detailed account of ecological optics and perceptual systems is beyond the scope of this chapter.)
Finally, standard approaches treat space perception and time or event perception as distinct topics, consistent
with the separation of space and time in interactionist approaches. However, if perceiving is conceptualized most
basically as the detection of information over time through action, that distinction collapses, which, as we have
seen, is characteristic of how transactional thinking treats space/time.
Applying the Ecological Approach to Environmental Psychology

How might the ecological approach to perception inform research and practice in environmental psychology and
environmental design? Let us briefly consider a few possibilities here.
Affordances as a Tool for Environmental Evaluation and Design

The concept of affordances prompts environmental psychology researchers and designers to think about
environments in terms of the functional possibilities they offer to prospective user groups. In this regard, the
concept of affordances has been applied to considerations of environments from the standpoint of childrens
activities. Heft (1988b) initially proposed a taxonomy of childrens environments based on descriptive studies of
childrens daily actions, and in a later study found support for its predictive validity (reported in Heft, 1997).
Subsequent research by Kytta (2002, 2004) has demonstrated how the affordance concept can be used in a
comparative study of different residential areas and towns, linking differences in activity levels to the available
affordance possibilities. Moore and Cosco (2010) have effectively employed the concept of affordances in the
evaluation of childrens playground and school facilities, and utilized those findings to formulate design
recommendations. The concept has also been used by Clark and Uzzell (2002) in an examination of the
affordances of a town from the perspective of adolescents.
The concept of affordance can contribute to the growing interest in the design of child-friendly cities (e.g., Horelli
& Prezza, 2007). The design layout of neighborhoods, towns, and urban areas can be structured so as to make
resources such as parks and shopping areas more accessible to children. Providing bikeways and walkways that
circumvent threats from traffic broadens opportunities for childrens independent exploration and territorial range
(Heft & Chawla, 2006). Related considerations apply to individuals of all ages. Safe pathways and walkways that
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are free of hazards, such as uneven surfaces that can trip up the elderly, are sorely lacking in many residential
and commercial areas. These functional concerns have a direct bearing on the growing recognition that the design
of residential environments can promote activity and exercise for individuals of all ages (Ward Thompson, in
press). Because the concept of affordance prompts us to consider the functional character of the environment in
relation to prospective users, it should spur (p. 28) ongoing efforts to design environments that are suitable for
diverse populations.
Wayfinding as a Process of Perceiving the Temporal Structure of a Path over Time

The analysis of wayfinding in environmental psychology has followed along the lines established in experimental
psychology generally. That approach emphasizes the central role of a mental representations of the environment,
a cognitive map, in directing wayfinding. These mental representations are usually conceptualized as being
configurational in character, adopting the vantage point of a birds-eye view of a landscape. A cognitive map is
considered to be necessary because the perceiver, who is located at any moment at a single position, can
apprehend only a relatively small part of the environment. It is assumed to be a product of mediating, cognitive
processes that assemble the separate momentary views of the environment detected by a stationary perceiver
into an integrated, mental representation (for a critical analysis of this approach, see Heft, 2012).
The joint conceptualizations of ecological optics and perceptual systems suggest an alternative to the
configurational, mental representationdriven account of wayfinding. From an ecological perspective, as the
individual travels along paths in the environment, he or she generates an optic flow of perceptual information
produced by moving relative to a feature-rich environment. Specifically, an envelope of visible landscape features,
including the ground surface texture and the various objects that are currently in view, radially streams around
and past the individual in the opposite direction of her movement. This optic flow provides compelling information
for movement through the immediate environment (Lee & Lishman, 1977), and it serves as information for guiding
locomotion (R. Warren, 1976).
Perceiver-generated optic flow can be differentiated into two classes of perceptual information: (1) perspective
structure, which is the flow of perceptual information specific to landscape features and generated by action; and
(2) invariant structure, which is structure in the flow of perspective structure that remains constant across
transformations produced by action. The flow of perspective structure serves as information for the perceiver that
he or she is moving relative to environmental layout, and a particular flowing perspective structure will, in most
cases, be specific to a particular path of locomotion. The concurrent invariant structure specifies the fixed layout
of the environment, that is, the structure that can be detected over time across multiple vantage points and paths
of locomotion. (For a more detailed discussion and supporting research, see Heft, 1979a, 1996.)
In this account, knowledge of the configuration of the environment (a cognitive map) may play little or no role in
many instances of wayfinding. Finding ones way involves moving through the landscape to generate a previously
learned flow of information, analogous to how a musician might generate a familiar melody by re-creating a
previously experienced temporal structure. Both a path of locomotion and a melody have, respectively, a visual
and an auditory temporal structure that is perceivable only over time (Jones & Boltz, 1989).
Still, it is obvious that an awareness of overall layout of the environment can arise from wayfinding experiences
over time, much like an awareness of an objects shape is not tied to any single vantage point. Such knowledge of
overall layout can be drawn upon when encountering a detour along a familiar route or when disoriented. However,
even in such instances, map-like (configurational) representations need not be necessary, as the extensive
literature on path integration in humans, nonhuman animals, and insects has shown (Foo et al., 2005; Wehner &
Srinivasan, 2003).
Of course, individuals can, with varying degrees of success, draw maps or build models on demand, but these
artifacts do not necessarily constitute evidence for the existence of cognitive maps. Instead they may reflect the
uses to which awareness of layout, in whatever form it is understood, can be applied. That knowledge of
environmental layout need not be configurational in nature is supported by evidence from several non-Western
cultures that shows skillful navigation under demanding circumstances without any apparent map-like
understanding of the environment (e.g., Hutchins, 1995; see Heft, 2012).
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Implications for Methods in Environmental Perception and Aesthetics
Researchers in environmental psychology have long faced the challenge of maintaining rigorous methodological
standards when conducting investigations in everyday environments. For this reason, among others,
environmental psychologists have amassed a research literature based on a mixture of natural experiments,
epidemiological (p. 29) methodologies, field experiments, and laboratory research, with a preponderance of the
latter.
Laboratory research that explores issues relating to environmental perception understandably has utilized
surrogates of environments, such as photographs. And yet, the adequacy of these displays as surrogates for the
environment as it is experienced beyond the laboratory has not received sufficient, careful scrutiny.4 Importantly,
whenever their adequacy is assessed, photographs are compared to stationary viewpoints in situ, not to dynamic
experience. Considering the extensive use of photographs and other types of static representations of
environment, researchers appear to be operating more on faith than on empirically grounded confidence that they
are indeed investigating environmental experience as opposed to picture perception. Indeed, there have been
several investigations that raise doubts about the adequacy of pictures when compared to dynamic experience of
environments (Heft & Nasar, 2000; Heft & Poe, 2005; Hull & Stewart, 1995). The latter study is particularly
noteworthy. Individuals evaluations of landscape views while hiking were compared with their evaluations of those
same landscapes presented as photographs. It is striking that while group means across the two conditions were
comparable, individuals ratings varied considerably across the two conditions. Comparing group means, as is
typically done in comparative studies, may only mask the possible variability of evaluations made by the same
individuals of the same landscape in situ and represented in a photograph.
It is hardly an exaggeration to say that the research literature on environmental preference and aesthetics within
environmental psychology is exclusively a literature based on individuals looking at pictures of environments. Why
hasnt the adequacy of this methodology been examined more thoroughly? There are at least two reasons: First, it
is taken for granted that the use of static displays of environments (i.e., photographs) merely parallels how visual
perception normal functions, namely, as an image-capturing process. The long-held eye-as-camera metaphor
continues to influence views of visual perception, even in the area of environmental perception. However,
perceiving regularly occurs in the course of movement and exploration, and critically, these actions facilitate the
detection of information for perceiving. It is for this reason that the use of photographs or pictures in the study of
environmental perception can be misleading. It remains an open question whether findings produced with these
procedures are representative of the perceptual experiences of active perceivers in environments that surround
them and are extended.
Second, the use of pictures and even stationary views in situ is fully in keeping with much of aesthetic theory since
the 18th century that was centered on experiencing picturesque landscapes in paintings and later in photographs
(Carlson, 2000). The study of environmental aesthetics through the use of photographs may represent but one
limited type of experience in environments, and an experience that is tied very much to recent Western cultural
traditions.
The ecological approach and transactionalism (Dewey, 1938) suggest another form of aesthetic experience in
environments, namely, the affective experience accompanying our active engagement with features of the
environment. Often individuals seek out particular environments because of the distinctive affective experiences
they afford when we engage with them. In the way that a well-made tool is pleasurable to utilize because it has a
particular feel in use, so, too, environments may well have a particular feel, such as a pleasing ground surface
or a pleasant slope when walking (Mausner, 2004), or even a particular flow of information when moving through it
(Lynch, 1960; Thiel, 1997). These affective qualities are not properties of the environment taken apart from the
individual, nor are they subjective features imposed willy-nilly on an environments features. Rather they are
properties that exist within the active engagement of perceiver and environment, and in this respect, they are
transactional in nature (Berleant, 1992; Dewey, 1934; see Heft, 2010). In our overly intellectualized approach to
cognition, it might be well to remember William Jamess (1890) insistence that our mental life consists of thoughts
and feelings; and affectional facts are often relational qualities (James, 1912).
Barkers Eco-Behavioral Science
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The focus of Roger Barkers eco-behavioral science, as it came to be called by the mid-1970s, bears little
resemblance to Gibsons ecological psychology in either problem selection or methodology. At midcareer and
already an accomplished laboratory investigator in the still-fledgling area of child development circa 1940, Barker
began to develop reservations about what that work revealed. It troubled him that as child psychologists were
beginning to accumulate knowledge about the lawful relationships between experimental conditions manipulated in
the laboratory and childrens resulting (p. 30) behavior, their knowledge of what children do and what they
experience in their day-to-day lives was meager and, at best, anecdotal. This state of affairs was striking because
in the absence of information about the incidence of psychological phenomena in the daily circumstances of
peoples lives, psychologists have little way of knowing how representative, in a Brunswikian sense, any pattern of
behavior generated in the laboratory is. Indeed, it occurred to Barker that psychology was singular among the
sciences in not knowing the frequency and distribution of its principal subject matter. He wrote:
Chemists know the laws governing the interaction of oxygen and hydrogen, and they also know how these
elements are distributed in nature. Entomologists know the biological vectors of malaria, and they also
know much about the occurrence of these vectors over the earth. In contrast, psychologists know little
more than laymen about the distribution and degree of occurrence of their basic phenomena: of
punishment, of hostility, of friendliness, of social pressure, of reward, of fear, of frustration. (Barker, 1968,
p. 2)
Psychology would appear to be unique among the sciences in starting out as an experimental science, while
failing to develop a descriptive, natural history phase. All of the sciences, and especially the life sciences, maintain
ongoing field investigations of a descriptive nature to establish how living things function in contextall, that is,
with the exception of psychology.
In response to these shortcomings, Barker took the unusual step in psychology of establishing a field research
station in a small town where the activities of its residents could be observed and recorded in situ. His initial
methodological approach was quite simple and yet painstaking. Individual observers working in tandem observed
and recorded in writing the activities of individual children over the course of the waking hours of an entire day.
Subsequently, these specimen records were examined to determine whether the data revealed specifiable
regularities and predictive patterns. Two somewhat distinct research programs emerged from this work.
The Behavior Stream

The first research program concerned the structure of ongoing activity. Observing an individuals behavior over
time revealed a sequence of episodes that have a discernable beginning, middle, and ending, as the individual
engaged in one task, then another, and another, and so on. For example, a particular child may have had
breakfast, followed by walking to school, attending English class, participating in orchestra practice, and so on.
Each action episode had a spatial locus: it occurred in some place, and it also had a temporal charactera
duration. In keeping with the field theoretic thinking characteristic of transactionalism, action episodes are spacetime phenomena.
A closer examination of the records of individual childrens activities indicated that typically there was a good deal
more complexity in the structure of ongoing episodes than one following another in serial fashion. It was common
for an episode to begin before the preceding episode ended (overlapping episodes), and at other times, for an
episode to begin and end all within a more inclusive episode (nested episodes).
Analyses of the behavior stream prompt a variety of empirical questions: Does the relative degree of complexity
among episode structures change with age? In this regard, Barker found that whereas younger children tended to
engage in one action at a time, with little nesting or overlapping of episodes, older children exhibited a greater
amount of both types. Further, with increasing age, children engaged in fewer episodes, but for longer periods of
time. These findings are but a few that resulted from an analysis of specimen records (see Barker & Wright, 1955,
pp. 225302). Other questions prompted by the analysis of episode structure readily come to mind: Are there
systematic differences in episode structures within the different settings that children encounter? Historically, have
there been changes in the complexity and duration of childrens episode structures from the time Barker collected
his data (19541955, 19641965) to our present time? Anecdotal evidence would suggest so, but substantive
evidence is needed. Related to that, what is the relationship between the character of episode structure complexity
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and indices of childrens and adults well-being? This question brings a dimension to studies of well-being that has
rarely been examined.
The investigation of action episodes received little attention for decades, with the notable exception of Newtsons
research concerning the perception of structure in the behavior stream (Newtson & Enquist, 1976; Newtson,
Enquist, & Bois, 1977). Recently, however, the topic of perceiving action episodes has been reinvigorated through
the work of Zacks and his colleagues (e.g., Zacks, Tversky, & Iyer, 2001) and by Baldwin et al. (2008). Research
of this nature can be extended to issues of considerable (p. 31) interest to environmental psychologists, such as
the possibility that informative patterns of action are available to be perceived that are specific to particular types
of settings.
For decades, cognitivists have proposed that behavior in social settings is directed by mental scripts. However,
this claim begs the question of the perceptual basis for identifying settings in the first place. Moreover, it may well
turn out that if the patterns of action characteristic of different types of settings are perceivable, participation in
settings may be more reasonably viewed as a perception-action process of detecting and contributing to patterns
of collective action within a place (a space-time locus), rather than being attributable to the control of action by a
mental script. Could, for example, scripts be of sufficient generality or abstractness to cover variation of setting
types (e.g., varieties of restaurants), while at the same time being specific enough to guide action in any particular
instance of those settings? Here, as we saw earlier, do cognitive structures leave us too disconnected from the
moment-to-moment circumstances? Such conjectures about action in specific settings leads to the second line of
Barkers research that came out of the specimen record data.
Behavior Settings
The second research program is more familiar to environmental psychologists, and it is also the research on which
Barker invested most of his efforts. I refer here to his work on behavior settings. The concept of the behavior
setting is best appreciated by reviewing how Barker was led to the discovery of this eco-behavioral structure. One
of the early goals of the field research station investigations was to determine whether individuals actions could be
systematically and functionally linked to environmental occurrences. Barker initially hypothesized that the behavior
episodes of the children would follow in a stimulus-response fashion from the antecedent actions of other
individualsthat is, from proximate social inputs. However, this did not prove to be widely the case. Although a
sizeable proportion of behaviors did seem to follow immediately from social inputs, much of the time they did not.
To Barkers surprise, actions of other individuals that were directed toward the child were only a weak to moderate
predictor of that individual childs behavior. As the data on the behavior stream also indicated, in most cases the
actions of individual children appeared to be initiated spontaneously rather than being instigated by others (Barker
& Wright, 1955, p. 298). If one was looking for some systematic and highly predictive relationship between the
environment and behavior, that goal seemed at first blush to be unattainable.
However, Barker took note of something else in the data they had collected from observations of individual
children. As each child moved from one locale or setting to another over the course of the day, for example, from
the classroom to the playground to the home, behaviors changed appreciably. In noting these patterns of behavior
with respect to each individual child, he also began to recognize another pattern that on reflection took on greater
significance than it is usually accorded. While the individual childs behavior varied across settings, there was a
great deal of commonality among the actions of different children in the same setting. Indeed, the actions of
different children in the same setting had greater similarity than the actions of an individual child across different
settings. Said differently, the variability in behavior of different children in the same setting at a particular time was
smaller than the variability in behavior of the same child across his or her entire day.
This finding runs counter to two prevailing assumptions in psychology: first, that the actions of a particular
individual can be readily predicted with reference to internal, or dispositional attributes, such as personality,
temperament, or motivation; second, that behavior is best predicted by proximate inputs, often in light of their
immediate consequences. Barkers data pointed to an entirely different set of factors operating that were neither
dispositional nor proximate: the dynamics of the overarching setting as such.
We found, in short, that we could predict some aspects of childrens behavior more adequately from
knowledge of the behavior characteristics of [the settings they] inhabited than from knowledge of the
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behavior tendencies of particular children. (Barker, 1968, p. 4)
In short, it seemed apparent that in some way, where an individual childs actions took place mattered a great deal.
Hence, even though a high percentage of actions observed appeared to be spontaneous rather than instigated, it
was not the case that these actions were random. How does one square, on the one hand, the apparent
spontaneous and autonomous actions of individuals, on the other hand, with some degree of determinateness of
those same actions? This is where the concept of behavior setting comes in.
(p. 32) Barker (1968) posited the existence of dynamic eco-behavioral entities that operate at a higher level of
complexity than the individual, and these entities are constituted by the collective actions of individuals in
conjunction with the physical milieu (affordances) of the setting (also see Schoggen, 1989). That is to say, through
their collective actions, and with the support of affordances, groups of individuals generate naturally occurring,
dynamic extra-individual structuresbehavior settings. Instances of such dynamic structures are abundant: a
game on a playground, a meeting of the local Democrats, a public hearing by the city council, the operations of a
bake shop, a school orchestra concert, and so on. Behavior settings emerge from the mutually interdependent
character of behaviors and affordances.
Let us consider the dynamics of these processes more closely. By the very process of joining in on some
collective pattern of action, an individuals choices are constrained as a matter of course much of the time, falling
within the range of appropriate actions that maintain the workings of that collective pattern. For example, if a child
joins a game of baseball on a playground, she is obliged to operate within the parameters of that game to be a
participant. By the fact of joining the game, which may be either instigated (an invitation to join) or spontaneous
(asking to join), the individuals actions are constrained and, within some range, determined. In this respect, the
phenomena of psychology and the environments in which [they occur] are interrelated; they are interdependent
in the way a part of a system and a whole system are interdependent (Barker, 1978, p. 41). The actions may
appear spontaneous when examined at the level of the individual, but when considered from the standpoint of the
behavior settings, the actions are constrained. Indeed, settings vary between themselves in terms of the degrees
of freedom they afford. Compare play at recess to a classroom English lesson.
As psychologically relevant properties of the environment, behavior settings convey a quality that is
quintessentially psychological: they are meaningful. Individuals must be able to identify the setting type to
participate in the collective processes in appropriate ways. Barker referred to this property of behavior settings as
their perceptible physiognomic qualities, although this property did not receive much attention in his work. My
expectation is that an individual ought to be able to perceive what kind of setting he is entering based on the
patterns of action that are ongoing. In the case of a behavior setting whose operations are already familiar to its
participants, they will know when the setting has been established by monitoring the patterns of action that are
collectively generated. Likewise, they can monitor the relative stability of the setting over time through the
perception of its ongoing, dynamic structure. With respect to the latter, behavior settings, like other types of selfregulating dynamic systems, function to preserve their integrity in the face of ongoing perturbations. When the
functional integrity of the setting is threatened, perturbations should be perceivable in the dynamics of the setting.
Participants who threaten the settings operations are then prodded or cajoled into line by other setting
participants. When such measures are unsuccessful, the individuals creating the disturbance may even be ejected
from the setting entirely by its leaders or through group consensus. Such forces that operate to preserve the
settings operations derive from the functional interdependencies among its constituents, and perceptual
information is critical for individuals to monitor the status of the settings operations.
Barker and his colleagues went on to study the properties of behavior settings in a variety of ways (Barker &
Gump, 1964; Barker & Schoggen, 1973), resulting in a rich analysis of these dynamic structures that account for a
great deal of the order we see in everyday social activity (Barker, 1968, 1978; Schoggen, 1989; Wicker, 1987).
One of the significant outcomes of this work came from considering some psychological consequences of
participating in settings that vary in terms of the degree to which the necessary roles in the behavior setting are
filled by its participants. In Big School, Small School (Barker & Gump, 1964) and in other work, it was found that
children who participated in behavior settings where there is a suboptimal number of participants relative to roles to
be filled (understaffed settings) behaved in those settings and experienced them differently than did children
participating in settings where the number of participants exceeded the requisite number of roles (overstaffed
settings). For example, children in understaffed settings were more active in the setting, participated in more varied
Page 22 of 33

roles, and more often held positions of responsibility, while feeling more valued in the setting, feeling a greater
degree of responsibility in the setting, and experiencing more satisfaction from their involvement as well as more
social pressures to participate. To the extent, then, that small schools and large schools (and other institutions)
differ in the level of staffing of their settingsand the evidence (p. 33) indicates that they tend to do sothe
psychological consequences for children in those schools will differ appreciably. Alternative explanations that posit
self-selection of children to small or large schools can be ruled out because of school districting policies, but if
there were any doubt on this point, later research that examined both schools and churches showed that levels of
participation by the same populations dropped when the institutions in which they were participants/members
shifted from a small to comparatively larger size through a merger (Baird, 1963; Wicker & Kauma, 1974).
Like the concept of affordances, the concept of behavior settings can be used as a tool to describe the
psychological-functional resources of the environment. To highlight this utility, Barker and Schoggen (1973)
undertook a comparative study of two small towns, one in the United States and one in England. By detailing the
types of behavior settings in each town, the frequency and duration that they operated, and other information of
this sort, Barker and Schoggen were able to offer insight into what public life was like for inhabitants of each town
without knowing anything about the dispositional attributes of individuals. To take a general example, knowing that
there were more operating public behavior settings per individual (number of settings/population size) in the US
town than in the UK town indicates that in the former case, residents were involved in more public settings (they
had to be to sustain the settings existence) and hence, that community life was more active in the US town. This
finding barely scratches the surface of the rich comparative analysis that they provide. It is offered as an
illustration of how the behavior setting concept could be employed to compare different communities and even the
same community over time.
Eco-Behavioral Science
As we have seen, Barker started off attempting to gain insight into the daily lives of individual children. But his
research led him to the discovery of higher order, extra-individual dynamic structures: behavior settings. It turned
out that knowing which behavior setting children participated in was an exceptionally valuable predictor of
behavior, and learning about the properties of individual behavior settings (e.g., level of staffing) provided
additional insight into individuals likely experiences in those settings. However, in the process, Barkers initial
psychological aim of predicting individual behavior needed to be recast. Barker learned quite early in his research
that he was unable to account for individual behavior at that level of specificity. Behavior setting analysis informs
about the likely range of actions and experiences of individuals without specifying what will occur in any single
case and at any particular moment. The range of possibilities (i.e., degrees of freedom) can vary across types of
settings, from those with diverse possibilities, such as a playground, to those with quite narrow ones, such as a
church service. Within those ranges, prediction is at best probabilistic owing to individual agency.
It is for this reason that Barker recognized that what his work led to was not a psychology qua individualsat least
not of the sort that psychology tends to envisionbut a science of the contexts that are constituted by individuals
and that simultaneously constrain individual activities in daily life. In short, Barkers framework transformed as a
matter of course from ecological psychology to eco-behavioral science. This refashioned framework is in accord
with the view of environments that we have seen to be characteristic of the ecological sciences overall:
environments are composed of nested dynamic structures across different levels of organization.
Eco-behavioral science is concerned with the functional character of higher order, extra-individual dynamic
entities, and on these grounds, their operations are unlikely to be reducible to the actions of individuals. Barker was
led to the conclusion that eco-behavioral science will require concepts specific to phenomena operating at this
level of complexity. For this reason, the science of psychology and eco-behavioral science, while complementary,
are not equivalent.
But it is worth asking, is being able to identify the constraints within which an individual operates at any particular
time, but not the specific actions of that individual at that time, a limitation of Barkers approach? Or is it what
psychological analysis ultimately affords? While we loosely talk as if research predicts particular outcomes,
between subject variation is ever present, even if measures of central tendency sometimes lead us to forget
that. Individuals enter any settingthose of laboratories and those of daily lifeas agents with a developmental
history that intersects with the extra-individual dynamics and other moment-to-moment contingencies of that
Page 23 of 33

particular setting. We previously saw this claim both in the writings of James and Lewin. These realities preclude
exacting prediction of individual actions. Our tradition of linear, causal thinking (interactionism) gives rise to a
limited notion of prediction, and yet the precision (p. 34) one might expect along these lines is rarely realized. If
this is a failing, it is a failing of our mechanistic tradition, pointing to how unsuitable it is for the subject matter of
psychology. By the same token, it points to the fact that an ecological perspective, with its transactional
metatheoretical grounding, may be a better fit for the study of psychological phenomena.
Ecological Psychology and Eco-Behavioral Science

Individually, Gibsons ecological psychology and Barkers eco-behavior science are highly original theoretical
programs that have generated distinct bodies of empirical research. Each stands quite capably on its own, as they
singly have done for the past half century.
Still, they can be viewed as complementary approaches that jointly offer a more comprehensive ecological
framework than either does separately. Their complementarity is possible because even though they operate at
different levels of analysis, focus on different phenomena, utilize strikingly different methodologies, and do not refer
to each other in the least, they possess common, essential metatheoretical features,
In summary, Gibsons ecological approach takes its unit of analysis to be the dynamic perceiver-environment
relation. If we limit our discussion here to vision, the constituents of this system include the information carried by
the ecological optics of the situation and the actions of the perceiver (the visual perceptual system). What is
perceived (or constituted) within the dynamics of this relationship are the affordances of the environment. Barkers
eco-behavior science takes as its unit of analysis standing patterns of activity (behavior settings) whose
constituents consist of individual participants and milieu (affordances). In the case of Gibsons ecological
approach, affordances are properties that reside within the dynamic perceiver-environment relation, whereas for
eco-behavioral science, affordances are among the constituents of behavior settings. In short, the functions and
properties of interest to ecological psychologistsongoing perceiver-environment processesare nested within
behavior settings. For this reason, an analysis of particular instances of perceiver-environment processes will be
further illuminated by recognizing the behavior settings, and more broadly, the sociocultural contexts within which
they occur (Heft, 2007). Likewise, analysis of the operations of a behavior setting can be enriched only by a
detailed examination of the affordances operative in that setting. In these ways, both approaches jointly offer
psychology a framework for examining person-environment processes in everyday life.
In addition, Gibsons and Barkers frameworks both offer an opening for tackling what is at once the most central
feature of human experience, and perhaps the most neglected in interactionist thinking. This is the meaningful
character of human experience. As we have seen, neglect of the meaningful character of environmental
experience primarily stems from the physicalistic approach to the environment that is typical of interactionist
approaches. However, meaning is not a property of the domain of the physical sciences: it is a psychological
property. From a transactionist perspective, the psychological domain is constituted jointly by environment and
person processes, and for that reason, its meaningful properties are relational.
The rejection of interactionist modes of thought by both approaches is also apparent in their treatment of causality.
From an interactionist perspective, processes are mechanical and causality operates seriatim, with one part of a
system imparting change on another part. Specifically, mechanical or efficient causality refers to the
transmission of force or energy from one entity to another. This formulation is suitable for many things of interest to
psychologists, such as when a light (electromagnetic energy) stimulates photoreceptors and thereby results in a
neural impulse. But it is a limited view, as strides in dynamic systems theory have made plain (e.g., Thelen & Smith,
1994). Among other things, it is not suitable for giving theorists an opening to address the issue of meaning. The
ecological and social transmission of information, as in the cases of perceiving affordances and participating in a
behavior setting, are not energetic processes. Meanings are not caused in that sense. Instead, meaning involves
the sharing of structure within a dynamic system.
Take the case of affordances. Because individuals experience the environment relative to the body and its
projects (Merleau-Ponty, 1962), they are attuned to its affordances. The affordance does not cause the
perception of the affordance property; no thing or entity moves across a boundary separating the environment
and the perceiver. Instead, structure or form comes to be shared within and across the system under
Page 24 of 33

consideration. Affordances are meaningful within the dynamic person-environment system. Likewise, behavior
settings do not cause particular patterns of action among participants. (p. 35) Barker was inclined to say that
settings coerce rather than cause behavior, and this means that individuals conform to the operations of a
behavior setting by virtue of participating in them. Participation entails engaging in actions that are situationally
normative, and normativity is conveyed and sustained through meanings that are carried within the behavior
settings overall dynamic structure.
The Ecological Approach and Environmental Psychology

Environmental psychology developed in the midst of a wave of scientific and social movements of the 1950s and
1960s that at their core were concerned with the quality of the biosphere, the quality of human habitats, and social
justice. Although interest in these issues long predated this surge of activity, what was new was a growing
appreciation for the fact that environmental and social conditions operate in a domain of mutually interdependent
systems. In place of a view that natural conditions and human activity function as separate spheres, their
interconnectedness as constituents of more inclusive systems came to the fore, especially in the life sciences. The
adjective ecological is typically associated with this shift in thinking, and with it, a heightened recognition that
natural processes, which include human activities, are embedded in an interdependent field of hierarchically
nested systems.
When American psychology entered this arena, however, it was at somewhat of a disadvantage because its
dominant metatheoretical framework, interactionism, did not lend itself very well to ecological systems thinking.
Earlier efforts by many individualsfrom William James to the Gestalt psychologists, and even Piagetto effect a
shift from linear causal thinking to more dynamic, field-oriented thinking in psychology rarely took hold, except
among some perceptual and developmental psychologists. Also, at the very time when ecological and field
theoretic thinking was becoming commonplace in other sciences, experimental psychology was increasingly
diverted by the allure of computer technology and artificial systems. Part of the draw was surely due to these
exciting new thinking machines arriving on the scene and their potential applicability to long-standing problems
in psychology. But critical in the embrace of computer models was the fact that the linear processing framework
underlying their operations fit so comfortably with the mechanistic S-O-R way of thinking that had long dominated
the field.
Early leaders in this movement, such as Bruner and Miller, soon came to recognize that rather than serving as a
cognitive revolution, these developments were not much more than a retooling of familiar modes of thinking
(Bruner, 1990; Miller, 1985). Consequently, psychologists continued to conceptualize individuals from an
interactionist perspective as being bounded, independent entities that could be causally affected by environmental
conditions and that could affect the environment in turn: in short, elegant, if disembodied, input-output systems
(Dreyfus, 1972). Taking the environment-person dichotomy as its starting point, the psychology that follows from
this stance sustains the view of the individual operating at a remove from the environment as a spectator and
interpreter of the external world.
The dominance of this style of thinking kept at bay, or at best marginalized, alternative ways of thinking about
psychological processes that are more in keeping with the ecological sciences, such as Gibsons and Barkers
approaches. Such alternatives embrace the view that psychological processes are realized only as individuals
develop and function as participants in a network of influences, with this dynamic network collectively constituting
a psychological system. Because of the interdependencies that compose the system, boundaries between its
components are both permeable and shifting as the system in its goal-directedness is always in the process of
preserving some stabilities or establishing new ones. In all this, the interwoven histories of the constituents of the
system must remain in focus, if we are to understand any one of them adequately.
Following independent paths, both Gibson and Barker arrived at this type of conceptualization in large part
because when they each examined topics of central concern to them beyond the laboratory, the interactionist
framework failed them. For Gibson, the study of visual perception in the field forced him to rethink the standard
view that environmental stimulation is imposed on a passive perceiver (Reed, 1988). Instead, he gradually came to
the conclusion that perceiving is best conceptualized as the operation of perception-action systems, and that what
is perceived most fundamentally are the psychologically meaningful properties of the environment taken with
Page 25 of 33

reference to an individualaffordances. As for Barker, his prior background in experimental investigations of
childrens behavior led him to expect that antecedent social inputs would account for a childs actions in the field,
just as they seem to do in the laboratory. (p. 36) However, this linear sequence of input-action did not obtain.
Instead, to account for the order in childrens behavior over the course of their day, Barker needed to take into
consideration the contexts or the fields of action. This refocusing led to his discovery of behavior settings as
higher order structures that children participate in throughout their daily lives, even as they contribute to the
constitution of settings through their participation.
The ecological approachand more generally, the transactional framework with its longer lineagehas been
profitably employed in the study of only a few other environmental psychology issues, with transactionalism
applied most notably by Altman and his colleagues insightful investigations of privacy regulation processes (e.g.,
Altman, 1976; Werner, Brown, & Altman, 2002). At various places in the preceding discussion, I tried to suggest, if
only briefly, a few additional possibilities where transactionalist thinking can be applied to environmental
psychology. In this respect, quite apart from the significant individual contributions that Gibsons and Barkers
landmark works have already made, they can also illuminate a style of thinking that may help to bring
environmental psychology more squarely into the fold of the ecological sciences.
Future Directions
In keeping with the expected format for the volume, this chapter will conclude with a consideration of future
directions for ecological psychology, particularly as they relate to environmental psychology. Most of the following
brief comments build on the more extensive foregoing discussion.
1. The interactionist approaches that have informed environmental and conservation psychology to date have
been useful, most especially when operating at the level of aggregate data. However, at the same time they have
limited the scope of inquiry by directing researchers to conceptualize the environment in nonpsychological terms
(e.g., physical properties), while locating the psychological domain in an intra-psychic realm (i.e., the environment
in the head). An approach grounded in a transactional metatheory points instead to relational properties in the
individual-environment system that by their very nature are psychological in character and meaningful. The value
of such an approach has been demonstrated not only within ecological approaches, with the elucidation of novel
concepts such as affordances and behavior settings; it has also been revealed by research on perceived control,
privacy, and social capital, each of which is properly viewed as a phenomenon that resides within an individual(s)environment system. Additional gains from applying transactional thinking to environmental and conservation
psychology await.
2. There exist many ways to evaluate the material resources of environments, but relatively few for assessing the
psychological resources of environment for individuals, excepting some initial inventories developed decades ago
for home environments (e.g., Bradley et al., 1979; Heft, 1979b, 1985; Wachs, 1979). How should one proceed in
making an assessment of the psychological resources within environments taken at a broader scale, such as
neighborhoods, communities, and other public areas? Several steps are required here: (1) particular possibilities
need to be proposed for what may serve as an eco-psychological resource (e.g., a particular type of affordance);
(2) a means of assessing the availability of these resources in some locale needs to be developed; and crucially,
(3) linkages between availability of these resources and positive outcomes must be established.
We have yet to develop a battery of sound measures of environmental quality in a psychological vein. The
concepts of affordances and behavior settings offer a good starting point, however. There is already some
indication in the developmental literature of the positive value of home environments rich in particular types of
affordances, such as objects that are responsive to childrens actions (Heft, 1983). A recent volume edited by
Evans and Wachs (2010) also provides some new insights into childrens environments. Schools marked by
understaffed behavior settings (Barker & Gump, 1964), are associated with positive developmental outcomes, as
we have seen. Initial efforts applied to outdoor environments with respect to affordances have been made (Heft,
1988b; Kytta, 2004), but much more work is needed. Yet to be explored is the relationship between available
behavior settings and community life, with the exception of Barker & Schoggen (1973). Environmental
psychologists should be in a position both to evaluate the relative quality of existing environments and to anticipate
the impact of design choices from a psychological standpoint for various user populations.
Page 26 of 33

3. It is well established that affordances play a role in the effectiveness of sustainable practices, even though this
terminology is rarely employed in this context. For example, where recyclables can be disposed, and what
materials are recyclable, is a continuing source of confusion for the public. Instead of resorting to signs, which are
themselves (p. 37) often confusing, affordances can sometimes serve this purpose in a more immediate way. As
a case in point are recycling containers with a narrow slit as an opening that afford the disposal of paper but not
bottles. The concept of affordances can serve as a lens for identifying eco-ergonomic designs and programs, as
well as evaluating impediments to sustainable practices.
4. The study of environmental perception and aesthetics has been examined almost exclusively through the use of
photographs and other static representations of the environment (i.e., the spectator view). This domain of inquiry
can be broadened, as we saw above, by taking into consideration the experience of environments from the
dynamic perspective of participants as agents (Heft, 2010). Doing so will require the development of research
methodologies that emphasize the central place of actively engaging the environment in perceptual experience,
while also focusing on the temporal dimensions of person-environment transactions.
5. The relationship between activity levels and health is becoming well established, especially within the public
health literature. Surely the character of the environment matters here, either in promoting or hampering activity.
For example, affordances associated with the quality and the grades of surfaces are likely to be relevant, as are
competing factors such as noise and hazards from automobile traffic.
Further, it is evident that certain environments are more pleasurable than others for walking, running, or biking.
Could a contributing factor here be the particular optic flow that is generated from the standpoint of an individual
moving through the environment? As discussed above, the environment contiguous to paths of locomotion
contributes to the character of the optic flow. In this respect, does the optic flow have an aesthetic dimension, as
some have suggested (Lynch, 1960; 1997)? If so, the nature of the environment as it is experienced from the point
of view of a moving perceiver may have a bearing on activity levels. Little attention has been given to this temporal
dimension of experiencing environments as it might relate to activity promotion.
6. Wayfinding in indoor and outdoor environments can be a challenge due to the repetitive pattern of hallways and
street configurations, respectively. The typical post hoc remedies often leave behind a bewildering array of signs.
The ecological account of wayfinding described earlier suggests a different approach. Research indicates that
certain segments of the perspective structure (i.e., structure of the optic flow) are especially valuable for finding
ones way. These segments (transitions) occur when a new vista comes into view, as in the case of making a turn.
It is here, at these functionally significant portions of a route, that repetitive patterns in indoor/outdoor
environments are problematic as, for example, each succeeding hallway or streetscape looks like the previous
one. Distinctive transitions may well facilitate wayfinding and orientation. Generation of a distinctive sequence of
transition flow will require more variation than is often found in modern designed environments (Heft, 1997). In less
repetitive environments, such as parks and urban areas, transitions tend to be distinctive as a matter of course.
At this point in the relatively short history of environmental psychology, the value of an ecological approach for
efforts to understand some of the fields most central concerns has barely been explored, although notable inroads
have been made. Individually and jointly, Gibsons ecological psychology and Barkers eco-behavioral science
hold out the promise for changes in the field that are both substantive and transforming.
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Notes:
(1.) Although there is good reason to believe that Darwin himself did not hold this view (Richards, 2004).
(2.) Readers may be more familiar with Kuhns later notion of paradigms than with Peppers world hypotheses. They
are broadly similar, although Kuhn placed far more attention on the practices of scientific communities in his
analysis and how scientific paradigms sustain particular approaches to a domain of inquiry.
(3.) The very concept of a gene is hotly contested in the developmental biology literature, and many of these
critiques operate in the spirit of the transactional worldview being examined here (Moss, 2003; Oyama, 1985).
(4.) Meta-analyses showing a positive relationship between preference for photographs of buildings and for actual
buildings (cited in Stamps, 1994) amass such a diverse set of studies that employ a wide variety of procedures
and viewing conditions that, in my assessment, it is impossible to state with any precision what relationships are
operating or judge the comparability of the studies.
Harry Heft
Harry Heft Department of Psychology Denison University Granville, OH
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Environmental Perception: Wayfinding and Spatial Cognition

Ann Sloan Devlin
2012
Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology, Cognitive

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0003

This chapter on wayfinding and spatial cognition provides a literature review of the major topics in the field
beginning with Tolman and Lynch, as well as directions for new research employing advances in technology.
Reflecting the major emphasis in the field, the focus is on research in the built environment. The major areas of
study include the development of wayfinding expertise in children and adults (specifically the progression from
landmarks to route to configurational knowledge) and in those with cognitive and/or visual impairments; the
problem of verisimilitude in wayfinding tasks; the areas of brain function underlying wayfinding behavior,
specifically the role of the hippocampus; the extent of gender differences in wayfinding, including mental rotation,
pointing accuracy, and use of landmarks and cardinal directions; and the role of software and technologies
employed in research on wayfinding, from Space Syntax analysis to virtual reality with head-mounted devices
(HMD). As an integrative strategy for the chapter, attention is periodically drawn to the shifting balance between
theory and application in the research.
Keywords: allocentric, cognitive map, egocentric, gender differences, simulation, spatial cognition, virtual reality, wayfinding
Introduction
This chapter focuses on the relationship between wayfinding and spatial cognition as a topic of investigation in
environmental psychology and reviews the research on wayfinding as a specific application of spatial cognition.
The relationship of wayfinding to spatial cognition is of long-standing interest in environmental psychology, perhaps
emanating from the work of Lynch in his seminal book, The Image of the City (1960), and in psychology more
generally in the work of Tolman (1948/1973).
Environmental psychology as a discipline has a multidisciplinary flavor; this is also true of the study of wayfinding.
That interdisciplinarity leads to challenges, not the least of which is how to define wayfinding and spatial cognition.
Of necessity in a document just a chapter in length, the literature on a given topic, for example, visuospatial
working memory, centers on researchers who invoke this cognitive concept in the service of understanding
wayfinding, rather than vice versa.
The chapter will begin with definitions and then consider topics that have captured the interest of environmental
psychologists: the cognitive map, neurophysiological underpinnings, verisimilitude of wayfinding tasks,
development of wayfinding expertise and performance (including the elderly and those with cognitive and visual
impairments), gender differences, and wayfinding aids.1 Throughout, efforts are made to include the role of
technology, especially the use of virtual platforms. Also, as is true of many areas in environmental psychology, the
topics of wayfinding and spatial cognition provide an intersection (p. 42) of conceptual and applied research,
which the chapter highlights.
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Wayfinding: A Definition
Wayfinding is literally finding ones way, or the process of purposefully moving from an origin to a destination
(Golledge, 1999). Wayfinding can therefore be viewed as a process or activity, and in Passinis view includes all
the mental processes which are involved in purposeful mobility (1996, p. 322). At least one research group has
differentiated navigation from wayfinding (Golledge, Jacobson, Kitchin, & Blades, 2000), although commonly the two
terms are used interchangeably (e.g., Chen & Stanney, 1999). Navigation involves updating position and rate of
travel as one moves along a specific course toward a target destination; in contrast, wayfinding involves
selecting path segments from an existing network and linking them as one travels along a specific path (Golledge
et al., 2000, p. 95). In their chapter on navigation in virtual environments, Darken and Peterson (2002) limit
wayfinding to the cognitive element of navigation (p. 494) sans movement. For them, Navigation is the
aggregate task of wayfinding and motion (p. 494). Outside the domain of psychology, other disciplines have
invoked concepts such as skill mastery to explain wayfinding behavior, as opposed to the construction of a
cognitive map (Istomin & Dwyer, 2009).
Spatial Cognition: A Definition

In and of itself, spatial cognition is an enormous topic, and more than a few researchers have lamented the
difficulty in defining the concept (e.g., Foreman & Gillett, 1997). Broadly speaking, spatial cognition is the
knowledge or understanding of the self in relation to our surroundings (built or natural), objects, or people (Devlin,
2001). Unlike perception, cognition can occur in the absence of perceptual input (e.g., we can imagine our
surroundings). Spatial cognition of the built or natural landscape is the focus here, and environmental
psychologists are concerned with where we are physically in space, how we update that understanding, and how
we use that understanding (often called a cognitive map) to plan our movements through space, whether physical
or virtual. Although some cognitive researchers have emphasized theory concerning the intersection of brain and
behavior (e.g., the role of the hippocampus) in wayfinding, environmental psychologists often focus on the
environmental structure (e.g., the role of a major street or landmark) that facilitates finding your way.
Historically, one of the problems in linking spatial cognition to wayfinding is that spatial cognition itself is not a
single, unified entity. McGee (1979) reviewed factor analytic studies of spatial cognition and argued that the data
support at least two different factors, one dealing with visualization, the other with orientation. The visualization
factor emphasizes the ability to mentally rotate an object in space. A commonly used assessment of this ability is
the Vandenberg and Kuse Mental Rotations Test (MRT; 1978), originally a paper-and-pencil test in which a threedimensional object presented as a drawing is a template against which the participant must select which two of four
choices are this same figure rotated through space. Later research by Linn and Petersen (1985) employing metaanalysis argued for the existence of three factors: 1) spatial perception (determining spatial relations with respect
to ones own body; a gravitational kinesthetic process); 2) mental rotation (a Gestalt-like analogue process); and
3) spatial visualization (multistep manipulation of spatially presented information) (Devlin, 2001, p. 45). What
differentiates their model from McGees earlier outline is that mental rotation is a separate entity; Linn and Petersen
argue that as a multistep process, spatial visualization may include parts of the other factors (mental rotation and
spatial perception). For many, it is helpful to define the factors through the tests that are used to measure them.
Examples from Linn and Petersen include the rod-and-frame test for spatial perception; the MRT for mental rotation;
and the embedded-figures and paper-folding tests for spatial visualization. When a formal measure of spatial
cognition is employed in research on wayfinding, the MRT is often the choice.
In this chapter, the boundaries are drawn to understand spatial cognition as it serves the function of wayfinding.
We may think that spatial cognition involves a mental activity of some sort, and spatial knowledge is put into action
to serve wayfinding. What form of knowledge provides a basis for action? One answer is a cognitive map.
The Cognitive Map: Historical Perspective

Environmental researchers have spent considerable energy on the concept of the cognitive map, with the early
work more likely to be conceptual than applied (i.e., focusing on the mental representation, not the environmental
structure that (p. 43) fostered it). As Kitchin argued in his 1994 paper, the cognitive map construct has been
defined in a host of ways, perhaps reflecting the multidisciplinarity represented in those who study it. The concept
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of the cognitive map has been viewed as a map (i.e., explicitly) and as an analogy, a metaphor, and a hypothetical
construct (pp. 35). Kuipers (1982) and Downs (1981), among others, evaluated the limitations of the map in the
head metaphor. Given this lack of agreement, researchers have selected what made sense from their own
perspectives. Kaplans (1973) discussion of the cognitive map is useful for its clarity. The cognitive map is a mental
representation that links perception and decision-making; it makes possible knowing where one is, what is likely
to happen next, determining whether the outcome will be good or bad (e.g., whether a pleasurable outcome,
such as low traffic volume on a particular route, is anticipated), and some possible courses of action (p. 65).
Kaplans model is rooted in evolutionary concerns for humans as animals that process information as their
fundamental activity. In other words, Kaplans model of the cognitive map addresses the survival requirements of
an information-processing animal. Other often-cited definitions that share the flavor of Kaplans model come from
Downs and Stea (1973a) and Passini (1984). For Passini (1984), Wayfinding describes a persons ability, both
cognitive and behavioral, to reach spatial destinations. This ability which is based on three distinct performances,
decision making, decision execution and information processing, is a spatial problem solving ability (p. 154).
Although many researchers view the cognitive map as a storage mechanism, others go further to discuss the links
to action, through travel plans (e.g., Grling, Bk, & Lindberg, 1986), or a sequence involving decision-making
and decision execution (Passini, 1984).
An edited volume by Downs and Stea titled Image & Environment: Cognitive Mapping and Spatial Behavior
(1973b) laid the groundwork for our understanding of the cognitive map that continues to serve researchers today.
That volume included the seminal 1948 paper by Tolman, Cognitive Maps in Rats and Men, Kaplans Cognitive
Maps in Perception and Thought, Appleyards Notes on Urban Perception and Knowledge, Hart and Moores
The Development of Spatial Cognition: A Review, and Orleanss Differential Cognition of Urban Residents:
Effects of Social Scale on Mapping. There was even a piece by Lynch (Some References to Orientation),
excerpted from his well-known book The Image of the City (1960).
Tolmans early paper (1948/1973) is often credited with introducing the term cognitive map and importantly
challenged the stimulus-response approach to spatial cognition. Instead of a stimulus-response account, much like
a telephone switchboard, Tolman provides evidence that that spatial knowledge is in fact organized in a kind of
map control room (p. 31), reflecting the theoretical approach of field theorists. Not only is the paper important to
environmental psychologists, but it also reflects the nature of psychology in America in the late 1940s, and a
fascinating part of the paper is its concluding section discussing the conditions under which one might develop a
narrow strip-like map versus one that is more broad and comprehensive. Admittedly not a clinical or social
psychologist, he nevertheless tackles the areas of regression, fixation, and displacement of aggression onto outgroups (p. 48).
Although much of the early work on cognitive mapping tended to be more theoretical, some of those topics in the
Downs and Stea volume had a broader scope and are pursued today. As an example, a paper by Orleans (1973)
in that volume investigated the relationship between cognitive maps and both our socioeconomic status and the
physical barriers in our environment. In related research, during the early 1970s Appleyard (1970, 1976) linked our
cognitive maps to the kind of travel mode we use. In Appleyards research, travelers who drove cars possessed
more coherent cognitive maps than did those who took the bus. Recent research essentially combined these two
threads using residents of Los Angeles who were interviewed at malls or transportation hubs (Mondschein,
Blumenberg, & Taylor, 2010). In this research, participants made significantly different estimates of distance related
to the type of transportation they used. These estimates were fairly accurate, but people who used public
transportation modes, such as the bus, tended to have larger estimates of distance. The researchers see
implications for the perception of employment opportunity. To a carless job seeker, job opportunities not easily
reached by transit are effectively out of reach, and even transparent, regardless of Euclidean distance (p. 864).
These findings demonstrate the potential relationship in environmental psychology between research and policy.
Lynchs Contribution: The Legibility of Place

When we turn to the topic of the legibility of the environment, or the way it is understood, the (p. 44) application of
spatial cognition, as opposed to the theory, is highlighted. The legibility of the environment is fundamentally related
to the ease of wayfinding within it; moreover, it has been argued that spatial understanding of the city is influenced
by the organization of structural elements, such as paths and landmarks. With the publication of Lynchs small
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book The Image of the City in 1960, he gave us structural elements that have been used since then to describe
city structure: paths, edges, districts, nodes, and landmarks. Paths and edges are linear elements, districts
correspond to regions, and nodes and landmarks are point elements. Although Lynch was not an environmental
psychologist, his work has been embraced by our discipline.
Researchers who work on the scale of wayfinding in the city typically start with Lynchs five structural elements.
Lynch has arguably done the most to foster the connection between spatial cognition and urban planning (Devlin,
2001), with implications for how cities might be structured to facilitate legibility. The legibility of the city is not a
trivial issue; when we are lost, we are frightened; when we understand our surroundings, we derive psychological
comfort. Others have offered principles that intertwine with legibility, among them Appleton (1975), who talks about
the importance of having a vista (prospect) and a place for retreat (refuge). How one structures ones mental map
reflects the extent to which one knows the city, from districts (if you are unfamiliar) to landmarks (if you are quite
familiar); those with a moderate degree of familiarity may rely more on paths. Among the structural elements, the
path is most important; path legibility benefits from both regularity and distinctiveness. For example, a grid is
usually beneficial, but there has to be distinctiveness within the grid. In research based on Lynch, DeJonge (1962)
stated, Formation of a map image is easiest where there is a street plan with a regular pattern, and a single
dominant path, characteristic nodes, and unique landmarks (p. 274).
Early on, Appleyard (1969, 1970, 1976, 1979) studied what environmental aspects shape legibility, specifically by
examining the development of Ciudad Guayana in Venezuela (1976). He emphasized the role of spatial and
sequential elements; paths and nodes are sequential, whereas landmarks, districts, and edges are spatial. Clear
identity emerges when there is a clustering of activity and a road system around it. The problem of lack of
distinctiveness as it relates to legible environments has been pursued in the urban planning literature. In particular
commentators have focused on this lack of distinctiveness in new towns such as Brasilia (Epstein, 1973; Gruen,
1964).
Illegible environments often pose problems in the creation of cognitive maps, but even in more clearly organized
environments structural errors may exist. In fact, errors are commonplace in cognitive maps; these maps are not
Euclidean, they are utilitarian. A cognitive map may be good enough to get you home, and generally is, but that
doesnt mean it is error free. Sketch maps that participants are asked to produce in research often poorly
represent the actual Euclidean distances involved (McNamara, Ratcliff, & McKoon, 1984; Moeser, 1988). It is
possible that Gestalt principles such as similarity and good continuation contribute to the errors revealed in
peoples sketch maps. In a study of students who had been in Ann Arbor, Michigan, for about two years (Hirtle &
Jonides, 1985), students underestimated distances within subjective landmark clusters they had generated and
overestimated such distances across clusters. Although any number of studies make some assessment of
Euclidean expertise when people draw maps or give distance estimates, people giving directions more often talk
about geometric aspects (straight, curved), turns (left, right), and distance in blocks (if it is a neighborhood) (Hill,
1987).
Brain Areas Underlying Wayfinding

Before proceeding further, it is important to review some of the literature relating wayfinding, spatial cognition, and
neuroscience. This literature has a decidedly theoretical emphasis and typically highlights basic research. It might
seem illogical to jump from the macroscale of the city to the microscale of the brain, but investigating the role of
brain processes in wayfinding and spatial cognition is increasingly common in the literature. The Decade of the
Brain that began in 1990 (www.loc.gov/loc/brain) has impacted environmental psychologists whose research
interest is wayfinding. The availability of technologies such as fMRIs and PET scans to understand brain processes
has enabled environmental psychologists as well as cognitive psychologists and neuroscientists more generally to
better grasp the parts of the brain that support wayfinding. What brain areas are involved in wayfinding and why
might knowing about them be useful? As argued elsewhere (e.g., Devlin, 2001), a better understanding of brain
processes may ultimately help in creating environments that are not only understandable but also pleasant. For
example, (p. 45) ONeill (1991a) linked wayfinding to a biologically based model of spatial cognition.
As a refresher, the neocortex of the brain has two hemispheres, and each of four lobes (frontal, parietal, temporal,
and occipital) is represented in each hemisphere. There are two visual cortical systems, one dorsal (on top), the
Page 4 of 29

other ventral (underneath). Connections between the parietal and occipital lobes lobe have often been referred to
as constituting a dorsal whereness system, and connections from the temporal lobe to the occipital lobe as
constituting a ventral whatness system (see, for example, Kosslyn, 1987, 1991; Morrow & Ratcliff, 1988;
Ungerleider & Mishkin, 1982). Knowledge about brain function comes from a variety of sources, among them brain
lesions; dissociations of function; fMRI studies; PET scans; cerebral blood flow; and hormonal abnormalities.
Research on wayfinding focusing on brain function is no longer limited to those with brain aberrations, thanks to
advances in technology.
The hemispheres are lateralized and functionally asymmetrical. Historically, there has been more emphasis on the
right hemisphere in wayfinding tasks, and in particular there has been great interest in the hippocampus (its name
derived from the fact that the structure resembles a seahorse), located in the medial temporal lobe. If our brains
are sensitive to the whereness and whatness aspects of the environment, then first understanding their role in
wayfinding and then making use of this information to better design both our environments and our wayfinding aids
is of interest to environmental psychologists. At this point in the development of the neuroscience of spatial
cognition, we are just beginning to realize its potential application to environmental design.
Although the hippocampus has been implicated in wayfinding behavior, it is not exclusively used for wayfinding
and serves memory more generally (Squire, 1987, 1992, 1993; Squire & Knowlton, 1995; Zola-Morgan & Squire,
1990). And increasingly there is the sense that wayfinding involves extra-hippocampus structures such as the
parahippocampus (e.g., Morris & Parslow, 2004). Still, some researchers strongly emphasize the wayfinding
functions of the hippocampus (e.g., Maguire, 1997; Maguire et al., 1998; Maguire, Frackowiak, & Frith, 1996, 1997).
Among the more innovative studies coming out of the Maguire lab was the use of PET scans on experienced taxi
drivers in London (Maguire et al., 1997), whose task it was to describe the shortest legal route from a given point A
to point B. Only the right hippocampus was engaged when these routes were recalled.
Attention was directed to the role of the hippocampus in wayfinding by the early work of Milner (1965), followed by
OKeefe and Nadel (1978) in their book The Hippocampus as a Cognitive Map. Early discussions of the wayfinding
role of the hippocampus involved place response (finding a location without a visible cue) as opposed to cue
response, in which animals learn to approach a target location in the presence of a cue (Black, Nadel, & OKeefe,
1977). Later the wayfinding system was described as involving orientation, guidance, and place learning (Nadel,
1990). Of these components, only place learning was hypothesized to rely on the hippocampus. Orientation is also
known as dead reckoning, where you make your way using your body as a frame of reference, essentially an
egocentric perspective. Guidance involves awareness and use of landmarks and objects in space for wayfinding.
Place learning involves relational or configural or survey knowledge, where an allocentric perspective has been
achieved that gives more flexibility to the spatial representation. When the hippocampus is compromised, place
behavior is deficient.
Other spatial cognition systems (e.g., a perception- action system and a cognitive system) have been linked to
these anatomical structures, and a useful overview is presented in Allen and Haun (2004). Other research using
MRI assessment has pointed to the role of the hippocampus in place learning and the caudate nucleus in response
learning (Etchamendy & Bohbot, 2007). These results indicated some wayfinders in virtual environments are able
to switch between response and place learning strategies depending on task demands. An example of the
sophistication of recent research is work by Janzen and Jansen (2010), who investigated the more subtle aspects
of the brains ability to differentiate useful from redundant or ambiguous wayfinding information using a virtual
maze. Data from fMRI readings pointed to the role of the parahippocampal gyrus in responding to navigationally
relevant objects that had been viewed only once.
Although beyond the scope of this chapter, it is worthwhile noting that the topic of wayfinding is emerging strongly
in cognitive psychology, for example, the role of spatial memory (e.g., Postma, Jager, Kessels, Koppeschaar, & van
Honk, 2004) and visuospatial working memory (e.g., Meilinger, Knauff, & Blthoff, 2008) based on the model of
working memory by Baddeley (1986). Given the (p. 46) dominance of neuroscience in psychology more
generally, it is likely that the interest in linking wayfinding behavior to neural correlates will continue, and
researchers in environmental psychology will either become knowledgeable about these techniques themselves or
collaborate with those who are.
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Verisimilitude in Wayfinding Tasks
The research on verisimilitude has been a blend of theory and application, combining an interest in the cognitive
interpretation of such simulations (e.g., ability to understand orientation) and the degree to which such simulations
produce results similar to experiencing the environment directly. Researchers studying wayfinding have a history
of using representations of the real environment in their studies, whether maps, models, drawings, photographs, or
virtual platforms. Determining the degree of correspondence in wayfinding behavior that results from exposure to
these iconic simulations, as Winkel and Sasanoff (1970) called them, is an important part of such research
strategies. Researchers continue to grapple with the extent to which research using a substitute or representation
of reality provides information that is useful in reaching conclusions (and decisions) for real-world applications. And
this is not a trivial issue.
Early concern dealt with the extent to which viewing a model or photograph(s) was a substitute for being there
(e.g., Kaplan, Kaplan, & Deardorff, 1974). Shuttleworth (1980) reported a case study in which judgments based on
semantic differentials (e.g., high-low scenic value; varied-monotonous; bleak-cheerful) were viewed as
comparable whether using black and white photographs, color photographs, or site visits. His research further
suggested that color photographs were better than black and white photographs in paralleling responses made on
site. Further, Seaton and Collins (1972) had semantic differential judgments based on the facades of four campus
buildings evaluated in situ by campus visitors, and contrasted those with judgments made on the basis of threedimensional models, color photographs, or black and white photographs. Color photographs seemed to best
correlate with judgments made of the real facades, but the authors noted that while the qualities that buildings
impart to viewers are generally similar over simulations, they are not congruent (p. 61010).
Thorndyke and Hayes-Roths (1982) often-cited study reveals some of the differences acquired with exposure to
maps versus wayfinding in an environment (in this case the first floor of the Rand Corporation building in Santa
Monica, California). Initially participants (all women) with no exposure to the building who viewed a map were better
at estimating the location of objects than at judging orientation; with more experience, participants in the navigation
condition were as accurate in judging object locations as those in the map condition. Thorndyke and Hayes-Roth
argued that using a map facilitates the formation of survey knowledge but that the map users may have difficulty
changing the perspective they have acquired from the map, evident in poorer performance in orientation tasks
(italics added). An important theme in the research on wayfinding is the acquisition of a particular perspective even
in the development of survey knowledge from map exposure. This kind of problem with orientation appears as well
in the research using virtual reality platforms (e.g., Richardson, Montello, & Hegarty, 1999).
The research using virtual reality platforms has demonstrated reasonable correspondence between the simulation
and the actual environment, the orientation issue notwithstanding. Often this research has an applied emphasis or
holds the promise of application to real environments. In an important applied example, research by Shih, Lin, and
Yang (2000) showed similarities in fire evacuation time from a real versus a virtual building. Research by
Westerdahl et al. (2006) demonstrated that virtual reality models and real buildings were described similarly on a
semantic environment description scale. Further, based on a virtual environment representing a campus in
Marseille, Pruch and Wilson (2004) pointed to similarities in outcome between the real and virtual worlds when a
high-fidelity virtual world is created. A chapter by Darken and Peterson (2002) reviews the circumstances under
which exposure to virtual reality could be expected to facilitate transfer of training and provides principles for the
ways in which navigable virtual reality environments can be designed.
One might expect that advances in technology will improve the ecological validity of virtual platforms and the
extent to which they truly give you the sense of being immersed, which was not the case in some of the earlier
work (e.g., Wilson, 1997). One of the clear advantages to research with virtual platforms is their flexibility, and
although cost was a limiting factor in the early days of this research, the tools are becoming more affordable.
These tools also provide an excellent approach to studying those with various kinds of disabilities (e.g., visual, (p.
47) cognitive). With increasing numbers of students being exposed to virtual reality research, even at the
undergraduate level, we may expect such research on wayfinding and spatial cognition, and its real-world
applications, to grow.
When virtual environment (VE) wayfinding information is misaligned vis--vis its real-world template, problems
occur just as they do using standard you-are-here maps (e.g., Levine, 1982; Levine, Marchon, & Hanley, 1984). In
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research (Richardson et al., 1999) using a building with multiple floors, VE participants had higher directional
estimate errors than either participants in a map condition of the building or participants in the walking condition
when pointing between floors after multiple turns. The authors suggested that learners in VE may need to be
attuned to alignment following a change of heading, and their research showed the importance of aligning
wayfinding maps with the actual environment. Similarly, research by Werner and Schindler (2004) demonstrated
the impact of misalignment on wayfinding performance using floor plans of four virtual environments based on an
existing office building with a complex structure. When the area around the elevator was misaligned with the rest of
the floor plan, this configuration caused decrements in measures of wayfinding. Thus, reflecting the concern that
has guided much of the research on verisimilitude, an ongoing issue is the extent to which experience in VE
matches the experience of actual travel.
Actual travel, map study, and travel in virtual environments have been differentiated in a number of ways. Montello,
Hegarty, Richardson, and Waller (2004) pointed to differences between direct travel and relying on the memory of
a map, noting that spatial memory typically uses a reference system that is more egocentric than not, which may
be related to the kinds of misorientation difficulties that map users sometimes experience. Maps may be helpful, but
direct travel results in better route acquisition. The authors argue that survey knowledge can be developed
through both real and virtual experience, but that such survey knowledge is not identical to the survey knowledge
provided through the study of maps, a point made earlier by the research of Thorndyke and Hayes-Roth (1982).
But cognitive errors are an equal-opportunity employer, as it were, because similarities across the different kinds of
exposure to wayfinding information include errors. Many of these errors reflect a kind of Gestalt quality, such that
turns and angles, in remembering, are regularized and straightened out (Montello et al., 2004).
A small number of researchers see usefulness in simulations that intentionally deviate from realism (Durlach et al.,
2000). Examples of such deviations are what they call supernormal features, such as the ability to look through
objects to see what is beyond. They also argue for the use of worlds in miniature (WIM), that is, miniature models in
3-D that would allow some flexibility in scale and viewpoint. If supernormal features are used, the researchers
suggest offering the same perspective (egocentric viewpoint) as would be engaged in the real-world version and
employing the same kind of movement (e.g., simulations of walking, driving, climbing over barriers) as well as
including the same kind of aids (e.g., you-are-here maps). In summary, underlying concerns in the work on
verisimilitude have been the extent of agreement between direct contact with the environment and a simulation of
that environment, and the variables that are particularly susceptible to distortion. These concerns continue to be
raised in work on VE.
Developmental Theories
When we turn to developmental theory (and later to developmental behavior), the emphasis in the literature is
primarily theoretical; there is little focus on how this knowledge can be used to enhance wayfinding. In general
terms, most researchers view the ontogenetic development of spatial cognition as advancing from an egocentric
perspective (organized around the self) to an allocentric perspective (independent of the self). Further, this
development is often described as one that relies first on landmarks, moves to an ability to use route structure, and
reaches its highest form of knowledge when a configurational or survey understanding is available.
Although researchers may point to the work of Piaget to begin their discussion of the developmental progression of
spatial understanding that supports wayfinding, many spend more time with the work of Siegel and White (1975).
One reason environmental researchers may spend less time with Piaget (Piaget & Inhelder, 1948/1956) is that his
discussion of the development of spatial cognition was less well articulated than was his discussion of the
traditional periods (i.e., sensorimotor, preoperational, concrete operations, formal operations). The developmental
sequence of spatial cognition is hypothesized to move from topological, through perspective, and finally Euclidean
relationships. The infant is fundamentally an actor and experiences space through movement. Although proposing
it (p. 48) as a stage theory, Piaget and Inhelder argued that the perspective and Euclidean understandings were
maturing at the same time, with a later resolution of Euclidean understanding.
In addition to the developmental sequence, Piagets research paradigm, particularly the three-mountains problem,
has made an impact on environmental psychologists. In the three-mountains problem, which involves a small-scale
model of three mountains mounted on a board, the researcher investigates what the child sees from his/her
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location, and examines whether the child can identify the photo that represents the view that would be visible from
other sides of the model. A primary research question is the age at which the child decentralizes from his/her
egocentric perspective.
The developmental sequences of Piaget and of Siegel and White have a similar emphasis on the progression from a
disorganized and limited (read egocentric) understanding of the environment, ultimately progressing to a
coordinated perspective, which allows the user an independence from any particular point of view (hence,
allocentric). Siegel and White present this progression as moving from reliance on landmarks to route knowledge,
to configurational or survey knowledge. Other developmental models that have received attention in the
environmental literature are those of the anchor-point theory of spatial cognition (Couclelis, Golledge, Gale, &
Tobler, 1987; Golledge, Smith, Pellegrino, Doherty, & Marshall, 1985), which stressed a hierarchical structure
provided by anchors; travel plans (Grling et al., 1984); and Huttenlocher and Newcombes location coding (1984;
Newcombe, 1989). Golledge et al. (2000, p. 94) also reinforced a progression of three increasingly more
sophisticated kinds of knowledge related to wayfinding (route learning; contextual route understanding;
configurational knowledge).
In the anchor-point theory of spatial cognition, the anchor (e.g., where one lives) provides an organizing function
for the understanding of spatial relationships. Rather than scale, the hierarchy is organized by cognitive salience
(Couclelis et al., 1987). In this model, the child and adult progression of spatial cognition is parallel (going through
the same sequence). Grlings model of spatial cognition viewed as travel plans (Grling et al., 1984, 1986) is
similar in many ways to the anchor-point model. Here, the idea of a hierarchy revolves around a sequence of steps
in planning travel (applied to adults), including acquiring the information you need for the trip, where you want to
go, the logical order to visit those places, and the routes to be used to get there. In the case of newcomers, the
roles of landmarks and choice points are critical (Grling et al., 1986); other researchers have emphasized the
organizing function of landmarks (Devlin, 1976; Moore, 1976; Siegel & White, 1975).
Although researchers typically find a general progression in performance from younger to older individuals in both
wayfinding performance and spatial knowledge, such a difference in exploratory behavior is not always found,
suggesting a dissociation between spatial knowledge, wayfinding performance, and exploration behavior. JansenOsmann, Schmid, and Heil (2007) argued that often, spatial behavior and knowledge have been investigated
separately. Using regular and irregular virtual mazes, they measured exploration and the effect of environmental
structure in participants about 8, 11, and 24 years of age. Participants had to locate a target in the maze and learn
the shortest route. There were no age group differences in exploratory behavior, but there were differences in
spatial knowledge progression and wayfinding performance. In other virtual environment research by JansenOsmann (Jansen-Osmann & Fuchs, 2006) focusing on the role of landmarks, there were developmental differences
in wayfinding performance and orientation behavior, but landmarks were equally useful to children (second and
sixth graders) and adults (in their mid-20s).
With regard to the developmental progression, Newcombe (Newcombe & Sluzenski, 2004) stated that the
movement from egocentric to allocentric perspectives is not really that nice and neat, and that children in the first
half year of life make use of response learning and cue learning, as well as dead reckoning, whereas place
learning, involving distance in the absence of a standard, is available for four-year-olds.
In commenting on the importance of methodology as it relates to investigating spatial development in children,
Newcombe (1997) delineated how the tasks we pose, specifically our choice of dependent measures, affect the
conclusions we draw with regard to spatial development. The importance of methodology was also pointed out by
Liben (1982) and Siegel (1981). Liben (1982) argued that the tasks that are selected have a major impact on the
accurate estimation of the childs competence, and that no single task should be used to infer level of competence.
Siegel (1981) also pointed to the need to refine methodology to ask better questions and uncover ways to better
externalize internal spatial knowledge. Recently researchers also argued that a (p. 49) strict developmental
progression is a poor fit for the behavior that is exhibited, with survey representations developing along with
landmark and route representations (Hlscher, Meilinger, Vrachliotis, Brsamle, & Knauff, 2006).
A very good review is offered by Blades (1997), who covered the major theoretical approaches that have emerged
to explain the wayfinding of children, specifically Piaget (Piaget & Inhelder, 1948/1956) and Siegel and White
(1975), and the common techniques used to investigate their spatial knowledge (e.g., route description, sketch
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maps, models, estimates of distance and direction, route recognition, real-world wayfinding).
Developmental Behaviors
The work on developmental behavior continues the emphasis on theory, as opposed to application. What most
people would consider bona fide wayfindingthat is, finding your way in macroenvironmentsis not typically
represented in the research on infants or children younger than school age. That research tests ontogenetic
theories of spatial cognition, focusing on such issues as when children understand that a map or model can stand
for some place in the real world (e.g., Blades & Cooke, 1994; Scholnick, Fein, & Campbell, 1990). The term
wayfinding is used very loosely to describe the tasks in many of these studies on young children, for example,
when kindergarteners arranged the furniture of their classroom using a scale model (Siegel & Schadler, 1977), or
when Blaut and Stea (1974) investigated toy activity to make a street corner during unstructured play.
Moving to school-age children, a sizable number of studies have investigated the developmental ability to judge
distances and to read maps. Still, the size of the environment in question is pretty small, including the school
playground (Blades & Spencer, 1987, 1990), or rooms of various sorts, including those that are collapsible
(Acredolo, 1977; Bluestein & Acredolo, 1979; Hazen, Lockman, & Pick, 1978) or subdivided into smaller spaces
with barriers of different permeability, either opaque or transparent (Kosslyn, Pick, & Fariello, 1974). The focus
ranges from childrens memory to the role of distinctive cues in the environment and environmental familiarity
(Acredolo, Pick, & Olsen, 1975). What stands out from the Acredolo et al. research is not only the developmental
timeline (by the time children are eight they are able to make metric judgments as to whether the environment is
distinctive), but also the importance of landmark distinctiveness. Such distinctiveness helps younger children who
have not given up their reliance on topological relationships.
The environments that have been employed for research are often familiar to the participants, including areas
around their homes, schools, and neighborhoods (Conning & Byrne, 1984; Doherty, Gale, Pellegrino, & Golledge,
1989), and spaces such as libraries or gymnasiums within buildings (Acredolo et al., 1975; Biel, 1982; Cohen,
Weatherford, Lomenick, & Koeller, 1979; Cousins, Siegel, & Maxwell, 1983; Herman, Kolker, & Shaw, 1982; Kahl,
Herman, & Klein, 1984).
When the scale of the research moves beyond rooms or relatively small-scale environments such as playgrounds,
the research is more likely to fit our operational definition of bona fide wayfinding, especially in a group of studies
where participants carried out an actual wayfinding task (Cornell & Hay, 1984; Cornell, Heth, & Broda, 1989;
Cornell, Heth, & Rowat, 1992; Cousins et al., 1983). Other studies have presented the large-scale environment
through simulation, including slides (Allen, 1981; Allen, Kirasic, Siegel, & Herman, 1979; Doherty et al., 1989;
Doherty & Pellegrino, 1985; Siegel, Allen, & Kirasic, 1979).
The Cornell and Hay (1984) study incorporated a good range of macroscale testing conditions and addressed a
variety of theoretical issues, but with little emphasis on application. The testing conditions included walking the
designated route across a university campus, seeing slides of that route, or viewing a video of that route; it
contrasted second graders with children in kindergarten. Across conditions, older children performed better.
Importantly from the standpoint of assessing the issue of simulation, children who went on the guided walk had
fewer errors than those in the video-viewing condition. Moreover, half the participants were also tested along the
reverse route, and those in the walking condition made fewer errors than did those in either of the simulation
(slides, video) conditions. Here is another instance in which simulation does not produce the same results as
walking along the actual route. The benefits of walking a route are reminiscent of an early study by Terence Lee in
which he discussed how sociospatial schemata are formed (Lee, 1957). The school adjustment of rural children
who rode the bus to school was contrasted with those who walked. And although adjustment decreased with time
spent in travel, the walkers had significantly higher adjustment than did the bus users for the same length of time.
Lee argued that the walkers had the opportunity to integrate the schemata of home and school (p. 50) in a way
not available to the bus riders due to the circuitous route taken by the bus.
In summary, throughout these two sections (developmental theories and behaviors), the primary emphasis is to
advance theory; secondary concern is given to applying theory to improve wayfinding. When we turn our attention
to those with cognitive and visual impairments, there is more emphasis on application in the research.
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Wayfinding in Populations with Challenges: Cognitive and Visual Impairments
Cognitive Impairments
Extending wayfinding research along the developmental spectrum to populations with cognitive and/or visual
challenges is of interest to environmental psychologists for practical as well as theoretical reasons. Regularly we
hear of elderly who wander away from a home base and do not return safely. Understanding the wayfinding
competence of these elderly may help them and translate into universally applicable design principles. Older adults
with Alzheimers disease and even those without cognitive impairment may struggle to understand wayfinding
signage, a reason for researchers to contribute solutions to this problem. The addition of text to wayfinding signs
(e.g., for stairwell, airport, bus station, restaurant) with icons (e.g., symbols, pictures) generally improves
wayfinding even for older adults who were healthy (Scialfa et al., 2008).
The number of diagnosed cases of Alzheimers disease continues to increase, with 1 in 85 people worldwide
expected to have the disease by 2050. In North America, that prediction is for 8.8 million by 2050, with 3.1 million
cases in 2010, according to the msnbc.msn.com website in June 2010. Alzheimers dementia is often characterized
by a decline in spatial orientation (Passini, Pigot, Rainville, & Ttreault, 2000), and for that reason has received
considerable attention from wayfinding researchers (e.g., Weisman, Cohen, Ray, & Day, 1991). One suggestion is
that Alzheimers disease affects the hippocampal place neurons, rendering maintenance of cognitive maps more
difficult (Parnetti & Calabresi, 2006, p. S77). In addition to the loss of tissue in the right posterior area of the
hippocampus, others point to an involvement of parietal areas as well (delpolyi, Rankin, Mucke, Miller, & GornoTempini, 2007).
In research by Passini et al. (2000) on individuals with advanced Alzheimers disease (AD), wayfinding was
hindered by a monotonous architectural environment and lack of reference points to aid orientation. Where it was
possible for patients to see ahead (visual access), wayfinding was improved. Signage reinforces goal-directedness
and is important to reduce the wayfinding deficits created through memory impairment. Elevators were particularly
challenging, causing significant confusion. The study also pointed to the role of decoration, in particular to floor
patterns, as presenting a possible source of disorientation for patients. The authors suggested that the use of
pictograms for AD patients might be worth investigation; they also pointed out that the names given to rooms need
to relate to the function the rooms serve.
Research by Kirasic (1985), among others, pointed to difficulty the elderly may have finding their way in unfamiliar
environments. But Ohta and Kirasic (1983) as well as others (e.g., Lavoie & Demick, 1995) also demonstrated that
laboratory studies of the spatial cognition of the elderly may underestimate their performance in real-world settings.
Research conducted in a suburban mall showed that information presented in a number of different forms could be
helpful, including as a map/model, as a videotape, or as a verbal description (Kirasic & Mathes, 1990).
In research employing virtual reality mazes and MRI scans (Head & Isom, 2010), the hippocampus was implicated
in wayfinding whereas the caudate nucleus was associated with route learning. Older people (mean age in the low
70s) in this study acquired less knowledge about the environment, traveled a greater distance to locate specific
targets, had poorer recall for landmarks in the virtual environment, and were less good at assimilating the route
than were younger participants (college students). Further, research by Cushman, Stein, and Duffy (2008)
comparing young (YNC) and older normals (ONC), participants with mild cognitive impairment (MCI), and those with
early AD (EAD) was important in showing the viability of virtual environment analysis of wayfinding abilities. These
authors persuasively argued how difficult it is to do valid real-life wayfinding evaluation in impaired individuals (and
normals, for that matter) and highlighted the viability of research with virtual environments. They tested the
connection between visual scenes and locations using eight subtests for both real and virtual conditions. The
focus (real and virtual) was a lobby of a hospital following a path of about 1,000 feet, which lasted about four
minutes (with all participants pushed in a wheelchair). YNC had the best performance, followed by ONC, MCI, and
finally EAD; those in the virtual condition had (p. 51) lower scores across groups, but virtual reality equally
affected all groups, and real-world and virtual scores correlated at r = .73. The learning of navigational landmarks
is equivalent in real-world and virtual environments, suggesting that cognitive mechanisms are similarly engaged
under both conditions (Cushman et al., 2008, p. 892).
Passini, Rainville, Marchand, and Joanette (1995, 1998) suggested that people who suffer from Alzheimers disease
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are hampered by the inability to make wayfinding travel plans, although there is some evidence that AD patients
could execute subplans (parts of an overall plan) in a complex, multipart wayfinding task from a bus stop to the site
of the dental clinic within a hospital. Passini et al. (1995, 1998) commented that while disorientation may begin in
unfamiliar environments, the progress of the disease brings with it an inability to successfully navigate in familiar
environments. While some of this research emphasized areas of brain function (e.g., Head & Isom, 2010), other
research, such as that of Cushman et al. (2008), showed more clearly the applied context within which the
research on cognitive impairments can be situated. Research on those with cognitive impairments, especially AD,
reflects a likely model for future investigation by integrating an interest in brain regions and environmental structure
(e.g., usefulness of landmarks).
Visual Impairments
In addition to those with cognitive impairments, people with visual impairments provide a population of interest for
environmental psychologists from a practical as well as a theoretical perspective. Theoretically, environmental
psychologists who take a cognitive perspective have been interested in the extent to which individuals with visual
impairments form cognitive maps. An extension of this interest is the role of wayfinding assistance (i.e., aids) for the
visually impaired.
Research suggests those who are blind or have severe visual impairments nevertheless have spatial
representations of the environment (Fletcher, 1980; Juurmaa, 1973; Kennedy, Gabias, & Heller, 1992; Klatzky,
Golledge, Loomis, Cicinelli, & Pellegrino, 1995; Landau, Spelke, & Gleitman, 1984; Passini, Proulx, & Rainville, 1990;
Strelow, 1985). In research with 30 participants including those who were blind, visually impaired, or not impaired,
repeated experience over a 1.2-mile route led to equivalent wayfinding performance. The authors suggested that it
is not lack of spatial ability but rather deficiency of sight that may explain initial differences in performance
(Golledge et al., 2000). To facilitate wayfinding, it seems likely that those with severe visual impairments make more
use of a self-referent system (awareness of where their bodies are in space) than do sighted individuals (Dodds,
Howarth, & Carter, 1982; Haber, Haber, Penningroth, Novak, & Radgowski, 1993).
In a low-tech approach, wayfinding difficulties have been identified through the use of goggles to simulate a
variety of visual impairments (e.g., glaucoma, diabetic retinopathy, cataracts, and macular degeneration).
Participants had difficulty with such decorative elements as floor patterns with changes and tiles that are shiny or
look wet. Lighting changes can mislead those with vision impairments to misjudge the size of corridors and
doorways. Wayfinding signage itself caused difficulty due to variability in size, illumination, and location
(Koneczny, Rousek, & Hallbeck, 2009).
Research by Espinosa, Ungar, Ochata, Blades, and Spencer (1998) suggested some advantages in giving people
who are blind or visually impaired the use of tactile maps in learning the spatial representation of a new
environment rather than relying solely on direct experience sans wayfinding aids. The authors suggested the use
of both direct experience and tactile maps by orientation and mobility instructors who work with visually impaired
individuals. Espinosa et al.s research gave more importance to tactile maps than has generally been reported in
the literature. In summary, research on those with cognitive and visual impairments has been a successful merger
of theory and application in wayfinding and spatial cognition.
Gender Differences
The research on gender differences in wayfinding and spatial cognition has often been situated within the context
of performance deficit. Typically, little emphasis has been given to the practical implication of any behavioral
differences between men and women that may exist.
Gender differences in spatial cognition and wayfinding have been reported in much of the environmental
psychology literature and in some cases have been a focus of such research. Reported gender differences can be
organized into three general areas: (1) mental rotation, (2) spatial anxiety and confidence, (3) behavioral
dependent measures (accuracy; distance; use of cardinal directions and landmarks).
Mental Rotation
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The difference between men and women on mental rotation tasks is significant (Hyde, 1990; (p. 52) Masters &
Sanders, 1993) and repeatedly reported (e.g., Corballis, 1982; Halpern, 1986; Herman & Bruce, 1983; Sanders &
Soares, 1986; Sanders, Soares, & DAquila, 1982). The mean effect size of mental rotation as measured by the
Vandenberg and Kuse task (1978) was .94, reported in Linn and Petersens 1985 meta-analysis; Masters and
Sanders (1993) did not find the gender difference on the mental rotation task to be shrinking. A significant body of
research suggests that the mental rotation differences do not emerge until late childhood/adolescence (Pezaris &
Casey, 1991; Snow & Strope, 1990; Waber, 1976, 1977; Waber, Carlson, & Mann, 1982), with a large study
reporting reliable difference by age 10 (Johnson & Meade, 1987). However, one recent study reported a difference
in three- to four-month-old infants related to male infants preference for the mirror image of a stimulus over a novel
rotation of a familiar stimulus, whereas female infants divided their attention between the two (Quinn & Liben, 2008).
Despite the reported gender differences in mental rotation performance in the lab, MRT scores are not necessarily
predictive of performance on real-world wayfinding tasks, and not all of these tasks show gender differences in
performance (discussed in the section on behavioral measures).
Anxiety and Confidence

Lawton (1994, 1996; Lawton, Charleston, & Zieles, 1996) developed a number of scales that have been widely
used in the research on wayfinding and spatial cognition. One of these tests assesses spatial anxiety (1994), in
which the respondent characterizes the level of anxiety likely to be experienced in indoor or outdoor wayfinding
situations. Lawton also introduced other scales that often reflect gender differences. The Wayfinding Strategy
Scale (Lawton, 1994) measures the extent to which one prefers to use an orientation strategy or a route strategy
when driving to a new place. Tracking your position in reference to orientation points underlies the orientation
strategy, whereas focusing on a sequence of steps with an emphasis on landmarks characterizes the route
strategy. Women were more likely to use a route strategy whereas men were more likely to report using an
orientation strategy (Lawton, 1994).
A number of studies beyond Lawton (1994) reported a higher level of spatial anxiety by women. Gender
differences in spatial anxiety appear in young teenagers, ages 10 to 17 (Schmitz, 1997), with girls reporting higher
levels, which correlate with slower movement through a maze. In general anxiety may reduce the use of an
orientation strategy (Kallai, Kerekes, Osvath, Makany, & Jarai, 2003).
Men are more confident in their wayfinding ability (e.g., Devlin & Bernstein, 1995; Kozlowski & Bryant, 1977;
Lawton, 1996) and more confident in their sense of direction (Holding, 1992; Hlscher et al., 2006; Kozlowski &
Bryant, 1977; Streeter & Vitello, 1986) than are women. Women report more difficulty in wayfinding related to
driving than do men (Burns, 1998). It is reasonable to say that more studies show gender differences in confidence
related to wayfinding than do not, and there is a relationship between confidence and performance. For example,
research has indicated significant relationships between lower error scores and greater confidence in wayfinding
(e.g., Devlin & Bernstein, 1995) and between larger pointing errors and higher spatial anxiety (Lawton, 1996).
Wayfinding Measures
Dependent measures of wayfinding take a variety of forms, from navigating through an environment (e.g., Cornell
et al., 1989; Cornell et al., 1992; Lawton et al., 1996; Lvdn et al., 2007; Matthews, 1987; Webley, 1981), drawing
sketch maps (Doherty et al., 1989; Matthews, 1987), listing elements of a campus (Holding, 1992), giving distance
estimates (e.g., Kirasic, Allen, & Siegel, 1984), and pointing to origins or destinations (e.g., Anooshian & Young,
1981). In addition to such variables as accuracy (as in the pointing task or distance estimation), time can be
assessed as well as whether the target destination is actually reached. One difference that is not infrequently
reported is that women make more pointing errors than do men (e.g., Holding, 1992; Holding & Holding, 1989;
Lawton, 1996).
Although women are often less accurate than are men at pointing from a destination back to an origin, this deficit is
not necessarily related to their ability to find their way back to the origin or to their performance on some spatial
relational learning tasks (e.g., Lavenex & Lavenex, 2010). An instructional study is one by Lawton et al. (1996) in
which women did as well as men in the actual navigation portion of a task, finding their way through connecting
hallways in a campus building, as measured by time to complete the return trip, elements of the verbal protocols, or
the specific wayfinding pattern chosen. The large difference in pointing accuracy, where the errors for women
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were a mean of about 89 degrees versus a mean of about 48 degrees for men, did not seem to impede womens
wayfinding (p. 53) success. As the study by Lawton et al. (1996) indicated, there is less evidence for gender
differences in tasks of macrospatial cognition (see also Pearson & Ferguson, 1989) than for assessments that
require precision, such as pointing accuracy.
Men and women may use different wayfinding strategies. Some researchers suggest that men and women differ in
the approach to organizing topographic space (McGuinness & Sparks, 1983), with a Euclidean emphasis by men
(e.g., Coluccia, Iosue, & Brandimonte, 2007; Matthews, 1987) and a landmark emphasis by women (Galea &
Kimura, 1993; Miller & Santoni, 1986), although the female predilection for greater landmark use does not always
appear (Herman, Kail, & Siegel, 1979). When men and women provided verbal directions from a map representing
an unfamiliar environment (Ward, Newcombe, & Overton, 1986), there were differences in the use of cardinal
directions and mileage indicators (more by men), whereas women made more errors of omission and commission
when asked to recall the map from memory. It is likely that task demands heavily influence these outcomes in terms
of whether the information provided must be exhaustive, which in turn would influence performance variables
(Devlin, 2001).
Women seem to be at a disadvantage in performance when angular judgments are required. When relative
judgments are required, for example, in selecting which photograph represents a scene that is closer to a target
scene (Allen, 1981), selecting scenes high in landmark potential (Allen et al., 1979), or recognizing scenes
(Doherty & Pellegrino, 1985), there is more likely to be gender parity.
It is beyond the scope of this chapter to evaluate the origins of sex differences in spatial ability; as many as seven
different explanations (dispersal, fertility and parental care, female foraging, male foraging, range size, male
warfare, and female choice) have been posited (Jones, Braithwaite, & Healy, 2003). Jones et al. evaluated these
explanations and pointed to differences in range size as the most viable option.
A comprehensive summary of the gender differences in spatial orientation (i.e., location of the individual with
regard to a reference point) was provided by Coluccia and Iosue (2004), who advanced the role of visuospatial
working memory in resolving some of the contradictions in the literature. Their summary of the literature showed a
high percentage of studies with an advantage to men in pointing tasks (about 64%) and wayfinding tasks (about
61%), whereas in map drawing and in distance estimates about 55% and 71%, respectively, of the studies reported
no difference. In none of these categories did performance by women exceed that of men across studies. The
authors reviewed biological factors, environmental factors, interactionist approaches, evolutionary explanations,
strategy differences, and personality factors. Their assessment was that gender differences emerge during difficult
orientation tasks, and one way of evaluating task difficulty is the load the task puts on working memory.
The advantage to men in wayfinding appears in virtual environments as diverse as water mazes and shopping
centers. In research involving a virtual water maze, men were typically faster in locating the hidden platform (Astur,
Tropp, Sava, Constable, & Markus, 2004). This difference is also reported in children (Newhouse, Newhouse, &
Astur, 2007). Woolley et al. (2010) suggested men may process distal features in the environment (i.e., visual cues
that are outside the wall of the water maze pool) differently than do women and start out these tasks heading more
in the correct direction than do women. These researchers attributed gender differences in performance on this
task to this difference in the ability to search for the correct trajectory initially, not to a spatial learning deficit for
women. In a very different kind of virtual environment, a shopping center with 14 shops and 6 targets, women
performed less well on a variety of dependent measures. They took more time, made more navigational errors, had
lower accuracy on target placement, and demonstrated poorer performance returning to the origin (Tlauka,
Brolese, Pomeroy, & Hobbs, 2005).
In trying to sort out these gender differences in wayfinding, some researchers have examined the role of
confounding variables. For example, by testing men and women with instructions based on Euclidean information
(cardinal directions and distance estimates) and separately for instructions based on landmarks (e.g., the red
bench), Saucier et al. (2002) were able to tease apart gender differences in spatial ability and spatial strategy
preference, confounded in most research, by having men and women follow directions using Euclidean instructions
or landmark-based instructions. Women following instructions based on Euclidean information had more errors and
took longer to reach the target destinations than either men or women in the landmark-based condition or men in
the Euclidean condition. The authors suggested that men and women use different navigational strategies, which
Page 13 of 29

lead to differences in performance. (p. 54) They suggested, Women may commit more errors in Euclidean
navigation because of a reduced ability to maintain orientation with respect to north (p. 409). Other researchers
also have pointed to use of different strategies as a way to understand gender differences in wayfinding (e.g.,
Choi, McKillop, Ward, & LHirondelle, 2006).
But with some adjustments in the kinds of aids provided, womens performance can be enhanced, with implications
for the way in which virtual interfaces are designed (e.g., flying, driving) (Chen, Chang, & Chang, 2009). In
research in a virtual aquarium, women were better with egocentric supports (guide signs) than with allocentric
support (you-are-here maps); the difference in type of support did not significantly impact the performance of men.
Rather than simply documenting gender differences, researchers may want to elucidate the kinds of aids that
improve performance, as was done in the Chen et al. study. One challenge for environmental researchers
interested in gender differences in spatial cognition is to move beyond the restrictions of the performance deficit
argument and develop wayfinding aids that match the different approaches that may be taken by men and women.
Analytical Tools: Space Syntax and Geographic Information System (GIS)

As indicated in this chapter, increasingly research on wayfinding and spatial cognition is being shaped by
advances in technology. Beyond assessing brain activity with fMRIs and PET scans, analytic techniques such as
space syntax and geographic information provide sophisticated tools to understand the factors that influence
wayfinding.
Space Syntax
Space syntax analysis is a technique that enables researchers to evaluate the connectivity of spaces; that is, how
spaces are connected to one another. With regard to wayfinding, this technique has been used to better
understand the functional spatial configuration of a building (e.g., Haq, 2003; Haq & Zimring, 2003; Tzeng &
Huang, 2009), or a larger space such as a neighborhood (Nenci & Troffa, 2006), and the complexity of such
spaces may predict performance on wayfinding tasks, such as pointing to targets that are not visible and drawing a
sketch map of the space. Space syntax may offer one way of expressing how cognitive maps are connected
(literally) to wayfinding behavior and is one way to approach configurational analysis (Haq, 2003). In terms of
applicability, space syntax analysis may be a good way of testing for possible wayfinding difficulties in buildings
and projects, and the role of local and relational qualities for new users potentially helps fine-tune these methods
(Haq & Zimring, 2003, p. 159). Interested readers are directed to the January 2003 issue of Environment and
Behavior, which focuses on space syntax, and to the seminal work of Hillier and Hanson (1984).
GIS
Not surprisingly given his training as a geographer, Golledge was enthusiastic in describing the role of geographic
information systems (GIS) in environmental psychology and laid out that case in a chapter for the Handbook of
Environmental Psychology (Bechtel & Churchman, 2002). GIS is a set of computer procedures for geocoding,
storing, decoding, analyzing, and visually representing spatial information (Golledge, 2002, p. 244). Golledge
(2002) presented GIS as two-faced, like Janus: one side applied and the other theoretical. When he wrote the
chapter, Golledge saw unrealized potential, especially in linking qualitative and quantitative analysis, in the use of
GIS by environmental psychologists. Ten years after he wrote this, some headway has been made in more
widespread use of GIS for wayfinding research, although the virgin territory of environmental psychology to
engage GIS described by Golledge (2002, p. 252) essentially remains. Using the Scopus database, entering the
terms wayfinding and GIS yielded 16 entries on July 12, 2010, of which 13 were published after 2000. Similarly,
that same day GIS and cognitive map yielded 18 entries, 9 of which were published after 2000.
But there is some progress. For example, a role of GIS in the recovery of lost persons has been proposed (Heth &
Cornell, 2007), and Borst et al. (2009) used GIS to investigate the characteristics of streets that encourage (e.g.,
front gardens) or discourage (e.g., litter, slopes, stairs) walking by elderly individuals when they go shopping, to a
health care facility, or to visit a friend or relative. Mandel (2010) reports that GIS can be used to map the most
popular routes used by library patrons within the library, and a combination of GIS (for planned route behavior) and
person-based GPS (for actual route behavior) was used to assess the degree to which where we say we plan to go
Page 14 of 29

and the route we actually use to get there coincide (Papinski, Scott, & Doherty, 2009).
(p. 55) Making a Difference: Applications of Wayfinding Research

Almost 15 years ago in a special issue on cognitive mapping research in the Journal of Environmental Psychology,
Jackson and Kitchin (1998) pointed to the importance of practical applications for cognitive mapping research, and
there is recognition that the architectural field could benefit from an understanding of cognitive principles (Werner
& Long, 2003). As indicated in this chapter, there are points of intersection between theory and application, but the
research on wayfinding and spatial cognition has on balance been more theoretical, and the practical applications
that Jackson and Kitchin recommended have yet to be fully realized.
Arguably one practical outcome of the research on spatial cognition and wayfinding is to create environments,
from the scale of a building to a city, that enhance our ability to successfully find our way, as well as effective
wayfinding aids. Research on existing wayfinding aids, such as you-are-here maps (e.g., Levine, 1982; Levine et
al., 1984), has led to a better understanding of what needs to be represented and how it needs to be represented if
the aid is to work. The work of Levine and his colleagues emphasized two principles: The orientation principle
states that the you-are-here map needs to parallel the terrain. The forward-up equivalence principle states that
people operate as if moving forward equals what is shown as up on the map. And just because experts make
them doesnt mean that maps are easily comprehended. Maps dont always help people, as was demonstrated
when 20 newcomers to New York City could not use the 1972 subway map to carry out a route that incorporated
four segments that were connected (Bronzaft, Dobrow, & OHanlon, 1976).
Regarding signage, placing signs at choice points is recommended (Carpman & Grant, 1993), but as the research
on you-are-here maps (Levine, 1982; Levine et al., 1984) so vividly demonstrated, such manifest cues for
wayfinding (i.e., cues that are intended to aid in wayfinding) do not necessarily serve their intended purpose. In a
nursing home, (p. 56) research by Weisman (1987) demonstrated that the latent wayfinding cues (i.e., cues not
necessarily designed for wayfinding, such as a barbershop pole) more often serve as distinctive wayfinding
landmarks than do their manifest counterparts. In this study, 82% of the cues residents mentioned belonged in the
latent category.
Researchers have also investigated the limits to complexity depicted on maps (e.g., Eastman, 1985; Kovach,
Surrette, & Aamodt, 1988) and the use of color (Kosslyn, 1994; Olson, 1987; Smallman & Boynton, 1990; Travis,
1991). As was found earlier in the research by Kaplan et al. (1974), humans make good use of fairly simple
depictions of the environment.
Related to the appearance of signage, color has been more the domain of researchers in statistical graphics than
for researchers involved in wayfinding. Some of the best advice comes from Tufte (1983, 1990), who recommends
the use of gradations of gray to indicate changes in quantity. A number of wayfinding studies have incorporated an
evaluation of color (e.g., Devlin & Bernstein, 1997; Garland, Haynes, & Grubb, 1979) with mixed results. In the
Garland et al. study evaluating city bus maps, more errors occurred in the black and white version with high detail
than in the color version with the same level of detail; thus color helped to differentiate detail. But to manage costs
(because color is expensive), the authors suggested eliminating minor streets and using a black and white version.
Devlin and Bernstein (1997) found no advantage of color in their evaluation of maps of a tourist attraction, but
there was little color differentiation in the versions of the maps used in their study, which were shown to
participants using a touch-screen monitor mounted in a computer kiosk. Some researchers (e.g., Jansen-Osmann &
Wiedenbauer, 2004) reported improved wayfinding performance in both children and adults in a virtual
environment in the condition in which the three main routes were presented in different colors versus the routes
represented in gray, although the use of color still did not lead to better formation of a survey map than did the use
of gray.
It has been argued that color by itself is not an effective wayfinding aid and works better if incorporated into
thematic content (Devlin, 2001), if the aim is to use color to differentiate floors of a building. One problem with the
use of color by itself is that users are not necessarily educated to view color as a wayfinding aid (Selfridge, 1979).
Further, color-blindness as well as changes in perception of color in the elderly also limit the usefulness of color as
a wayfinding aid.
Page 15 of 29

Although sign placement and color are important, the layout of the building is arguably more important. Properly
placed, signs have the ability to facilitate wayfinding, but legibility must begin with the building itself. Research has
demonstrated that if the building is not planned with regard for legibility, wayfinding problems will ensue. Early
research by Weisman (1981) demonstrated that the judged simplicity of the layout predicted 56% of the variability
in scores on wayfinding tasks, whereas familiarity with the buildings explained only 9% of the variance. The
complexity of the floor plan was reflected in the number of angles. ONeill (1991b) similarly found a negative
relationship between floor plan complexity and wayfinding success. This was a study in which the availability of
signage on wayfinding success was measured and reduced the number of wrong turns by 50% and travel time by
13%. Another stunning example is research by Moeser (1988) on a complex hospital environment in which student
nurses who had been in the building for a number of months demonstrated poorer wayfinding ability than did new
students who performed wayfinding tasks after memorizing a floor plan to criterion and taking a tour. Certainly
posting signs helps wayfinding (Tang, Wu, & Lin, 2009) as does having perceptual access (i.e., views) (Grling,
Lindberg, & Mantyla, 1983), but the basic floor plan is the foundation of legibility (pun intended).
We are beginning to see the applications of spatial cognition and wayfinding extend to such activities as
emergency response and fire evacuation. Knowledge of spatial cognition indirectly tied to wayfinding is even being
used in selecting students for entry into dental school; for medical students, spatial cognition ability predicts
performance in laparoscopic surgery, although the good news is that for those with lower spatial ability, training
can also improve performance (Hegarty, Keehner, Cohen, Montello, & Lippa, 2007).
As researchers examine such behaviors as evacuation during fire drills (Kobes et al., 2009), they better
understand the wayfinding implications of both building structure and signage. These researchers used smoke and
placed exit signs down low to investigate the impact of those variables on wayfinding in actual hotels during fire
drills, using what is called the technique of serious gaming. Although that term is often applied to computer games,
here it applies to real-world exercises. People will generally exit through the main entrance without the presence of
smoke; in the presence of smoke they are more likely to use the fire exit, and low-placed signs facilitate the use of
the fire exit nearest the evacuee. People who used the fire exit evacuated more quickly than those who used the
main exit, so using environmental design and wayfinding aids to facilitate this behavior is relevant. Further
familiarity with hotel stays was related to exit strategy; with less experience, people are more likely to exit via the
main entrance, not the fire exit.
Building on earlier studies using head-mounted displays to enhance wayfinding, Wilson and Wright (2009)
examined the use of head-mounted displays (HMD) integrated into the facemask of firefighters to help their
navigation inside a complex building on the University of CaliforniaBerkeley campus. There were advantages of
speed, shorter distance traveled, and fewer errors for those with the HMD. The significantly higher accuracy and
consistency suggest that the HMD helped the subjects to form more effective cognitive maps (p. 682). This
research involving first responders and evacuation during fires is an exciting application of wayfinding and spatial
cognition to environmental safety and has policy implications.
Research on Wayfinding in Natural Environments

With regard to wayfinding and spatial cognition, little research has specifically addressed natural environments.
Where the natural environment has been studied, more similarities than differences emerge in the components that
serve wayfinding in natural as compared to urban environments. For example, in Brosset, Claramunt, and Sauxs
(2008) study of the reflections of 15 experienced orienteers in a foot orienteering race, the role of linear features
predominated, as a way of reflecting the underlying structural network of the environment. In the same study, this
linear emphasis contrasted with the point emphasis (i.e., landmarks) that emerged in Brosset et al.s analysis of two
studies conducted in urban environments. Yet overall the authors argued that the relative importance of
geometrical primitives (i.e., points, lines, areas/polygons) in natural and urban environments is mostly similar (p.
29). The role of linear elements also appeared in the work of Fontaine, Edwards, Tversky, and Denis (2005), who in
a series of studies compared the sketch maps that experts and non-experts drew of a park. Additional participants
who were familiar or unfamiliar with the park in question were then asked to identify which of the map elements
would be essential to retain; paths were selected as the elements that make a park map effective. Other research
reflects the importance of signs at junctions in a trail park (Soh & Smith-Jackson, 2004). Thus, across a limited
number of studies, elements such as paths that assist wayfinding in the urban environment (see, for example,
Page 16 of 29

Appleyard, 1976; DeJonge, 1962; Lynch, 1960) also assist wayfinding (p. 57) in natural environments. Moreover,
providing signage at choice points addresses underlying cognitive requirements, whether in natural or urban
environments.
Conclusion
Research in environmental psychology linking wayfinding and spatial cognition is growing, spurred by advances in
technology that permit great flexibility with increasing affordability. Theoretically we see less commitment to a strict
developmental progression of landmark to route to survey/configurational knowledge. Gender differences continue
to be examined, and the often-reported difference between men and women on the mental rotations test continues.
At the same time, there is increasing evidence that men and women may use different strategies for successful
wayfinding. This knowledge may eventually be incorporated into different options for men and women in the kind of
wayfinding information they select from wayfinding technology (e.g., GPS devices). Environmental psychology has
been affected by the dominance of neuroscience in psychology, as wayfinding researchers attempt to pinpoint the
brain areas (most likely the hippocampus and parahippocampus) underlying place learning. Finally, moving beyond
the contribution of you-are-here maps and the location of signage, research linking spatial cognition and
wayfinding is being applied to first responders, such as firefighters, as well as increasingly to populations with
cognitive and/or visual impairment.
Future Directions
Based on this review of the literature, it is likely researchers interested in wayfinding and spatial cognition will
continue to examine the degree of correspondence between iconic simulations, in particular virtual reality, and
wayfinding in real environments. Virtual reality has many advantages, such as its flexibility and its application to
populations with cognitive challenges, but the field must continue to examine the areas of both divergence and
convergence in verisimilitude before relying too heavily on this technology. Similarly, psychology, including
environmental psychology, is experiencing unprecedented interest in neuroscience and brain mechanisms, and
this interest brings with it a host of associated sophisticated technologies, such as fMRI and PET scans. As the field
pursues neuroscience to better understand the relationship between wayfinding and spatial cognition, what is the
role of research that relies on less sophisticated technologies? Many researchers continue to view womens
wayfinding performance (e.g., pointing) and spatial cognition (e.g., mental rotation) as deficient and mens as
superior. Rather than this limited perspective, more research is needed on the differential use of navigational
strategies by men and women. Practical application as well as theory evaluation can be fostered by better
understanding what conditions maximize wayfinding performance for each gender. Finally, for research on
wayfinding and spatial cognition to influence policy, practical applications need to be highlighted.
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Notes:
(1.) In organizing the topics for this chapter and reviewing the literature prior to 2000, I have been guided by my
2001 book, Mind and Maze: Spatial Cognition and Environmental Behavior.
Ann Sloan Devlin
Ann Sloan Devlin Department of Psychology Connecticut College New London, CT
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Environmental Attitudes

Robert Gifford and Reuven Sussman
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0004

Environmental attitudes are important because they often, but not always, determine behavior that either increases
or decreases environmental quality. Traditionally, attitudes have cognitive, affective, and conative elements, but
environmental attitudes might be better described as having preservation and utilization dimensions. Proenvironmental attitudes rise and fall with current events and vary with age, gender, socioeconomic status, nation,
urban-rural residence, religion, politics, values, personality, experience, education, and environmental knowledge.
Environmental education aims to improve environmental attitudes but has mixed results. The mass media have
been both helpful and harmful. Two prominent theories for explaining environmental attitude-behavior relations are
the theory of planned behavior and value-beliefs-norm theory, which offer the benefit of parsimony and the
shortcoming of incompleteness. Researchers have, for example, suggested additions to the theory of planned
behavior, noting that pro-environmental behaviors vary in their effort to complete, which influences the attitudebehavior relation, and that many barriers to behavior change exist.
Keywords: attitudes, attitude structure, environmental concern, attitude-behavior relations, variations in environmental concern
Introduction
An attitude is a latent construct mentally attached to a concrete or abstract object (otherwise known as an
attitude objecta person, place, entity, or idea). Traditionally, attitudes have three components: cognitive
(thoughts about the object, usually including an evaluation), affective (feelings about the object), and conative
(behavioral intentions and actions regarding the object) (Breckler, 1984).
Attitudes can be confused with other constructs, such as values, beliefs (sometimes considered the cognitive
component of attitudes), opinions, personality dispositions, and personal norms. Although all these concepts relate
to the three attitude components to some extent, they also differ in subtle but important ways. For example, beliefs
list toward the cognitive; values are broader than attitudes and more culturally bound. Opinions, historically in
competition with attitudes, are more cognitive (Shrigley, Koballa, & Simpson, 1988, p. 659). Personality traits differ
from attitudes in that, like values, they are not focused on a particular object, are not necessarily evaluative, and
are not easily changeable (Ajzen, 2005). Another construct that has recently gained favor in environmental
psychology research is personal norm, originally proposed by Schwartz (1977). Unlike attitudes, proenvironmental personal norms are internalized social norms that directly influence behavior through feelings of
guilt (Bamberg, Hunecke, & Blbaum, 2007; Bamberg & Mser, 2007).This chapter focuses on environmental
attitudes, which are defined as concern for the environment or caring about environmental issues (sometimes (p.
66) referred to as pro-environmental attitudes). Five topics will be examined: the importance of studying
environmental attitudes, the structure and measurement of environmental attitudes, variables that affect concern
for the environment, methods for encouraging environmental attitudes, and factors that inhibit or promote attitudes
Page 1 of 22
influencing behavior.
The Importance of Studying Environmental Attitudes

The most intuitive reason for studying environmental attitudes is that they may determine behavior. However, this
relation is tenuous; many people evince higher levels of concern than is expressed in their behavior (Jurin &
Fortner, 2002). Some studies have demonstrated a strong link between attitudes and pro-environmental behavior
(Heberlein & Black, 1981; Iversen & Rundmo, 2001; Kuhlemeier, van den Bergh & Lagerweij, 1999; Poortinga, Steg,
& Vlek, 2004; Tarrant & Cordell, 1997; Vogel, 1996), but others have not (e.g., ORiordan, 1976; Scott & Willits,
1994).
One explanation for this discrepancy in the research findings may rest with the methods used to collect behavioral
information. Typically, a strong association exists between attitudes and self-reported behavior (Borden &
Schettino, 1979; Dispoto, 1977), but self-reported behavior is frequently overreported (e.g., Chao & Lam, 2011)
and may be the result of different influences than actual (observed) behavior (Manzo & Weinstein, 1987; Syme &
Nancarrow, 1992). Weaker associations are found between environmental attitudes and observed behavior.
A second reason environmental attitudes are not strongly predictive of pro-environmental behavior is specificity.
General attitudes may not predict specific behaviors well because each behavior has a unique set of predictors
associated with it (Balderjahn, 1988; Homburg & Stolberg, 2006; Nemiroff & McKenzie-Mohr, 1992; Sivek &
Hungerford, 1989; Tanner & Kast, 2003). However, general attitudes can predict general trends in large numbers of
behaviors (Kaiser, 1998; Weigel & Newman, 1976), and specific attitudes can predict specific behaviors (Bamberg,
2003; Mobley, Vagias, & DeWard, 2010).
Attitudes may predict specific behaviors, but they may have some general predictiveness as well. That is,
environmental attitudes that predict individual behaviors may also predict other similar behaviors. For example,
recycling may be the first step toward adopting other pro-environmental behaviors or supporting political action
(Berger, 1997; Daneshvary, Daneshvary, & Schwer, 1998), and a generalized energy conservation ethic
(predicting multiple energy-reducing behaviors) may exist for a small number of households (Painter, Semenik, &
Belk, 1983).
The study of environmental attitudes is also useful for gauging the level of public support for environmental action.
Policy makers, park superintendents, fish and game officers, forestry officials, building managers, and recycling
coordinators have all made use of environmental attitude research (Heberlein, 1989).
One problem with environmental attitude research is that measured attitudes can be subject to a social desirability
bias. Given that individuals tend to see environmental concern as socially desirable (Bord, Fisher, & OConnor,
1998) and that most environmental attitude measures are based on self-reports, participants may provide
responses that are biased toward appearing more concerned than they actually are. However, social desirability in
one recent study was only weakly related to self-reported attitudes, and was not related to pro-environmental
behavior, thus lending credibility to the self-reported measurement of environmental attitudes (Milfont, 2008).
The Measurement and Structure of Environmental Attitudes

As described above, attitudes have been traditionally defined as being composed of cognitive, affective, and
conative components. However, some theorists have postulated alternative structures for environmental attitudes.
Several measurement tools for environmental attitudes, based on alternative ways of defining attitudes, have been
proposed.
Measuring Environmental Attitudes

At least 15 measures of environmental attitudes and concern have been developed since the 1970s (Gifford,
2007). Experimenters often prefer to develop and use a new measure rather than use a measure that has been
previously constructed, validated, and tested. When measures differ in their definition (and the specificity) of
environmental attitudes, cross-study comparisons can be difficult. However, it can be useful having a variety of
questionnaires and scales because attitudes can be context- or behavior-specific, requiring more specific and up-
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to-date measures. Thus, several environmental attitudes measurement instruments that may be useful for
researchers are described next, in the order in which they were developed.
(p. 67) The 1970s saw the earliest development of environmental attitudes scales. The Maloney-Ward Ecology
Inventory (Maloney & Ward, 1973; Maloney, Ward, & Braucht, 1975) was based on the traditional definition of
attitudes and contained subscales measuring knowledge (cognitive component), affect, and verbal/actual
commitment (conative component). Later, the Weigel Environmental Concern Scale was developed (Weigel &
Weigel, 1978), which was shorter but contained no subscales. The most frequently used environmental
questionnaire was created in the same year by Dunlap and Van Liere (1978). The New Environmental Paradigm
measured the degree to which respondents believe that Earth is sacred and deserves protection for its own sake.
The revised version, the New Ecological Paradigm Scale (Dunlap, Van Liere, Mertig, & Emmet Jones, 2000),
contains 16 items and has been factor analyzed, revealing several possible dimensions (Bechtel, Corral Verdugo,
& de Queiroz Pinheiro, 1999; Noe & Snow, 1990).
In the early 1990s, two German scales were developed to measure environmental concern and environmental
pessimism, respectively (Schahn & Holzer, 1990; Sohr, 1994). A third scale, also developed around that time, was
created to measure environmental worry about exposure to organic solvents (Bowler & Schwarzer, 1991). Worry
was conceptualized as different from pessimism in that pessimism is fatalistic, whereas worry may motivate
appropriate action. Yet another instrument, the Environmentalism Scale, was based on the work of previously
developed values questionnaires (Banerjee & McKeage, 1994). It comprises subscales that measure substantive
environmentalism (attitudes about the severity of environmental problems), external environmentalism (attitudes
about environmental issues outside the self, such as those about legislation), and internal environmentalism
(attitudes about ones own connection to nature and personally relevant issues).
In the late 1990s, three scales were created to examine pro-environmental behavior, and one was developed to
measure specific environmental attitudes. The Motivation Toward the Environment Scale was designed to measure
motivation to engage in environmentally responsible behavior (Pelletier, Tuson, Green-Demers, Noels, & Beaton,
1998) and was supported by at least one study (Villacorta, Koestner, & Lekes, 2003). The same research group
later developed a scale measuring amotivation to engage in pro-environmental behavior (Pelletier, Dion, Tuson, &
Green-Demers, 1999). Another measure, the Survey of Environmental Issue Attitudes, was designed to measure
attitudes toward particular environmental issues and to measure attitudes regarding various specific environmental
issues (Schindler, 1999; Kinnear & Taylor, 1973; Larsen, 1994). Self-report measures have also been developed to
assess environmental attitudes in children (Larson, Green, & Castlebury, 2010; Musser & Diamond, 1999).
A Different Structure?
In proposing their environmental attitude structure, Milfont and Duckitt (2004) conducted a thorough analysis of
existing attitude measures. They combined eight measures of environmental attitudes into a 99-item questionnaire
that was administered to 455 participants. After several rounds of factor analysis, they identified 10 attitude
components that could be further divided into two overarching factors: preservation (including pro-environmental
behavior) and utilization (including economic liberalism and the idea that the environment needs to be preserved
for human consumption).
This structure was also found in a four-nation study (Bogner & Wiseman, 2002). Recently, model was further
expanded and called the Environmental Attitudes Inventory was created (Milfont & Duckitt, 2010). This newer
inventory draws questions from additional environmental attitudes measures and parses preservation and
utilization into 12 subfactors. After testing and refining the scale with samples from multiple countries, the 200-item
scale was reduced to 120 items. Although lengthy, the Environmental Attitudes Inventory is comprehensive and
appears to have strong theoretical and empirical support.
Variables That Affect Concern for the Environment
Levels of Environmental Concern

Public environmental concern changes over time. For example, two surveys of American college students reported
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that beginning in the 1970s, environmental concern and willingness to give up goods to alleviate environmental
problems was declining (Gigliotti, 1992; Thompson & Gasteiger, 1985). In contrast, a study comparing American
adults in 1984 and 1988 found that concern was higher in 1988 (Arcury & Christianson, 1990), and in 1993, a
survey found that college students had strong concern for the environment (but an unwillingness to change their
lifestyles to address their concern; Krause, 1993). Between 1976 and 2005 (with the exception of the early 1990s),
American high school students concern (p. 68) for the environment, especially their sense of personal
responsibility, appeared to decline while their value of materialism slightly increased (Wray-Lake, Flanagan, &
Osgood, 2010). However, a 47-nation survey showed that adult environmental concern was higher in 2007 than in
2002 (Pew Research Center, 2007). Fluctuations in levels of pro-environmental attitudes (cognitive, affective, and
behavioral intentions) probably are related to individual determinants (such as knowledge, values, experience, or
lifestyle) and social determinants (such as business or government action; Lorenzoni, Nicholson-Cole, &
Whitmarsh, 2007)
In recent years, human-caused (anthropogenic) climate change has been flagged by environmental scientists as
possibly the single most important global environmental issue. This message has been met by a general increase in
public awareness of the problem since the late 1980s (e.g., Leiserowitz, 2005), but a small chorus of global
warming deniers remains vocal. One survey reported that 84% of US scientists agreed that anthropogenic global
warming is occurring, but only 49% of the public held this belief (Pew Research Center, 2009). Concern exists that
although awareness of anthropogenic global warming is increasing, denial of the problem may also be increasing
resulting in a strong polarization of opinions.
Age
Most research supports the conclusion that younger people have higher levels of environmental concern than
older people (Arcury & Christianson, 1993; Honnold, 19841985; Klineberg, McKeever, & Rothenbach, 1998;
Zhang, 1994). This holds among teenagers as wellyounger teens appear to be more concerned about
environmental issues than older teens (Szagun & Mesenholl, 1993). However, older individuals may also have
greater variability in their levels of concern than younger individuals (Wright, Caserta, & Lund, 2003). The
difference in level of concern between young and old is explained by an age effect only for young adults
(Honnold, 19841985). That is, the effect of getting older reduced the level of environmental concern over time for
young adults, but an era effect explained the reduction in environmental concern for the rest of the study
population. Older adults experienced a reduction in pro-environmental attitudes because previous eras were more
liberal minded in general than the current one.
Gender
With the exception of a few studies (e.g., Mukherjee, 1993), women tend to show higher levels of environmental
concern than men (Blocker & Eckberg, 1997; Gutteling & Wiegman, 1993; Tikka, Kuitunen, & Tynys, 2000; Zhang,
1994). However, women also seem to exhibit lower levels of pro-environmental behavior and environmental
knowledge than men (Arcury & Christianson, 1993; Gambro & Switzky, 1999; Gifford, Hay, & Boros, 19821983).
That women have less environmental knowledge but more environmental concern is supported by several studies
(Arcury, Scollay, & Johnson, 1987; Gifford et al., 19821983; Grieve & Van Staden, 1985; Schahn & Holzer, 1990;
Stern, Dietz, & Kalof, 1993), and is consistent with the notion that environmental knowledge is not necessarily
associated with concern. Lower levels of knowledge among women may be related to a lack of encouragement to
study science, and higher levels of concern may be related a higher level of altruism and concern for health and
safety (Davidson & Freudenburg, 1996; Dietz, Kalof, & Stern, 2002). However, research on gender and
environmental attitudes is now somewhat dated and should be revisited.
Socioeconomic Status
Individuals engage in political action if they possess the time, resources, and passion to do so. Thus,
environmentalists are generally reported to be middle- or upper-middle-class citizens (Balderjahn, 1988; Howard,
Delgado, Miller, & Gubbins, 1993; Ray, 1981, March). In Africa, a higher income also correlates with a greater
knowledge of environmental issues (Chanda, 1999). However, sometimes a passion to engage in environmental
action is enough on its own. One large study reported that low-income earners may display greater levels of
Page 4 of 22
environmental concern than high-income earners (Uyeki & Holland, 2000).
International Differences
Countries often differ in their average level of environmental concern. For example, in a four-nation study
evaluating environmental knowledge and self-reported belief in the protectiveness of environmental actions,
people from Japan had the highest environmental knowledge score, but believed their actions were least protective
(Eisler, Eisler, & Yoshida, 2003). The same study found that Americans had the least environmental knowledge, and
that Germans had the lowest felt connection to (p. 69) the sea. Germans and Swedes believed their behaviors
were more highly protective of the environment (relative to the other two countries).
Wealthier countries are frequently reported to be more concerned about the environment (Franzen, 2003;
Inglehart, 1995), but occasionally individuals from less developed countries display equal or greater concern
(Furman, 1998; Sarigll, 2009), and environmental issues may be mentioned more often in developing than in
industrialized countries (Dunlap, Gallup, & Gallup, 1993). These seemingly conflicting findings may be partly
explained by differences in societal-level concern and individual concern. Higher GDP (gross domestic product),
for instance, is associated with greater concern at the national level, but not at the individual level (Kemmelmeier,
Krl, & Young, 2002).
Within the United States, racial groups may hold, on average, different environmental attitudes. Early studies
suggested that African Americans held lower levels of environmental concern than Euro-Americans, but these
measures were culturally biased and less relevant to African Americans than others (Arp, 1996). More recent
studies suggest that African Americans have similar (Parker & McDonough, 1999) or greater environmental
concern than Euro-Americans (Mohai & Bryant, 1998; Uyeki & Holland, 2000). New immigrants may also be more
concerned about the environment than their more acculturated counterparts (Hunter, 2000; Schultz, 2000a).
Environmental concern appears to be high around the world. In the 1990s, surveys found that Chinese teens rated
pollution as their biggest concern (Dodds & Lin, 1992), Spanish citizens rated environmentalism as a central
element of their belief system (Herrera, 1992), and urban Indians rated local air pollution as a major problem
(Dietz, Stern, & Guagnano, 1998). Children surveyed in Portugal, Brazil, and the United States to have
approximately equal levels of environmental concern (Howe, Kahn, & Friedman, 1996; Kahn & Loureno, 2002),
and a recent report from the European Commission (2009) states that members of European countries rank climate
change as the second-worst problem facing the world.
The structure and level of environmental attitudes differ internationally. For example, US citizens are more likely
than Mexicans or Brazilians to perceive environmental issues as humans competing against nature (Bechtel et al.,
1999; Corral-Verdugo & Armendriz, 2000). The similarities in structure of attitudes toward nature and the
environment have also been compared across nations. The structure of American and European environmental
attitudes is rather similar, but distinct from that of the Japanese (Zheng & Yoshino, 2003).
Environmental concern priorities may also differ between rich and poor countries. Residents of wealthy countries
may be more concerned about global environmental issues, and residents of less wealthy nations may be more
concerned about local environmental issues (Brechin, 1999). Perhaps this is because pressing environmental
problems are less apparent in richer countries.
Urban-Rural Residence
Some differences exist in the level of environmental concern for urban and rural dwellers, but again the evidence
is mixed. Farmers and other rural residents, with their need to use environmental resources directly, tend to be
more anthropocentric (believe that nature should be preserved as a resource for consumption) than city residents
who tend to be more ecocentric (believe that nature should be preserved for its own sake) (Bjerke & Kaltenborn,
1999; Rauwald & Moore, 2002). A German study revealed that urbanites showed greater verbal commitment to act
on environmental issues than rural inhabitants, but the groups did not differ in any other measure of environmental
concern (Bogner & Wiseman, 1997). A Canadian study showed that both urban and rural residents had high levels
of environmental concern (Lutz, Simpson-Housley, & de Man, 1999).
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Religion and Politics
A debate exists about the role of Judeo-Christian religion in reducing environmental concern. Fundamentalist
Christians, for example, appear to have generally lower levels of environmental concern than other groups
(Eckberg & Blocker, 1989; Greeley, 1993; Newhouse, 1986; Schultz, 2000b), and this may be related to a
message of mastery over the environment espoused in some passages of the Bible (Eckberg & Blocker, 1996;
Hand & Van Liere, 1984). That is, some groups interpret the Bible as saying that the earth and its resources were
given to humans to use as desired. However, other groups interpret this message differentlythat humans are
charged with taking care of the earth and preserving it, that is, acting as stewards. This may be why one study
found no significant association between biblical literalism or Bible salience and environmental concern (Wolkomir,
Futreal, Woodrum, & Hoban, 1997). Religiosity is also associated with (p. 70) engagement in social and political
issues. Thus, in some cases religion can empower people (especially minorities) to take action on social issues
such as the environment (Arp, 1997).
Conservative politics, traditionally associated with religious values, also predicts lower levels of environmental
concern (Eiser, Hannover, Mann, & Morin, 1990; Schultz, 1994). Belief in anthropogenic global warming in the
United States may be increasingly becoming a partisan issue (rather than an issue of scientific integrity);
Democrats more often accept that humans influence climate change than do Republicans (Akerlof & Maibach,
2011; Dunlap & McCright, 2008).
Personality and Values

As noted earlier, environmental values and personality are distinct from attitudes.
For example, one personality trait, (greater) self-efficacy, is related to higher levels of concern (Axelrod & Lehman,
1993). Greater agreeableness and openness to experience are also associated with more environmental concern
(Hirsh, 2010).The effect of environmental values on behavior appears to be mediated by environmental attitudes;
that is, values trigger attitudes that, in turn, lead to behavior (Milfont, Duckitt, & Wagner, 2010). Several values in
particular affect environmental attitudes. Biospheric, altruistic, and post-materialist values, as well as increased
levels of tolerance and understanding, all predict high levels of environmental concern (McAllister & Studlar, 1999;
Milfont & Gouveia, 2006). These values indicate a general disposition for caring about others and caring about selfimprovement or freedom rather than material goods. Post-materialists also differ from materialists in that they tend
to be concerned about global rather than local issues (Gken, Adaman, & Zenginobuz, 2002), but the value of
post-materialism may not be as important as other factors (such as direct experience) in determining proenvironmental attitudes (Drori & Yuchtman-Yaar, 2002).
Other values can also influence environmental attitudes. For example, individuals who put their faith in technology
or the free-market have lower levels of concern (Heath & Gifford, 2006; Kilbourne, Beckmann, & Thelen, 2002).
People with both egalitarian and individualist values tend to see local environmental threats as less problematic
than distant threats, but egalitarians hold this belief significantly stronger (Lima & Castro, 2005).
Direct Experience with Nature

Engaging in nature-related outdoor activities often is associated with increased concern for the environment
(Hausbeck, Milbrath, & Enright, 1992; Palmer, 1993). However, the type of outdoor recreation matters (Teisl &
OBrien, 2003). For example, cyclists show more concern for the environment than off-road-vehicle drivers
(Schuett & Ostergren, 2003). One theory suggests that individuals who participate in consumptive outdoor
activities, such as hunting, have less pro-environmental concern than those who participate in non-consumptive
activities, such as photography (di Nenna, Paolillo, & Giuliani, 1987).
Direct experience can also affect environmental attitudes. For example, warmer local outdoor temperatures seems
to increase acceptance of global warming (Joireman, Truelove, & Duell, 2010), and living close to a landfill or waste
disposal area increases concerns related to that area (Arp, 1996; Bassett, Jenkins-Smith, & Silva, 1996; Elliott,
Taylor, Walter, & Stieb, 1993). In Chernobyl and Three Mile Island, local residents attitudes toward nuclear power
became less favorable after the reactors harmed the local environment (MacGregor, 1991) but with time, opinions
became more varied (Midden & Verplanken, 1990) and, overall, concern largely returned to pre-meltdown levels
Page 6 of 22
(Verplanken, 1989). In the wake of a major earthquake and tsunami in 2011, Japan also experienced a Chernobylsized nuclear accident, and it will be interesting to learn whether residents of that country are also follow this
pattern of reaction.
Education and Environmental Knowledge

Environmental knowledge is often assumed to be closely linked to environmental concern. Some evidence
supports this: children who learn about nature informally (by reading, watching movies, or talking about it) and
teens with knowledge of specific environmental issues (or science in general) show higher levels of concern
(Eagles & Demare, 1999; Lyons & Breakwell, 1994). However, the knowledge-attitude association is not always
found (e.g., Bang, Ellinger, Hadjimarcou, & Traichal, 2000).
The manner in which knowledge is acquired appears to matter. Individuals who read newspapers report higher
levels of environmental concern than those who watch TV (Ostman & Parker, 1987), unless those people spend
most of their time watching science shows, news, or nature documentaries (Eagles & Demare, 1999; Holbert, Kwak,
& Shah, 2003). In general, however, TV watchers are less (p. 71) willing to sacrifice aspects of their lifestyle for
the environment (Shanahan, Morgan, & Stenbjerre, 1997).
The type of education people receive can affect their environmental attitudes. Private-school students usually
have more concern about the environment than public-school students (Arcury & Christianson, 1993; Chanda,
1999; Hsu & Roth, 1996; Klineberg et al., 1998), but sometimes the opposite is observed (Grendstad & Wollebaek,
1998). In university, business and technology majors report lower concern and commitment to pro-environmental
behavior than environmental education students or students engaging in ecological restoration projects (Gifford et
al., 19821983; Tikka et al., 2000). However, in all these cases, the students may have had different environmental
attitudes before beginning their degrees (Bogner, 1998; Bowler, Kaiser, & Hartig, 1999; Reid & Sadi, 1997).
Methods for Improving Environmental Attitudes
Media and Messages

The media can have a positive or negative effect on public environmental attitudes. For example, American mass
media has been cited as a major driver of climate change skepticism and a possible cause of reduced support for
the Kyoto protocol in the United States (Antilla, 2005; Boykoff & Boykoff, 2007). However, mass media was also
successfully employed to educate the public about how to recycle (Gillilan, Werner, Olson, & Adams, 1996).
Campaigns to raise public environmental concern in general or about specific issues inevitably involve mass media
participation. Therefore, understanding how to effectively communicate a persuasive environmental message can
lead to substantially increased environmental concern. Many principles for message crafting have been
suggested. For example, less dire messages may lead to an increased public understanding of climate change
(Feinberg & Willer, 2011). Empowering messages are more effective than sacrifice messages (Gifford & Comeau,
2011). Most of these principles have been summarized in a recent review (Moser, 2010). In general, four guidelines
lead to an effective message: it must be internally consistent, tap the audiences mental model, keep the
audiences attention, and have an emotional component. Strong images can increase pro-environmental behavior
(Hine & Gifford, 1991), but negative emotions, such as worry or fear, should be evoked only if an option for
alleviating that emotion is presented. Moser warns that the design of every message must take into account not
only the goal of the message, but also the audience, the message itself, the communicator, the channel of
communication, and the context in which the message will be received. No single environmental message will be
useful in every context, and environmental messages require particular attention because mitigation lacks
immediacy (e.g., the positive outcomes appear distant and the immediate benefits of action are not apparent).
Environmental Education
Increased levels of environmental concern can be facilitated through formal teaching situations. However, teaching
programs that include environmental education components are not always effective (Eagles & Demare, 1999) and
sometimes even have reverse effects (Bull, 1993). A meta-analysis that reviewed 34 such programs found that
Page 7 of 22
only 14 had positive effects (Leeming, Dwyer, Porter, & Cobern, 1993). Given a bias for publishing significant (as
opposed to null) results, many more studies showing programs to be unsuccessful may be sitting in researchers
file drawers.
Sometimes environmental education programs (in a university or elementary school) succeed in increasing
knowledge, but not concern (Keen, 1991; Yount & Horton, 1992). This may occur because direct nature
experiences are more likely than indirect experiences to result in increased concern (Duerden & Witt, 2010). For
example, high school students who participated in a six-day wilderness experience subsequently displayed
increased environmental concern (Gillett, Thomas, Skok, & McLaughlin, 1991), and children (ages 9 to 14) in a
summer-camp environmental education program had higher levels of environmental concern than they started
with, particularly if they were first-time campers or stayed at camp for a longer duration (Shepard & Speelman,
1985).
Some environmental education methods appear to be more effective than others. For instance, using a simulation
of local energy use and conservation, presenting the problem as a story (pre-teens), or incorporating games
(children) may improve attitudes toward the problem and increase corresponding action (Dresner, 1989; Hewitt,
1997; Monroe, 1992). A technique known as Issue Investigation and Action Training (IIAT) also appears to hold
some promise. By focusing on specific environmental issues and guiding students to develop creative solutions for
them, IIAT students gain enhanced knowledge about the issues, skills to solve environmental problems, and a belief
that they can solve them. Engagement in active problem solving (p. 72) leads to subsequent engagement in proenvironmental behavior. This program has been successfully employed with middle- and high-school-age children
(Jordan, Hungerford, & Tomera, 1986; Ramsey & Hungerford, 1989; Ramsey, 1993).
Several suggestions for successful environmental education programs have been offered (Boerschig & de Young,
1993; Newhouse, 1990; Pooley & OConnor, 2000). These can be summarized as follows: (1) gear the program to
the students current level of knowledge, attitudes, and moral development; (2) explain both sides of every issue;
(3) encourage contact with nature or the outdoors; (4) promote a sense of personal responsibility; (5) engender
feelings of control over the issue; (6) know potential action strategies and employ action skills; (7) learn about the
issue before teaching it; (8) develop social norms that favor environmental conservation and protection; (9)
enhance environmental sensitivity; and (10) involve emotional components in the program.
Factors That Inhibit or Promote Environmental Attitudes Leading to Behavior
Theories to Explain How Attitudes Influence Behavior

To understand how to increase the likelihood that attitudes lead to behavior, one must first understand how
attitudes influence behavior in general. Several theories have been proposed to explain this link. The most
commonly used model, and the one with greatest support (e.g., Heath & Gifford, 2002; Laudenslager, Holt, &
Lofgren, 2004) is the theory of planned behavior (TPB; Ajzen, 1991). In this model, pro-environmental behavior is
predicted by specific behavioral intentions, which are, in turn, predicted by attitudes, perceived social norms, and
perceived behavioral control. A recent meta-analysis provided support for TPB but suggested that personal moral
norms also predict behavioral intentions (Bamberg & Mser, 2007).
The value-belief-norm model (VBN) is often used to explain the attitude-behavior association (Stern, 2000). In it
pro-environmental values are postulated to lead to pro-environmental beliefs (or attitudes), which lead to proenvironmental behaviors (Milfont et al., 2010). Strong altruistic or biospheric values, accompanied by weak egoistic
values, are said to encourage individuals to adopt pro-environmental beliefs. Pro-environmental beliefs, defined as
high scores on the New Ecological Paradigm Scale (Dunlap et al., 2000), lead individuals to believe that their
actions can have adverse environmental consequences, which precedes the belief that individuals have
perceived behavioral control over environmental problems.
If these beliefs are adopted, individuals may then activate a personal norm that they are obliged to behave proenvironmentally. This personal norm then is postulated to directly influence pro-environmental behaviors such as
organizational action (e.g., promotion of composting at work), private action (e.g., choosing to bike), public nonactivist action (e.g., attending meetings), or activist actions (e.g., protesting). The VBN model has successfully
accounted for pro-environmental behaviors, in particular non-activist behaviors (Garca-Mira, Deus, Rodrguez, &
Page 8 of 22
Martnez, 2003; Steg, Dreijerink, & Abrahamse, 2005; Stern, 2000). A Swedish study validated the VBN as an
appropriate model for explaining action, but also elaborated it by demonstrating that self-transcendence (versus
self-enhancement) values may precede more specific pro-environmental values, which only then activate beliefs
(Nordlund & Garvill, 2002).
Cognitive dissonance theory may also explain how environmental attitudes predict corresponding behavior
(Thgersen, 2004). It proposes that people are motivated to maintain attitude-behavior consistency. Therefore, in
situations in which individuals hold a specific pro-environmental attitude, but behave in a manner inconsistent with
that attitude, they will change either their attitude or their behavior.
Bringing attention to a persons attitude-behavior inconsistency (i.e., hypocrisy) is an effective means of reducing
shower times (Dickerson, Thibodeau, Aronson, & Miller, 1992) and increasing energy conservation (Kantola, Syme,
& Campbell, 1984); however, the effect of hypocrisy was seen only in the first week of the two-week energy
conservation study. In the second week, evoking hypocrisy did not have an effect beyond that of providing
energy-saving tips and/or feedback on consumption. Of course, dissonance may work in a negative way, too: if
one holds anti-environmental attitudes, one may achieve consistency by refusing to engage in pro-environmental
actions.
Environmental Attitudes and Other Constructs Lead to Pro-Environmental Behavior

More than Attitudes
Many factors can encourage pro-environmental behavior. For example, people who partake in pro-environmental
(p. 73) behaviors often do so for reasons unrelated to the environment (Whitmarsh, 2009). Some recycling
behaviors are predicted by concern for the environment (i.e., reusing and reducing), but others (i.e., using a
recycling bin) may not be (Barr, 2007). Indeed, on their own, attitudes do not predict behavior very well, and
therefore any behavioral intervention should also address the costs and benefits of the behavior, individuals
morals and values, social norms, emotions, habits, and contextual factors (Steg & Vlek, 2009). Other factors that
may influence behavior (with or without pro-environmental attitudes) are seeing others behave in proenvironmental ways (Sussman & Gifford, 2011), feelings of personal responsibility or guilt (Kaiser & Shimoda, 1999;
Kaiser, Ranney, Hartig, & Bowler, 1999), and individual motivation (Pelletier et al., 1999), especially self-determined
or internalized motivation (Green-Demers, Pelletier, & Mnard, 1997; Osbaldiston & Sheldon, 2003; Sguin,
Pelletier, & Hunsley, 1998).
Mediators and Moderators

A variety of factors promote the conversion of environmental attitudes to behavior (e.g., Gill, Crosby, & Taylor,
1986). Several of these serve to increase environmental concern (and were discussed earlier) but are cited again
here because they also facilitate the connection between attitudes and behavior.
The ease of enacting a behavior influences whether pro-environmental attitudes will be turned into behavior. The
low-cost hypothesis states that environmental attitudes predict easily enacted behaviors but not difficult ones
(OConnor, Bord, Yarnal, & Wiefek, 2002; Schultz, 1996). For high-cost (difficult) behaviors, people find more
reasons to justify the gap between their attitudes and behaviors and are less likely to change (Diekmann &
Preisendrfer, 1992). For example, the low-cost hypothesis is fulfilled when employees support greenhouse-gasreducing actions as long as they do not affect their jobs (OConnor et al., 2002), or when farmers engage in soil
conservation practices only when they can afford to (Lynne & Rola, 1988).
Several demographic and individual difference factors influence the strength of the attitude-behavior association.
For example, being a student or public-sector employee seems to facilitate the translation of morals and attitudes
into action (Axelrod & Lehman, 1993; Nilsson, von Borgstede, & Biel, 2004). Community members are more
motivated by tangible rewards than by morals or attitudes (Axelrod & Lehman, 1993), and private-sector
employees are less likely to behave in accordance with pro-environmental values than public-sector employees
(Nilsson et al., 2004). Individuals with pro-environmental attitudes also exhibit less pro-environmental behavior if
they have conservative values, higher income, and less education (Tarrant & Cordell, 1997). Furthermore, even
for people with environmental knowledge, accurate assessment of the environmental problem and concurrent
arousal to act often are required before pro-environmental activity can take place (Syme, Beven, & Sumner, 1993).
Page 9 of 22
Meta-analyses (studies that empirically combine the results of multiple studies) have identified a number of
important factors for the mediation or moderation of an environmental attitude-behavior correspondence. People
are more likely to engage in pro-environmental behavior if they (1) know about the issues, (2) know about action
strategies, (3) have an internal locus of control, (4) state a verbal commitment to act, (5) are concerned about the
issues, and (6) feel responsible to act on them (Bamberg & Mser, 2007; Cottrell, 2003; Hines, Hungerford, &
Tomera (1986)).
Several aspects of the environmental issue itself may also make acting on it more likely. If, for example, the
problem appears to be personally threatening (as in the case of global warming in Southern California), individuals
are more likely to behave pro-environmentally (Baldassare & Katz, 1992). Behavior is also more likely if the action
that is required is publicly observable rather than private (Liu & Sibley, 2004).
Factors That Inhibit Attitudes from Leading to Behavior

Factors that promote a strong attitude-behavior link are insufficient on their own to explain the relation. Frequently,
pro-environmental knowledge or attitudes exist without being converted into action because seven categories of
important psychological barriers exist (Gifford, 2011). Five of the seven barriers are particularly pertinent here.
These are: limited cognition (including problems of uncertainty about the problem or the results of action, and a
lack of perceived behavioral control), comparisons with others (including negative social norms about action,
social comparison, and perceived inequality), sunk costs (including previous financial investments, conflicting
goals and aspirations, and behavioral momentum), perceived risks (including (p. 74) physical, financial, social,
functional, psychological, and temporal risks), and limited behavior (including engaging in small token behaviors,
and justifying environmentally harmful behavior by engaging in positive but simple, relatively unimportant proenvironmental behaviors).
Conclusion
Environmental attitudes have been extensively studied. Their structure and definition have been carefully specified
and many instruments exist to measure and quantify them in a variety of populations and contexts. Internationally,
environmental knowledge is growing and concern is strong. Numerous demographic, dispositional, political,
religious, and experiential factors increase or decrease environmental concern. Unfortunately, strong concern
does not always result in pro-environmental behavior. Although a clear link exists between attitudes and behavior
(mediated by intentions and other variables), additional factors also importantly influence behavior and must be
considered. Several of these may help make the attitude-behavior link stronger and others may act as
psychological barriers. Some can either increase or decrease environmental concern (e.g., social norms).
Increasing attention to appropriate media campaigns and well-designed pro-environmental messages can
strengthen environmental attitudes and thus make appropriate behavior more likely. Given the current level of
interest in environmental attitudes research, the future looks bright for discoveries of factors that will further
increase the frequency of pro-environmental behaviors arising from environmental attitudes.
Future Directions
Implicit attitude measurement is one fruitful potential avenue for future environmental attitude research. Implicit
attitudes are activated automatically without conscious awareness and apparently have some ability to direct
behavior (Dijksterhuis & Aarts, 2010). In other research areas, such as on stereotypes, implicit attitudes often differ
in content from explicit (self-reported) attitudes and can independently influence behavior (Greenwald, Smith,
Sriram, Bar-Anan, & Nosek, 2009). Implicit attitudes toward genetically modified foods in Great Britain have also
been found to differ from self-reported explicit attitudes (Spence & Townsend, 2006), and an implicit association
task has been used to demonstrate that connectedness to nature may be positively associated with biospheric
concern and negatively associated with egoistic concern (Schultz, Shriver, Tabanico, & Khazian, 2004). This area
of environmental attitudes research deserves further investigation.
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Robert Gifford
Robert Gifford Department of Psychology University of Victoria Victoria, Canada
Reuven Sussman
Reuven Sussman Department of Psychology University of Victoria Victoria, Canada
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Environmental Values

Linda Steg and Judith I. M. de Groot
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0005

Values are desirable goals that serve as guiding principles in peoples life. As such, values can influence multiple
beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behaviors simultaneously. Values determine what people attend to, what knowledge
becomes cognitively most accessible, how people evaluate various aspects of the situation, and what alternatives
are being considered, which in turn affects actual behavior. Different individuals may endorse the same values, but
they are likely to prioritize various values differently, resulting in different preferences, beliefs, attitudes, norms,
and choices. In this chapter, we discuss relevant value theories and elaborate on four types of values that are
particularly relevant in the environmental domain: hedonic, egoistic, altruistic, and biospheric values. Values
typically influence behavior indirectly, via behavior-specific beliefs, preferences, attitudes, and norms. Values are
particularly influential when they are strongly endorsed, and when they are activated, cognitively supported,
central to the self, and part of our self-identity. Values reflect a broad range of motivations (notably hedonic,
egoistic, altruistic, and biospheric motivations) and as such differ from ecological worldviews and environmental
concerns that focus on environmental motivations.
Keywords: values, social value orientations, hedonic values, egoistic values, altruistic values, biospheric values, self-enhancement values, selftranscendence values, ecological worldviews, environmental concern, environmental beliefs, norms, environmental behavior
Introduction
Many pro-environmental actions involve a conflict between individual interests in the short term and collective
interests in the long term: individuals need to restrain egoistic tendencies to benefit the environment (e.g.,
Nordlund & Garvill, 2003; Samuelson, 1990; Steg, Dreijerink, & Abrahamse, 2005). For example, traveling by car is
generally believed to be more comfortable than using public transport, and organic products are often more
expensive than regular produce, while environmental quality would improve if individuals reduced car use and
bought organic products. Yet, many people do act pro-environmentally, even though this may be associated with
higher individual costs in the short term. For example, in many countries recycling levels are high, and many
people have insulated their homes. Besides the fact that people may benefit from environmental protection, at least
indirectly and in the long term, one important reason for this may be that individuals value the environment and
want to protect environmental quality. In other cases, people may refrain from pro-environmental actions because
they value their comfort higher than the environment: for example, many people prefer to drive rather than to
travel by public transport. Indeed, human values are believed to play an important role in pro-environmental
actions (Dunlap, Grieneeks, & Rokeach, 1983; Naess, 1989). Some values may inhibit pro-environmental actions,
while other values promote such actions.
(p. 82) In this chapter, we first provide a definition of values, and explain why it is important to study relationships
between values, beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behavior in the environmental domain. Subsequently, we discuss
some prominent theories on values and provide empirical evidence for the significance of values in predicting
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beliefs, norms, and behavior in the environmental domain. We also describe how values affect environmental
behavior, and under which circumstances values are particularly influential. Finally, we discuss conceptual
differences between values and other general antecedents of environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and
behaviors, notably ecological worldviews and environmental concern.
What Are Values?

Schwartz (1992) defines values as desirable goals, varying in importance, that serve as guiding principles in
peoples lives (p. 21). This definition highlights four key features of values. First, values reflect general beliefs
concerning the desirability or undesirability of certain end-states, such as equality, ambition, or environmental
quality. As such, values have an oughtness quality (Feather, 1995). Second, values are abstract and transcend
specific situations, that is, values may affect beliefs, attitudes, norms, intentions, and behavior of different kinds.
Values are relatively stable over time, whereas specific beliefs, attitudes, and norms can change more easily
(Feather, 1995; Gardner & Stern, 2002; Rokeach, 1973). This implies that changes in (the priority of) values are
likely to result in changes in a wide range of behavior-related beliefs and norms, intentions, and behaviors
simultaneously. This feature makes it particularly relevant to understand the value basis of pro-environmental
beliefs, attitudes, norms, intentions, and actions. Third, values serve as a guiding principle for the selection or
evaluation of behavior, people, and events. Values determine what people attend to, what knowledge becomes
cognitively most accessible, how people evaluate various aspects of the situation, and what alternatives are being
considered. Also, values function as criteria or frameworks against which present experience can be tested
(Feather, 1995). Fourth, individuals prioritize the importance of different values. Although values are culturally
shared and different individuals may endorse the same values, they are likely to prioritize various values
differently. This implies that when people face conflicting values, they will base their choice on the values that they
consider the most important to act upon, resulting in different choices for people who prioritize their values
differently. For example, individuals who prioritize environmental values are more likely to buy organic produce
than those who prioritize egoistic values, even though both may endorse environmental values. So, it is the relative
importance of values that matters most.
Value Theories
Two prominent theories on values that are most widely used in the environmental domain are the theory on social
value orientations (e.g., Messick & McClintock, 1968) and Schwartzs (1992) value theory. We briefly introduce
both theoretical frameworks below. Next we explain the significance of biospheric values and explain why
biospheric values are particularly relevant for understanding environmental beliefs, norms, intentions, and
behavior. Furthermore, we discuss which values are most important to understand environmental action, and
review relevant empirical evidence.
Social Value Orientations

Messick and McClintock (1968) proposed that choices in social dilemma situations depend on social value
orientations. A social dilemma is a situation in which individual and collective interests are at odds. Many
environmental decisions involve a social dilemma, as our examples in the introduction illustrate. For example, it is
in ones individual interest to use a car rather than to travel by public transport, but collectively we would be better
off if all people drove less. Also, an individual may prefer to take long showers, while society as a whole would be
better off if all would save water and energy by reducing showering time. The extent to which people are likely to
act in line with the collective interest is believed to depend not only on the costs and benefits of different
alternatives, but also on social value orientations. Social value orientations reflect individual differences in which
goals are prioritized (viz. individual or collective), which in turn influence the choices people make in social
dilemma situations. Four social value orientations can be distinguished (but more simple as well as more
differentiated distinctions have also been proposed in the literature) that differ in preferences for distributions of
outcomes for oneself and others or the collective (e.g., Liebrand, 1984):
1. individualistic: preference to maximize own outcomes with no concern for the outcomes of others
(p. 83) 2. competitive: preference to maximize own outcomes relative to the outcomes of others
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3. altruistic: preference to maximize the outcomes of others
4. cooperative: preference to maximize joint outcomes
The four value orientations are often combined into two general, overarching social value orientations: proself
values, in which people are concerned particularly with their own interests (ad. 1 and 2) versus prosocial values,
in which individuals are concerned mainly with the interests of others (ad. 3 and 4).
Some studies found that prosocial values were positively related, while proself values were negatively related, to
pro-environmental preferences (Van Vugt, Meertens, & Van Lange, 1995) and intentions (Joireman, Lasane,
Bennett, Richards, & Solaimani, 2001). Furthermore, preferences for traveling by public transport or for carpooling
depended more strongly on the likelihood of congestion for those with strong proself values as compared to those
with strong prosocial values, suggesting that possible negative individual consequences more strongly influenced
preferences for choices in the collective interest of those with strong proself values than those with strong
prosocial values (Van Lange, Van Vugt, Meertens, & De Ruiter, 1998). Also, egoistic environmental consequences
appeared to be more salient to individuals with strong proself values, while social-altruistic environmental
consequences appeared to be more salient to those who strongly endorsed prosocial values (Grling, Fujii,
Grling, & Jakobsson, 2003; Joireman et al., 2001). However, relationships between social value orientations and
environmental beliefs, preferences, and intentions are generally weak, and sometimes even not significant. For
example, social value orientations were not significantly related to preferences for commuting by car versus public
transport (Joireman, Van Lange, & Van Vugt, 2004) and environmental behavior (Joireman et al., 2001). In sum,
empirical evidence of the relevance of social value orientation for pro-environmental beliefs, preferences, and
actions is mixed.
Schwartzs Value Theory

Schwartz (1992, 1994) developed one of the most widely used value typologies. Schwartzs value theory is based
on earlier work by Rokeach (1973), who aimed to develop a value hierarchy based on a universal set of values.
Rokeach (1973) argued that a distinction should be made between instrumental values reflecting beliefs
concerning desirable means (e.g., being honest, or honesty) and terminal values reflecting preferable end-states
of existence (e.g., a world at peace). Schwartz (1992) further developed and extended Rokeachs universal value
typology and proposed a value typology comprising 56 values. However, Schwartzs (1992) typology no longer
made a distinction between instrumental and terminal values, as he did not find empirical support for this
distinction.
Schwartz (1992) found that values can be grouped into 10 value clusters that describe individual differences in
value priorities: conformity, tradition, universalism, benevolence, power, achievement, hedonism, stimulation, selfdirection, and security. The first four value clusters refer to social values, while the other six clusters reflect
individualistic values. The 10 value clusters can be plotted in a two-dimensional space (see Figure 5.1). The first
dimension distinguishes self-enhancement from self-transcendence values, which is similar to the distinction
between proself and prosocial values in the social value orientation framework described above. The second
dimension distinguishes openness to change from conservation values, reflecting whether individuals are open to
new things and ideas versus whether they have a preference for tradition and conformity. Values in the same
value cluster are prioritized in a similar way, while values belonging to clusters that are wide apart from each other
are typically prioritized very differently. The closer together values are in this two-dimensional space, the more
compatible they are, while values that are wide apart are more likely to conflict. When values conflict in a particular
situation, people are most likely to act upon the values they prioritize.
Schwartzs value typology has been tested and validated in many countries and cultures around the world (e.g.,
Collins, Steg, & Koning, 2007; Schwartz, 1992, 1994; Schwartz & Sagiv, 1995; Spini, 2003), and the majority of the
values demonstrate high cross-cultural consistency of meaning (Schwartz & Sagiv, 1995). This implies that the
structure of values is the same in different cultures and countries; however, people may differ in the way they
prioritize different values.
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Figure 5.1 Schwartzs value typology: 10 value clusters in a two-dimensional space.
Studies in the environmental domain generally revealed that environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, intentions, and
actions are particularly related to the self-enhancement and self-transcendent values: individuals who strongly
endorse (p. 84) self-transcendent values are more likely to have pro-environmental beliefs and norms and to act
pro-environmentally, while the opposite is true for those who strongly endorse self-enhancement values (e.g.,
Collins et al., 2007; Kalof, Dietz, Stern, & Guagnano, 1999; Nordlund & Garvill, 2002, 2003; Schultz, Gouveia,
Cameron, Tankha, Schmuck, & Frank, 2005; Stern, Dietz, & Guagnano, 1998; Stern, Dietz, Kalof, & Guagnano,
1995; Thgersen & lander, 2002; Stern, 2000). Thgersen and lander (2003) also found that environmentalfriendly behaviors are more likely to spread to other areas of ones consumption pattern among those with strong
self-transcendence values, indicating that so-called spillover effects are more likely when self-transcendent values
are strong. A few studies found (weak) relationships between openness to change and conservation values and
pro-environmental beliefs, norms, intentions, and behavior (e.g., Karp, 1996; Kalof et al., 1999; Poortinga, Steg, &
Vlek, 2004; Schultz & Zelezny, 1999; Stern et al., 1998). For example, the more strongly individuals endorsed
openness-to-change values, the more energy they used for transportation purposes (Poortinga et al., 2004). Those
who strongly endorse conservation values were less likely to be concerned about environmental problems
(Schultz & Zelezny, 1999) and to be vegetarians (Kalof et al., 1999), and less willing to sacrifice to benefit the
environment (Stern et al., 1998). In sum, self-enhancement and self-transcendence values seem to be particularly
relevant to understand beliefs, preferences, attitudes, norms, and behavior in the environmental domain.
Biospheric Values
Recently, various environmental psychologists suggested that it is important to examine whether biospheric values
can be distinguished as a separate cluster of self-transcendence values, next to altruistic values (e.g., Stern &
Dietz, 1994; De Groot & Steg, 2008). These scholars proposed that biospheric values may play an important role
in encouraging pro-environmental beliefs, norms, and behaviors. Biospheric values emphasize the intrinsic value
of nature and the environment. The intrinsic value of nature has long been advocated within environmental ethics
(e.g., Leopold, 1949; Naess, 1989; Reid, 1962; Singer, 1975), but the significance of biospheric values was not
studied systematically until recently. Biospheric values reflect a concern with the quality of nature and the
environment for its own sake, without a clear link to the welfare of other human beings. As such, they differ from
altruistic values that reflect a concern with the welfare of other human beings. Both altruistic and biospheric values
reflect self-transcendence or prosocial values. This means that altruistic and biospheric values are expected to
correlate positively, that is, those who endorse altruistic values are also likely to endorse biospheric values, and
vice versa. Also, in many cases both altruistic and biospheric values are likely to promote pro-environmental
beliefs, norms, and actions, because such actions generally benefit the (p. 85) well-being of others and the
biosphere. However, in some situations altruistic and biospheric values may conflict, for example, when one has to
decide to vote for a green or a social party, or to buy fair-trade or organic products.
Recent studies revealed that altruistic and biospheric values can indeed be distinguished empirically (De Groot &
Steg, 2007, 2008, 2010; Grnhj & Thgersen, 2009; Nilsson, von Borgstede, & Biel, 2004; Steg et al., 2005; Steg,
De Groot, Dreijerink, Abrahamse, & Siero, 2011). Altruistic and biospheric values are positively correlated (e.g., De
Groot & Steg, 2007, 2008; Nilsson et al., 2004), which is in line with Schwartzs value theory, as both reflect selftranscendence values. However, not surprisingly, biospheric values are generally more predictive of pro-
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environmental beliefs, norms, and actions than are altruistic values (e.g., De Groot & Steg, 2007, 2008; Nilsson et
al., 2004; Steg et al., 2005). More important, when choices affect altruistic and biospheric values differently, and
thus when altruistic and biospheric values conflict in a particular situation, they predict intentions differently, in the
expected direction. For example, De Groot and Steg (2008) examined relationships between values and likelihood
of donating money to either environmental or humanitarian organizations. Respondents were forced to make a
choice between donating 10 euros to an environmental or a humanitarian organization. Respondents were offered
five choice sets, each comprising one humanitarian and one environmental organization that were similar with
regard to (internationalization) of aid and publicity. A brief description of the mission of each organization was
added. It appeared that people with strong biospheric values were more likely to donate money to environmental
rather than humanitarian organizations, while those with strong altruistic values were more likely to donate money
to humanitarian rather than environmental organizations (De Groot & Steg, 2008).
In sum, recent studies have suggested that it is indeed important to make a distinction between altruistic and
biospheric values. First, even though altruistic and biospheric values are correlated, they can be distinguished
empirically. Second, biospheric values appear to be more predictive of pro-environmental beliefs, intentions, and
behaviors than are altruistic values. Third, when altruistic and biospheric values conflict, strong biospheric values
promote pro-environmental choices, while strong altruistic values make pro-environmental choices less likely.
Based on the above, it has been proposed that three types of values are particularly relevant to understanding
pro-environmental beliefs, norms, intentions, and actions: egoistic values, reflecting a key concern with individual
outcomes, altruistic values, reflecting a concern with the welfare of others, and biospheric values, reflecting a
concern with nature and the environment (see also Stern, Dietz, & Kalof, 1993; Steg et al., 2005; De Groot & Steg,
2007, 2008). Individuals who strongly endorse egoistic values will particularly consider costs and benefits of
environmental actions for them personally, and act pro-environmentally when the perceived benefits of such
actions exceed the perceived costs (and vice versa). For example, a person who strongly endorses egoistic
values is likely to act pro-environmentally if the pro-environmental option also happens to be the cheapest or most
comfortable option. In contrast, individuals who strongly endorse altruistic values will focus on the perceived costs
and benefits of actions for other people. They may, for example, engage in pro-environmental actions, such as
purchasing organic produce, when this benefits the health of their children. Finally, individuals who strongly
endorse biospheric values will mainly base their choices on the perceived costs and benefits of actions for nature
and the environment, and act pro-environmentally when these actions are likely to reduce environmental
problems. Although all three value types provide a distinct basis for pro-environmental actions, and thus all may
promote pro-environmental beliefs and choices, studies generally reveal that individuals who more strongly
endorse altruistic and particularly biospheric values have more positive pro-environmental beliefs and norms, and
are more likely to engage in pro-environmental behavior than those who strongly endorse egoistic values (e.g.,
Honkanen & Verplanken, 2004; De Groot & Steg, 2008, 2010; Karp, 1996; Nilsson et al., 2004; Steg et al., 2005;
Steg et al., 2011; Stern et al., 1998), probably because many pro-environmental behaviors have individual
disadvantages, as explained at the very start of this chapter.
The significance of biospheric values implies that environmental considerations are part of peoples morality and
that both human and nature rights are protected by values (cf. Lindenberg & Steg (in press)). Inglehart (1977)
proposed that the concern about environmental issues in Western societies is due to the emergence of so-called
post-materialistic values in post-industrial societies. The basic idea of Ingleharts (1977) value revolution theory is
that (p. 86) improvements in standards of living and education levels in Western societies resulted in improved
physical and economic security, which makes it more likely that basic materialistic values are fulfilled. Because of
this, individuals can prioritize post-materialistic values that emphasize autonomy and self-expression. Inglehart
(1977) assumed that people will prioritize post-materialistic values only when materialistic values are fulfilled and
survival needs can be taken for granted. This implies that biospheric values will emerge only when basic needs are
fulfilled and that biospheric values are more likely to emerge in Western industrialized societies where affluent
levels are high, while poor people probably cannot afford to support biospheric values since their basic levels of
subsistence are not fulfilled. However, recent studies found support for the distinction between altruistic and
biospheric values in non-Western countries (e.g., Mexico and Indonesia; Helbig, 2010; Hiratsuka, 2010) as well,
even among relatively poor populations (Helbig, 2010). This suggests that the emergence of biospheric values is
not mainly a product of a post-materialist cultural shift, but rather results from multiple sources, such as
observation of or information on environmental degradation (cf. Brenchin and Kempton, 1994), or a stronger
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reliance on environmental systems. This implies that biospheric values may be important and a separate cluster of
values in developing countries and cultures that did not face a post-materialism shift as well.
Hedonic Values
Above we argued that studies generally revealed that values from the self-enhancement versus selftranscendence value dimension are most strongly related to environmental beliefs, preferences, norms, and
actions. Also, we showed that when studying environmental issues, it is important to make a distinction between
altruistic and biospheric values, representing subclusters of self-transcendence values.
It may be useful to distinguish two types of self-enhancement values to understand environmental beliefs, attitudes,
norms, and actions as well. This proposition is based on two lines of research. First, goal framing theory
(Lindenberg & Steg, 2007) proposes that (environmental) behavior is guided by three overarching goals: hedonic
goals to feel better right now, gain goals to improve ones resources, and normative goals to act
appropriately. Goal framing theory suggests that one goal is focal (i.e., one goal is strongest) in a particular
situation and influences preferences and decisions most, while the other goals are in the background and influence
the strength of the focal goal. A priori, hedonic goals are strongest, while normative goals are most in need of
external support. Values determine the likelihood that a particular goal is focal in any situation, as they influence
the extent to which goals are chronically accessible. This implies that normative goals to act appropriately are
more likely to be focal in a particular situation when people strongly endorse altruistic or biospheric values, while
gain goals are more likely to be focal when people strongly endorse egoistic values. In a similar vein, hedonic
goals are more likely to be focal when people strongly endorse hedonic values. So, based on goal framing theory,
we would expect that hedonic values are an important predictor of environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and
behavior, as hedonic goals are more likely to be activated among those who strongly endorse hedonic values.
Second, research on the hedonic value of the possession and use of consumption goods (which are typically
associated with environmental impact and are thus examples of environmentally harmful behavior) also suggests
that environmental behavior may be rooted in hedonic values. Indeed, many material products with environmental
impact, such as cars, are purchased and used because of their hedonic value (e.g., Dittmar, 1992; Hirschman &
Holbrook, 1982), and because people derive pleasure from using these products (Steg, Vlek, & Slotegraaf, 2001;
Steg, 2005; Gatersleben, 2007). It is likely that hedonic consumption is rooted in hedonic values, as those with
strong hedonic values are more likely to appreciate hedonic consequences of behavior. So, both goal framing
theory and theories on consumer behavior, in particular the theory on the meaning of material possessions (e.g.,
Dittmar, 1992), suggest that it may be important to distinguish two types of self-enhancement values to understand
environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and actions: hedonic and egoistic values.
There is some empirical evidence for the significance of hedonic values in the environmental domain. For example,
Honkanen and Verplanken (2004) found that positive attitudes toward genetically modified (GM) food, and intention
to buy GM food, were more likely among those who strongly endorsed hedonic values, and less likely among those
who strongly endorsed biospheric values. More recently, Steg and colleagues (2012) systematically examined
whether it is worthwhile to include hedonic values in studies in the (p. 87) environmental domain. First, they found
that hedonic values can indeed be clearly distinguished empirically from egoistic values. Not only studies in the
Netherlands, but also in Japan, Indonesia, and Mexico validated the distinction between hedonic, egoistic, altruistic,
and biospheric values (Helbig, 2010; Hiratsuka, 2010), indicating that hedonic and egoistic values form distinct
value clusters. Hedonic and egoistic values were correlated, which is in line with Schwartzs (1992) value
typology, as both reflect self-enhancement values. In many cases, hedonic values appeared to be more strongly
and negatively related to environmental beliefs, preferences, norms, and actions than were egoistic values,
suggesting that particularly hedonic values may inhibit pro-environmental actions (Steg et al., 2012). Furthermore,
Steg et al. (2012) found that the four types of values were systematically and consistently related to valuecongruent preferences. In this study, individuals were asked about their preference for a series of restaurants that
systematically varied in hedonic, egoistic, altruistic, and biospheric aspects. Individuals who strongly endorsed
hedonic values were more likely to base their choice of restaurant on the hedonic attribute varied in the restaurant
descriptions (i.e., whether the food served was tasty), while those who strongly endorsed altruistic values more
strongly based their choice on the working conditions in the restaurant (representing the altruistic attribute
included in the description of the restaurants) and those who endorsed biospheric values particularly considered
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whether organic products were served (i.e., the biospheric attribute). So, preferences were systematically linked to
values; people particularly considered the characteristic of the restaurant that was congruent with their values.
Together, these studies indicate that it is indeed important to include hedonic values in studies on environmental
beliefs, preferences, norms, and actions.
How Do Values Affect Behavior?

We indicated above that values appear to be correlated with various psychological constructs including
preferences, beliefs, norms, intentions, and even behavior. But how do values affect behavior? Do they affect
behavior directly, or mainly indirectly, via, for example, beliefs and preferences? Value theories generally assume
that values are general beliefs reflecting stable dispositions that structure and guide specific beliefs, norms and
attitudes that are more likely to change over time (Feather, 1995; Rokeach, 1973). These beliefs, norms, and
attitudes in turn affect behavior. So, it is assumed that the effect of values on behavior is mediated by more
specific beliefs, attitudes, and norms. Indeed, various studies showed that values mostly influence behavior
indirectly, via behavior-specific beliefs, attitudes, and norms (e.g., De Groot, Steg, & Dicke, 2008; Grling et al.,
2003; Kalof et al., 1999; Nordlund & Garvill, 2002, 2003; Nilsson et al., 2004; Poortinga et al., 2004; Steg et al.,
2005). For example, Nordlund and Garvill (2003) found that values were related to awareness of environmental
problems and personal norms (that is, feelings of moral obligation) to reduce car use, while personal norms were
the only significant predictor of willingness to reduce car use, suggesting that the effects of values on willingness
to reduce car use is mediated by behavior-specific beliefs and norms. Similarly, Steg et al. (2005) found that values
(in particular biospheric values) predicted general awareness of environmental problems (i.e., NEP; we explain this
concept in the section Distinction Between Values, Ecological Worldviews, and Environmental Concern) and
behavior-specific beliefs (in this case awareness of consequences of energy problems, feelings of responsibility
for energy problems, and personal norms to reduce energy use) but that personal norms were the only significant
predictor of acceptability of energy policies. So behavior-specific beliefs and norms mediated the effects of values
on non-activist behavior in the public sphere as well (in this case acceptability of energy policies; cf. Stern, 2000).
However, some studies showed that values can affect behavior directly as well, even when mediating variables
such as specific beliefs, attitudes, and norms are controlled for (e.g., Schultz & Zelezny; 1998; Stern, Dietz, Abel,
Guagnano, & Kalof, 1999; cf. Stern, 2000). For example, Schultz and Zelezny (1998) found that selftranscendence values were significantly related to self-reported pro-environmental behavior, even when general
awareness of environmental problems and feelings of responsibility for environmental problems in general were
controlled for. However, these studies typically measured general beliefs toward the environment, while studies
that showed that values affect environmental behavior indirectly typically included behavior-specific or contextspecific beliefs, attitudes, and norms. This suggests that the influence of values on behavior is most likely to be
mediated by behavior-specific beliefs, attitudes, and norms, but not by general environmental beliefs.
(p. 88) It is generally believed that values, and particularly values that are strongly endorsed by a person, direct
attention to value-congruent information, which in turn affects beliefs and norms related to pro-environmental
action and (willingness to) act pro-environmentally (Stern & Dietz, 1994; Stern et al., 1995; Nordlund & Garvill,
2002, 2003). Values affect the way a person perceives a situation so that some actions and potential outcomes are
seen as attractive whereas other actions are seen as aversive (Feather, 1995).
Values are more influential when they are activated in the particular situation. For example, Verplanken and
Holland (2002) found that people were more likely to acquire information on the environmental performance of a TV
set and, in turn, to actually choose a TV set with a better environmental performance when biospheric values were
activated, but only when they strongly endorsed biospheric values in the first place. In this study, biospheric
values were activated via a scrambled word task in which participants had to make sentences out of words
presented to them, where many of the resulting sentences happened to refer to environmental issues; the true aim
of the task was masked via a cover story. This suggests that priming particular values to make them salient in the
particular situation enhances attention to and the weight of information related to these values. This increases the
likelihood of value-congruent actions, but only when the relevant values are central to the particular person. On
the other hand, priming values is less likely to promote pro-environmental preferences and choices when people
do not strongly endorse these values in the first place. Verplanken and Holland (2002) also found that enhancing a
self-focus (in this case by circling self-related words in a text, such as I, me, my, mine as opposed to
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the, it, a, an) activates central values, which promotes value-congruent actions. More specifically, they
found that people were more likely to donate money to a humanitarian organization (i.e., Amnesty International)
when self-focus was high and when participants strongly endorsed altruistic values. However, a self-focus did not
significantly increase donations to a humanitarian organization when people did not strongly endorse altruistic
values, suggesting that a self-focus particularly promotes value-congruent actions among those who strongly
endorse the relevant values. Together, these results indicate that strong values promote value-congruent actions,
especially when the relevant values are activated and/or when people are self-focused. When altruistic or
biospheric values are linked to or integrated in our self-concept, acting pro-environmentally can make us feel like a
moral person (rather than a selfish person), which is likely to promote pro-environmental actions as people like to
see themselves as morally right (Aronson, 1969; Bolderdijk, Steg, Geller, Lehman, & Postmes, 2012).
Maio and colleagues (Maio & Olson, 1998; Maio, Olson, Allen, & Bernard, 2001) argued that making values
cognitively more accessible is not sufficient to promote value-congruent actions. Rather, values need to be
cognitively supported; that is, individuals should be able to provide reasons for their values. Maio et al. (2001)
argued that value-incongruent actions may result from seeing values as truisms, where people lack cognitive
support for values. In such situations, values are vulnerable to change when they are challenged, because people
have no clear rationale for defending them. In contrast, when values are cognitively supported, they are perceived
to be more rational and activated and people can generate counterarguments when these values are challenged,
thereby counterbalancing situational factors to engage in value-incongruent actions. For example, when the value
helpfulness is cognitively supported and activated, people may help another in need even though this may be
costly to them, while they are less likely to do so when this value is not cognitively supported. In sum, values are
most strongly related to specific beliefs, attitudes, norms, and consequently to behaviors when they are strongly
endorsed, and when they are activated, part of ones self-concept, and cognitively supported.
When values are closely linked to or integrated in ones self concept, they may become an important part of ones
identity, that is, people may mention values to describe themselves (Hitlin, 2003). Indeed, research has shown that
an environmental identity, that is, the extent to which individuals indicate that environmentalism is a central part of
the self, correlates strongly with biospheric values. Moreover, relationships between biospheric values and
environmental behavior are mediated by environmental identity: values were no longer significantly related to
environmental behavior when environmental identity was controlled for (Van der Werff, Steg, & Keizer, 2012),
suggesting that values affect behavior indirectly, via self-identity. When people strongly endorse biospheric
values, it is likely that these values become part of ones self-identity, resulting in a strong environmental (p. 89)
identity, which in turn increases the likelihood of pro-environmental actions.
Distinction Between Values, Ecological Worldviews, and Environmental Concern

Besides values, various other general antecedents of environmental behavior have been studied, notably
worldviews and environmental concern. Like values, worldviews and environmental concern are also believed to
influence a wide range of specific beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behaviors. It is important to make a clear
conceptual distinction between these different general antecedents of environmental behavior, to avoid
misinterpretations.
It is commonly understood that values are central and relatively stable elements of ones personality that reflect
the relative importance of different guiding principles in life. The previous sections demonstrated that values reflect
multiple motivations, that is, they reflect hedonic (e.g., pleasure), egoistic (e.g., power), altruistic (e.g., equality), as
well as biospheric (e.g., unity with nature) motivations (Steg et al., 2011). In contrast, ecological worldviews and
environmental concern reflect less general beliefs and focus on environmental issues (see Steg et al., 2011). More
specifically, ecological worldviews reflect primitive beliefs (i.e., basic truths) on relationships between humans and
the environment. The most popular conceptualization of ecological worldviews is the New Environmental (or:
Ecological) Paradigm (NEP; Dunlap & Van Liere, 1978; Dunlap, Van Liere, Mertig, & Jones, 2000), which reflects
peoples beliefs about humanitys ability to upset the balance of nature, the existence of limits to growth for human
societies, and humanitys right to rule over the rest of nature.
Environmental concern refers to the evaluation of environmental issues, including beliefs on the need for
environmental protection; the severity, likelihood, and immediacy of environmental problems; the seriousness of
Page 8 of 14
environmental problems; worries about environmental problems; general attitudes toward the environment; the
importance of consequences of environmental problems for oneself, others, and the biosphere; and affective
responses to environmental problems (e.g., Axelrod & Lehman, 1993; Baldassare & Katz, 1992; Bamberg, 2003;
Biel & Nilsson, 2005; Fransson & Grling, 1999; Gatersleben, Steg, & Vlek, 2002; Maloney & Ward, 1973; Schultz,
2000, 2001; Schultz et al., 2005; Schultz, Shriver, Tabanico, & Khazian, 2004; Stern et al., 1993; Weigel & Weigel,
1978).
So, values reflect a broader range of motivations and are more encompassing than ecological worldviews and
environmental concern, as values reflect multiple motivations, and not only environmental considerations. Based
on this, one could argue that values should affect ecological worldviews and environmental concern, which in turn
affect behavior-specific beliefs, norms, and environmental actions. In fact, this is exactly what is proposed by the
value-belief-norm theory of environmentalism (Stern, 2000; Stern et al., 1999). Indeed, studies have shown that
values predict NEP and environmental concern (De Groot & Steg, 2008; Schultz et al., 2005; Schultz & Zelezny,
1999; Steg et al., 2005). However, a recent study by Steg et al. (2011) showed that egoistic, altruistic, and
biospheric values predicted a significantly higher proportion of the variance in personal norms toward energy
conservation and in environmental activism, respectively, than did ecological worldviews and environmental
concern. This suggests that values are better predictors of pro-environmental norms and intentions than are
ecological worldviews and environmental concerns, probably because values reflect a wider range of motivations
(rather than only environmental concerns). So, although worldviews and environmental concerns may be rooted in
values, they do not necessarily fully mediate the effects of values on environmental beliefs, norms, and actions,
and values are generally more predictive of pro-environmental beliefs, norms, intentions and behavior than are
ecological worldviews and environmental concern.
Future Directions
In this chapter, we discussed the importance of values in understanding and promoting pro-environmental
behavior. We indicated which values are particularly important in the environmental domain, and how values affect
environmental actions. Also, we described under which circumstances values are particularly predictive of
environmental beliefs, norms, intentions, and behavior, and indicated important conceptual differences between
values and other types of general antecedents of environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behaviors, notably
ecological worldviews and environmental concern. Throughout the chapter, we discussed relevant empirical
evidence on these topics.
Although a rich body of literature is available on values and environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and behavior,
there are some important topics to be addressed in future studies. First, studies revealed (p. 90) that particularly
biospheric values strengthen pro-environmental beliefs, attitudes, norms, and action. An important topic for future
research is therefore how biospheric values can best be strengthened and activated to enhance proenvironmental actions. Such studies can build on the important work by Verplanken and Holland (2002) and Maio et
al. (Maio & Olson, 1998; Maio et al., 2001) discussed in this chapter. Second, future studies could examine under
which circumstances values are more likely to affect behavior indirectly, and when direct influences are likely as
well. We suggested that values may be less likely to affect behavior directly when behavior-specific or contextspecific (rather than general) beliefs, attitudes, and norms are controlled for, but this assumption needs to be
tested empirically. A third important topic for future research is to examine how people manage possible conflicts
between values, such as conflicts between hedonic or egoistic values with biospheric values. Which factors affect
the likelihood that one value will be prioritized over other values, and how can we promote that people act upon
their biospheric values when they strongly endorse such values? We hope to be able to provide answers to these
questions in the coming years.
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Linda Steg
Linda Steg Faculty of Behavioural and Social Sciences University of Groningen Groningen, The Netherlands
Judith I. M. de Groot
Judith I. M. De Groot School of Design, Engineering & Computing Bournemouth University Dorset, UK
Page 13 of 14
Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and Future
Directions

Justice and the Allocation of Natural Resources: Current Concepts and
Future Directions
Geoffrey J. Syme and Blair E. Nancarrow
2012
Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology, Forensic

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0006

Water management is principally used here to review current knowledge in relation to social justice in the
allocation of natural resources and environmental management. The sphere of human needs provided by water is
described, and a water benefits approach to measuring the overall well-being from water allocation decisions is
introduced. The basic concepts of social justiceprocedural, interactive and distributive justice, equity, fairness,
and lay environmental ethicsare outlined, along with their limitations when applied in different cultures. The
premise of scale and justice judgments is posed with the example presented in watershed development in Andhra
Pradesh, India. The requirement for research into ways that justice can be incorporated within the dynamic
systems approaches that are becoming prevalent in ecosystems management is proposed, with the example of a
fisheries-based management cycle provided to demonstrate how this can occur. The importance of incorporating
and integrating time, spatial, and social dimensions into framing justice research is demonstrated. Suggestions for
future research are made throughout.
Keywords: allocation, fairness, equity, ethics, dynamic systems, scale, time, space, benefits
Introduction
The concepts of justice, fairness, and equity and all their synonyms are of preeminent importance for
environmental management and environmental psychologists. From their survey of the Lexis-Nexis database of
major newspapers, Clayton and Opotow (2003) noted that for justice issues, the term environmental was
mentioned more than industrial or legal references. It is unfortunate, therefore, that justice issues have not
played a more central role in environmental and conservation psychology, and that the psychological study of
justice has not had more impact on environmental decision-making (Nancarrow & Syme, 2001).
Justice in environmental management is largely to do with the allocation or sharing of the benefits from natural
resources, and the disbenefits associated with access to limited resources or exposure to polluted resources.
While there is a large contribution that can be made by psychology in encouraging conserving behaviors at
household or individual levels (Bamberg & Moser, 2007) and understanding the determinants of support for
environmentally protective policies (Nilsson, von Borgstede, & Biel, 2004), it is evident that even with these
innovations, the potential for conflict around access to natural resources is likely to rise significantly in the 21st
century. Land, fossil fuels, and water will all be subjected to increased competition between users and uses.
Specific allocations for environmental purposes will also need to be made if we are not to lose the crucial
biodiversity upon which human survival depends. These environmental allocations will need to be made in the face
of short-term economic interests. Therefore, the rights of the environment will need to be defined and then
delivered (p. 94) amid widespread public debate. All these issues will demand much greater attention by
Page 1 of 23
Directions
conservation and environmental psychologists than is currently the case. The concern is that much of the
psychologically based literature in justice relates to human services and financial and organizational issues.
Water and Justice

In this discussion, water is primarily the focus as an exemplar of the justice issues associated with environmental
decision-making and natural resources management. Water and the necessity of access for human life is a vivid
illustration that everyone can connect with. Water is a renewable resource with multifaceted uses. It has
dimensions of quality and quantity. The benefits from water are wide-ranging both for ecosystems and for humans.
Hoekstra, Saveneji, & Chapagain (2001) have pointed out that the same volume of water as it travels through the
environment can provide multiple outcomes ranging from the maintenance of biodiversity to the provision of water
for irrigation and urban supply, and multiple other benefits. Syme, Porter, Goeft, and Kington (2008) have shown
these benefits as a Sphere of Needs as depicted in Figure 6.1.
Because of the wide range of benefits that can be derived from water, from health to spirituality, some economists
have stated that it cannot be seen as a normal economic good (Batten, 2007) and allocated in a purely utilitarian
fashion. Infact, Ajzen, Rosenthal, and Brown (2000), among others, have shown that fairness perceptions are an
important determinant of willingness to pay for environmental goods and, as such, intention to pay cannot
automatically be interpreted as a purely utilitarian variable that relates only to the market as nonutilitarian motives
are intertwined. Therefore, water allocation policies require a social means for evaluating the justice outcomes from
them. It is the justice of how these benefits are shared between differing parties that underlies many cultures and
their constituent institutions. For example, community-based water management in Spain has been a central part of
the culture for centuries and reflects the view that water sharing underlies community stability and integrity.
Click to view larger

Figure 6.1 Sphere of Needs (SON) met by water. Reprinted from Syme et al., 2008, with permission from the
copyright holders, IWA Publishing.
When justice is not seen to be done, the potential for conflict regionally and between nations is exacerbated
(Brooks & Trottier, 2010). Access to water in many cases reflects the relative power of nations. If there is ongoing
injustice, conflicts can emerge. Uitto and Wolf (2002) in their introduction to a special issue on this topic, while
acknowledging the association between water and conflict, pointed out that the nuances of the negotiations in the
settlement of some of these disputes are intriguing. Often what begin as water conflicts end up with communitybased solutions that last. In other cases, despite their importance, power differentials leave water matters off the
bargaining table but concessions (p. 95) are made in other economically important areas. In either peace or
conflict, therefore, water allocation issues have much relevance to the development of social justice theory and
practice. Applying justice concepts to water is difficult, but the lessons learned will apply to all natural resources.
One of the important contributions that can be made by psychology is to move the argumentation away from
allocating volumes of water, which is the common frame of reference, toward allocating benefits from water. These
benefits can incorporate all of the rings of the Sphere of Needs, including environmental and economic
components. We contend that the most important outcome of water resources management for people is the
subjective overall benefit that they derive from it (Syme & Nancarrow, 2008). That is, it is the human aspirations
associated with the social benefits, perceived environmental goals, and required economic outcomes that are the
Page 2 of 23
Directions
key elements of sustainable water resources management. We contend that while some of these benefits can be
measured in dollar terms, some cannot (Ackerman & Heinzerling, 2004). Many of these noneconomic dimensions,
such as culture or spirituality, are firmly in the social category. While Western nations have measured the national
welfare from water and other natural resources, Bhutan prefers to view its national welfare in terms of happiness
(Zurick, 2006). This is a rich concept and is compatible with that of measuring benefits. The important advantage of
using the benefits concept is that once benefits have been established, water quality and quantity criteria for
attaining them can then be defined and delivered. For example, water quality underpins almost all of the benefits
associated with the Sphere of Needs. Water quantity underpins recreational amenity benefits, and so on.
Nevertheless, for most nations, both economic and social benefits are important and both need to be included in
any evaluative analysis with environmental benefits in the same metric if our water management is to be
understood. How basic psychological measurement can be successfully used to achieve this is described for the
case of Lake Mulwala in southern Australia (Syme & Nancarrow, 2008; McIntyre et al., 2006), where there was
considerable conflict between water agencies and the local community over the development of a water
management plan.
This benefits approach must be underpinned by social justice theory. The need for such theory to help create
robust decision-making is becoming ever more evident in the light of the uncertainties created by climate change
that has already markedly altered the pattern of precipitation in many regions of the world, thus creating ever more
difficult water allocation challenges. Further, one of the most concerning aspects of climate change in many areas
is the uncertainty of future rainfall and its effects on the productive capacity of different regions. If water sharing
arrangements demand to be changed, justice issues will be paramount in the ability of communities to cope and
adapt to potentially altered resource availability. While many of these issues are shared with other natural
resources, water is a preeminent connector of individuals, communities, and regions. How water is managed in one
situation always has multiplier effects on others. For this reason water and its management have often formed the
basis of enduring institutional and political structures (Guillet, 2006) and often ongoing tensions between and within
nations.
Justice in relation to water management needs to be understood and negotiated between groups of humans and
between humans and the environment. Justice problems can occur at all scales. Micro-issues include managing
water fairly between groups upstream and downstream in a small watershed. Meso-level issues include water
sharing between regions or basins. Macro-issues include those associated with international competition for water.
But the issue of scale when considering justice is not simply the geographic area associated with the water
resource; it has temporal, political, institutional, sociological, and psychological dimensions that are not necessarily
commensurate. The psychological dimension, whether at individual, group, or community level, underpins each of
these dimensions of justice.
Finally, the benefits concept has two levels of consideration: those benefits from water that emanate directly from
outcomes at a local or national level, and those associated with the trading of virtual water1 between nations.
Can the sharing of water benefits between water-rich and water-poor countries at a local level be simultaneously
considered from a moral or justice perspective with the idea of virtual water? That is, can justice be achieved by
providing virtual water to alleviate imbalances between rich and poor countries?
Water management has often been labeled a wicked problem (Head, 2008), in that a solution to one problem is
often a precursor to the advent of another problem, and each should be solved within an adaptive justice
framework. This framework needs to incorporate environments and (p. 96) ecosystems as well as people if
sustainable management is to be reached and then maintained. Because justice is at its root a subjective judgment,
psychology needs to be a basic component in the development of how we can better share water for the overall
public interest.
Following is a brief review of the basic concepts of the social psychology of justice as they apply to water-resource
and environmental management.
Understanding and Evaluating Justice Outcomes

This section primarily focuses on the empirical social psychological literature that attempts to understand and
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apply knowledge to the ways in which justice actually expresses itself in human decision-making and behavior
associated with environmental management and resource allocation. The key concepts of social psychological
theory and the understanding of lay ethics can provide a basis for sharing natural resources among humans, and
between humans and the environment. However, while these concepts have been very useful, they have often
been found to be rather simplistic by the community in real-world environmental allocation problems. There has
been a long history of theories of justice as they relate to natural resource allocation from virtue theory to various
forms of utility theory and the procedural justice theories of people such as Rawls (1971). This theoretical
development continues today (e.g., Sen, 2010). The ongoing interaction between this literature and psychology is
fragmented.
The difficulty for psychologists is that often, philosophical principles concerning the assessment of allocation are
conditional statements that do not lend themselves readily to traditional psychometric measurement. Nevertheless,
in studies of lay philosophical approaches, the elicitation of such principles using the language of those affected by
the allocation issues can provide effective evaluation of alternative sharing options at community levels, and also
at a more global level.
Equity
The social psychological literature began with research based on three primary concepts: equity, procedural
justice, and distributive justice. Equity seems to have the largest literature and generally follows the formulation of
Rasinski (1987) as having two components: proportionality and equality. Thus in environmental terms,
proportionality can be reflected, for example, in the effort and investment made by irrigators to utilize their land and
allocated water resources. Simply put, those who have invested in an extensive irrigation system and have a
record of high agricultural production because of carefully planned husbandry deserve more water in times of
shortage than those who have simply flooded their crops and hoped for the best. Alternatively, equality suggests
that each entity (both human and environmental) should have equal opportunity to access an adequate amount of
water for basic purposes. These components are used in both individual and community decision-making with
different emphases for differing problems.
The equality component of equity is often referred to as a social allocation in water resources management. The
exact amount of water that should be allocated to everyone is often determined on a needs basis. Generally, for
example, it is interpreted in terms of the amount of clean water that will be needed to allow basic human
requirements for health and food preparation, and these basic needs are sometimes referred to as aspirational
rights in international documents (e.g., Oda and Toyoma, 2002). In agricultural terms, the same social allocation
concept could be related to an adequate supply of food in some cultures, or basic income in others. The definition
of environmental needs is more difficult, and consequently, environmental rights are equally problematic. For
example, how much land or water should be maintained as pristine or conserved is the basis of enduring public
arguments about environmental needs and rights. These deliberations are even more difficult when the
environment has already been highly modified through urban development, agriculture, or mining.
The proportionality component is reflected in the maintenance of relatively high water use due to the investment,
effort, and productivity involved (Syme, Nancarrow, & McCreddin, 1999). It may be noted that a third concept of
accountability is significant in the interpretation of when and how proportionality is used in peoples equity decision
making (Johansson-Stenman & Konow, 2010). Accountability refers to the joint concepts of proportionality and
responsibility. Responsibility simply refers to the degree of control a person has over the outcome. Thus, if the
person or group can control a positive outcome from water use by extra measures to protect the environment
and/or productivity, they are considered to be accountable, and therefore the effort is proportionally rewarded. On
the other hand, if the improved water management is outside their control through environmental or economic (p.
97) constraints, the principle of equality seems to be invoked.
Procedural Justice
The concept of procedural justice gained prominence with the publication of Lind and Tylers (1988) volume, The
Social Psychology of Procedural Justice. It has most commonly been applied to issues relating to nonenvironmental problems, but it has a great relevance to natural resource issues, where it has been relatively
neglected. Procedural justice research concentrates on the characteristics of a decision-making process that
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make it seem just to people who are vulnerable to the consequences. Procedural justice identifies and measures
generalizable dimensions of interaction between the decision makers and stakeholders such as voice (or
evidence that people had the chance to have a say and were listened to), and in the case of wider public input to
environmental decision-making, the representativeness of those involved in the process. There are also a
number of other dimensions. A review of procedural justice concepts and how they may relate to natural resource
decisions is provided by Lawrence, Daniels, and Stankey (1997). The importance of procedurally just decisionmaking in enhancing the role of science in climate adaptation is described by Paavola (2008), who indicated the
need for community influence on setting the priorities for scientific research to assist in just allocation of costs,
benefits, and risks of climate adaptation strategies.
The major hypothesis of procedural justice is that if it is demonstrated in a decision-making process, then the
outcome is more likely to be accepted by those affected. To some extent, this hypothesis has been supported by
environmentally relevant research, but the relationship may not be a simple one.
Oberholzer-Gee, Bohnet, and Frey (1997) found a strong association between procedurally just processes
(incorporating respect, impartiality, adequate information, consent, and fairness) and acceptance of siting of
nuclear facilities in Sweden. Lauber and Knuth (1999) found in regard to public participation in moose management
that the presence of voice, equal opportunity for people to participate, and the adequate representation of
interested parties did not have a relationship with acceptance of the moose management policy, as hypothesized
by procedural justice theory. Nevertheless, the procedural justice issues that did correlate with overall support for
the decision outcome were the receptivity of the management agency, evidence that the public involvement
program did influence decision makers, the perceived degree of knowledge of the managing agency, and feelings
of improved relationships between the community, stakeholder groups, and the agency.
Syme and Nancarrow (2002) evaluated procedural justice characteristics of a large-scale wastewater public
involvement program. They measured participants perceptions of the ease with which they could participate, the
sufficiency of the information given to them, the degree of opportunity they felt they had to contribute to the
process, the adequacy of the variety of opinions expressed, the perceived responsiveness of the water authority
conducting the program, the likelihood that the water authority would make the best decision (measured during the
process), and whether the best decision was made after the process had been completed. While the relationship
between the acceptance of outcome of the program and perceptions of procedural justice were somewhat
equivocal, there was a measurable relationship between positive perceptions of procedural justice from the
program and commitment to participating with the water authority in the future.
Given that trust in environmental agencies has been shown to relate to acceptance of outcomes (Edelenbos &
Klijn, 2007) and that trust is built up by a sense of community with the agency, this relationship between procedural
justice and commitment is important. As has been observed by several authors, environmental management
decisions dont result in a rational one-off solution as originally proposed by the scientific community. They are
made on an ongoing basis around what is the best current estimate of a solution and consist of values and
emotions as well as logic (Cortner & Shannon, 1993). Thus adaptive learning and reframing of problems are
integral to environmental decision-making and must incorporate community input and preference. To achieve this,
agencies need commitment from the community and trust in their processes (Harstone, Failing, & Gregory, 2007).
Some authors separate procedural justice issues into two components: procedural justice, which describes the
structure and organization of the decision-making process, and interactional justice, which pertains to the way in
which the person has been treated in terms of courtesy and respect (Bies, 2005). Thus the role of improved
relationships through public involvement in encouraging acceptance of outcome in the Lauber and Knuth (1999)
situation seems a good example of the significance of interactional justice. While there is some (p. 98) contention
as to whether an interactional justice categorization is justified, it would seem that it is worthy of investigation in the
environmental justice context. This is possibly because it is the interactive justice issues that are most likely to
arouse the emotional as well as the cognitive dimension of decision-making (Epstein, 1994). This is important, as it
has been demonstrated that in many instances it is the emotive rather than the cognitive part of assessment that
leads to behavior. The emotive component is likely to occur during an individuals interaction with decision makers
on an interpersonal basis. If the interaction is pleasant, a commitment to continuing the interaction is likely.
Alternatively, if the individual is ignored or treated in a way that is seen as disrespectful, negative emotion will arise
and protest against injustice is more likely to occur. Judgments of procedural justice, on the other hand, are more
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likely to be cognitive in nature, as the opportunities for involvement and influence can be seen in the timelines of
planning documentation. While there has been relatively little formal research on the structure and significance of
interactional justice in environmental decision-making, it would seem important in terms of justice and, more
important, injustice perceptions (Miller, 2001). This is particularly the case in the context of perceived past
injustices affecting future participation. There are many examples of an agencys public involvement program
being spurned by the community because of the past rude behavior of individual agency employees.
Finally, procedural justice has a central role in considering the rights and the representation of the environment
in public discussion and decision-making. The question is often posed as to who represents the environments
interests (Bryson, 2008). There is obviously no one group anointed in this regard. Scientists have access to
knowledge, which is an important component of achieving procedural justice and may assist in assessing
environmental needs. For example, scientists can inform us about the thresholds of environmental change that will
threaten ecosystem integrity. However, scientists have no particular mandate in regard to the values underpinning
trade-off decisions that define what is ultimately assigned for environmental conservation. This means we need to
be aware of the nature of the values we are trading off to ensure that we are aware of which values are
represented in the final decision. Without such public awareness, the justice considerations are often tacit and are
not necessarily representative of either the values of the community or the fundamental needs of the environment.
The only way the justice of sharing resources between humans and the environment can be adequately
interpreted is through processes that create overt public discussion by a wide range of interests. How this is
accomplished requires an expanded research and evaluation effort into publicly accountable and procedurally just
decision-making.
Distributive Justice
Distributive justice as a concept is related to the evaluation of whether an outcome is just in terms of the
distribution of a resource between individuals. In this way, equity and distributive justice are closely related
concepts, as the dimensions of equity seem to be significant in making distributive justice decisions. It is clear,
however, that it is not just the two dimensions associated with equity that are used when environmental distribution
evaluations are made by individuals. There are many other approaches that have been applied over the centuries
in the development of our moral philosophies. These can vary from the simplest, that of virtue theory, which claims
that rich people are rich because they are virtuous (therefore, rich people should be allocated more land and
water than poor people), through models of sharing such as Kants moral imperative (e.g., people at the top of a
watershed should ensure that they do not take water in a manner that will negatively affect people at the bottom),
various models associated with rights (e.g., I believe the environment should have the same rights as people), to a
variety of utilitarian philosophies associated with economic means for reallocating water (including rules for
compensating losers) (Wenz, 1988). All have distributive justice outcomes and create clear expectations about
who should get what. Syme and Nancarrow (1996) showed that many of these philosophies were held intuitively by
the Australian public when expressing their opinion of environmental policy. Syme et al. (1999) and subsequent
case studies found that these ethical positions, nominated by stakeholders in environmental decision-making,
could be measured and used to assess the overall distributive justice and fairness of particular actions that
would change access to the natural environment. Many of the philosophies of allocation present in the academic
literature were voiced in simple language by water users. A sample of the attitudinal questions derived from these
lay philosophies are provided in Syme et al. (1999).
Distributive justice has been found to correlate positively with procedural justice in a number of (p. 99) studies,
although, as stated earlier, there have been relatively few of these for environmental decision-making. But because
of this relationship, one formulation of fairness theory was developed, the fairness heuristic (e.g., van den Bos,
Lind, Vermunt, & Wilke, 1997a; Syme & Nancarrow, 1997), which combined the two as an ongoing interactive
system.
Fairness
According to Peterson (1994), Once an impression of fairness has been produced it becomes extremely resistant
to change because it provides a cognitively available summary judgment in lieu of a more complicated analysis
of policy each time they are asked. Reliance on fairness heuristics is likely to occur in situations that are ongoing;
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where there is unlikely to be a clear-cut end point; and when an individuals knowledge is incomplete.
Environmental allocation issues are typical of such situations. In addition, environmental issues are replete with
examples of framing perceptions of fairness differently (e.g., Messick, 1993), according to whether one is
considering the acceptability of decisions in general or disinterested terms, or specifically where the impact is likely
to impact personally or locally. These have been termed universal fairness and situational fairness,
respectively (Syme et al., 1999). Universal fairness judgments are those that examine the wider principles
surrounding an environmental problem. Situational fairness judgments relate to specific examples of the problem.
Alternative parallel concepts are macro-justice (group level) and micro-justice (individual level) (Clayton, 1994). An
example of a macro-justice or universal fairness principle would be, We should protect our ecosystems for the
next generation. A micro-justice or situational fairness principle would be, I should be compensated if my water
allocation is to be taken away for ecosystem benefit. In many ways, these concepts can be seen to be associated
with scale. That is, at the macrolevel, governments are expected to derive policies that apply the principles of
justice and reflect the national interest within a culture, whereas micro-justice may place greater emphasis on
ones individual interests within that overall framework.
Micro-justice (justice perceived at the individual level) or situational fairness (fairness related to specific aspects of
a problem) has often been associated with a justice or fairness bias in that people tend to view fairness judgments
from a self-interested perspective. For example, Lange, Loschel, Vogt, and Zeigler (2010) found that people in
different geographic regions generally favor rules that impose lower costs on their regions and higher costs by
implication on other regions. This is perhaps consistent with literature that suggests that people will rationalize their
own contribution to water conservation, or any other environmental issue, as they see themselves as being
naturally more responsible than other members of the community (Tyler & Blader, 2000). Self-interest, of course,
may not be the only motivation, but it is evident that people construct fairness judgments on the basis of arguments
from their own viewpoint to justify their own positions. For example, an argument may be promoted: Compared
with rich people, I use much less water and energy, so they should take responsibility for achieving a higher
proportion of savings than me. This argumentation is at the basis of much of the relative deprivation literature
(Major, 1994; DAmbrosio & Frick, 2007). Feelings of relative deprivation tend to occur when people identify others
as being comparable in terms of their justification for using a resource. A good example has occurred in Perth,
Western Australia, where vegetable growers use groundwater to grow produce. The government wished to meter
them to ensure usage was not in excess of their allocation. The growers pointed out that householders in nearby
suburbs also using groundwater bores and not being metered (or even given an allocation) were comparable users
as a group. Therefore, relatively they were being treated unjustly. Since there is also a tendency to view others as
less responsible than oneself or ones own group, a fairness bias toward oneself and ones own group is often
observed, and arguments about fairness are constructed accordingly (Tyler & Blader, 2000; Clayton & Opotow,
2003).
Presumably this bias is countered in public policy by the dispassionate macro-justice or universal fairness
principles that are applied by decision makers in their disinterested role as public servants, or (hopefully)
politicians judgments in relation to the overall public good. Bias should also be tempered through well-designed
public involvement programs that ensure that these macro-justice or universal principles are met. Syme et al.
(1999), for example, have collected universal fairness principles in regard to water allocation from a community
and then matched specific (or situational) solutions to them. The universal principles did have some variability
among the community, although there were many similarities, which may be expected in any culture. But by
mapping the range of universal principles to the individual solutions, the inclusiveness of the (p. 100)
components of the water allocation solutions could be demonstrated both to the decision makers and to the wider
community. This acted to allow situational, or group bias but curbed its excessive implementation from a publicinterest viewpoint. Nevertheless, fairness bias needs to be recognized and its contribution to fairness judgments
identified.
It is not surprising from the discussion so far that Wilke (1991), in his review of resource allocation gaming
experiments, identified three factors governing peoples allocation of resources. These are greed, efficiency, and
fairness. Therefore, the contribution of justice or fairness to overall decision-making needs to be interpreted in
association with the self-interest motive and the perception of the efficient use of resources (see also Eek & Bies,
2003).
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Self-interest has been commonly studied as the source of motivation in allocation games and has been
demonstrated as a consistent and powerful motivator of sharing behavior. Sometimes, however, the significance of
the variable has been overemphasized at individual, social, and cultural levels (Miller, 1999). Concentration by
policy makers on the self-interest motive in environmental decision-making has created a unidimensional view of
human character and the devaluing of pro-social motivation in human and environmental affairs (Montada, 1998).
This has, at its extreme, led to national policies that undervalue human concerns for long-term sustainability and
the need for public policy to meet those concerns. The inclusion of wider lay ethics in the design and
encouragement of public discussion needs to be facilitated by government to give a more balanced approach to
allocation decisions from the fairness perspective.
Finally, the concept of efficiency has an economic legacy where it is intended to indicate maximizing overall wealth
from the resources available. But there is a broader way in which to consider efficiency and that is in a moral or
ethical way (Syme et al., 1999). There is a universal ethical principle that states that natural resources should not
be wasted when there are alternatives to use less. This is combined with the accountability component of equity
when considering support for policies of resource allocation between people, and between people and the
environment. Examples of this have been shown in Australia by farmers who advocated taking significant amounts
of water away from irrigators in their community who had not invested in modern water-efficient irrigation
technology when they could afford to. The same approach has been taken where farmers have criticized the
return of water to the environment when specific ecological outcomes cannot be demonstrated for the amount of
water being allocated. That is, scientists are not behaving accountably through their failure to use their knowledge
to achieve efficient environmental outcomes. Often because of the difficulty of producing the knowledge to provide
specific answers to the environmental outcomes, intractable arguments have occurred between conservationists
and irrigators worldwide.
Scale and the Dimensions of Justice Decisions

While each of the above concepts provides us with the intellectual foundations for dealing with water allocation
issues, they need to be applied at differing environmental, social, and economic scales on an ongoing basis. The
issue of scale is an important one when considering justice issues within water and other natural resource policy.
Generally there is a tendency for psychologists to measure justice concepts at a microlevel of experiments or
surveys that are based on individual responses in a prescribed setting. These are then aggregated by group, and
through comparison and contrast, allocation issues are understood. Logically it may seem that this results in microjustice issues being measured rather than macro-justice concepts in areas where there is conflict, except when
the individuals have no personal stake in the outcomes. The literature has suggested that people tend to use
macro-justice judgments except when there is substantial conflict. Even then, those supporting environmental
rights in their argumentation tend to operate at more of a macrolevel, while opponents to environmental allocations
tend to prefer individual rights in their argumentation (Clayton, 1994, 1996, 1998, 2000). However, in using the
concept of fairness to derive solutions to a contentious groundwater reallocation problem, Syme et al. (1999) found
that both macro- (universal) and micro-judgments (situational) of fairness could be collected from the same
individual. Micro-solutions could be mapped onto macro-judgments to demonstrate the overall consequences of a
series of specific solutions for sharing the pain of less water. This mapping formed the basis for discussion and
negotiation in community forums.
For example, a universal principle of fairness identified by the community was that those who invested in water
resource efficiency should be treated on a proportionality basis and rewarded for their investment. The specific
situational fairness (p. 101) principle was derived by the community as those who had not invested in four key
water-saving technologies should lose 10% of their allocation. Similarly another universal-fairness principle was
that water reallocation in the valley should protect the smaller family farms (an equality principle). In this case it
was decided that a viability base be set for smaller farms to ensure that they did not reach a threshold whereby
they would be forced out of business by water cutbacks. Both situational solutions were feasible given the water
resource.
While this literature represents distinct progress within the traditional social psychological framework, it has
challenges when attempting to incorporate social justice concepts into overall policies at regional, national, and
international levels that will contribute to long-term sustainability. In this case, the requirement is for measures to be
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integrated at conceptual and physical scales that make sense to physical scientists such as hydrologists,
economic sense to economists, and institutional sense to policy makers. This is a vexed question, as hydrologists
tend to work on hydrological basin or watershed levels, and economists frequently at a much wider regional or
national level. Finally, policy makers may wish to use natural resource policies in general to deliver macro-social
goals, such as increasing the role of women in decision-making, or ensuring the rights of future generations are
protected.
The Example of Watershed Development

An instructive example of the importance of directly addressing scale can be seen in the evaluation of the national
Watershed Development (WSD) policy in India. Since the early 1980s, the Indian WSD programs in rain-fed dryland
agriculture have been developed and implemented at micro-watershed scale (average size about 500 hectares),
aiming to ensure the sustainability of the surface- and groundwater resources and to improve the livelihoods of
farmers. This program has largely been motivated by rural poverty resulting in suicide, seasonal starvation, or
migration away from villages to cities, thus creating undesirable social impacts.
From Wanis national WSD evaluation (Wani, Sreedevi, & Marimuthu, 2007), it has become apparent that the
effects of water retention (e.g., surface water diversion, groundwater pumping) in micro-watersheds could
negatively affect downstream access to water and have an impact on water-resource sustainability and farmer
livelihoods. Because the program also has social goals, such as equal representation of males and females on
watershed committees, there are social and institutional benefits that are not shared between those that have WSD
and those that do not.
Thus the issue of scale has become paramount for the effective evaluation of the WSD program both in India and
elsewhere. It is clear that the complexities of hydrology, economy, and society become impossible to deliver
coherently at a Basin level. The major question then becomes: If the microlevel delivery of the WSD is delivering
unjust outcomes in terms of access to water and its consequent effects on the well-being of adjacent villages, at
what level should it be administered to improve outcomes for the regional community? From a justice perspective,
though, it is already evident that there is an urgent need for an understanding of culturally based macro-justice
principles as well as the more micro-justice considerations, as both affect village acceptance of local watershed
policy. For example, macro-justice principles that are not publicly discussed in Western communities may be
influential in accepting the values inherent in micro-WSD. That is, elements of the watershed policy that may seem
unjust (such as incentives for efficient water technology, which can result in reduced seasonal employment for
landless people) might be accepted because macro-views of justice relate to the caste system whereby there is a
collective view of justice based on interpersonal positioning (Miller, 1997). In this case, there is widespread
acceptance that advantage to those with access to more resources (generally higher caste) is appropriate. This
derives also from a macro-perspective of time and generations founded in the principle of karma. Karma is a cycle
of rebirth that guarantees status mobility for the individual in the next life on the basis of his or her performance of
duty in this life. It may also be noted that there are many forms of spirituality associated with human connection to
the environment (Egri, 1997) and these are likely to be reflected in justice preferences at both the macro- and
microlevels. An understanding of these connections would assist in widening our concepts of how justice
considerations are applied at the smaller and larger environmental scales.
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Figure 6.2 Schematic diagram of the management cycle and sources of error or variation that can inhibit
the successful execution of fisheries management.
Thus policy development for water resources in different cultures and beliefs needs to balance micro- and macrojustice judgments with appropriately scaled institutional structures. These institutions need to be capable of
delivering just outcomes. In the case of WSD, just outcomes are to promote equality in terms of opportunity, and
less division in social and economic outcomes for different groups (p. 102) within the community. This example
also indicates that the social psychological justice literature needs to be aware of the wide range of philosophies
that must be considered in addition to the foundation concepts upon which social justice research has so far been
based.
Managing Systems
Given that watershed development represents typical issues for the problems of environmental decision-making
that require the integration of environmental, economic, and social considerations within any justice analysis, there
is clearly a need for justice researchers to engage in multi- and trans-disciplinary research (Newell et al., 2005). In
this approach to research, investigators frame the problems together, and through different methodological insights
combine to achieve this integration. In this process, from the justice perspective, there can be many useful
contributions from philosophers, sociologists, political economists, and those involved with institutional analysis.
Many of these approaches will not necessarily use conventional social and environmental psychological methods.
They will, perhaps, have more usage of national and regional statistics and dynamic systems modeling that are
disaggregated, where appropriate, to more localized analyses. Aggregate social psychological data can be put
into such models whereby environmental modeling can be combined in a management cycle. One example for
fisheries is provided by Fulton, Smith, Smith, and van Putten (2010). It can be seen in Figure 6.2 that there are
resource and human components.
It is likely that justice research would fit neatly into the unexpected behavior and decision uncertainty
segments. Van den Bos and Lind (2002) have suggested, for example, that fairness judgments are made as a part
of managing uncertainty in decision-making. Undoubtedly, the vehement recent protests against a water allocation
plan in a significant agricultural river basin in Australia were not expected and revolve, to a significant extent,
around whether the environmental benefits promised by the plan will actually be delivered, and the unknown extent
to which water will be taken away from farmers. Largely because of a perceived lack of procedural justice, a sense
of fairness was not there to counteract these uncertainties. Carefully constructed justice research in conjunction
with the hydrologists and economists working in the basin could have provided much improved procedural justice
and probably a better distributive outcome for both irrigators and the environment. While this is a major issue for
Australia, the same insights could be offered for many regions of the world.
(p. 103) The need to understand how to manage such dynamic social systems within a global justice context is
becoming ever more pressing with the demands of climate change (Vanderheiden, 2008). Perceptions of justice at
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a psychological level among both decision makers and the community at large become highly significant. Not
understanding issues, such as how we manage sharing of the effects of carbon emissions between rich and poor
nations or how and why countries may be prepared to sign on to global agreements that may create justice
problems within their own nations, has been at the core of national and international politics for some time. The lack
of resolution of these justice or ethical issues may prevent the knowledge that has been gained by scientists and
others being applied as the basis of decision-making. While it may be said by some that this is a political rather
than a psychological issue, the fact remains that outcomes of justice negotiations depend on individual judgments
of key individuals, and in many cases, the behavior of small groups. These are contexts in which psychologists
can offer considerable insight (e.g., Abdel-Monem, Bingham, Marincic, & Tomkins, 2010).
Perhaps the most fundamental issue is that, psychologically, individuals have great difficulty in understanding the
nature of dynamic ecological systems (Green, 1997; White, 2008) and there is some contention as to whether
such insights can be readily taught. This systems thinking research could have significance to the justice
literature. If people find difficulty in understanding dynamic social systems, are they capable of making societywide macro-justice judgments?
But there are three other areas of research that have great relevance and need to be systematically addressed if
the questions in the environmental justice area are to be adequately framed by social justice researchers. These
relate to concepts of environmental responsibility, social inclusion, and the psychology of time. Understanding
these three concepts will be highly influential in determining whether humans, as a species, are capable of
achieving environmental sustainability.
All of these issues are components of identity, which has been shown to be a key determinant of the formulation of
our justice considerations (Clayton & Opotow, 2003). We make judgments on the basis of our individual and
collective identities, which are socially and environmentally embedded. And perhaps more tacitly, but still
powerfully, we are defined by our location in the time dimension.
Space, Time, and Society

Application of social justice research requires the systematic consideration of what occurs in the context of
psychological distance in three key dimensions of space, time, and society. There are local problems with
relatively few people and a short time frame when justice issues are considered. For example, should construction
of a jetty be allowed in the upper reaches of a river but not in the estuary? There are also global problems with
many nations to be considered over generations. Should virtual water be proactively used as a way to assist
developing countries economies and assist in income equity between developed and developing nations? There is
a need to understand how our perceptions along these three key dimensions affect our fairness judgments and
how these perceptions could be incorporated in understanding justice issues.
Space and Justice

Clayton and Opotow (2003) have emphasized the importance of self-identity in the formulation of justice judgments.
One component of identity is ones attachment to the environment in which one lives. Moral geographers have
pointed out that the feeling of responsibility for other regions of the world has boundaries. Put simply, the farther
away from ones location, the less one is likely to be personally concerned morally about what happens there
(Smith, 2000). In the case of psychology there are many indications that site attachment does occur for
environments. Zajoncs (1968) mere exposure theory suggests that positive affect tends to occur through ongoing
exposure to stimuli. Thus this would tend to explain the loyalty that many feel toward their places of residence in
some sort of hierarchical fashion. Loyalty may occur first to ones city, then to ones state or province, then to
ones nation, and then to a wider international context. This assertion obviously requires empirical verification.
Nevertheless, some Australian data has shown that while the Western Australian community approved locally
derived climate change policies, they were much more equivocal in their belief that the state should follow an
international agenda in terms of obligations to address climate change (Syme & Nancarrow, 2009).
Something like Opotows (1993, 1994) theory of moral exclusion could be hypothesized, which, in simple terms,
would reinforce the moral geographers stances. Those outside the space of moral inclusion may be treated with
less empathy and concern from a justice perspective. This is a challenge (p. 104) for those dealing with global
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issues such as climate change.
However, Fujita, Henderson, Eng, Trope, & Liberman (2006) use construal theory (Trope & Liberman, 2003) to
address the issue of space. They suggest that increasing the reported spatial distance of people or events should
have effects on mental representation of events. These effects are similar to those of increasing remoteness on
other dimensions of psychology, such as temporal or social distance. As construal theory would suggest, Fujita et
al. (2006) found that spatially distant events can be seen also as a dimension of psychological distance. That is,
the farther away an event, the more abstract or generalized the language used to describe that event. It is
tempting to think, therefore, that such language would be analogous to the universal or macro-justice principles
described by both Syme et al. (1999) and Clayton (1996, 1998, 2000). These are general statements describing
the overarching principles that should be reflected in decision-making from an overall public-interest perspective
and may not represent exclusion.
Spatially close events can be expressed in more detailed terms, and because of this more situational options can
be described and expressed because of increased knowledge. It is here that situational justice or fairness
judgments come into play simply because there is more local knowledge and less uncertainty in decision-making.
In practical terms, this may be why people are more likely to engage in localized public involvement programs than
regional ones (Forester, 1981; Guidotti & Abercrombie, 2008). There is more attachment and more feelings of
responsibility as well as more knowledge and possibly more emotion. In justice terms, spatial distance may indicate
the generality suggested by construal theory rather than moral exclusion. Simply put, universal fairness or macrojustice statements may be used for faraway places, while both universal and situational judgments are used by
individuals for nearby locations. This hypothesis has yet to be systematically tested. It also does not necessarily
mean that the universal fairness or macro-justice principles are any less significant than micro-justice or situational
fairness principles, which may incorporate attendant emotions. It must also be taken into account that there is not
necessarily a direct correlation between physical distance and perceived moral responsibility.
Tversky (2003) has pointed out that that peoples representation of space differs from space as conceived by
physicists, geometers and cartographers. Space is constructed according to ones role, experience, and
personal activities (see also Droseltis & Vignoles, 2010; Vanclay, Higgins, & Blackshaw, 2008). Therefore, it is
important not only to establish the feelings of personal attachment to close geographical areas, but also to
explore more distanced areas where people feel morally obliged to act or support, perhaps because of their icon
value.
In a study examining urban storm-water watershed management (Syme, Nancarrow, & Jorgensen, 2002),
householders willingness to act to protect the quality of storm-water runoff into the nearby river was assessed.
Respondents were asked which areas in the metropolitan area they had a feeling of responsibility for. To show this,
they were invited to circle on a map the area that they felt personally responsible for. The map was not confined to
their streets near the river, but also included adjacent urban areas. They were also invited to nominate other
options, up to the entire metropolitan area. There was a large range of responses to this question. Some felt
responsible for the whole of the metropolitan area, while others felt they were responsible for only their dwelling
and the land area upon which it was situated. The results showed there were significant individual differences.
From the viewpoint of this discussion, these feelings of responsibility lead to the prediction of individual proenvironmental intentions. It is admitted that these intentions do not necessarily correlate with justice judgments and
this is a topic with little empirical research specifically in relation to justice and allocation decisions. Nevertheless, it
would seem that the question of perceived responsibility needs to be addressed before questions about the justice
of basic resource allocation issues are asked. That is, sharing or allocation preferences need to be understood in
terms of a specific understanding of peoples levels of responsibility. It is likely that these levels of responsibility (or
accountability) will affect both cognitive and emotive judgments about environmental management and allocation
justice.
Labeling fairness judgments as universal or situational may be ill informed if they do not correspond to the
cognitive and moral representation of space of an individual. For example, opposition to restricting park irrigation in
a particular suburb may be viewed as a situational judgment by a local that his or her favorite recreation area has
been impaired. However, it could also reflect a universal judgment that all people are entitled to green space if the
restrictions were limited to one part of the metropolitan area or to lower socioeconomic suburbs. (p. 105) Thus
the often-quoted self-interest motivation for justice judgments needs to be interpreted within understanding the
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geographical context in which people are actually engaging.
Time and Justice

The Future
The basic justice premise of sustainability is represented in the World Commission on Environment and
Development report (1987) as development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability
of future generations to meet their own needs. This indicates that time is a relevant dimension when considering
justice, at least in an intergenerational sense. The equality principle between humans seems to be invoked in a
temporal sense.
Time as it relates to justice or equity is implicitly recognized within economics by the choice of discount rates,
whereby the effects of an investment today are devalued exponentially into the future (see Zeckhauser & Viscusi,
2008). Eventually the investment is decreed to be almost worthless. Thus the discount rate tends to be an intuitive
judgment about the value of investment now compared with what remains in the future. The normal practice of
setting discount rates would seem to encourage a more short-term perspective than that required by the World
Commission on Environment and Development, which should encourage value being maintained or even increased
in the future. In intergenerational terms, it is apparent that actions taken now could have an expanding positive
effect on the life of future generations, for example, by investing in appropriate technologies now.
The difficulty is therefore in choosing a discount rate that reflects intergenerational equity or fairness. While this
can be estimated by economic analysis, Dasgupta (2008) has pointed out that the appropriate discount rate should
be chosen by both economic analyses and the elicitation of the communitys principles of distributive justice over
time. Eliciting the appropriate precision of justice principles is not easy and there are a number of issues that need
to be addressed. The resolution of these issues may not correlate with current economic practice. For example,
the definition of what is just is hard to imagine for the next generation, let alone fifteen generations hence (see
Page, 1988 for a discussion). It is also unlikely that we can be specific about which benefits are to be distributed.
For example, while in a general sense there may be goodwill toward future generations, such as trying to protect
water resources for the population as a whole, it is harder to imagine the specifics of future policies that may help
to lower the gap between rich and poor. Finally, in the case of long time frames and intergenerational equity, the
future may be discounted because of the uncertainty about what one is buying.
As suggested by Trope and Liberman (2003), as temporal distance grows there are more generalized
representations of issues that lead, as suggested above, to universal or macro-justice being the level at which
justice issues are verbalized. This does not necessarily mean that strong policies for future generations are only
vaguely supported or that these attitudes are ephemeral, its just that the means of delivering them may be hard to
imagine in the medium- to long-term future. People may have strong views about intergenerational equity in terms
of preserving water bodies for the benefits of future generations in metropolitan regions but be uncertain about
what specific benefits will be derived from current preservation policies in the light of population increases and
technological changes. There may also be uncertainty about how the benefits bestowed by current preservation
will be realized.
Syme et al. (2006) derived a cross-cultural model of perceptions of fairness and judgment in ecological risk policy
in Germany and Australia. Endorsement of both intergenerational equity and environmental rights were
determinants of justice perceptions. As may be expected, group and individual self-interests had nearly no effect
on global issues, but situational principles, presumably including group interest, did have an effect on more
localized issues.
The trouble in applying the discount rate of time is that the studies tend to use money amounts, which doesnt
account for the possibility that different ethical judgments may be made if environmental or intergenerational
choices are offered. Nevertheless, the temporal construal literature would suggest that longer term issues are
mentally represented vaguely, with less detail than near events, which may result in more focus on what is closer
in time and easy to understand in terms of the need to invest in action. This is often reflected in the tendency for
humans to act on a day-to-day basis in a hyperbolic manner when they think about the future (e.g. Azfar, 1999;
Settle & Shogren, 2004). That is, more emphasis is placed on immediate certain reward than on a possible greater
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reward at some uncertain time in the future. It may be said that such discounting is equally likely to occur in policymaking settings as for individuals. Nevertheless, there is room for considerable research on the relationship
between the (p. 106) nature of the discount problem presented to people and how it is framed in temporal terms.
Chapman (2001) found in an experimental situation that varying the length of time being considered for the
discount problem resulted in very long periods (up to 900 years) being discounted less than for shorter time
periods.
Attitudinal studies have also demonstrated that many may not want to apply a discount rate for the future (Dietz,
Dan, & Shwom, 2007; Milfont & Gouveia, 2006). Studies have tended to support this in that future orientation has
been shown to predict support for long-term climate change policies. Nevertheless, there is a need for more
detailed justice research unpacking what is meant by intergenerational equity and how justice concerns are
expressed, and at what level. This research needs to be undertaken at both community and policy-maker levels.
Hyperbolic discounting, as Loewenstein (1996) has noted, is particularly the case in addiction where immediate
visceral rewards are available. Loewenstein pointed out, among other things, that we tend to be less altruistic to
others than we would like to be when visceral factors intensify (p. 275) and people underestimate the impact of
visceral factors on other peoples behaviours (p. 276). Both of these statements are relevant to achieving longterm intergenerational and environmental justice.
Clayton and Opotow (2003) have noted that there are many visceral components associated with justice and
particularly lack of justice issues. These are likely to occur in the context of proximate allocation decisions and
particularly when water resources are to be taken from an individual or group. Visceral responses can occur at two
levels, firstly in terms of the threat to personal and group identity and secondly in terms of the emotion resulting
from lack of courtesy associated with poor interactive justice. Prime examples of this occur when project
proponents or government personnel conduct public meetings and interject when citizens are trying to give their
views, or publicly discount the local knowledge. In these cases there will be, as Loewenstein (1996) suggested, a
tendency to think more of ones immediate needs than those of an undifferentiated future generation or an
environment that might be altered anyway because of climate change. Interaction-based short-term visceral justice
issues may limit tolerance between decision makers and the community as each underestimates the stress placed
on others by unpleasant encounters. This process tends to heighten conflict and reinforces the dominance of
short-term issues.
In summary, there are many factors that might influence the discounting of the future in the heat of a short-term
allocation issue, and this will have the tendency to provide unjust decisions for future generations. This
psychological problem is exacerbated by the multiple time frames of human decision-making and ecological and
biophysical cycles (Wood, 2008), which leads us back to the issues faced in fisheries by Fulton et al. (2010) as
depicted in Figure 6.2.
To alleviate this problem, we need to provide a balance and consistency that allows long-term justice principles to
be activated within short-term decision-making cycles, as several authors have demonstrated that psychological
engagement with the long-term future is considerably less than with the short term. To achieve this, perhaps justice
researchers should be looking at the adaptive environmental management literature in which long-term
environmental goals are set, but feedback loops from monitoring systems are engaged to alter short-term
behaviors when outcomes are unexpected (Allen & Stankey, 2009). This, of course, is not simple to do in complex
organizational systems that often occur for multi-objective planning (Edelenbos & Klijn, 2007). Nevertheless, it is
possible, as in the Syme et al. (1999) study, to relate the justice criteria in specific solutions to more universal or
macro-justice judgments. If such a technique were developed on a longitudinal basis and incorporated within the
adaptive learning framework for environmental management, it could have a powerful effect on improving justice
outcomes, particularly those associated with intergenerational equity and the rights of the environment to exist.
The Past
As already noted, environmental allocation decisions do not occur on a one-off basis. For example, the solution to
one water problem is likely to raise awareness of several others. For this reason, the past has an equally important
role in justice considerations as the future. As van den Bos et al. (1997b) have noted, What is fair depends more
on what comes first than on what comes next(p. 95). This is pertinent to both the individual and wider community
decision-making spheres. This is perhaps why procedural and interactive justice evaluations of ongoing decision-
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making are so vital. If the last interaction with a decision-making agency was perceived to be unjust or
disrespectful, the level of (p. 107) perceived justice and trust is likely to be less generous. Certainly van den Bos
et al. (1998) found that those who had no knowledge of an agency tended to be more attentive to procedural
justice issues than those who had experienced procedurally just processes in the past. Presumably this was
because trust had started to develop among the latter group.
Long-term dysfunctional interactions between agencies and community interest groups have greatly marred
debates of justice and injustice in many water issues in many countries. There is a need, therefore, for research
that evaluates the impact of past interactions and perceived injustices to find ways of creating procedurally just
decision-making processes that explicitly deal with past issues in the context of the new sharing problem. That is,
the allocation issues are presented deliberately in past, present, and future contexts and the justice issues
explored in that light. There has been very little research on this issue in the natural resources area.
Conceptually, it would seem that past experiences in relation to justice are likely to affect future acceptance of
allocative decisions. There are several issues that may be considered. For example, do people discount past
injustices backward in time, and if so, what does it mean? Are there thresholds of injustice that will motivate justiceand fairness-related conflicts in the future? Is there a forgiveness that will pardon earlier injustices by taking the
visceral component of injustice out of decision-making after a period of time? While there has been some research
in the workplace on the effects of past perceived injustices (Lilly, Virick, & Hadani, 2010), these important
questions do not seem to have captured the interests of psychologists researching and evaluating justice in the
wider real-world decision-making context.
The discussion of time and the potential significance of procedural justice have highlighted the dearth of
longitudinal studies of justice in environmental issues. There are many long-running water disputes in the local,
regional, and international contexts, so that the opportunity to develop justice theory and practice while assisting in
attaining fair resolutions of these problems is high.
Society and Justice

The most well-known of the theories in this area is Opotows (1993) scope of justice. Opotow saw the scope of
justice as the psychological boundary for justice and fairness. This author found that moral or justice
considerations were not typically applied to nonhuman entities but the boundaries varied among individuals: some
people would include animals, and many excluded certain categories of people. Those outside the scope,
including animals, are vulnerable to harm at worst or lack of consideration at best. Those factors that influenced
inclusion included perceived similarity, closeness of the relationship, the extent to which the target was seen as
beneficial or harmful, and whether the persons or groups goals or needs were compatible with the target.
Failure to be within the scope also had widespread ramifications, such as lower support for social policies to help
the target group, denial of legal assistance, and apathy toward mistreatment (see Hafer & Olson, 2003, for review).
Opotows scope of justice (1993, 1994, 1995) provided a very useful framework for those involved in
environmental justice, as it reminded environmental managers that there were social distances that needed to be
considered, as well as the geographical distances. Hafer and Olson (2003) suggested that there should be more
attention to understanding the mediators of these scopes of justice responses. They also suggested that an
alternative explanation is in deservingness, which is a justice consideration itselfthat is, whether the target
person or environment deserved positive or negative outcomes. As discussed earlier, this in turn may be mediated
in part by accountability.
As with Tverskys (2003) comments on space, this dimension is likely to vary from individual to individual and also
from problem to problem. As Skitka (2009) pointed out, the activation of peoples perceptions of justice depends on
their material, social, and moral needs. What is within scope (or is deserving) may alter from macro- to microjustice issues. The activation suggested by Skitka is likely to occur in the micro-setting if the personal effects of
water allocation will be felt. The systematic measurement of both scope of justice and deservingness over
variations of space and time would be of interest theoretically if all dimensions were to be considered in
environmental justice. A mapping of both would also be a good point from which to start when planning
procedurally just public programs to ensure voice for all parties (including the environment). The importance of
explicitly incorporating the environment in planning for procedural justice reasons is often seen in the development
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of regional or whole of river plans that deal with the major allocation issues. In these cases often the hydrological
scale is forgotten as well as the differential effects of water allocation on hydrologically discrete reaches of a river.
By including spatially based hydrological (p. 108) variability and their environmental sustainability requirements,
environmental justice interests can be more cogently addressed for regional planners and within their processes.
Social Discounting
Rachlin and Jones (Jones & Rachlin, 2006; Rachlin & Jones, 2008) have approached the issue of social discounting
in a slightly different way from others by providing monetary choices for forgoing personal benefit and sharing
between imaginary people who were either very close or relatively far away in terms of their acquaintance. This
research uses a methodology very similar to experimental economics approaches to establishing the discount rate
over time. As with many time/reward trade-off findings, there appears to be a hyperbolic relationship between
perceived social distance and willingness to share. Thus as you get further away from someone in terms of their
psychological perceptions, you are more likely to be discounted in terms of sharing. For example, it can be
reasonably hypothesized that people are less likely to discount the interests of family than would an anonymous
bureaucrat from another city when it comes to willingly sharing resources. This relates to more utilitarian theories of
altruism (e.g., Osinski, 2009; Rachlin & Jones, 2010).
As with the scope of justice work, the mechanisms for this social discounting have yet to be explicated and the
findings have yet to be related directly to the justice literature. Nevertheless, Skitka (2003) suggested through her
accessible identity model that justice reasoning occurs when issues are close to ones identity, whether social or
individual. It is reasonable to hypothesize a relationship between social discounting and justice salience. Further, is
there a relationship between this discounting and the scope of justice and justice perceptions? Do people include
the environment as an entity in social discounting and if so, where and how? Jones & Rachlin (2006) in their
experiment asked people to make choices about allocation on a hypothetical scale from 1 to 100, with 100 being
those people furthest away, in order to demonstrate social discounting. There is no reason that this methodology
could not be expanded to include the local and wider environment by modifying the instructions about closeness.
For example, consider the people and things including the environment that are important to you and rate them
on a degree of closeness from 1 to 100. If necessary, prompts could be given. The same experiments could then
be conducted.
If social distances can be assessed for real actors in water allocation debates, does social discounting occur in the
same way as for imagined people of different closeness? It would also be challenging to include a time dimension
(e.g., intergenerational) in the description of the actors, first to establish the social and temporal interaction
distance, and second to see how these dimensions affect both macro- and micro-justice perceptions.
In summary, justice judgments occur in spatial, temporal, and social contexts. To better integrate with
environmental management systems within which these contexts occur, there is a need for us to take greater pains
to understand how the well-established theories of justice can operate more dynamically within these systems.
Conclusions and Future Directions

This chapter has used the vehicle of water allocation to demonstrate current understanding and future challenges
for justice research in the environmental and conservation psychology areas. Throughout the chapter it is
acknowledged that justice judgments have both rational and visceral components that will have different but
important effects on specific justice judgments. The visceral feelings of injustice can often drive action. It is
important to understand justice and ethical judgments at a universal as well as situational level and that as far as
possible these should be integrated to attend to longer term issues such as environmental conservation and
intergenerational equity.
The chapter outlines why justice is so important for our adequate management of the environment and allocation of
natural resources. Through the benefits framework it is clear that nations need to move well beyond utilitarian
economic analyses and that water acts simultaneously to uphold our well-being in areas from health to spirituality.
In this way, there is no reason to believe that water is any different from other aspects of environmental
management and allocation. For example, much has been written about the value of green space to mental health
and well-being of people (e.g., Burls, 2007; Heynen, Perkins, & Roy, 2006). The benefits approach can be
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combined with the traditional justice concepts of procedural justice, distributive justice, equity, and fairness to
provide a much better understanding for decision makers on how to arrive at sustainable solutions.
The watershed development example demonstrates that justice research has to be closely entwined with the
scales conventionally adopted by (p. 109) hydrologist and economists. Fultons management cycle provides
clear indications of where social justice research can provide a significant impact on environmental decisionmaking. The role of the fairness concept, in particular, has the potential to make significant contributions in
reducing uncertainty in public decision-making processes. It must be remembered, though, that justice judgments
also have their own psychological contexts when they are applied to micro- and macro-environments, and these
may need to be matched to regional, national, and international matters.
A range of possible determinants of judgments of fairness and justice varying in dimension and scale have been
identified in this section. It must be understood that justice judgments occur in a dynamic and interactive envelope
of time, space, and society. These have yet to be considered as a system in the environmental social justice
literature. For example, the social discounting literature does not include the environment as an entity and deals
specifically with money. The time discounting literature is poorly related to the social discounting literature. Perrings
and Hannon (2001) introduced the concept of spatial discounting, which they see as analogous to time
discounting. Many of these gaps require attention if psychology is to make a holistic contribution to justice
research in real-life decision-making. In this regard many research questions spring to mind. Do people who
discount time hyperbolically or parabolically similarly discount people, and how is that related to issues of
intergenerational equity? Are either forms of discounting related to the temporal construal effect? If the construal
effect relates to environmental issues and the time, space, and society dimensions, how do we keep long-term
justice issues relevant as we struggle with short-term environmental conflicts and sharing arguments? How can we
integrate justice research into adaptive environmental management?
The time discounting literature is also not dynamic when it comes to discounting. If people feel that relevant past
environmental decisions have been unjust either procedurally or in terms of distribution, they may formulate their
current justice priorities quite differently.
Obviously no one study can include all these variables to compare and contrast the determinants of justice and
their interactions cross-sectionally, and for enough variety of environmental allocation decisions. Longitudinal
studies to understand the dynamics of such decisions would be even more difficult to perform.
Nevertheless, studies that attempt to piece together at least some of the strands of psychological investigation in
these areas are essential if we are to gain a more coherent understanding of how justice concerns can be included
to a greater degree in environmental allocation decision-making. This is important, as governments, when faced
with potentially painful reallocation decisions, have a tendency to look to market and economic efficiency
mechanisms to provide a hands-off decision and thus avoid complex justice arguments. In Australia and
elsewhere, the social dimension has been left as third priority. When decision makers in government or industry
consider social issues in relation to policies or development projects, they tend to concentrate on social impact
assessment. Often how social impacts are interpreted for final decisions is not explained. The justice dimension is
coming in a poor fourth, partly because we lack the variety of messages and tools to offer the decision maker, and
partly because we lack coherence in explaining justice issues.
Perhaps one way to gain commitment and interest by decision makers is to use the water benefits framework to
clarify what is being allocated in terms of well-being, what can be potentially achieved with revised management or
allocations, and what are the key water management criteria to achieve maximum beneficial returns. This directly
relates the natural resource to benefits and then a clear understanding of who wins and who loses in any particular
allocation decision. The communitys pro-environmental allocation expectations can then automatically be
considered as supporting the environment as a benefit. By understanding the basis upon which justice decisions
are made and how they are expressed as benefits, major conflict over decisions that ignore the interests of the
environment and its dependent communities can be avoided.
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Notes:
(1.) Virtual water is the water used by the exporting country in producing food and manufactured goods.
Geoffrey J. Syme
Geoffrey J. Syme Centre for Planning Edith Cowan University Perth, Australia
Blair E. Nancarrow
Blair E. Nancarrow The Fenner School of Environment and Society The Australian National University Ellery Crescent, Acton,
Australia
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Children and Nature

Children and Nature
2012
Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology,

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0007

This chapter summarizes current knowledge about childrens relationships to nature. While nature has always
been part of childhood, concern about whether it will retain its traditional roles has risen apace with reduced
exposure to it in the West. The chapter first examines Western cultural associations between children and nature,
then presents contemporary psychological theories and methods used in this field. Key themes from research
include that children are losing access to nature and inhabiting it less; that play in nature is varied and shows
developmental patterns; that nature provides both powerful positive and negative emotional experiences; and that
children are cognitively equipped to understand the living world. Technological simulations of nature may not
provide all that real nature provides. This may include a wide range of physical and psychological benefits that are
increasingly recognized.
Keywords: children, nature, use of environments, ecological knowledge, psychological benefits
Introduction
The study of childrens relationships to nature entails considerations particular to the early part of the human life
span intersecting with the features of the natural environment. Both childhood and nature show marked variability
(across cultures, individuals, and natural settings) as well as potential commonalities. Given this complexity,
together with the comparatively limited attention given this relationship within psychology, our knowledge is
expectably modest. Nonetheless, the subject has garnered sustained attention by researchers and the public, and
interest in it is enjoying a renaissance.
What is nature? Although humans themselves are of nature, here we consider nature to be the nonhuman
environmentencompassing (potentially) all biomes, landscapes, the waters, atmosphere, and heavens
surrounding the earth, as well as all the orders of its nonhuman living occupants. Increasingly there is a fuzzy line
between what is human-modified and what is not, at all levels of nature as we experience it. In this chapter we
accept in principle this full gamut of modification: the child-nature relation includes everything from wild landscapes
and animals to restored areas, manicured zoos, domestic and companion animals, and tended plants. For any
given person, these settings vary in closeness and accessibility; degree of familiarity versus novelty; control by
human versus nonhuman forces; and scale. The common denominator is the presence of some degree of natural
process, but which natural process, how this occurs, is framed, and experienced, seems to fall roughly along a
domestic-managed-wild continuum. Nature also includes symbolic and technological mediation and simulation of
natural entities and settings. Although such a broad scope is impossible to fully treat, it allows realism as well as
comparisons that may inform us about what the dimensions of natural phenomena singularly afford children. In
general the scope of (p. 114) this entry reflects the predominant literatures that focus on typical natural or
naturalized spaces that children inhabit.
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Children and Nature

Children is likewise a challenging term to define. Here it means roughly from early childhood (about age 4)
through adolescence (up to age 18), with an emphasis around the middle years (6 or 7 to early-adolescence
years). Childhood may be radically different across cultures. Yet biologically based commonalities are also
suggested, such as aspects of how children classify and think about living things, quickly learned fears of snakes
and spiders, and possibly which features of landscapes are attractive, relieve stress, or help restore directed
attention. Person and social context interact pervasively in development, but their nuances in the case of our topic
(as with others) are incompletely mapped empirically and are parsed differently depending on theoretical
assumptions. Nonetheless, the full range is in principle on the table.
Many aspects of children and nature are not treated here. Child development intersects with all basic areas of
psychology. Some important intersections that are only mentioned here include sensation and perception;
childrens spatial cognition; vicarious nature in traditional media; and psychopathology related to nature (e.g.,
animal phobias). For a review of risks to children caused by pollution and conditions of the built environment, see
Evans (2006). The pathways to caring, concern, and action for nature, including the contributions of experience in
nature to these, are discussed in this volume by Louise Chawla and Victoria Derr.
This chapter will summarize the history of child-nature associations, the study of children and nature and
psychological lenses for that task, childrens time and activities in natural settings, their affective and cognitive
experiences of it and simulations of it, as well as the benefits nature may provide. More broadly, the chapter
touches on but does not definitively answer some driving and deep questions that are pressed on psychology by
human modification of nature that has become so pervasive as to threaten human values, and by technologies that
structure more of childrens time and interactions. What does nature uniquely contribute psychologically to
childhood? What would beor is beingmissed without it? And what forms of social mediation are important in
childrens experience of nature?
Children and Nature in History and Culture

Interest in nature is no doubt perennial across the human story (see below on evolutionary perspectives), as
evidenced by the documented immersion of hunter-gatherers in nature and by the practice of pet-keeping among
many groupsfor example, among Warao and Comanche (Serpell, 1988). Children and nature have been explicitly
associated, however, since the origins of Western thought. In one association, the child figures as a natural
counterpoint to the fully rational civilized man in Greek, Christian, and early modern speculative anthropologies.
Romantic-age thinkers inverted this association. Jean-Jacques Rousseau (17121778) posited a natural inner
essence in the child, whose development was encouraged by direct sensory contact with nature. English Romantic
poets such as Wordsworth (17701850) conceptualized child development as a movement away from an original
integration of self and world, followed by a progressive reconciliation and recovery of memories of unity with
nature (see Chawla, 1994). Educators such as Pestalozzi (17461827) implemented Romantic ideas of child-nature
relation, including having students investigate local natural features. Pestalozzis student Friedrich Froebel (1782
1852, also the inventor of kindergarten) added a spiritual element, which was reconciled via evolutionary thought
as the creative and unifying force behind both nature and man. Froebel (1826/1912) wrote that in middle childhood
the child
should early view and recognize the objects of nature in their true relations and original connections; he
should learn by his longer walks to know his own neighborhood from beginning to end; he should roam the
adjoining country; he should accompany his brook or little river along its course from it source to its
mouth [So that] by direct view of nature itself, not by explanation in words and ideas for which the boy
has no intuition, there shall dawn upon him early the great thought of the inner, continual, vivid
connection of all things and phenomena in nature. (pp. 234235, cited in Hutchison, 1998, p. 86)
But Froebel felt this outcome was not assured: adult guidance was essential, too. The idea of nature playing an
integral role in child development is expressed in the holistic theories of educators Maria Montessori (18701952)
and Rudolf Steiner (18611925), whose philosophies still underlie schooling practices they initiated (see Hutchison,
1998).
American Romantic philosophers, the transcendentalists, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson (18031882) and Henry
David Thoreau (18171862), formed (p. 115) similar ideas. Like that of their counterparts across the Atlantic, their
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Children and Nature

orientation to children and nature was part of a broader rejection of emerging industrial society: materialism,
objective science and its products, and commercial or bureaucratic institutions. These, they felt, threatened
authentic individual experiences that could reveal higher truths. Nature, however, could provide such
experiences. Thoreaus school, the Concord Academy, rejected narrow pedagogies and embraced a broader
moral vision. He provided direct experience, including time outside using the senses and immersion in the
landscape to learn natural history and related subjects.
By the turn of the 20th century, Romantic thought funded a deep and often spiritual interest in Nature Study in
the United States (see Armitage, 2009). Nature study was seen to appeal to the heart, to lead a natural progression
toward observational learning and scientific concepts. But its particulars were also controversial. Some advocated
a strong mythical dimension, others strictly the scientific. Others felt the science side needed to be bounded by
ethical duty toward nature. The tensions reflected social ill-ease about scientific resource management and
conservation, and wide-scale demographic upheavals. Nonetheless, nature study was vastly popular, and not only
throughout the schooling system. Millions pursued amateur interests in nature (botany, entomology, etc.) as
pleasurable (Armitage, 2009, p. 26). New literatures helped unfold the powerful spiritual potentials of nature
experience, and the writings of John Muir (18381914) and other preservationists extolled the healthy effects of
time in nature for the masses (or in practice for the middle and upper classes).
Evolutionary notions played an especially strong role in tying the child to nature in turn-of-the-century thought,
particularly psychological thought. G. Stanley Hall (18441924) adapted the widespread notion of recapitulation
that child development retraces the development of the species. In his view the period of childhood before
adolescence (itself a new period he denoted and conceptualized as the movement from animal existence to selfconsciousness) should take place in nature, just as change in primitive societies took place there, too. Combining
Romantic and evolutionist thought into Americas earliest homegrown popular developmental theory, he prescribed
exploration of field, forest, hill, shore, the water, flowers, animals, the true homes of childhood in this wild,
undomesticated state from which modern conditions have kidnapped and transported him (Hall, 1904/1969,
quoted in Armitage, 2009, p. 75). Although social evolutionist and recapitulationist ideas were later discredited, the
popularity of nature study itself continued. As one indicator, Anna Botsford Comstocks (18541930) voluminous
how-to guide, Handbook of Nature Study, was published in 1911 and translated into eight languages. Its 24th
edition went through reprintings up to 1957, and it has been back in print continuously since 1986.
In 2005 journalist Richard Louv published Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature Deficit
Disorder, highlighting recent decreases in the amount and quality of American childrens time outdoors, the
causes, and the possible consequences (admittedly perhaps overstated by the title). Coming on the heels of 50
years of increasingly widespread environmental concern, the book hit a nerve with adults old enough to have
experienced nature on somewhat less restricted terms. But it was not couched in terms appealing only to
environmentalists. Without doubt it generated the widest public interest in children and nature since the nature
study movement. In response many groups have initiated (or recast) programs to get children outside, and in
addition to existing academic centers at several universities and the journal Children, Youth, and Environments,
the Children and Nature Network (www.childrenandnature.org) has emerged as a central movement
clearinghouse. As the movement a century earlier may have been partly a response to the shift from farms to cities
as contexts of childhood, the new movement blames a shift to childhood spent in structured, indoor, and electronic
contexts. The older mind-set was inspired by vaguer, more suggestive Romantic ideas, whereas the recent one
frames concerns in more psychological or common sense terms. Both denote fairly widespread anxieties and
potentials.
The history of the child-nature association highlights how it reflects the material, social, and ideological
constructions within which childhood takes place. In both periods above, psychological study of children, not
isolated from broader social trends, has both generated and responded to child-nature concerns. The history is
therefore important for the double caveat it raises. On the one hand, while being responsive to societys needs,
psychology must approach this area of study with its rigorous and skeptical scientific lens. But on the other hand,
given that childhood is indeed a response to social-cultural conditions, expanded potentials of human experience
in nature cannot be dismissed due to historical associations such as those reviewed above, (p. 116) or because
they do not fit predominant theoretical-methodological frameworks or modal social experience (Evernden, 1993;
Chawla, 2002). As Chawla (2002) pointed out, theory needs to make space for the possibly divergent forms of
consciousness and experience that children as distinct from adults may have in nature. The psychological study of
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Children and Nature

children and nature partakes of the complex and multifaceted nature of knowing in the social sciences.
Psychological Methods and Theoretical Traditions of Study

Childrens relations with nature have been studied using a wide range of psychological theories and techniques.
Early environmental psychologists used observational methods to study childrens naturalistic (i.e., typically
occurring) environmental behavior patterns, emphasizing the ecological validity of these methods so that results
can be generalized to more lifelike contexts than in lab studies. Pioneers in child-nature studies Hart (1979) and
Moore (1986) described childrens use of familiar natural spaces, and added participant-observation methods,
roaming with children and asking them to map, show, and converse about the areas with which they were familiar.
This tradition has revealed patterns in how children perceive and use natural (and built) spaces across
development and in contrast to adults, and gave rise to a moving interview method called the neighborhood
walk. Such work includes child-participatory methods to empower children in the study, design, evaluation, and/or
amelioration of conditions in their environments (Hart, 1997). An associated theoretical perspective is that of
ecological psychology (Gibson, 1982; Reed, 1996), which holds that environments contain affordances, or
features that enable or encourage certain activities (see Heft, this volume).
More formal behavior tracking methods using a variety of time, place, or individual sampling schemes and
technologies including video, pedometers, and accelerometers have been widely employed in more recent years
to examine how children use features of a variety of environments, and physical characteristics of their activities.
These methods are prominent in environmental design approaches that combine such objective data with
interviews or other more qualitative measures, with the purpose of including nature more optimally into built
spaces, such as in the notion of biophilic design (Moore & Cooper Marcus, 2008).
Observational methods can yield hard behavioral data, or data that are so well interwoven with contextual
description that their validity can be cross-checked. But many psychological questions require access to the
subjective experiences, feelings, or thoughts of subjects. One approach is retrospective: asking adults or older
children to reflectively reconstruct their experience and its meanings (or the researcher doing so secondhand via
biographical accounts or other documents). Dependent on memory, this has obvious fallibilities, but the broad
strokes of memory may nonetheless be reliable (Chawla, 1998). Further, meaning in human life inherently may not
be knowable until subsequent experiences put earlier events in context. A body of literature relating to the
significant life experiences of committed environmentalists has developed based on these methods (see Chawla
& Derr, this volume), suggesting unstructured time in nature plays a unique role. Such findings have been
triangulated across countries, and attempts have been made to determine developmental changes across time in
individual children, by longitudinal study designs.
Cognitive developmental psychology inquires into the changing content and processes of childrens thinking.
Piagets early inquiries touched on childrens conceptions of natural objects and processes, and he used openended questioning and interactions to explore their thoughts. The basic method here is cross-sectional, where
developmental patterns are inferred by sampling individuals of different ages. Piagets successors in structuraldevelopmental theory or more broadly cognitive perspectives use structured or semi-structured interviews, often
with a target object, to probe childrens conceptions of plants, animals, ecosystems, technological simulations, and
of human interactions with these. These methods have been used to some extent cross-culturally, including some
of Kahns (1999) research into childrens moral reasoning about nature, or Atran and Medin (2008) and colleagues
research on concepts of living things. These two particular research corpuses illustrate the use of developmental
methods to formulate and test various positions on the (ill-phrased) nature versus nurture question. Particularly,
how much (and in what ways) is the childs mind prepared to conceptualize natural phenomena (or our
obligations regarding them) in certain ways, and how do socialization and/or individual mental processing explain
their ideas?
Other lines of inquiry are more concerned with exploring constructs of affective or motivational relations to nature
(not that these are separate from cognition, or from nature-nurture questions). (p. 117) Qualitative tools include
drawing/interview protocols, giving children cameras and asking for their interpretation of photos of nature, and
interviews. Some researchers have described the nature relations of specific small contextualized groups of
children, an example of the ethnography of childhood. Other studies use stimuli such as videos or pictures
and/or tests or psychometric instruments tapping constructs such as ecological knowledge or relatedness to
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Children and Nature

nature. As with other topics, these may be explored in descriptive, experimental, or quasi-experimental ways.
Clearly reports of children by others (parents, teachers) or the use of existing data sets (for example, on park use)
may be of use.
Extent of Childrens Activity in Outdoors and Nature

A primary basis for concerns raised by Louv (2008) is that children are spending less time in natural settings than
in previous generations. Unfortunately, few data were collected in past decades for comparison. But several
studies have supported this conclusion. Studies of parents and/or childrens reported exposure to nature show
less time outdoors. Clements (2004) surveyed 830 mothers online in the United States, 87% of whom were ages 25
to 44, about their childhood outdoor play as compared with their childrens. Seventy percent reported they played
outdoors every day as children but that only 31% of their 3- to 12-year-old children did so. When the mothers were
outside, 56% reported being out three hours at a time or longer, whereas only 22% of their children did so.
Analogous changes were found in an English study: 40% of a sample of 1,150 adults reported playing in natural
areas when young, whereas only 10% of 502 seven- to eleven-year-old children did so (England Marketing, 2009).
Interestingly, Clements found (as had other researchers in England) that there was little difference between rural
and urban portions of the sample (balanced to allow this comparison), suggesting that farmlands and other rural
features do not counterbalance other factors. The mothers in Clementss (2004) study identified TV and computer
use (85%) as the main reason for their childrens play patterns, 82% cited crime or safety concerns, and 77% felt
they lacked enough time to spend outside with their children.
Childrens time has been measured directly by diaries of childrens time use. Hofferth and Sandberg (2001) used
researcher-administered time diaries and found declines in time spent outside from 1981 to 1997 in a
representative US sample. In 2003 Hofferth resampled participants focusing on children ages 6 to 12 (a total of
2,791 diaries). She found a further decline from 16% in 1997 to 10% in 2003 in numbers taking part in outdoor
activities, reflecting a broader decrease in childrens discretionary time, including sports (Hofferth, 2009). The
decline in time outdoors was greater among the older ages (from 16% to 8%). Hofferth also estimated average
weekly time budgets and found an overall decrease from 36 minutes to 25 minutes. Younger children had
increased slightly, while ages 9 to 12 decreased most, from 39 minutes to 18 outdoors. Across all ages the change
was not distributed evenly by gender, with boys showing a significantly greater decrease (boys: 30 minutes to 15;
girls: 41 minutes to 34) (Hofferth, 2009).
In the years since Louvs book, surveys have been launched to track outdoor use, though their baseline is very
recent. Findings vary. The National Kids Survey found that between 20072008 and 20082009, modest amounts
of time were spent outdoors (two hours a day for 60% to 70% of samples). Younger children (age six to teens)
spent more time outside, and there was a slight decrease in children spending no time outdoors (Cordell, Betz, &
Green, 2009). The Outdoor Foundation (2011) has conducted online interviews on large systematic US samples
since 2006, and while overall outdoor use has held steady at about 49% of the population undertaking one of 35
activities, youth participation (ages 6 to 17 years) has dropped from about 78%, though at about 62% in 2010 it is
still higher than the population overall. This represents an overestimate of nature, however, as it includes
activities such as running and bicycling.
Another strategy has been to compile existing data on visits to specific outdoor destinations. In general, the same
pattern emerges. After 50 years of growth in US per capita use of public parklands (state parks, national parks and
forests), a decline began in 1987 (Pergams & Zaradic, 2008). The researchers showed that just five variables were
able to explain 97.5% of the most recent 16-year trends in national park attendance: hours spent at home
watching movies, playing video games, or using the Internet; time spent in movie theaters; and oil prices (Zaradic
& Pergams, 2007). They dubbed the trend videophilia, or the new human tendency to focus on sedentary
activities involving electronic media (p. 130). As Clements (2004) also found, new media are keeping people
inside at home. Other studies directly demonstrate this extends to children. In a survey of 1,000 parents of children
(p. 118) ages six months to six years, 83% of children used some screen media each day. Fifty percent of
children ages four to six played video games, averaging a little over an hour a day (Rideout, Vandewater, &
Wartella, 2003). With older children and more recent data reflecting yet more pervasive computer, social
networking, and handheld technologies, it seems very likely this trend is strengthening (see technologically
mediated nature, below).
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Children and Nature

Whether children spend time in nature depends partly on access to nature. Open-space losses may have
exacerbated declining access, as have land use patterns. Moore and Cooper Marcus (2008) suggested clustered
housing, cul-de-sacs and greenways, alleys, and home zones as neighborhood layout strategies that increase
childrens access. Socioeconomic inequalities also affect access. Lower SES (socioeconomic status) 8- to 12-yearold children had to travel twice as far or more as mid- or high-SES children to get to their most used park (on the
other hand, their allowed independent travel distance was greater) (Veitch, Salmon, & Ball, 2008). Perception of
economic and racial unequal access to nature has been acute in the United Kingdom, where one study found that
neighborhoods with over 40% black or ethnic minority residents have 11 times less green space than areas with
nearly all white residents, in part reflecting correlation of demography and urban density (CABE, 2010).
Childrens Activities in Nature

Figure 7.1 Sources of developing place attachments in early and middle childhood and adolescence
(Chawla, 1992, reproduced with permission of Springer Science and Business Media).
Childrens use of space shows a pattern of increase over development as children gain mobility and independence
from their home base. This pattern extends to nature, as childhood ethnographies have shown. Hart (1979) in the
United States and Moore (1986) in the United Kingdom developed rapport with existing mixed-age groups of middlechildhood subjects and learned directly from them that they preferred interstitial spaces, vacant land, neglected,
and semi-wild spaces over more manicured ones. Their landscapes were imbued with meanings that derived from
the childrens own activities and interactions with both nature and other people. They felt strong identification and
special meanings with certain spaces and found or made hideouts in vegetation or other locations. Similar patterns,
including the spatial increase of home range over development, are documented in childrens maps of their
neighborhood (Sobel, 1993). Chawla (1992) synthesized factors affecting this tendency, as shown in Figure 7.1:
motivations pulling one outward or toward home base, social factors, and identity development. Interestingly,
adolescents show a drop in (p. 119) interest in nature, at least nature experiences that are not undertaken by
their preferred environment: peers (Kaplan & Kaplan, 2002).
Studies have shown that children prefer natural areas for play (Maxey, 1999; Chawla, 2002; Korpela, 2002). Play is
a universal way children learn about their environment and gain skills in a nonthreatening context. Play is a varied
concept, but childrens play in nature has been categorized by Frost (1992) as functional play (running, tumbling,
climbing, sliding, etc.), constructive play (building huts, playing with loose parts, etc.), and symbolic play (roleplay, dramatic play). Alternately, several dimensions have been delineated: stationary or exploratory; socially
facilitated; distance from home; interspersed with chores or other activities; and type (fantasy, creative, gaming, or
searching and trapping) (Vadala, Bixler, & James, 2007). In agreement with affordance theory, environmental
variables have been shown to affect the quality and type of childrens play. As compared with playgrounds without
vegetation and trees, children engage in more physical, constructive, and symbolic play when plants are present
(Fjrtoft, 2004). On more naturalized (higher biodiversity) play spaces as compared with more simple playgrounds,
children tend to engage in more varied, functional, constructive, and symbolic play and are more oriented to
nature (Samborski, 2010). Children in very different cultures and climates create or find their own private spaces,
for example, constructing shelters in nature, a desire that peaks between ages 8 and 11. Boys tend to range
farther and build actual dwellings, and girls tend more to make playhouses and small worlds. Both genders enjoy
searching and gathering or making collections of objects found in nature (Sobel, 1993, 2008).
Children observed in naturalistic free-ranging contexts (such as by Hart or Moore) tended to take risks and
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perhaps had more accidents than is typical now. But they balanced risk-taking with self-generated precautions
about hazards they perceived. Natural settings afford more active physical play than indoor ones do, and children
naturally challenge themselves to become competent at a wide range of locomotor skills through play. Sensory
abilities develop in tandem with physical movement, as do feelings of competence and confidence. These gains,
however, presume risk-taking opportunities, through which the child learns his or her limitations and gains a sense
of accomplishment (Henniger, 1994). The benefits of risk-taking extend to traits of relevance to all areas of life:
resilience, persistence, problem-solving, and independence. Increasingly restrictive regulation of childrens play,
including nature play, may threaten these broad benefits as well as the development of risk evaluation skills (Little
& Wyver, 2008). Environmental features that increase childrens outdoor play and parental perceptions of safety
include cul-de-sac streets, larger front yards, lower crime, and more interaction among neighbors (Handy, Cao, &
Mokhtarian, 2008). On a wider scale, however, cul-de-sac development limits childrens safe range of movement
and decreases walking to school because walking routes are indirect and funnel into higher volume streets,
whereas urban grids let children choose safer and more pleasant routes (Gallimore, Brown, & Werner, 2011). Other
factors influencing parents to restrict what children may do outdoors include fear of children being injured or
victimized, community covenants restricting play, and fear of liability lawsuits (Clements, 2004; Louv, 2008).
Childrens activity in nature is only sometimes solitary. The natural environment interacts with social development,
and childrens activity patterns reflect this interaction. In traditional hardscaped play settings, social groupings
tend to be structured according to hierarchies based on physical competence, but Herrington & Studtmann (1998)
found that more natural landscapes encouraged fantasy play and social hierarchies based on command of
language, creativity, and imagination. Plantings that create differentiated spaces or green rooms offer important
social play opportunities. Fjrtoft (2004) reported that a prickly juniper bush was highly favored because it offered
several enclosed spaces as well as a view to the outside, accommodating a group of 12 children in games of
pirates, house, cowboys, and so on.
Affective Experience of Nature

Nature can evoke vivid emotions that leave lasting impressions on children. The positive emotional and creative
potential of nature for children was influentially conveyed by Edith Cobb, an independent scholar who studied
childhood memories in about 300 autobiographies of notable Europeans and North Americans (Cobb, 1959/1977).
She believed that these autobiographies demonstrated that nature in part funded their authors creative power.
Chawla (1990) put these ideas to a more methodologically rigorous test, examining a broader sample. She found
that only authors who were involved in the arts or humanities (15 of the 38 in her sample) described vivid senses in
nature as children, (p. 120) and she characterized these as ecstatic and exciting all five senses and inspiring
exuberance, calm or awe (Chawla, 1992, p. 74). She also concluded these authors associated nature with a
sense of inner strength more than creativity. Similar retrospective accounts of powerful, nearly mystical moments
in nature were gathered by Hoffman (1992).
On the other end of the emotional-evaluative dimension would be experiences of nature as threatening,
uncomfortable, or repulsive (Bixler & Floyd, 1997). Phobias of certain dangerous animals, such as snakes and
spiders, are learned readily and persist, in contrast to culturally identified dangerous objects, such as guns
(hman, Dimberg, and st, 1985). Such reactions depend on the aspect of nature encountered, and with what
assistance from more experienced others. In between the very positive and very negative must lie a vast range of
degrees and qualities of emotion, however incompletely mapped for children.
Aesthetic feelings and judgments play a role in childrens relation to nature. Billmann-Mahecha and Gebhard (2009)
found reflections of several major theories linking nature and aesthetics in the qualitative responses of 57 children
between 7 and 18 years of age. Children as young as 8 years, unprompted, express the emotion of beauty in
response to nature. This emotional and core aesthetic sense may underlie their judgments about environmental
ethical dilemmas, becoming explicit in adolescence. The linking of nature aesthetics to moralization was
anticipated by Kant. Billmann-Mahecha and Gebhard (2009) also found that children experience nature as also lifeenriching and as providing unique and sensuously rich senses of atmosphere. Retracing broader ideas in
aesthetics, they conclude overall that across development, nature acts as a reservoir of symbols for the self.
Childrens drawings also provide a window to their sense of aesthetics. In a study asking children who were
attending a zoo to pick a favorite animal and draw (with open prompts if necessary) all that the animal needs,
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some children spontaneously conceptualized their animals needs in terms that were categorized in classically
aesthetic terms: completeness, harmony, and wholeness (Myers, Saunders, & Garrett, 2003). These children
tended to be younger (out of a range of 4 to 14 years) and significantly more were girls. Dominant themes in other
childrens drawings were physiological, ecological, and conservation needs, with a minority expressing psychosocial conceptions. A theme in the drawings of 7- to 16-year-old Swedish children depicting what you think about
when you hear the word environment was beautiful, unspoiled, idyllic, clean landscapes such as forests,
meadows, and mountains. The opposite, a polluted world, was depicted by some children evenly across ages
(Alerby, 2000).
Attention Restoration Theory (Hartig, Mang, & Evans, 1991; Kaplan, 1995), widely used to interpret adults
responses to landscapes, appears to apply to childrens experiences also. A restorative environment allows ones
directed attention to rest by capturing involuntary attention and allowing the person to become absorbed. Many
natural environments offer such features. Particularly, the dimensions of fascination, being away (physically
and psychologically), compatibility (with the persons intentions), and extent register distinctly with children
(Bagot, 2004; Bagot, Kuo, & Allen, 2007). This theory may offer a key perspective on the psychological function of
school recess, and may have important implications for the design of playground environments.
Another theory with fundamental implications for emotional experience in nature is evolutionary psychology. It can
be used to predict emotions related to safety (threatening humans or other species, natural hazards and
topography, shelter), foraging and feeding, and finding a place to live (Heerwagen & Orians, 2002). Interestingly,
early relevant (but not direct) studies did not support predictions about childrens responses to landscape features
typical of savannahs, with teenagers giving lower preference scores to landscapes than did third graders. Also in
more recent work, while children ages 8 to 15 reliably recognized degrees of prospect, refuge, and hazard in
landscape paintings, and while preference was related to perceptions of prospect and refuge, age was not a factor
in the relationship. Gender did matter, with boys (but not girls) preferring pictures of scenes they perceived to be
more hazardous than others (Fischer & Shrout, 2006). Thus, prospect-refuge theory and related ideas may show
unexpected developmental patterns, a matter of rather little investigation.
Attachment theory suggests one more important route by which childrens emotions and identity may become
entwined with nature (Chawla, 2007). Analogously to a parent who provides a secure base, a solid relation to a
place allows freedom to explore with confidence. Korpela (2002) identified themes of privacy, control, and security
in memories of childhood nature. On the other hand, an unstable environment may foreclose a (p. 121) secure
place attachment or incorporation of place into ones identity. Not only natural places but animals may also figure
in childrens developing identities (Myers, 2007). Interestingly, across ages 45 to 1718, children showed a
decreasing tendency to identify with animals symbolically associated with food, weakness, or femininity (Myers,
2002). Bruni and Schultz (2009) piloted a childrens version of an Implicit Association Test (IAT) computer game to
measure how strongly the self is associated with the natural versus the built environment and found that 96% of
the 30 children (ages 10 to 12) showed a preference for natural associations with the self. Girls had significantly
higher nature-association scores than boys, consistent with adult gender differences using this instrument.
Although a number of variables showed no correlations, several relationships were found in the direction expected
based on other work discussed here: nature-self implicit association correlated negatively with hours reported
watching television or playing video games, and time spent indoors.
Concepts of and Knowledge About Nature

The past two decades of research have established that childrenand humans more generallyare cognitively
prepared to attend to, categorize, and conceptualize the living natural world. Whether the mind is prepared
architecturally or in a more specific representational sense, along with other questions, is debated (see Astuti,
Solomon, & Carey, 2004; Atran & Medin, 2008). The ability to recognize and categorize living things is served by
specific brain areas in adults (Kurbat, 1997; Mendez, Kremen, Tsai, & Shapira, 2010). Contrary to Piagets early
ideas, children do not typically confuse living and nonliving. Specific features of naive biology (also common to
many ethnobiologies) are concepts of biological inheritance, health/illness, growth, and death. The type of
category children use for plants and animals is also particular. Specifically, they believe that superficial changes
could not alter a plants or animals underlying essence, and this is used to make some predictions about
relatedness (despite external differences) and internal anatomy (Coley, Solomon, & Shafto, 2002).
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It is also clear that beliefs about living nature are sensitive to both cultural construction and individual experience
in naturecontrary to either strict nativist positions or ones that hold that children necessarily use human social
behavior as the model for thinking about animals (Ross, Medin, Coley, & Atran, 2003). The latter position (e.g.,
Carey, 1985) may be an artifact of studying urban children with limited experience in nature: Native American
(Menominee) and rural white children do not use a human model but think in more biological terms (Ross et al.,
2003). Naive biological concepts change to scientific ones (for example, evolution replacing essentialism) only
when specific experiences destabilize the early structures, often as a result of instruction.
Research has not, however, suggested a similarly robust early developing set of ecological concepts. Compared to
correct scientific concepts, children (and most adults) hold incomplete or incorrect ideas about food web relations,
energy in ecosystems, carrying capacity, niche specificity, and population dynamics. Further, connections of
ecological concepts to everyday experience are weak (Brody & Koch, 1989; Furuness, 1992; Munson, 1994).
Limited, non-system-like models of ecological relations were retained even among 11-year-olds who completed a
monthlong unit that involved constructing and manipulating mini-ecosystems (Hogan, 2000). Children tend to think
in anthropomorphic or teleological terms about systems, rather than in interdependent terms (Leach, Driver, Scott,
& Wood-Robinson, 1996a, 1996b). But ecology, integrating physical and biological basic sciences, sets a high bar.
Palmer and Suggate (2004) reported that four-year-olds can understand the effects of environmental changes on
habitats and living things, and that by age 10 children are able to explain some relationships among living things
and their habitats, as well as some of the effects of change on the global environment. Instruction, parents and
media are the clearest sources of simpler understandings (Palmer, Suggate, & Matthews, 1996).
A more immediate form of knowledge is natural history, or more broadly local ecological knowledge (LEK)varying
widely by place and culture. Natural history builds on the capacity for biological knowledge, can be learned from
direct experience, and coheres around organisms and phenomena that are directly available. Natural history is
also conveyed in many cultural forms, including narrative and art as well as science. Most notably, children learn
from their own observation of natural phenomena. The status of natural history knowledge, however, has been a
subject of concern among scientists and others who recall the earlier era where nature study ensured a common
base of knowledge. Nabhan and Trimble (1994) noted a distinct gap between generations of Tohono Oodham
people (in southern Arizona) in knowledge of plant names. More (p. 122) recently, Wyndham (2009),
investigating a similar setting, found Rarmuri (in Chihuahua Mexican) children had overall low knowledge of plant
names (though most did know a common core of about 10) but higher knowledge of plant uses. Moreover, the
distribution of knowledge within the communitywith some individuals specializing and showing great proficiency
in each cohortsuggests a possibly more stable structure of nature knowledge.
Nonetheless, there are strong indications that in general firsthand knowledge of local nature is decreasing. A
negative correlation between botanical knowledge and income was found within local communities in India,
Indonesia, and the United Kingdom, but even more across the three countries, which vary dramatically in per
capita GDP (Pilgrim, Cullen, Smith, & Pretty, 2007). Resource dependency and frequency of interaction with nature
were dictated by community monetary wealth: Where a community has become industrialized and largely
independent of local environmental goods and services, knowledge of species names and functions on the whole
is low, difference in knowledge level between old and young are large, and variance between experts and
nonexperts is great (p. 1007). High-school-age youth in the United Kingdom showed very low levels of ability to
identify common wildflowers (Bebbington, 2005). Not surprisingly, as childrens exposure to nature is decreasing,
their knowledge of itwhether firsthand or from education increasingly devoted to narrow academic targetsis as
well. A telling finding is that British childrens ability to identify Pokmon characters increased more across ages 4
to 11 years than did their knowledge of common wildlife (Balmford, Clegg, Coulson, & Taylor, 2002).
A constructivist perspective is essential in understanding the childrens relations to nature. Constructivism holds
that the individual makes sense of his or her interactions with the world, creating conceptual schemas that
organize ideas and experience. The structure of these schemas is suggested partly by innate predispositions, but
is also influenced by the environmentboth social and natural. The sociocultural environment offers ways to
construe experience, but the individuals position within it may determine what knowledge and perspectives are
available. Experience with nature will of course vary with what activities the child undertakes in what locations. In
any case, the individual processes incoming information firsthand, taking it initially at least, as the taken-forgranted condition of the world. As elaborated by Kahn (2002, 2011), this poses a dilemma peculiar to
environmental change: We all take the natural environment we encounter during childhood as the norm against
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which we measure environmental degradation later in our lives. With each ensuing generation, the amount of
environmental degradation increases, but each generation in its youth takes that degraded condition as the
nondegraded conditionas the normal experience (Kahn, 2002, p. 106). Kahn calls this environmental
generational amnesia. It is related to the slipping baseline syndrome noted by ecologists and as analytically
distinguished from memory illusion, personal amnesia, and change blindness (Papworth, Rist, Coad, & MilnerGulland, 2009). Although some examples above are suggestive, the methodologies of most studies are as yet
inadequate to distinguish these forms. Still, the notion is intuitively compelling. It also interacts with another major
change in society, technology (Kahn, 2011).
Technologically Mediated Nature

At the same time that screen technologies may be capturing childrens time, nature experience may be mediated
by symbolic media and technology. Kellerts (2002) category of vicarious nature, indicating non-firsthand
experience, includes contexts like zoos and aquariums and a wide range of media from print to film, television,
electronic, and all manner of ways we accessorize our lives with nature objects, symbols, and imagery. In general
such media allow their creators great informational and narrative creativity in representing nature. Kellert (1996)
believed that vicarious nature may constitute an anesthetized experience of nature fundamentally compromised
by its occurrence within the comforts and artificial confines of human habitation (p. 90). Many such venues focus
on entertainment, adventure, and action, and lack the multisensory immersion of the complex and uncontrolled
natural world. This view may, however, underestimate the ways that nature experience is socially mediated.
Moreover, vicarious experiences may constitute the majority of some childrens nature exposure, can develop
interest in learning or doing more, and have played important roles in conservation campaigns. Studies of zoos and
aquariums in particular suggest they contribute in various ways to development, including concern for animals,
and childrens moral development (Clayton, Fraser, & Saunders, 2009; Fraser 2009).
New technologies allow access to nature, or information about it, more flexibly and portably than some
nonelectronic media. Nature can also (p. 123) be simulated, where a technology does not display or symbolize
but mimics a natural phenomenon. Traditional simulations might be theatrical presentations or inanimate objects.
Today, apparently autonomous or highly convincing simulations of nature are available, allowing limited but
unprecedented inquiry into which specific attributes of nature have which effects. The technological environment
of childhood is changing at a rapid pace, and enabling compelling, dynamic, interactive experiences. As Freier and
Kahn (2009) pointed out, significant challenges are to determine appropriate baselines from which changes can be
evaluated, and to design technologies within a full conception of child development.
Newer technologies augmenting interaction with nature include portable devices with information such as bird
identification information, guide-like information for investigating a specific site, and activities such as geocaching
(finding a hidden object using a global positioning system, or GPS, unit). Also electronic media allow enthusiasts to
take and share photographs or other natural history data (now with GPS information incorporated if taken with smart
phones) through social network media. Examples include iNaturalist.org and many citizen science projects
available via the Cornell University Lab of Ornithology (www.birds.cornell.edu/citscitoolkit). Chavez (2009) asked
youth participants (ages 6 to 17) about geocaching and photo safari as well as a range of traditional nature
activities and found higher enthusiasm for the former. Harmon and Gleason (2009) found 10- to 15-year-olds
responded positively to using a remote-controlled underwater vehicle to explore an otherwise inaccessible marine
offshore environment. Open-ended questions suggested a general factor that may influence such positive
assessments: the novelty of any new technology.
Real natural areas afford multiple sensory experiences, dimensions, signals, modes, and facets, and can support
individual initiative in exploratory and other learning. How does a field trip to such an area compare to a simulation?
A cutting-edge video game version of a field trip to a specific natural area allowed a counterbalanced design study
that made a comparison to an actual trip with a guide who facilitated child-initiated inquiry (Harrington, 2009). The
game allowed child-initiated exploration and navigation by mouse or keyboard; it simulated events in sound and
two dimensions, allowed multiscale movement and viewing, and offered facts about plants. Comparison of tests and
interview responses showed that both offered students initiative, but the real trip was multisensory and allowed the
naturalist to incorporate unexpected findings into the curriculum in a responsive fashion. The ability of the virtual
trip to conform to varied wishes seems to underlie many things the children liked most about it: they could fly
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around or pretend to be another creature; all the flowers were in bloom; they could see things from different points
of view. There were no complaints about not being allowed to go off trail, getting tired, or bugs, as a few children
expressed about the real field trip. The majority found the virtual trip more exciting than the real one, but overall
more positive emotions were reported from the real trip. Further, the real field trip supported inquiry learning:
children felt they learned more, including particularly more unplanned and off-curriculum experiences that proved
to be exceptionally memorable.
Technological mediation or simulation of nature raises intriguing questions from a constructivist developmental
standpoint. Kahn (2011) has pointedly raised the conjunction of declining nature access and experience with
increasing computationally simulated nature. In a series of studies he compared the experience of a natural entity
affording psychological benefits (e.g., a view of nature from a window; a pet dog; tending a garden) with its
absence, and with a technological simulation of it (a plasma screen projecting a view; an advanced robotic dog; a
computer-interface/mechanically tended telegarden). Although only the dog studies included children, the
general pattern held: Technological nature is better than no nature, but not as good as actual nature (Kahn,
2011, p. xvi). In the case of the dogs, children clearly differentiated the real from the robotic, treating the latter as
they might an unfamiliar toy, and the former with more socially positive actions. Nonetheless, large majorities of
children attributed mentality, sociality, and moral standing to the robot. In response, and in subsequent studies,
Kahn has speculated that perhaps children identify personified computational objects as an entirely new kind of
thing, and one with ambiguous moral entailments. It is practically impossible to keep pace with technological
change and determine the effects on child development. Instead, Kahn proposes a value-sensitive design
approach. It would be concerned with larger questions, such as whether people come to accept simulated nature
as adequate substitutes for the benefits and enriching experiences possible only with real nature, and whether
simulated nature can provide (p. 124) the deep patterns of interaction with nature that, by dint of our evolutionary
heritage, make us fully human (Kahn, 2011).
Benefits of Nature to Children

The health and psychological benefits of time and activities involving nature have received considerable research,
and that research has been reviewed extensively, and to a lesser extent critiqued (Moore & Cooper Marcus, 2008;
Bell et al., 2008; Muoz, 2009; Charles & Senauer, 2010). Numerous studies have shown that across age groups,
time outside has numerous physical health benefits, such as lowered rates of obesity, deriving from greater levels
of physical activity (e.g., Cleland et al., 2008). Studies suggest that green environments lead to lower rates of
asthma and myopia, better recovery from hospital stays, and enhanced immunological responses. For ages five to
seven years, the physical affordances of a complex natural play setting (including trees, rocks, uneven ground,
shrubbery, etc.) result in greater physical motor development, including agility and balance, in comparison to a
less-varied, manicured play setting (Fjrtoft, 2004). Conversely, children in environments heavy with auto traffic
and lacking in green spaces that adults can oversee showed less physical development gains (and their parents
were more strained), in comparison to children in environments that offered outside play (Huttenmoser &
Meierhofer, 1995).
Numerous psychological benefits of nature have also been identified. Green views from homes are associated with
better attentional capacity and increased concentration, self-discipline, and impulse control (Wells, 2000; Faber
Taylor, Kuo, & Sullivan, 2002). Natural areas help adolescents calm down and gain perspective after stressful
events (Korpela, 1992). Although not from research with adults, this finding is similar to Herzog, Black, Fountaine, &
Knottss (1997) finding that nature, as distinct from other restorative environments, affords reflection. Even
differences in natural environment among rural homes (controlling for demographics) were associated with ability
to cope with stress (Wells & Evans, 2003). Creative play is greater among preschoolers with green play spaces
(Faber Taylor, Wiley, Kuo, & Sullivan, 1998). The opportunity to explore a relatively unstructured physical
environment is important in developing a sense of direction as well as problem-solving abilities (Wohlwill & Heft,
1987). Among children diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder symptoms, Kuo and Faber Taylor
(2004) found that parents reported that their children showed reduced symptoms after activities in natural settings
as compared with indoor and built outdoor settings. The positive effect of a green setting was found even after
controlling for the social setting and the activity itself (e.g., reading).
Not surprisingly given the findings of cognitive benefit mentioned above, some academic benefits have been
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associated with nature exposure. For example, comparing landscape features of 101 high schools and controlling
for SES and school characteristics, larger classroom windows, more views of nature and views of close vegetation
were associated with higher test scores, graduation rates, and college attendance (Matsuoka, 2008). Numerous
other academic gains occur when natural settings are incorporated in schooling, using environment as an
integrating context for learning (Bartch, 2003).
Conclusion
Natural surroundings are no doubt an essential part of humanitys common patrimony, which, according to Locke,
should be handed down in as good condition to succeeding generations, affording basic needs as well as
options. From what we understand at this point, to this set of physical conditions should be added the many
psychological experiences, challenges, and benefits children derive from natural settings. Lacking these (and
considering their possible technological substitutes), it is an urgent question what the pathways of human
development can produce. At this point, it is fair to say the answer is that impoverished exposure to nature will
result in deficits of which we may not be aware. While this lack of awareness can be rectified through further
research, and through attention to childrens own voices, it also calls for a critical rethinking of major institutions
structuring childhood and its environments, as well as management of natural spaces.
Future Directions
Many avenues of research need further attention in this field. A clear and conceptual mapping of the affordances
of the range of natural settings, including what children actually do in such settings, is still not possible from the
literature. This would be necessary to get beyond the tantalizing suggestions of the developmental sequelae of
various nature experiences we have. More rigorous designs are needed, particularly if there is the hope that
claims of health and psychological benefits will gain traction in major institutions. Of course, however, wellcontrolled (p. 125) experiments may deliver narrow-scope results, and longitudinal or cross-sequential designs
are practically difficult and funding is scarce. Not only that, the target is hardly sitting still. So rather than aiming for
comprehensive knowledge, it may be more important to pursue research that tests both theory and practical
intervention strategies. Researchers and practitioner allies could use the best hints from what we know, and seek,
for example, through educational or design-oriented work, to create positive outcomes for children. The children
should be prime stakeholders in such participatory processes as they grow in real communities. They should be
partners, empowered to describe their experiences and be part of their communities efforts to enhance both
nature and human flourishing.
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Emotions and Environment

Elisabeth Kals and Markus M. Mller
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0008

This chapter illuminates the role of various categories of emotions in the context of the natural environment and
their influence on pro-environmental and environmentally risky decisions. First, some examples of emotional
reactions toward environmental problems are given. After discussing the question what are environmentally
relevant emotions?, a classification of these emotions is proposed, followed by a close look at the relations of
emotions and environmentally relevant activities and the special behavioral impact of the emotions not only on proenvironmental but also on environmentally risky behaviors. The chapter closes with a discussion of how knowledge
about emotional factors can be used in the environmental debate and shows ways to reach a deeper
understanding of the dynamics and impact of these emotions. This knowledge can enrich models of
environmentally relevant behaviors as well as action models in psychology in general.
Keywords: emotions, environmentally relevant decisions, natural environment, emotion work, conflict resolution
Introduction
The natural (synonymously ecological) environmentdefined as our environment with its multiple components,
such as air, soil, and wateris the fundamental base for human life, but without doubt it is set at a serious risk by
exploitation and modern behavior patterns (IPCC, 2007; WCED, 1990). Worldwide pollution of air, water, and soil,
the greenhouse effect, damage to the ozone layer, and the extinction of species are some examples of the
ecological problems (Pawlik, 1991) caused by modern societies with an energy-intensive lifestyle. Therefore,
Maloney and Ward (1973) called the energy crisis of the 1970s a crisis of maladapted behavior; nearly a decade
later, Devall (1982) spoke of a crisis of culture. Today, despite numerous attempts to reduce environmental
threats, most of the global ecological problems and their long-term effects still are not under control (IPCC, 2007).
The solution of these environmental problems is a technical challenge to the natural and engineering sciences, but
even more to psychology as the science dealing with human behavior and experience (Gifford, 2008). Above all,
environmental problems are caused by human behavior and decisions, and therefore should be addressed by
analyzing the underlying motives of the relevant behaviors. Based on this understanding of the underlying motives
of pro-environmental behaviors as well as behaviors that harm the environment,1 efficient intervention strategies
can be derived.
In environmental psychology there are research traditions on both tasks; however, the special role of emotions is
not always taken sufficiently into account: although at the very beginning of environmental psychology, emotions
were taken into account (cf. Amelang, Tepe, Vagt, & Wendt, 1977), a phase of strong cognitive bias, mainly
omitting (p. 129) emotions, followed. This goes hand in hand with the development of models aiming to explain
environmentally relevant behaviors without integrating emotions. In line with the explanation of human behavior in
other action fields, the significant role of emotions was, consequently, for a long time mainly overlooked. Instead,
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behavioral decisions were often construed as rational processes, based, for example, on judgments of
expectation-values (cf. Kruse & Schwarz, 1988). As a consequence, it is especially the environment-specific
behavior models that include emotions. These are mainly responsibility-related emotions, as pollution control can
be regarded as a moral, social task, as most environmental problems are not limited to a local area but are global
problems: the pollution of air caused by individual car driving, for example, is not limited to ones own living space
but contributes to global environmental problems in the long run. As a consequence, there are worldwide changes
in the geosphere and biosphere, such as the increase in earth surface temperature. Pawlik (1991) spoke of timelinked demographic and social changes. The emission of greenhouse gases, for example, does not have direct
consequences for the current generation but will probably become a main problem for future generations.
Moreover, there are geographic changes. Problems will, for example, arise for populations in different areas or
even continents (such as the third world) that never contributed to this situation or took advantage of the
positive effects of polluting activities, such as a high living standard. These spatial and temporal distances are
causing a great social distance between actors and victims of global environmental change (Pawlik, 1991). Under
these high distance conditions, social learning is very difficult. Low subjective cost-effectiveness of proenvironmental behavior makes personal sacrifices for the natural environment even more difficult. This mechanism
is described as a social trap.
It is difficult to overcome this social trap and to bridge the spatial and temporal distances. Gaps between ecological
knowledge and attitudes on the one hand and actual behavior on the other (Schahn & Matthies, 2008) demonstrate
these difficulties. This is partly due to interest conflicts between individuals and society. Overcoming these conflicts
can be regarded as a moral task. A successful fulfillment of the task is signaled by taking over personal ecological
responsibility and experiencing corresponding emotions, such as guilt with regard to the formation of ecological
problems, or indignation about insufficient pollution control. Besides these moral emotions, many other emotions
can help to overcome the gap and to promote pro-environmental behavior, for example, affective connection to
nature. These different emotion clusters will, therefore, be regarded in depth in this text.
The interest conflicts between individual self-interest and social responsibility, which are at the foundation of the
socio-ecological dilemma (cf. Hardin, 1968), already point to the tension within the field of environmental
protection. This is reflected in the change of paradigms from environmental protection to sustainability. The
research of environmental psychology picks up this complexity by analyzing both types of behavior (pro- and
risky environmental behavior), by looking for positive motivators as well as boundaries of both behavioral
categories, and by analyzing interpersonal conflicts that derive, for example, when the question of the site of a
new incinerator is discussed controversially (Linnerooth-Bayer & Fitzgerald, 1996), leading to the formation of
citizens initiatives (Rohrmann, 1990). Emotions play a significant role in all these research questions. The analysis
of ecological conflicts is, however, the silver bullet to analyze environmentally relevant emotions and to get direct
practical profit from this analysis for resolving the conflict. This is well recognized and used within the field of
psychological mediation of conflicts (Jones, 2006).
Another important research field concerns the conceptualization, realization, and evaluation of environmental
education within various fields (schools, companies, mass media, etc.). Here, knowledge about the motivational
base of pro-environmental behavior is an efficient tool for avoiding bad investments and demotivation of the
participants of the programs as well as the initiators. In this field, responsibility-related emotions are not the central
issues. Instead, there is a wide field of environmental education that offers practical experiences with nature
(Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989), although without referring to the scientific research on affective connection to nature.
The present chapter picks up these research questions by focusing on environmentally relevant emotions and
their special role in research. Much of this research has been done in environmental psychology, but some of the
relevant research has been done within applied social psychology or even within the more general field of emotion
psychology. Our aim is to bring together the various disciplinary approaches and traditions within psychology as
well as within neighboring disciplines, showing the big impact emotions might have for model building, (p. 130) for
the explanation and control of ecologically relevant behavior, for promoting pro-environmental behavior, and also
for resolving ecological conflicts.
Environmentally Relevant Emotions
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In recent years, there is a growing interest in emotional processes in psychology in general and in conservation
psychology in particular, mainly because empirical studies show that emotions explain distinct parts in the
variance of environmentally related behavior (Carrus, Passafaro, & Bonnes, 2008; Kals, 2000). Before this is
discussed in depth, a definition of environmentally relevant emotions is necessary.
What Are Environmentally Relevant Emotions?

We will start the closer look at the role of emotions in conservation behavior with some examples that match the
categorization of emotions that will be introduced later:
A couple is flying to South Africa to enjoy the breathtaking landscape and the wildlife, mainly ignoring the
social and the rising ecological problems of the continent. Their first significant impression is, however, the dust,
dirt, and blighted environment of Johannesburg and its townships. They feel threatened about this unexpected
state of at least parts of the African environment.
A student who has grown up using the car as main means of transportation decides to take part in a project
that bans car use for one month. He enjoys walking or riding a bicycle to his college, and is proud about his
success.
A family takes a winter walk in the woods, and while playing in the snow with the children, the parents feel
relieved from their day-to-day worries and enjoy being in nature.
In an apartment building, one family puts its waste into the paper recycling bin when the other bins are full.
The other residents become more and more upset about this and start complaining.
This list of examples could easily be extended. The examples have in common that the emotions directly refer to
the natural environment or to entities (subjects, people, own and other behavior, etc.) that are linked to this
environment. Both forms, the direct and indirect link to the natural environment, are subsumed under the construct
of environmentally relevant emotions.
Emotion is a very diverse concept, embracing many facets.. While many definitions of emotions exist, there is
relative convergence to consider emotions as complex processes that involve a variety of components (Moors,
2009; Scherer, 2000, 2005). The number and content of the various components vary, but the key components
are cognitive appraisals of stimuli and situational conditions, a physiological activation or arousal component, a
motor and motivational aspect, which includes intentional control processes, and subjective feelings.
This component idea shows how tightly the terms emotion and feeling are related. In this text, we will use the
term feeling when subjective experiences are central (for example, the fear of the consequences of nuclear
power). We will use the term emotion, instead, when the subjective feeling is one of many other components (for
example, the complex processes involved in emotions of anger).
Cognitive Emotion Models

Given the complexity of emotional processes and of the components involved in emotional episodes, there is also
a great variety of theories about what causes emotions and how the different components interact. A special merit
of psychological research and theorizing in the field is to create an awareness of the role of cognitions and
appraisals in these processes, while lay theories of emotions tend to focus on the somatic and feeling components,
thus underestimating the impact of the mind on how we feel about stimuli and situations in the environment. The
present article will put special emphasis on these cognitive models of emotions.
Cognitive or appraisal theories understand emotions as consequences of cognitive processes (e.g., Arnold, 1960;
Frijda, 1986, 1993; Lazarus, 1991; Montada, 1993; Roseman, 1984; Scherer, 1984; Smith & Ellsworth, 1985). The
core idea of these theories indicates that it is not an event itself or bodily reactions that directly elicit emotions, but
their individual interpretations, which means that the same stimulus can lead to different emotions.
As an example, moral outrage about behavior that harms the environment is based on the following set of
appraisals (Kals, 2000):
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Environmental protection is regarded as a moral norm.

The person is convinced that behavior that puts environmental protection at risk is a norm violation.
The acting person is considered as having control over his or her behavior and having alternative possibilities
for action.
The acting person is made responsible for the behavior and its outcome.
(p. 131) Possible explanations and apologies (such as lack of time or knowledge) are not accepted.
By testing these components, a considerable amount of the individual variance in moral outrage can be explained
in multiple regression analyses (Kals & Montada, 1994).
The same is valid for the prediction of feelings of environmental guilt. These feelings can be explained by the
following set of appraisals:
A general awareness of ecological problems.
High internal locus of control, which means that the person feels that he or she has efficient strategies to
reduce ecological problems.
The person feels moral responsibility to act pro-environmentally.
Arguments against conservation (such as the lack of adequate knowledge about behavior strategies, or the
acceptance of competing norms) are denied.
The person behaves in contradiction to pro-environmental norms.
In line with this finding, self-blame, indignation, and anger within the context of nature protection can all be
explained by cognitive models of emotions. There is a long-lasting discussion about the question of whether
emotions are pre- or post-cognitive (Zajonc, 1980). This question, however, is relevant only when cognitions are
understood in a very narrow sense. In line with current research on emotions (cf. Herzberg, 2009), we argue that
cognitions do not necessarily need to be conscious, reflected, and formulated thoughts, but can also embrace
automatic and pre-conscious processes.
A cognitive model of emotions has specific advantages for the theoretical understanding and practical use of
environmentally relevant emotions:
A cognitive model of emotions can explain that different people react differently toward the same event and
as a more complex explanationthat there is an intrapersonal variance in the emotional reaction toward the
same event at different times, based on different appraisals of an event.
The model is of high conceptual value, as it implies the necessity to analyze cognitive components of specific
emotions on a deeper level.
This leads to practical implications, because interventions can be based on specific cognitive components of
emotions. For example, moral outrage is often based on an unproved belief that the other person acted
deliberately. Research has shown that changing such beliefs into hypotheses that have to be tested empirically
can be a successful way of reducing resentment (Bernhardt, 2000).
Cognitive models offer prognoses for the development of emotions.
Finally, cognitive models imply an idea of humans as acting individuals who can gain control over their
emotions by reflecting and reframing cognitive schemas and automatic appraisals.
Measuring Emotions
It is comparatively difficult to measure emotions (Scherer, 2005). Taking component models of emotions as a
theoretical base, one has to consider different aspects of emotions that cannot be measured by the same methods
but require a wide range of instruments, such as standardized questionnaires, semi-structured interviews,
physiological measures, behavioral observation, and so on. A special challenge is measuring the subjective
component of feeling. It is unclear how well people can give an answer when asked about their feelings: Can they
differentiate between emotions? Are they willing to answer such a personal question? In many cultural contexts, the
Page 4 of 24

expression of certain emotions is sanctioned and considered inappropriate, and it is especially difficult to express
emotions that do not correspond to ones self-image.
All these problems and discussions are also obvious when it comes to the measurement of environmentally
relevant emotions (Kals, 2000). As a result of this discussion it became consensus to use self-disclosure measures
with varying degree of directness of the measurement. The crucial question is how the items or stimulus
requirements should be presented. The range goes from open questions (Do you have any emotions or feelings
with regard to this environmental topic?) to specific questionnaire items (When I am in nature, I have feelings of
oneness with it). The advantages and disadvantages of the various methods have been discussed at length.
Some of the arguments are as follows: the standardization of measurement should be decided in accordance to
theory building, research requests, and resources. Standardized methods are very efficient and result in
quantitative data that can easily be analyzed but require, on the other hand, a precise model building and
concrete hypotheses. Less standardized methods (such as the semi-structured interview) measure emotions and
feelings more spontaneously and less reactively and are more appropriate for gathering hypotheses, as the results
(p. 132) of single interviews cant easily be brought together or compared.
In the field of environmental psychology the great majority of studies measuring emotions refer to standardized
methods in the form of questionnaires, even though results are critically questioned (Scherer, 2005). Nevertheless,
the big advantage of gathering quantitative, comparable data outweighs the discussed disadvantagesprovided
reliability and validity of the scales are thoroughly ascertained controlled, which is mostly the case.
One of the first standardized questionnaires within environmental psychology already embraced a scale of
environmental awareness that includes the measurement of emotions (see Amelang et al., 1977). Today, the list of
scales measuring environmentally relevant emotions has become quite long, although they are used mainly in the
context of research and are seldom widely available or systematically published in a compilation.
Classification of Emotions
There is a broad discussion concerning the taxonomy of emotions. The easiest taxonomy distinguishes between
emotions experienced as positive or negative, but such a classification is unclear because although it seems
plausible at first sight, so-called positive emotions can also have negative consequences and vice versa. There
are more complex, often linguistic classification systems (e.g., Frijda, 1986; Lazarus, 1991; Scherer, 1984), which
are primarily of heuristic value as they offer a structure to bring order to the diversity of emotions. However, they
are not very helpful to distinguish emotional categories (for example, resentment, moral outrage, and indignation)
or to get a deeper understanding of their underlying structure.
Therefore, we propose a general framework of emotion clusters that closely belong together with regard to
theoretical model building and their specific impact on environmental behavior. This leads to four categories or
clusters, some with subgroups: (1) emotional burdens and worries; (2) emotions associated with environmentally
relevant behavior; (3) affective connection to nature; and (4) moral emotions.
Emotional Burdens and Worries

Emotional burdens and worries are caused by environmental threats. According to lay theories, fear caused by
threats to the environment is highly relevant for pro-environmental motivation and action. Psychological theorizing
and research, however, show that fear is not directly linked to behavior that protects the environment (Hazard,
1998). Rather, these emotions motivate reactions to cope with this threat (Homburg, Stolberg, & Wagner, 2007;
van Zomeren, Spears, & Leach, 2010), and the literature on coping has shown that there are several cognitive and
behavioral strategies that can help reduce fear without taking action against the source of the perceived threat.
Emotions Associated with Environmentally Relevant Behavior

A second class of emotions comprises those associated with environmentally relevant behavior. Any kind of
behavior can be motivated not only by goals and emotions related to these goals, but also by feelings
accompanying the action: behavior itself can be of affective valence. For example, Ajzens (1991) concept of
attitudes is based on the idea that behaviors can be attractive or unattractive and therefore have a positive or
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negative emotional valence. Littering, for example, can be unpleasant and accompanied by negative feelings of
disgust, or evoke positive feelings of satisfaction. However, the consumption of certified organic food is
accompanied by many emotions experienced as positive, such as pleasure, positive taste, feeling good toward
nature, and animal welfare (Kals & Odenthal, 1996). Marketing has discovered the pleasure associated with buying
and consuming organic products, and many alternative supermarkets that sell biological food base their marketing
strategies on hedonistic arguments, such as the pleasure of shopping and consuming tasty biological food
(Hartmann & Apaolaza-Ibez, 2008).
The literature on the choice of means of travel is a good example for these kinds of affects. Several authors
(Becker, 1998; Carrus et al., 2008; Hunecke, 2000) have argued that cars, bicycles, trains, or buses are more than
mere means of transportation, and the choice of how to get from one point to another is not based merely on
rational choices for the most efficient or most environmentally friendly vehicle. Rather, the act of traveling as well
as the vehicles themselves have an emotional valence that has a strong impact on individual decisions. In this
way, pro-environmental behavior, such as choosing public transport instead of driving ones car, can elicit either
positive emotions, such as pride due to ones contribution to pollution control, or negative emotions, due to giving
up privacy or even social status. As a consequence, all categories of emotions can be related to environmentally
relevant behavior.
(p. 133)
Affective Connection to Nature
Affective connection to nature can be considered a distinct class of emotions related to the environment. It is
closely related to the development of an environmental identity (Clayton, 2003; Eigner & Schmuck, 1998; Kaplan &
Kaplan, 1989).
The relationship of humans to nature can be understood in two ways: first, there are psychological correlates of
time spent in nature that could be classified as emotions accompanying actions. Such a perspective is taken by
Kaplan (1995). In his attention restoration theory, he argues that being in nature can have restorative impacts, and
he makes a distinction among four components. The first is the feeling of being away, of being freed from mental
activity. This does not necessarily presuppose that one takes a long way to get to a natural site; even a short walk
in a park or a look out of the window can have a restorative impact (Kaplan, 2001). The second component is the
fascination for nature, which has the effect of binding attention without effort. Third, feelings of greatness often
accompany experiences in nature, most evidently in wilderness, but possibly also in parks or gardens. And fourth,
Kaplan (1995) argued that there is a compatibility between human inclinations, such as locomotion or dominance,
and nature, that can also lead to a positive valence of nature for human beings. A growing body of research shows
that being in nature or merely in contact with nature can have a large number of positive effects, such as the
restoration of attention (Kaplan, 1995), vitality (Ryan et al., 2010), but also on other aspects of well-being or on the
reduction of aggressive motivations (Kuo & Sullivan, 2001). Although the findings from this research are quite
robust and have been validated by many studies, it should also be noted that contact with nature can also lead to
more negative feelings, for example, of disgust or fear (e.g., Bixler & Floyd, 1997). These results are also picked up
in the chapter of Joanne Vining and Melinda Merrick on environmental epiphanies in the current book.
One of the possible positive consequences of contact with nature especially in childhood and youth is that it can
contribute to a relatively stable emotional attachment to nature (Kals, Schumacher, & Montada, 1999; Mller, Kals,
& Pansa, 2009). Writers in environmental ethics have argued that humans can be considered a part of nature, an
argumentation that has led to the new environmental paradigm (Van Liere & Dunlap, 1980). From a psychological
point of view, however, the connectedness of humans to nature goes beyond this rational-cognitive perspective
because it is also based on affective experiences in nature. The biophilia hypothesis (Kellert, 1997), drawing on
Fromms psychoanalytic tradition, assumes that humans have an innate need to be part of nature, making contact
with nature an important source of well-being and restoration (Eckardt, 1992). In their differential approach, Kals et
al. (1999) argued that the attachment to nature is not a constant that is valid for all persons, but rather can be
considered a trait that varies among individuals. Data from questionnaire surveys have showed that the time spent
in nature in childhood as well as positive experiences in nature with significant others are strong predictors of this
emotional attachment to nature (Kals et al., 1999; Mller et al., 2009). In recent years, several similar conceptions
of human relationship to nature have been proposed (e.g., Clayton, 2003; Dutcher, Finley, Luloff, & Johnson, 2007;
Hinds & Sparks, 2008; Mayer & Frantz, 2004; Nisbet, Zelenski, & Murphy, 2009; Schultz, 2000), but despite some
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conceptual differences, they all argue that relatedness to nature varies among individuals and can be considered
a relatively stable trait, and most of the authors argue that this relatedness is based on affective experiences
rather than merely cognitive appraisals.
Moral Emotions
Moral emotions concerning behavior affecting the environment are a fourth class of emotions related to the
environment that have been studied in more detail recently (e.g., Berenguer, 2010; Ferguson & Branscombe,
2010). This interest in moral emotions is due to the social, temporal, and geographical distance between actors and
victims of global environmental change (Pawlik, 1991). Self-interest alone cannot explain why people make
renunciations for the sake of the natural environment. The increasing interest in norms, values, justice, and other
moral issues in conservation psychology reflects the fact that behavior to protect the environment is not merely
based on social incentives or the fulfillment of self-interest, but is also driven by social responsibility and moral
convictions. If morality plays a role in pro-environmental behavior, then moral emotions can be considered a direct
reaction to behavior or rules or laws that are either compliant with these moral standards or deviant from them.
Understanding Moral Emotions in the Light of the Social Trap

The fourth category of emotions, moral emotions, is of special importance for motivating nature-protective (p. 134)
behavior. This makes sense in the light of the so-called social trap or, as it is also called, the commons or socioecological dilemma (Hardin, 1968; Platt, 1973), which is, therefore, described in more detail.
The Socio-Ecological Dilemma

The socio-ecological dilemma describes interest conflicts between short-term individual and long-time societal
interests. Personal renunciations for the benefit of the natural environment (such as using public transportation
systems instead of ones own car, donating money for ecological programs, installing expensive energy
consumption systems in ones own household that will not amortize) produce various costs, such as financial
shortages, reduced comfort, and the efforts due to necessary changes in behavior patterns and daily routines. On
the one hand, these costs are individualized, as they directly and exclusively fall back on the acting individual,
whereas ecological benefits resulting from the behavior are externalized to the society as a whole. On the other
hand, environment-endangering decisions have direct and personal benefits for the individual. A high living
standard due to intensive energy consumption in ones own household leads, for example, to increased comfort.
Ecological risks and burdens that derive from these decisions, such as the effects of greenhouse warming due to
intensive energy consumption, are external to the individual.
In the long run, the immediate profit for the individuals making sacrifices is lower than for the exploiting individuals.
One cannot, for example, expect a significant and stable improvement of the air quality in ones own living space
by using, as a lone individual, public transportation systems instead of ones own car. These positive effects on air
quality can be expected only as a long-term consequence of many individuals abstaining from using their own cars
and when many other agents and mega-actors (such as decision makers in industry) reduce other air-polluting
activities and processes.
The socio-ecological dilemma serves as an explanatory construct to explain why pro-ecological behavior is
avoided whereas ecologically risky behavior is shown. Besides correlational studies there is a long experimental
research tradition on the dilemma that analyzes various conditional effects of the dilemma (cf. Biel, 2000; Ernst &
Spada, 1993; Spada, Opwis, Donnen, Schwiersch, & Ernst, 1990). Without overlooking the theoretical and high
methodological impact of this tradition, there is a broad discussion questioning the ecological validity of the
laboratory experiments (cf. Biel, 2000). This discussion also affects the role emotions play in the experimental
research on socio-ecological dilemmas: Cognitions (e.g., in the form of expectancy-value judgments) are in the
center of interest; emotions are reported only in their function of validating the experimental findings (Bonacich,
1976; Dawes, McTavish, & Shaklee, 1977). The motivational function of emotions is mostly ignored (Mller, Kals, &
Maes, 2008). This is especially the case for moral emotions, such as anger, indignation, and resentment, which are
independent behavioral predictors in studies on real-life ecological conflicts (c.f. Montada & Kals, 2000).
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These moral emotions already signal that the ecological dilemma is a moral conflict that can be overcome by taking
over internal ecological responsibility and by accepting corresponding moral norms. In line with these arguments,
the moral emotions should have a special impact on the behavioral decisions to protect but also to exploit nature.
Feelings of moral guilt toward the ecological crisis and its underlying causes should, for example, be a positive
motivator to avoid littering; the absence of guilt should, on the other hand, facilitate environmentally risky behavior.
From Environmental Protection to Sustainable Development

This already points to the fact that environmental protection is not a competitive free value but rather stands in
tension with other norms and values that also have moral implications, such as individual freedom, economic
growth, job security, and so on. Originally, small segments of the population have brought the subject of
environmental protection into general discussion. Currently the topic is in the center of interest and public
awareness; nearly all political parties have the topic in their programs. However, the construct is increasingly
replaced by the key concept of sustainability (Kals & Maes, 2002). Sustainability takes into account the
complexity of competing moral norms, aiming to balance them. Together with its related term sustainable
development, it replaced the older concepts of pollution control or environmental protection (De Haan &
Kuckartz, 1996). The latter focus primarily on pro-environmental aims and efforts, whereas sustainable
development takes three different dimensions into account (cf. Jdes, 1997; Kastenholz, Erdmann, & Wolff, 1996;
Kreibich, 1996): environmental sustainability (e.g., protection of natural resources and ecosystems, (p. 135)
reduction of pollution), economic sustainability (e.g., economic welfare, protection of job security, economic
freedom), and social sustainability (satisfaction of basic human needs, in such a way as to avoid future conflicts
over the distribution of resources are avoided).
In sum, sustainability represents the normative demand to realize intergenerational justice, so the next generation
can enjoy the same opportunities for economic and social development as the current one. There is a complex
trans-disciplinary discussion about the right balance of these three dimensions to reach justice (Jdes, 1997;
Kastenholz et al., 1996; Kreibich, 1996): Should all dimensions be equally weighted or should, if necessary, one
dimension be given priority? What dimension should this be and what reasons can justify this decision? To what
extent can economic welfare be achieved without putting the ecological aim and dimension at risk? How can
intergenerational justice be achieved without risking economic welfare?
These questions reflect the competing character of the three dimensions (Hodge, 1997), which leads to the
interpretation of sustainability as a fuzzy set (Linneweber, 1998). Its open space for interpretation is often filled
by actors in a self-serving way and paves the way for social conflicts and hot emotions, when interpretation and
realization of the dimensions differ between people or institutions. Therefore, in this text it is spoken of proenvironmental behavior when the behavior intends to give priority to the ecological dimension and of sustainable
behavior when multiple interactions between the dimensions are regarded. In the same way, as described for the
social trap, the competitive ways of interactions should provoke morally relevant emotions (e.g., anger due to
perceived injustices).
Emotions in Models of Sustainable Behavior

Since the beginnings of environmental psychology, researchers have been looking for the motivational base that
can explain individual differences in sustainable behavior (cf. Krampen, Martini, & Ronco, 1996; Kruse & Arlt,
1984). Although the first studies on the oil crisis encompassed the emotional base of the behavior (it was especially
fear with regard to the crisis that was analyzed), the role of emotions was long neglected within this area of
research. Model building and research questions put their focus on cognitions (Steg & Vlek, 2009). It is only since
the past decade that emotions have been rediscovered and analyzed again. In a way it is a comeback of the
emotion as a research topic within environmental psychology.
The described models are structured into four clusters: (1) rational choice models, (2) general social psychological
models of action and behavior, (3) environment-specific behavior models, which are differentiated into complex
action models, and (4) empirically grounded structure models. All models are described and discussed with regard
to the role emotions play within them.
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Rational Choice Models
Rational choice models increasingly find their way into environmental psychology through economic behavior
analysis. A growing number of environmental psychological publications have been based on the underlying
assumption of a rational choice theory, reflected in the formula of RREEMM (restricted, resourceful, expecting,
evaluating, maximizing man) (cf. Abell, 1992; Coleman & Fararo, 1992). Following this formula, people struggle for
their own advantages. They try to maximize their own profit and not that of others or the social community. This
struggle is based on a rational calculus that is transformed into expectation-times-values formulas, which are
applied to nearly all forms of human behavior, although the empirical base for such generalization is insufficient.
Miller and Ratner (1996) therefore brought up the concept of the myth of self-interest, which is promoted by
rational choice theory.
Rational choice models can easily explain why people behave in a way that puts ecological protection at risk: as
described within the concept of the social trap, for many polluters it is a rational choice to continue the polluting
activities that add to their personal benefits at little immediate personal costs, as long as they do not expect social
sanctions for their abusing behavior (Montada, 1998). However, it is difficult to explain by this theory why people
take into account renunciations for the sake of the natural environment, without anticipating personal benefits from
it. One popular assumption, based on this dilemma, is the low-cost hypothesis, predicting that renunciations for the
natural environment are taken into account only in areas that imply low costs for the acting individual (cf.
Diekmann & Preisendrfer, 1992; Schahn & Mllers, 2005).
Obviously, some groups of people also act pro-environmentally despite high personal costs (in the form of money,
time, limitations of mobility, etc.). One way to explain high-cost behavior is to look for masked self-interest. If people
engage, for (p. 136) example, in protecting their personal environmental surrounding (such as in a local initiative
engaging in the protection of local environmental goals), direct environmental benefits in the form of higher
ecological quality might be expected. Engaging, however, in more global ecological aims makes it difficult to
rationally expect measurable personal ecological benefits. In these cases, the assumption of masked self-interest
is formulated, trying to keep up the scope of validity of rational choice theories. Such masked self-interests can be
to demonstrate power and control, to experience self-efficacy, to aspire to social power, to raise self-esteem, and
so on. Empirical proof for these assumptions, however, is scarce. Data show instead that the model of rational
choice is not appropriate for political decisions, or cases of interpersonal solidarity (Maes, 2001). This statement is
also supported by data from Sheldon and Schmuck (2001), showing that people are happier when striving for selftranscending goals. Similarly, and in contrast to rational choice theory, data show that a considerable amount of
people are willing to act and actually act in a way to protect the global environment, without receiving or expecting
any direct personal gain from it. Furthermore, the impact of social responsibility and justice show that there is a
stable moral impact on pro-environmental behavior.
What about the role of emotions? As already signaled by the key term rational, the role of emotions is explicitly
ignored in traditional rational choice models. With a growing empirical foundation for the emotional impact on
human actions, some authors integrated emotions as by-correlates of the key cognitive constructs. However,
justice is not done to emotions when they are downgraded to by-products. They are independent motives by
themselves and can contribute to the prediction of environmentally relevant behavioral decisions beyond the
cognitions, as it is still to be shown.
General Action Theories

The second group of models refers to general action theories, like the theory of reasoned action (Fishbein & Ajzen,
1975) or its further elaboration to the theory of planned behavior (Ajzen, 1991). These theories assume that
behavioral intentions are direct predictors of actual behavior. Attitudes toward the behavior, the subjective (social)
norm with regard to the behavior, as well as the perceived behavioral control determinemediated by the
behavioral intentionthe actions. These models are among the most often quoted and applied action theories in
social psychology, which is also due to their economy, as the number of their model variables is very low.
The disadvantages of this economy became highly relevant when the models were applied to the field of (pro)environmental action, such as recycling behavior or individual mobility decisions (cf. Bamberg & Schmidt, 1993;
Hamid & Cheng, 1995; Lynne & Rola, 1988). In most cases, these applications are successful only when the
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models are adapted to the specific features of the analyzed behavior and are expanded by specific variables (for
example, Haustein & Hunecke, 2007). Often it is the supplementary constructs that are especially powerful in
predicting the behavior. These specific variables also embrace emotions, as the theories of Fishbein and Ajzen do
not make explicit reference to emotions. It might be argued that affect or feelings are dimensions of attitudes, but
the concept of attitudes used in the theory of reasoned action or the theory of planned behavior is a cognitive one,
and merely using the concept of attitudes to conceptualize emotions fails to take into account the complexity of
emotions and their underlying appraisals. Therefore, it is a special challenge for environmental psychology to
include specific emotions in models of pro-environmental behavior and to study the predictive power of these
emotions in relation to more established variables.
The norm-activation model by Schwartz (Schwartz, 1977; Schwartz & Howard, 1980) is another general action
model that is often applied to environmentally relevant behavior. It explains behavior from the perspective of moral
obligation that is rooted in an awareness of the problem and activated personal norms. The model is in accordance
with the specifics of environmental behavior because, in the final analysis, individual behavioral commitments for
environmental protection reflect social responsibility. Insofar it is a moral behavior task that belongs to the prosocial behavior category (Bierhoff, 2002). Correspondingly, the model was applied to various environmentally
relevant action fields (for example, Fuhrer & Wlfing, 1997; Hopper & Nielsen, 1991; Stern, Dietz, & Kalof, 1993;
Van Liere & Dunlap, 1980). In most cases, however, the model is applied dogmatically, but the two constructs of
attribution of responsibility and awareness of behavioral consequences are brought into focus and are analyzed
empirically. In the same way as the models of Fishbein and Ajzen, the norm-activation model does not explicitly
include emotions, but in the pertinent research the attribution (p. 137) of ecological responsibility is often covered
not only as cognition but also as an emotional variable.
In sum, applying general action theories to the field of environmental psychology ensures research continuity and
enables us to link the research within environmental psychology with neighbor disciplines. Moreover, some of the
models are very economical with regard to the low number of model variables. However, the central disadvantage
might not be compensated by these key benefits: the models cannot be applied mechanically to environmentally
relevant behavior. This also refers to the necessary allowance of emotions, as most general action theories mainly
have a cognitive-rational base. Moreover, the economy of the general action models implies the negative side that
their predictive power is often lower than that of more complex models, and they do not offer many intervention
strategies for concrete behavioral changes. The theoretical limitations and practical restrictions for deriving
interventional approaches for behavior modeling led to the development of environment-specific behavior models.
Specific Models of Pro-Environmental Behavior

To fill the gap of knowledge, environment-specific behavior models were developed (for an overview, cf. Clayton &
Myers, 2009; Steg & Vlek, 2009). Most of these models avoid the discussed disadvantages because they take into
account the specifics and the underlying interest conflicts of environmentally relevant behavior. This leads to the
models becoming comparably complex, which can be regarded as either a gain or a loss. A clear disadvantage of
these models is their small validity and lack of generalizability to other fields with moral impact.
As a consequence, it seems to be a helpful strategy to develop specific models with regard to existing general
action theory. This has been done for a great number of models, such as the model to explain ecological behavior
(Fuhrer & Wlfing, 1997) and the value-belief-norm theory by Stern and colleagues (Stern, 2000; Stern et al.,
1993). Originally, the Stern model was a norm expectancy theory serving to explain the support of social
movements, including the ecological movement. These models are complex action models that are, in significant
parts, empirically proven.
This is also true for the model of responsible ecological behavior, which has been tested by more than 20 studies
(Kals, Becker, & Ittner, 2006). The model is theoretically related to the theory of planned behavior (Ajzen, 1991).
However, the center of the models is willingness for continued ecological commitments or commitments that set
ecological aims at risk (Montada, Kals, & Becker, 2007) instead of behavioral intentions. In longitudinal studies it
could be shown that willingness is a valid predictor of the actual behaviors manifested later. The transfer from
willingness to actual behavior is moderated in accordance with the model assumption by situational and social
circumstances (Montada et al., 2007). In line with the other specific models, emotions play the same central role as
cognitions. In detail the cognitive model variables for predicting willingness and actual behavior are:
Page 10 of 24
Appraisals of general risks from pollution and exploitation of the environment.

Appraisals of personal risks and personal harm from pollution, noise, etc.
Attributions of responsibility for ecological damages to oneself, the citizens, the population(s), industry and
business, the state(s).
Acceptance of arguments against nature-protective measures and commitments.
Appraisals of justice/injustice of the distribution of profits from pollutive activities and the exploitation of nature,
and the distributions of harm and risk caused by pollution.
Concerning emotions, the following variables are included:
Emotional affinity respectively affective connection to nature (with interest in nature and various experiences
with nature).
Indignation and anger about insufficient nature protection by others.
Indignation with regard to various ecological injustices.
Guilt due to ones own polluting behavior.
Fear and experienced local burdens (only for some of the behavioral criteria).
These predictor variables are able to explain a considerable amount of the criterion variance of pro-environmental
commitments and activities and of environmentally risky decisions.
Besides these complex action models, empirically grounded structure models do exist. They form the majority of
corresponding research studies. These structure models subsume different constructs from a varying theoretical
background. The predictive power of the heterogeneous constructs is empirically tested, mostly by regression
analyses.
(p. 138)
The Impact of Emotions on Environmentally Relevant Behavior
Based on the described models and theories, empirical research on the impact of various motives and variables on
environmentally relevant behavior was conducted, questionnaire studies being the main research methodology.
From this bulky research the following statements on the impact of the four emotion categories introduced above
can be regarded as validated:
Emotional Burdens and Worries

These emotions are primarily part of environment-specific behavior models. At first glance, fear about being
personally affected by ecological risks and damages, together with the experience of emotional burdens in ones
own living space, seem to represent a convincing motivation for acting in a sustainable way for reducing these
risks. Research on models of pro-environmental action that incorporated feelings of fear and threat, however,
shows consistently that these emotions do not play an important role in explaining pro-environmental commitment
and behavior (for an overview, see Hazard, 1998). The processes that are invoked by feelings of threat are
complex, and some research begins to look more closely at how people react to threat and how these reactions
are related to their attitudes and behavior toward the environment. There seems to be an inverted U-shaped
association between anxiety and pro-environmental behavior (Hazard, 1998): low anxiety might signal that
ecological problems are denied; very high anxiety might provoke psychological mechanisms of rejection and
denial of the problems to avoid panic. Thus, fear caused by threats to nature or by environmental hazards is not
directly linked to pro-environmental behavior. Rather, it causes a multitude of coping reactions, and the
mechanisms of these reactions are still poorly understood.
This is in line with recent studies that could show that strong forms of threat, such as existential threat caused by
mortality salience, can even reduce pro-environmental motivation (Fritsche & Hfner, in press). The authors
argued that existential threat will lead to a stronger focus on the self and the in-group, thus reducing biocentric
motivation that is one of the core motivators of pro-environmental behavior (Stern, 2000). However, research has
also shown that if valued in-groups strongly hold norms of environmental protection, then threat can lead to proenvironmental motivation not out of biocentric concern, but rather because it motivates people to identify with
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norms and values of the in-group to transcend the individuals mortality (Fritsche, Jonas, Kayser, & Koranyi, 2010).
Experienced local burdens, on the other hand, have an emotional impact, such as fear of being personally affected
by environmental threats. These emotions based on local burdens have differentiated effects on various
behavioral criteria: they qualify only for activities that are directed toward the protection of ones own living space,
for example, political involvement in an activist group, trying to avoid environment-endangering projects on a local
level (Rohrmann, 1990). This makes sense, as only these kinds of activities should have a measurable positive
impact on burdens experienced in ones own backyard. In correspondence with this finding, experienced local
burdens do not qualify for the prediction of pro-environmental activities for global commons and long-term
protection, which the great majority of studies focus upon (Kals et al., 2006; Montada & Kals, 2000). This finding is
in accordance with the prediction of rational choice theory and can be explained by the socio-ecological dilemma.
Emotions Associated with Environmentally Relevant Behavior

Emotions associated with environmentally relevant behavior have been overlooked for a long time, although they
seem to have a big impact on the actual manifestation of environmentally relevant behavior. This has especially
been proven for behaviors setting environmental protection at risk, such as car driving or alpine skiing (Flade,
1994; Giese, 1997). This makes sense, as these activities normally have a strong motivational base in the form of
their positive emotional valence. Car driving, for example, is based on many motives (Becker, 1998; Giese, 1997):
it provides enjoyment and the feeling of self-control; it can be a source and indicator of social status. Car
advertisements often argue that car driving provides life quality, freedom, safety, adventures, and so on. All these
motives are not linked directly to the endangering of the natural environment, which is more or less consciously
taken into account. This is in accordance with the rational choice theory, although it makes no prediction about
behavioral decisions on the base of these emotions.
The emotional valence of pro-environmental behavior, instead, varies a lot: supporting and consuming certified
organic food can be experienced as joyful (Kals & Odenthal, 1996), but for many behavioral categories, especially
renunciations for (p. 139) the sake of the natural environment (e.g., taking the bus instead of ones own car,
taking a short shower instead of a bath, etc.), a positive valence while conducting the behavior has neither been
shown nor is it part of most of the environment-specific behavior models.
Affective Connection to Nature

Affective connection to nature is one of the emotional categories that most strongly stress experienced and
intimate feelings. In this way it is most distinct from the rational choice theory. The most powerful emotion with
regard to behavior prediction within this emotion category is emotional affinity respectively affective connection to
nature (cf. Kals et al., 1999). Data support the hypothesis that this connection becomes stronger the more
concretely nature is experienced in the field or in experimental settings (Callie & Lob, 1987; Seel, Sichler, &
Fischerlehner, 1993). Although this concept had already been used for a long time in the field of environmental
education (cf. Callie & Lob, 1987; Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989), it has been only in recent years that this category of
feelings has gained attention in the empirical literature (Eigner & Schmuck, 1998).
It could be shown that emotional affinity can be traced back to present and past experiences in nature (Mller et
al., 2009) and is as powerful in the prediction of pro-environmental behavior as are, for example, indignation and
interest in nature. Together these three variables explain up to 47% of the criterion variance (Kals et al., 1999).
This is in accordance with other empirical results, which found that love of nature is instigated by experiences in
nature, such as observing the change of seasons (Lyons & Breakwell, 1994).
Moral Emotions
This last category of emotions is the one that has been analyzed the best in empirical research of environmental
psychology, although it cannot touch upon the overwhelming literature dealing with the cognitive aspect of moral
ecological responsibility and justice appraisals. Nevertheless, moral emotions are part of many newer environmentspecific behavior models. Especially emotions that are related to the violation of norms, such as guilt, shame,
indignation, or moral outrage, have been shown to be impactful variables that can explain distinct parts in the
variation of behavior (Ferguson & Branscombe, 2010; Kals, 2000). They all imply the acceptance or refusal of
ecological norms and responsibilities.
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In the studies on the model of responsible ecological behavior (Montada & Kals, 2000), indignation qualifies in
almost all varying regression analyses over many different studies and action fields. Indignation has been defined
in two ways: indignation about insufficient pollution control, as well as about insufficient support of competing moral
aims (such as economic growth, personal rights of freedom, etc.). Regression analyses show that the form of
indignation that corresponds with the aims of the behavior has the biggest influence: indignation about insufficient
pollution control is, for example, the most powerful predictor of pro-environmental willingness and behavior,
whereas indignation about insufficient support of other socially accepted values and aims is the first predictor for
environmentally risky behavioral decisions. However, additional criterion variance is explained by the denial of the
reversed form of indignation, for example, the explanation of pro-environmental behavior by the denial of
indignation about insufficient support of economic growth. This points to the fact that people engaging in pollution
control or in competing aims do not simply ignore the arguments of the other side but deal with them to
consciously refute them. This is in line with the descriptive analysis of the data set (Montada & Kals, 2000). These
findings correspond with new developments in moral psychology that argue that emotions play an important role in
human decisions about what is right or wrong (Haidt & Kezebir, 2010; Tangney, Stuewig, & Mashek, 2007).
Environmental Education and Emotions

There is no doubt that behavior changes are necessary to overcome the ecological crisis and to promote
sustainable development, and that these behavioral changes can have a strong impact on the emission of
greenhouse gases (Dietz, Gardner, Gilligan, Stern, & Vandenbergh, 2009). Relevant decision-making includes
behaviors at a private as well as a political level that serve to protect the natural environment by taking into
account the economic and social consequences of these behaviors. In this chapter it was shown why people are
committed to sustainable development and behaviors, and why they act in ways that put environmental protection
and pollution control at risk. Both questions were answered from an emotional perspective and are equally
relevant: for the long-term establishment of sustainable development, not only does pro-environmental behavior
need to be promoted and stabilized, but at the same time environmentally (p. 140) endangering behavior should
be diminished and substituted by more adaptive ones. What is the use of knowledge about emotional factors in
environmental behavior for reaching these aims? How can it be used in environmental education programs?
In this text environmental education is defined in a broad sense, including all systematic strategies to influence
people to change their attitudes and behaviors in a pro-environmental direction. Environmental education is not
limited to the school setting but is part of a general social movement, taking place in general discussion, at adult
education centers, in mass media, and so on. There is a long-lasting tradition in environmental school education,
initiated by the UNESCO conferences in the 1970s: they gave impetus to make environmental education a part of
general education programs and to integrate them in curricula (Bolscho, Eulefeld, Rost, & Seybold, 1990; Gigliotti,
1990). However, the school context is only one of many to systematically influence peoples attitudes and
behavior.
In these practical contexts, the power of environmentally relevant emotions seems to have been recognized earlier
than in theoretical model development or empirical research. Already from the beginning, efforts can be
recognized to use emotions as target aims for promoting pro-environmental interests and behavior (Bolscho et al.,
1990). However, as sufficient empirical knowledge was not or still is not provided, many of the practical
approaches are not sufficiently founded on theoretically grounded models or empirical findings. Therefore, efforts
should take place to bring together the lines of environmental psychology and environmental education. One
efficient way is to base practical interventions on empirical findings in the form of a systematic theoretical and
empirical development of the action field. Recommendations should be derived from the empirical findings. In the
context of the current paper, the crucial question is: How can findings on the behavioral impact of emotions be
used to efficiently change environmentally relevant emotions?
Although participation in intervention programs is always voluntary, broader intervention programs aiming to
promote pro-environmental behavior in a community, such as a city, that directly intend to change emotions are
confronted with more ethical problems than are programs exclusively aiming at cognitions. Nevertheless, emotions
should not be ignored but rather handled with care. This can mean that targeting and intervention strategies for
dealing with emotions should be fixed on an individual base and justified for the individual case. Taking this into
account, there are some conclusions that can be drawn from the reported findings.
Page 13 of 24

Emotional burdens and worries should not be evokedespecially as they are relevant for only a small sample of
behavioral categories concerning local environmental interests. They should be addressed only when concrete
threats of local living space are of relevance or when fear or threats are actively mentioned by members of the
intervention programs.
Feelings associated with environmentally relevant behavior could, however, be used much more systematically
when target behaviors are to be achieved. Many environmentally risky behaviors are associated with joy and
pleasure: positive feelings in the context of car driving, for example, show major changes during the life span and
also vary between different population groups with different social norms. Driving a car has an especially positive
connotation for young adults and during the period of getting the driving license (Flade, 1994; Giese, 1997). Later
in life or in different social groups, driving a big car might not be honored by social acceptance or lead to carefree
driving enjoyment, but rather lead to feelings of moral guilt. Reflection and change of corresponding norms might,
therefore, change the feelings associated with the behavior so that, for example, also going by bike might be
associated with joy, such as the direct enjoyment of nature or feeling good and healthy (Becker, 1998). Another
important approach is to intend to change emotional attitudes by starting with behavioral change, thus providing
positive experiences with the new, intended behavior.
The provision of nature experiences is a well-established approach in environmental education programs to
promote pro-environmental behavior. The psychological data can give the empirical foundation and explanation for
this approach, as by experiencing nature, affective connection to nature can be established. This is especially the
case when nature experiences are shared with significant others (Kals et al., 1999). These joint experiences seem
to facilitate the integration of this experience into ones own self-concept and identity (Clayton, 2003). Who can be
such a significant other depends on the age and the living circumstances of the person. Moreover, they change
over ones life span in the way that family members are more and more substituted by the ascending role of peers.
This is in line with the findings of Eigner and Schmuck (1998), showing that (p. 141) environmental identity is
evoked and stabilized by the interaction with other members (in-group) and by dissociating oneself from nonenvironmentalists (out-group). Therefore, the fostering of positive experiences with nature, preferably shared with
significant others, is, even in environmental education programs for adults, a possibility to provoke interest and
affective connection to nature and to overcome the interest conflicts between short-term self-interest and longterm ecological interest of the society as a whole.
Finally, the findings on morally relevant emotions can be used directly by addressing the emotions (for example, in
the form of theoretical discourses) or indirectly by addressing their underlying cognitions. Pride about personal
renunciations for nature, for example, can be induced by promoting a general ecological awareness, accepting
ecological aims as important concerns, stabilizing internal control by teaching knowledge on concrete actions that
are efficient to reach ecological aims, and promoting internal ecological responsibility. For reaching these
subgoals, the whole portfolio of psychological intervention strategies can be used (teaching, informing,
confronting, group discussions, contrasting techniques, public statements of social models, etc.), which need to be
adapted to the specific target group (cf. Callie & Lob, 1987).
All of the mentioned moral emotions imply the acceptance or denial of varying social and moral norms and
responsibilities. In intervention strategies it is important to avoid partisanship for one group of norms or for one
dimension of sustainability with the consequence of reactance. Instead, the complexity of the three dimensions of
sustainability should be emphasized by ensuring that many contra-arguments of pollution control also represent
moral and thus socially accepted norms. In this way the multifaceted dimensions of sustainability are accepted by
avoiding a moral index finger.
For all interventions that include environmentally relevant emotions, it is important that they take place in an
atmosphere that is free of fear. The theoretical foundation is offered by Rogerss (1972) construct of genuineness,
based on the theories of humanistic psychology. Rogers identified three key conditions: genuineness (the
researcher is truly himself or herself and effortlessly incorporates some self-disclosure), the researchers
unconditional positive regard for the participants, and empathic understanding. Applying these key constructs to
the interaction implies that rules of fair communication are intended and realized, such as: hearing a person out
without interrupting, trying to understand the other person by listening attentively, avoiding the application of
upper-hand strategies, and so on. This promotes interactive justice (Bies & Moag, 1986) and facilitates the
successful and sensible modeling of emotions and feelings.
Page 14 of 24

Emotions in the Context of Environmental Conflicts
There is another practical implication of the presented findings. As pro-environmental behavior often requires
personal restrictions or limitations and as pollution control and sustainability is potentially in competition with other
goals that are also morally accepted, social conflicts are likely to occur. The analysis of the involved emotions is
the silver bullet for the sustainable settlement of the conflict (Jones & Bodtker, 2001): if norms of justice are
transgressed, feelings of outrage or indignation will arise (cf. Montada, 1998). Emotions also play a significant role
for the course of the conflict, especially in the course of an escalation of the conflict, since they lead to a
restrictive and narrow view of reality. The persons own perspective on the conflict is seen as the only valid one
without thinking of alternatives. Furthermore, emotions motivate behavior. In a siting conflict, for example, various
citizens initiatives are involved, often fighting for diverging interests (cf. Linnerooth-Bayer & Fitzgerald, 1996). If
group members feel outraged about the members of concurrent groups, they will be likely to react aggressively
without paying attention to the arguments of the other group. If the other party reacts in an aggressive way (or in a
way that is interpreted as aggression), an escalation will likely occur. In this perspective, the analysis of emotions
is a good indicator for the virulence of the conflict (Jones, 2006).
For conflict resolution, emotions are to be questioned by analyzing the underlying cognitions, interests, values, and
motives. The basic concerns come to the surface and the deep structure of the conflict becomes obvious. In this
way, emotions no longer stay taboo but are handled constructively, even in the political arena of decision-making,
where most fights about ecological interest conflicts are fought. However, the basic attitudes toward emotions, as
described in the context of educational interventions, need to be shown and special attentiveness should be paid
to psychological mechanisms, such as the use of masked emotions or upper-hand techniques, as well as
reactance toward attempts to clarify the deep structure of the conflicts through the analysis of emotions (cf.
Montada & Kals, 2007).
(p. 142)
Conclusion
In this text environmentally relevant emotions were analyzed theoretically and with regard to their power to predict
pro-environmental and environmentally risky behavior. At the end of this text the state of the art is summarized and
discussed in the form of questions that remain to be addressed in future research:
What implications does the theoretical discussion of environmentally relevant emotions have for
future theory and model building?
On a theoretical level, a further validation and development of the classification system is necessary. This should
be supplemented by further elaboration of theories that focus on emotion models of environmentally relevant
behavior. These models should include pro-environmental as well as environmentally risky behavior, as most parts
of research in environmental psychology still refer only to the explanation of pro-environmental behavior. The
analysis of environmentally risky behavior is still rare. However, it can be shown that there is a significant overlap
between the relevant emotional predictor variables of both behavior categories. The corresponding regression
weights of those predictors are reversed (e.g., high affective connection to nature leads to pro-environmental
behavior, whereas environmentally risky behavior is based on low emotional affinity), but there are some
differences in the relative power of the emotions as was shown by the various forms of indignation. This reflects
that for environmentally risky behavior, the acceptance of moral arguments against pollution control or
sustainability is especially powerful. People behaving in an environmentally risky way often justify their decisions
by pointing to corresponding moral arguments, such as economic welfare or personal rights of freedom, or by
endangering the behavior of others who might profit from their own renunciations, provoking free-riding (Clayton,
2000; Montada & Kals, 2000). In future theories these varying moral norms and arguments, which are implicitly part
of sustainability, should be covered on a cognitive and emotional level.
Moreover, theories that focus on environmentally relevant emotions are still missing but would help to analyze the
multiple interactions between cognitions and emotions as well as between various forms of emotions in depth: How
are moral emotions influenced by nature experiences or affective connection to nature ? Can understanding and
empathy for the position of the other parties in ecological conflicts be promoted when interactional justice in the
process is experienced? What happens on an emotional level when people empathize with the emotional
experiences of the conflict partners (in role-plays, through practical experiences, etc.)? What happens when the
Page 15 of 24

cognitive level is completely left and when emotional work takes place in a situation of environmental conflicts, as
in psychological mediation?
More elaborate models of the role of emotions in environmentally relevant behavior can also enrich general action
models in psychology. Sustainable behavior, with its complex motivations and conditions, is a very interesting and
important field that can serve as a blueprint for research in many other fields of human behavior, such as health
protection or pro-social behavior. All these fields of applied psychology are confronted with the same question of
whether more general or more specific models of behavior should be developed. Using the concept of emotions
can help bridge this gap by developing general emotional categories that can be defined and specified according
to the necessities of the field. For example, moral emotions, such as indignation about the violation of norms, have
been shown to be highly influential predictors of (pro-environmental) behavior, but the norms themselves have to
be specified for the relevant context.
Future directions
What future tasks derive from the implications of the findings for practical intervention programs?
In the preceding paragraph detailed implications for practical purposes were discussed. Many of them have
already been realized. However, up to now only a few approaches have combined responsibility-related
approaches with providing experiences with nature (cf. Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989; Lyons & Breakwell, 1994). The
majority of educational programs either promote discussions on ecological ethics and norms, or exclusively
provides experiences with nature (cf. Kruse & Schwarz, 1988). As a future task, the development and evaluation of
integrated intervention programs for children and adults should be explored. Moreover, theoretical analyses and
practical interventions should be more strongly related to one another: from theoretical analyses knowledge should
be derived and communicated that can be applied directly to practical purposes. People working in the field should
in turn use the knowledge and evaluate the effects of their (p. 143) interventions to further validate the underlying
theoretical models and their working mechanisms. In this way there might be a mutual fruitful interactive
collaboration.
How can different samples and target groups be addressed? What different forms of research
approach should be used?
The presented data are based mainly on questionnaire studies with representatives of the general population as
well as with members of criterion groups for pro-environmental behavior (for example, members of Greenpeace)
and for environmentally risky behavior (for example, members of motorsport clubs). Data on decision makers in
politics and economics are very rare, and existing research confirms the theoretical and practical difficulties of
gathering the data (Niegot, 2003). On a theoretical level, the models need to be adapted to the specific level of
decision-making behavior of these target groups; on an empirical level, it is especially difficult to gain the
commitment of these mega-actors to fill in questionnaires for scientific purposes, which is also due to their full
schedule. These problems get even bigger when the research is focused on emotions. These problems can be
diminished by various strategies: the request to participate in the scientific study should be combined with a
concrete occasion of environmental issues or conflicts currently debated. This would pave the way for this issue,
as personal interests of the target people could be taken into account. If, for example, data are gathered in the
context of the psychological mediation of an ecological conflict, data are not of pure scientific interest but can be
directly used for resolving the conflict. The fact that decision makers are also willing to talk about their attitudes
and emotions might strengthen their public acceptance. Moreover, scientists might think of different forms to
measure emotions. Instead of standardized questionnaires, half-structured interviews might be more appropriate. If
these interviews are conducted by high potentials who have already gained trust in advance, the readiness for
the interviews and for open-minded answers will be improved.
How could knowledge from neighboring disciplines be integrated?

An important task on the level of political science is to strengthen emotions as a research topic within
environmental sciences. Still today there is a dualism between the social and behavioral sciences on the one side
and natural-technical sciences on the other. The analysis of emotions is a core issue to demonstrate how important
the so-called soft sciences are to understand, and to solve ecological problems and crises by changing human
Page 16 of 24

behavior. Ideally, this should be done in an interdisciplinary research context, including various social sciences as
well as technical and economical sciences, commonly directing the target of behavior changes efficiently to the
right direction.
The neuropsychology of emotions (e.g., LeDoux, 1997) should also contribute to this interdisciplinary research. For
example, recent research has confirmed the importance of mirror neurons, as nerve cells in the brain activate
the same potentials during the passive observation of a process that would also take place when the process
would take place actively. In recent years the role of the mirror neuron system was analyzed in a number of
experiments in the context of empathy (e.g., Gallesse, 2001; Rizzolatti & Craighero, 2005). It would be interesting
to analyze these kinds of processes, for example, in the context of emotional experiences with nature (many
parallel neuropsychological processes are evoked, just as during empathetic reactions). In a further step, the role
of the mirror neuron system could be analyzed in the process of psychological mediation: What
neuropsychological processes take place during what stage of conflict? What specific reactions do role-plays or
other instruments evoking empathetic reactions provoke? What is happening on a neuropsychological level, when
modeling behavior is observed? It is a long way to go to bring the various approaches to understand emotion
development altogether, but it would be a promising future task.
What implications do the findings have on a more general level?

In many social contexts, emotions are still taboo or are devaluated as irrational. Cognitive emotion models and
their empirical confirmation strongly speak against this valuation. However, this valuation is in line with the still
dominant rational-choice tradition, whose basic assumption is at the core of the economical sciences and also
influences political debates. Discussions on the existence and influence of environmentally relevant emotions
could promote the necessary debate on the varying models and the underlying ideas of man. Conversely, this
discussion could inspire environmental sciences, embracing social as well as natural-technical sciences, to (p.
144) deepen their knowledge on emotions and to boost corresponding interdisciplinary research.
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Notes:
(1.) In this text the opposite of pro-environmental behavior is not called contra-environmental behavior, but this
form of behavior is circumscribed (e.g., behavior that sets the protection of nature at risk). These behavioral
decisions do not intend to set ecological aims at risk, but these risks are more or less consciously accepted as
negative side effects of enjoyable or profitable activities. This is the case for private behavior (e.g., car driving) but
also for political decision-making or industrial production.
Elisabeth Kals
Elisabeth Kals Professor of Social and Organizational Psychology The Catholic University Eichsttt-Ingolstadt Eichsttt, Germany
Markus M. Mller
Markus M. Mller The Catholic University Eichsttt-Ingolstadt Eichsttt, Germany
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Place Attachment

Place Attachment
Kalevi M. Korpela
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0009

The review is focused mostly on the dynamics of place attachment on the individual level and is structured
according to the antecedents, development, and consequences of place attachment. It is concluded that
dimensional frameworks and models of place attachment provide researchers adequate taxonomies with which
they can locate their studies. More studies to verify causal sequences, underlying needs, and processes/dynamics
of place attachment are needed. The interplay between automatic affective reactions, self, personality, learning,
and culture in place attachment is described but remains a largely open question for future studies. Theories for
understanding the development of place attachment include attachment theory, the mere-exposure hypothesis,
the theories of self-regulation, privacy and friendship regulation, theories of coping (with developmental tasks and
stress), theories of identity development, and self-theories. Evidence for the positive connection between place
attachment and conservation behavior is still mixed. Future research to deepen and integrate the theoretical work
on place attachment is called for.
Keywords: automatic affective reactions, conservation behavior, development of place attachment, dimensional models, self-regulation
Introduction
Research on place attachment has been rapidly expanding during the 2000s (Lewicka, 2010). A search in
ScienceDirect on October 29, 2010, with place attachment in the title, abstract, or key words in journals or
books within psychology, social sciences, arts and humanities, nursing and health professions, environmental
science, and decision sciences found 143 articles. These articles were published between 2000 and 2010 and the
figure counts 72% of all place attachment articles published between 1993 or earlier and 2010. However, as some
mismatches were obviously included in the results, a correct figure from 20002010 is approximately 112 articles.
As at least 15 review articles published between 1992 and 2010 are within this field (Lewicka, 2010), the current
review is not an all-inclusive one but focuses mostly on the dynamics of place attachment (including
consequences for conservation behavior) on the individual level. The chapter is structured according to the
antecedents, development, and consequences of place attachment, but with a limited amount of accumulated
causal knowledge it is difficult to rigorously argue whether different processes or variables are
consequences/outcomes, antecedents, or mediating/moderating processes. Measurement methodology is left
largely aside in this review (for review, see Lewicka, 2010; see Clayton, this volume, for a review of environmental
identity measures).
How Is Place Attachment Defined?

The beginning of the study of affective bonds between humans and places has been dated to the (p. 149) 1960s
(Giuliani, 2003; Hammitt, Kyle, & Oh, 2009) and in particular to the article by Fried (1963). In 1992, a whole book in
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Place Attachment
the series Human Behavior and Environment was dedicated to place attachment (Altman & Low, 1992). It was
noted that the scale or scope of environments to which people are attached may vary from microenvironments,
such as personal objects, to homes, settings of care, local environments, and larger-scale environments, such as
towns or cities.
Place attachment has been defined as an integrating concept incorporating several interrelated and inseparable
aspects of people-place bonding (Altman & Low, 1992). Affects, emotions, and feelingsboth positive and
negativeare central to the concept, although often accompanied by cognition and action (or behavioral
intention; see Jorgensen & Stedman, 2001). Thus, more specific definitions of place attachment include a positive
affective bond between an individual and a specific place, the main characteristic of which is the tendency of the
individual to maintain closeness to such a place (Hidalgo & Hernndez, 2001, p. 274), affective relationship
between people and the landscape that goes beyond cognition, preference or judgment (Riley, 1992, p. 13), or a
state of psychological well-being experienced by a person as a result of the mere presence, vicinity, or
accessibility of the place (Churchman & Mitrani, 1997; Sharpe & Evert, 2000). The place aspect of attachment
includes not only tangible places of different scale but also symbolic or imagined places or objects. Objects may be
temporally different: past, present, or future that may appear cyclically as well.
In addition to individual attachments, collective, shared group, and cultural place attachments may exist. On the
other hand, the object of attachment may not be only the physical environment but also the social relations that a
place signifies. Place attachment is also a developing, temporal phenomenon (Altman & Low, 1992). In analogy to
place identity literature including place identity and settlement identity (identification with types of settings;
Feldman, 1990; Lalli, 1992), a distinction between a place-specific and a conceptual attachment (attachment to a
type of landscape rather than to a particular place) has been made (Ryan, 2005).
A fact is that a variety of operationalizations of place bonding/attachment have been used, with many concepts
used interchangeably (Giuliani, 2003; Hidalgo & Hernndez, 2001). To increase integration, however, several
dimensional models of place attachment have been presented. For example, the theme of place attachment in the
recreation resource management literature is around 20 years old and has been focused on the psychometric
scales (for a discussion about several scales, see Giuliani, 2003; Lewicka, 2010) and models for measuring place
attachment and the relationship of attachment to recreation behaviors (Hammitt et al., 2009). The first place
attachment model used in recreation resource management literature was a two-dimensional model including place
identity and place dependence (a functional reliance on a place) (Hammitt et al., 2009). Another two-dimensional
model from recent environmental psychological literature suggests place attachment (emotional) and identification
with a locally defined group as correlated but distinct dimensions (Rollero & De Piccoli, 2010). Recreation
researchers have added dimensions to the model to introduce three-dimensional (place attachment, identity, and
dependence), four-dimensional (social bonding, place attachment, identity, and dependence), and fivedimensional (familiarity, belongingness, rootedness, place identity, and dependence) models (Hammitt, Backlund, &
Bixler, 2006; Hammitt et al., 2009).
Recently, a three-dimensional synthesizing framework of the various definitions of the place attachment concept
has been introduced (Scannell & Gifford, 2010a). The framework includes person, psychological process, and
place dimensions. The person dimension acknowledges that place attachment occurs at both the individual and
the group level. Psychological processes where place attachment occurs involve affect, cognition, and behavior.
Place dimension is divided into not only a physical but also a social level, the former including various geographic
scales. Moreover, the psychological functions of place attachment (conscious or unconscious motivations to form
enduring bonds with places) are listed and include offering survival and security, supporting goal attainment and
self-regulation, providing self-continuity, sense of belongingness, sense of identity, and self-esteem.
To summarize, it seems that a considerable amount of taxonomical work of the place attachment
concept/phenomenon and its relevant dimensions/co-processes has already been carried out (Scannell & Gifford,
2010a; Altman & Low, 1992). It remains to be seen whether such diversity of models means lack of clarity or
inadequate theoretical development. For example, on the level of place research as a whole, several conceptual
origins (social psychology, tourism and recreation studies, consumer research, environmental psychology, (p.
150) phenomenology) and research programs reflecting differing paradigms and worldviews can be discerned,
and some regard this situation as a valuable diversity of thought (Patterson & Williams, 2005; Morgan, 2010).
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Place Attachment
In the present authors opinion, dimensional and tripartite frameworks provide researchers taxonomies where they
can situate their specific operationalizations and studies. Such a situation warrants effort to deepen the theoretical
and empirical work related to the functions and processes/dynamics of place attachment in the future. This may
include both quantitative and qualitative approaches. For example, in recreation research, emotional attachments
to place have been studied as an antithesis to the commodity or consumer metaphor wherein settings are
represented as collections of features, related to psychological experiences, from which an optimal combination
for a given clientele could be selected (Brooks, Wallace, & Williams, 2006; Williams, Patterson, Roggenbuck, &
Watson, 1992). In contrast, the place attachment or relationship metaphor emphasizes that places may be whole
entities and valued in their entirety (Brooks et al., 2006; Williams et al., 1992). Moreover, qualitative researchers
argue that the focus on measuring the strength of attachment with scales excludes meanings that people attribute
to places and the dynamic processes of developing place relationships (Brooks et al., 2006; Davenport &
Anderson, 2004).
Thus, in addition to having a structural aspect, psychological processes, such as place attachment, are dynamic.
An example of the dynamic nature of place attachments is a potential interplay between experiences of different
places: places outside residence may influence the experience of residence (Manzo, 2003). The question of
unconscious and conscious identity work through attachments to and relationships with places is a second
example of important dynamics (Manzo, 2003). An overwhelmingly important question of why people develop
psychological bonds with places has been answered by reflecting on the functions that place attachments serve
(Scannell & Gifford, 2010a). The term functions of place attachment is somewhat technical because these
functions actually represent basic motives, needs, or the guiding principles of human behavior and self-regulation.
We now turn to the dynamics of place attachment in the subsequent paragraphs of the antecedent, developmental,
and outcome processes of place attachment on the individual level.
Dynamics of Place Attachment

An important notion to start with is that physical and social attachments may develop at a different pace (Lewicka,
2010). Concerning physical attachments, it has been theorized that certain environmental features may have a
capacity to elicit extremely rapid and automatic emotional responses from a strong preference to the feelings of
dislike and fear. Furthermore, these responses may affect the subsequent cognitive appraisal of the environment,
physiological responses, and behavior (Parsons, 1991; Ulrich, 1983; Ulrich et al., 1991).
Environments indeed do elicit presumably automatic, affective reactions rapidly, in approximately 200 milliseconds.
Priming experiments have provided evidence that the perception of physical environments may initiate rapid
affective responses that cast their influence upon social perceptions, particularly on the recognition of facial or
vocal emotional expressions (Hietanen, Klemettil, Kettunen, & Korpela, 2007; Hietanen & Korpela, 2004; Korpela,
Klemettil, & Hietanen, 2002). For example, the recognition times of happy faces decreased as the amount of
natural elements present in the environmental scenes preceding the picture of the face increased, whereas the
recognition times of disgusted faces decreased as the amount of built material present in the environmental scenes
increased (Hietanen et al., 2007). Studies on extraordinarily brief glances at novel scenes have shown that
participants can classify a scenes global properties (naturalness, mean depth, temperature, concealment,
navigability, transience, or openness) more quicklyat 34 ms on averagethan its basic-level category (forest,
mountain, desert, lake, ocean, field, or river)50 ms on average (Greene & Oliva, 2009). More interestingly, the
image exposure thresholds (the shortest image exposures required for participants to achieve 75% correct
classification of naturalistic scenes) among global properties were the shortest (19 ms) for classifying images
according to whether they were natural. Thus, particularly natural and urban environments but also preferred
environments within the natural-setting category induce different immediate emotional and physiological reactions
in humans. In Dimbergs (1990) study, subjects spontaneously reacted with increased activity of the facial
zygomatic muscle (related to positive affect and smiling) to the 8-second presentations of preferred natural
landscape scenes. On average, presentations of much preferred natural landscape scenes evoked more
zygomatic activity than activity of the corrugator muscle (related to (p. 151) negative affect and frowning).
Moreover, more preferred (spatially open) natural scenes evoked more zygomatic activity than less preferred
(spatially enclosed) natural scenes.
Noteworthy in the studies of rapid affective responses to environments is that such automatic evaluation of ones
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Place Attachment
own environment may be a pervasive and continuous process in our lives. Arguments exist that this may hold
even to such a degree that features of the environment may trigger processes that operate outside of conscious
awareness and guidance and may determine a significant portion of our daily emotions, motivations, judgments,
and actions (Bargh & Chartrand, 1999). Thus, perception may have automatic effects on action, goal pursuit, and
evaluations of ones experience. Some of the automaticities seem to require no experience, whereas other forms
of automatic self-regulation develop out of repeated and consistent experience (Bargh & Chartrand, 1999). Note
that this automaticity resembles the suggestion that nature attachment, that is, implicit connections to or
identification with nature (measured with a modification of Implicit Association Test) operates outside conscious
awareness (Schultz, Shriver, Tabanico, & Khazian, 2004). Similar ideas are seemingly included in the
phenomenological descriptions where body ballets, that is, continual and continuous movements in space, are
thought to produce the sense of existential insideness (a situation involving a spontaneous feeling of attachment,
belonging, and at-homeness), which is one of the expressions used in describing place attachment (Buttimer &
Seamon, 1980; Lewicka, 2010).
Moreover, affective responses to environments are not limited to the first milliseconds or seconds of the encounter.
Entering or moving through a place may induce changes in a persons mood (Staats, Gatersleben, & Hartig, 1997;
Kerr & Tacon, 1999) and metamotivational state (serious-playful, planning-spontaneous) (Kerr & Tacon, 1999).
After stress manipulation, viewing or visiting natural environments promotes physiological recovery and relaxation
evident within 3 to 40 minutes of the start of the exposure (Hartig, Evans, Jamner, Davis, & Grling, 2003; Ulrich,
1981; Ulrich et al., 1991). This is indexed, for example, by lowered blood pressure, muscle tension, and skin
conductance, and increased brain activity in the alpha frequency band (an index of wakeful relaxation); change to
positively toned self-reported emotions and recovery of attention-demanding cognitive performances (Parsons,
Tassinary, Ulrich, Hebl, & Grossman-Alexander, 1998; Ulrich, 1981; Ulrich et al., 1991). These types of positive
psychophysiological changes are called restoration and the environments inducing these changes are called
restorative environments (Hartig, Mang, & Evans, 1991; Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989; Ulrich et al., 1991). Perceptions of
restorative potential are known to be associated with environmental preference judgments (Nordh, Hartig,
Hgerhll, & Fry, 2009; Pals, Steg, Siero, & van der Zee, 2009; Herzog, Maguire, & Nebel, 2003). Furthermore,
recent studies suggest that being outdoors has also vitalizing (a positively toned, energized state) effects (Ryan et
al., 2010) as well as positive effects on feelings of personal autonomy and intrinsic aspirations (inherently
rewarding psychological needs, such as personal growth or intimacy) (Weinstein, Przybylski, & Ryan, 2009).
How do we combine these studies and results to the development of place attachment and place identity? This
work remains to be done in future studies in this field. However, we may note that the studies indicating rapid,
automatic affective reactions and self-regulation give support to such definitions of place identity that argue that an
affective process, that is, place attachment, is implicit or even fundamental in place identity, the development of
which requires also conscious, more time-consuming, cognitive identity work (Korpela, 1989). In this interpretation,
it is argued that place identity is fundamentally formed by the experiences and cognitions in places that have a
role in a persons emotion and self-regulation. This postulation has a predecessor in Zajoncs (1980) argument that
the initial level of response to environment is affective and that environmental stimuli are evaluated as positive or
negative for the self at a preattentive level. This notion further opens up a connection to self-theories that
acknowledge affective processes and preconscious conceptual systems, such as cognitive-experiential selftheory (CEST) (Epstein, 1985, 1991). These theories are described further in the subsequent paragraphs.
What Are the Antecedent Processes of Place Attachment?

Aside from socio-demographic (e.g., age, education, home ownership), social (e.g., community ties), and physical
(e.g., building density, type of housing, presence of green areas) predictorsextensively described in Lewicka
(2010)at least two major antecedent processes become evident from empirical place attachment studies. The
first reflects the mere-exposure hypothesis (by exposing (p. 152) an individual to a stimulus/place, a
preference for that stimulus will emerge), emphasizing the relationship between the visitation frequency or length of
residence and social and physical aspects of place attachment. The second describes the relationship between
unconscious, preconscious, or conscious motivations (related to, for example, spiritual and aesthetic values, self,
and well-being) and social and physical aspects of place attachment.
Regarding the mere-exposure hypothesis, a meta-analysis of 10 recreation studies of the relationship between
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Place Attachment
retrospective accounts of past experiences (use history; years of visiting, times of visiting during the past year) of
public lands and place attachment, including the dimensions of place identity (affective) and place dependence
(functional), showed that the associations were weak to moderate (Backlund & Williams, 2003). The strongest
overall association was between place identity and visitation in the past year, r = .25. The study showed that the
mere-exposure effect accounts for some variation in the degree of reported affective connection with a place. The
associations were very variable; the larger studies with more variation in the variables produced weaker
associations (Backlund & Williams, 2003). The direction of causality is not altogether clear, as place attachment
might lead people to evaluate their past use history incorrectly. However, evaluations of length of residence (the
date of the change of residence is known or easily checked) might not be so prone to such a memory bias (cf.
Conway, 1990, pp. 5360), and these studies also provide some support for the mere-exposure effect. For
example, in an Italian study with a two-dimensional model of place attachment, attachment to the residential area
was associated with social relationships in the area and participation in local groups, whereas identification with
local inhabitants was positively associated with length of residence and negatively with educational level (Rollero &
De Piccoli, 2010). Length of residence was also correlated to social relationships in the area, which, in turn, was
associated with residential attachment (Rollero & De Piccoli, 2010). An association between the length of residence
and identification with the neighborhood was also reported in a French study (Fleury-Bahi, Flonneau, & Marchand,
2008). Length of residence seems to be the strongest predictor of place attachment; however, the increment is not
linear but the highest increments of attachment occur in the first years of residence (Lewicka, 2010).
Regarding motivations and values, a study on the relationship between landscape values and place attachment
showed that the landscape perceptions of spiritual importance, wilderness and attractive scenery, sights, sounds,
or smells (aesthetic values) were associated with the place attachment scales of place identity and place
dependence (Brown & Raymond, 2007). Moreover, it was observed that aesthetic, recreation, economic, spiritual,
and therapeutic landscape values spatially co-located with the respondents special places in the region measured
by a map-based index. A map-based measure allowed the respondents to identify up to six special places in the
region of the study (Brown & Raymond, 2007). In a study with a four-dimensional model of place attachment,
motivation to visit a large urban park (to learn, to feel autonomy, to be active, to socialize, to enjoy nature, and to
enhance health) was associated with the strength of attachment (Kyle, Mowen, & Tarrant, 2004). More specifically,
motivations to enhance health and to feel autonomy were positively associated with place dependence and
affective attachment. The motivation to enjoy nature was associated with affective attachment and social bonding.
Lastly, the motivation to learn was associated with place identity dimension.
In conclusion, length of time or exposure is associated with place attachment only partly (not all dimensions) and
not very strongly. Moreover, length of time and related variables do not reveal psychological or other processes
taking place during a certain time (cf. Lewicka, 2010). However, the mere-exposure hypothesis may include or
subsume automatic processes that were discussed in this chapter earlier.
Automatic processes may relate to evolutionary-based inclinations in place perception or place preferences.
Evolutionary models of environmental perception postulate that the rapid and automatic processing of
environmental features has developed during human evolution in savannah-like natural environments (Ulrich,
1983; Ulrich et al., 1991). More specifically, it is assumed that physical environments include preferenda, that is,
gross features of a stimulus array (such as gross structural aspects, depth properties, and classes of content),
which are analyzed very rapidly on the basis of crude sensory information in the subcortical structures of the brain
(Parsons, 1991; Ulrich, 1983). Whether there are specific structures in the human brain for place preferences
remains an interesting, open question (Kim et al., 2010; Epstein, Harris, Stanley, & Kanwisher, 1999). However,
motivational processes relating place to self-regulation and identity processes (and thus to personality, learning,
and cultural processes) (p. 153) are equally interesting in this respect and they are further discussed in the
subsequent paragraphs. The combination of these two lines of research awaits further studies.
How Does Place Attachment Develop?

The issue of the development of place identity also seems to be at an early phase of inquiry, subsuming several
different conceptualizations and awaiting an organizing theory or framework.
Interplay Between Social and Physical Attachments
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Place Attachment
First, Morgan (2010) provides a review of attachment theory in developmental psychology to understand the
emergence of (physical) place attachment in childhood. He proposes a model where place attachment arises from
an interactional sequence of attachment and affiliation to a human attachment figure, which enables a child to
explore and be fascinated by the physical environment and place. When place interactions stop producing the
sense of mastery, adventure, and pleasure and produce pain or anxiety, the child seeks proximity to and comfort
from the attachment figure. After emotional arousal is safely regulated and the sense of connectedness regained,
the child is again drawn by environmental cues to explore the outer world.
However, the model actually does not specify how attachment to place is generated. For example, is the sense of
attachment to a human figure somehow transferred, generalized to a physical place (as in learning), or do the
experiences of mastery and pleasure in the place suffice to create attachment toward a certain place? The results
of an interview study with seven adults suggest that the latter might hold: the repeated enactments of arousal,
interaction, and pleasure within the place seem to generate an internal working model of the childs relationship
with the environment. Furthermore, it is suggested that the soothing and restorative environmental qualities are
analogous to the soothing effect of human caregiving (Morgan, 2010). The model seems to be in agreement with
the mere-exposure hypothesis (by exposing an individual to a stimulus [place], a preference for that stimulus will
emerge), which accounts for some variation in the degree of reported affective connection with a place (Backlund
& Williams, 2003).
Second, the role of social development and the interplay between physical and social attachments is an
underinvestigated issue. A longitudinal study by Elder, King, and Conger (1996) on pupils in the 8th and 11th
grades in rural Iowa is interesting with respect to this interplay of social ties and place attachments (in the form of
migration plans). Adolescents who were not doing well in school and saw little prospect for college were inclined to
favor a future adult residence near to parents, kin, and local community. Strong educational prospects, lack of
socioeconomic opportunity, and relatively weak and declining ties to parents, kin, and religion were sources of a
declining preference for living near family and in the local community. The study demonstrates that place
attachment and place disruptions depend on life stage and require life course studies.
Among adults, it seems that the physical setting and landscape features are also an important source of place
meaning and attachment in the first encounters of a place, at least for vacation destinations of scenic beauty. This
meaning does not disappear or become less important over time but other meanings, especially social and
emotional, become added to the experience transforming attraction to attachment (Smaldone, Harris, & Sanyal,
2008). It is also possible that the basis of place attachment changes from physical to social over time or the
meanings are simply added to an ever-richer conceptual structure but the salience of meanings may change.
During old age, when remembering and organizing ones life course becomes an increasingly important
developmental task, place memories and attachments may foster the identity work and sense of continuity;
attachments to a current place may also be a way of retaining positive self-image (Rubinstein & Parmelee, 1992).
Third, from the perspective of childrens place preferences it has been theorized that the development of these
preferences is tied to the development of self-identity, needs of privacy, and social affiliations (Chawla, 1992;
Korpela, 2002). For example, middle childhood, ages 6 to 11, is characterized by expansive local exploration,
cooperation with others in exploring and in games, self-identity determined by ones physical strength and
dexterity, and the creation of playhouses and forts in the nearby environment. After this expansive engagement
with the local landscape in the company of same-sex friends, there comes a period of forming new mixed-sex
groups and turning to the privacy of home or to more distant commercial or downtown settings in adolescence,
ages 12 to 17. Place preferences during childhood and adolescence are assumed to provide support for the
developing self-identity, the need for security, social attachments to caregivers and to the peer group, and the
practice of (p. 154) social roles. Regarding social attachments, the concept of childrens friendship with place
and its development has been introduced (Chatterjee, 2005). Childrens conceptions of friendship are assumed to
develop from momentary physical interaction (ages 3 to 7) to autonomous interdependence (12 years to adult). It
is proposed that child-friendly places could be evaluated with the essential elements (including mutual affection,
shared activities, commitment, loyalty, self-disclosure, and horizontality) within these phases of friendship
development, but whether children themselves select or evaluate placesconsciously or preconsciously
according to such developmental criteria and phases remains an open question for further study.
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Place Attachment
Interplay Between Self-Regulation and Place Attachment
Studies by Silbereisen, Noack, and Eyferth (1986); Noack and Silbereisen (1988); and Silbereisen and Noack
(1988), in Berlin, Germany, were probably the first to adopt a self-regulative view of place selection. They consider
individual development as action in context and suggest that adolescents regulate their own development by
selecting and shaping appropriate outer contexts. For example, leisure time place preferences can be seen as one
strategy of coping with developmental tasks such as forming a personal identity or peer-group relations.
Self-regulation in the environmental self-regulation hypothesis implies that the psychological influences of any
external factor, such as sensory stimuli, visceral processes, or social norms, are processed according to an
individuals conscious or unconscious mental activity that follows certain basic principles of motivation (Korpela,
1989). Cognitive-experiential self-theory (CEST; Epstein, 1985, 1991) describes the principles of self-regulation that
have been applied to place identity and place attachment (Korpela, 1989). The principles are basically similar in
many theories of identity and self (see Breakwell, 1986; Clayton, this volume; S. Taylor, 1991; Tesser, 1986), and
these other theories have also been used in relating place and identity processes (Twigger-Ross & Uzzell, 1996).
The principles of CEST correspond to psychoanalytic, learning, and phenomenological theories and integrate them
(Epstein, 1983, 1985). The first principle is the need to maximize the pleasure/pain balance, which corresponds
to the pleasure principle in Freudian theory and to the principle of reinforcement in learning theory. The second
principle is the need to assimilate the data of reality into a coherent conceptual system and to maintain this
system, that is, the unity principle, put forward by phenomenological personality theorists. The third principle is
the need to maintain a favorable level of self-esteem, which is derived from the pleasure principle, and becomes
important once a self-theory has been formulated. Thus, the pleasure principle in the form of regulating sensory
pleasure and pain is dominant first and foremost in early childhood. The fourth principle is the need to maintain
relatedness, that is, favorable relationships with significant others (Epstein, 1991). The principles are assumed to
overlap and interact with one another. Thus, the four functions are all of central importance, and any one of them
may have a dominant effect in a persons self-theory, that is, self-experience, depending on the individual and
circumstances. Thus, behavior is always viewed as a compromise among the four basic functions (Epstein, 1985).
These principles can be related to place attachment when assuming that self-regulation proceeds with the
application of mental, physical, social, and environmental strategies (Korpela, 1989, 1992). Environmental
strategies of self- and emotion-regulation imply interaction with the environment, and involve the unconscious,
preconscious, or sometimes conscious use of places and place cognitions and affects in the service of regulation.
Self- and emotion-regulation enable an individual to function adaptively in situations that are, for example,
emotionally arousing (Dodge & Garber, 1991). The concepts of self- and emotion-regulation are neutral and not
synonyms for the concept of control, suppression, or elimination but can refer to remediation, enhancement. or
maintenance as well (Izard & Kobak, 1991).
CEST also postulates that human beings construct a personal theory of themselves and of the world that exists at a
preconscious level of awareness and directs behavior. There are three conceptual systems: rational, experiential,
and associationistic (Epstein, 1991). A personal theory of self and reality is governed by the experiential system at
the preconscious level of awareness. The experiential conceptual system is closely related to emotional
experience and could also be called the affective conceptual system (Epstein, 1983). Whereas the rational system
operates primarily according to the conventional rules of logic, analysis, and external evidence, the experiential
system is concerned primarily with feelings and personal welfare. The associationistic conceptual system operates
according to associationistic thinking, wishful thinking, concrete (p. 155) visual imagery or metaphors,
displacement, condensation, and lack of consideration of the constraints of time and place.
Note the similarity of CESTs conceptual systems at varying levels of awareness with the automatic, affective
processes and Zajoncs position on immediate responding to environments. In the self-regulation view, place
identity is fundamentally formed by the experiences and cognitions in places that have a role in a persons emotion
and self-regulation. Thus, place attachment is implicit in place identity (Korpela, 1989, 1992). Attachments are
formed to places that fulfill peoples emotional needs and enable them to maintain and develop their identities. The
principles of self-regulation suggest that in this effort humans strive for cognitive integration and consistency,
anxiety reduction, and self-esteem maintenance, and they use places to achieve these goals (cf. Proshansky,
Fabian, & Kaminoff, 1983; Korpela, 2002). To begin with, cross-sectional self-report studies do indicate that favorite
nearby places provide restorative, stress-alleviating experiences, such as relaxation, decrease in negative
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Place Attachment
feelings and increase in positive ones, and forgetting worries, and that people visit these places for the regulation
of their self-experience and feelings (see Evans, Owens, & Marsh, 2005; Gross & Lane, 2007; Gulwadi, 2006;
Jorgensen, Hitchmough & Dunnett, 2007; Knez, 2006; Korpela, 1992; Korpela & Hartig, 1996; Korpela, Hartig,
Kaiser, & Fuhrer, 2001; Mason et al., 2010; Mason & Korpela, 2009; Newell, 1997; Regan & Horn, 2005; Smaldone
et al., 2005). In line with this argument is also the finding that among 162 relatively distinct affect-regulation
strategies, going to a favorite place is included (Parkinson & Totterdell, 1999).
More specifically and regarding the early development of attachment and self-regulation within places, adults and
children provide converging self-report evidence that emotion-regulation and self-regulation do occur in the
favorite places of childhood. Studies of adults memories of childhood favorite places (Cooper Marcus, 1978;
Hester, 1979; Sobel, 1990) indicate that they provided feelings of security, privacy, and control. The need to be
alone, the importance of hiding places, and the need to escape from social demands are commonly reported in
these studies. Findings from studies with children and adolescents corroborate the significance of both solitary
places and social places (Abbott-Chapman & Robertson, 2001, 2009; Owens, 1988, 1994; Sobel, 1990). Moreover,
an observational study with children ages 2 months to 11 years showed that nearly half of the children used (often
solitary) informal retreat places in family care homes (Weinberger, 2006). Retreats were places where a child
spontaneously chose to go to pull away from the activity of the group. Children observed to be in a negative mood
were likely to be involved in passive behaviors (watching others, crying, cuddling comfort objects) during their
retreat. Thurber and Malinowskis (1999) study showed how emotional experiences and individual differences
related to emotion may be responsible for differences in childrens place selections and use. They found that 8- to
16-year-old boys with higher levels of negative emotion were more likely to favor places where they could be
alone in a residential summer camp, whereas happier boys favored places where they could socialize. Boys with
higher levels of negative emotion also were more likely to visit new places at camp than their less distressed peers.
As a particular aspect of self-regulation, restorative experience commonly appears in studies based on childrens
accounts. For example, 9- and 12-year-old children described their favorite places as providing opportunities not
only to enjoy many activities and play but also to clear their minds, relax, and pour out troubles (Korpela, 1989;
Spencer & Woolley, 2000). For the 11- to 17-year-olds studied by Sommer (1990), favorite places provided relief
from daily hassles and evoked feelings of well-being and peace. The 14- to 18-year-olds studied by Owens (1988)
regarded natural settings as one of the best types of place to go for feeling better and getting things in perspective.
A study on 13- to 20-year-olds again showed that natural environments provide important settings for recreation,
restoration, and socializing (Owens & McKinnon, 2009). In a study of Finnish children aged 89 or 1213, over half
(55%) of the children appeared to use their favorite places for cognitive restoration, reporting a desire to pour out
troubles, reflect on personal matters, clear ones mind, and feel free and relaxed in the favorite place (Korpela,
Kytt, & Hartig, 2002). One-third of the children reported using their favorite places for emotion-regulation,
reporting visiting the favorite place after setbacks, disappointments, and feeling down and lonely. Cross-sectional
studies have shown mixed results concerning the relationship between childhood experiences and later
experiences and use of woodlands. Childhood experiences may include therapeutic and restorative experiences
but also scary experiences leading to the avoidance of woodland spaces (Milligan & Bingley, 2007). On the other
hand, childhood involvement (p. 156) with the natural environment is related to pro-environmental attitudes
(Wells & Lekies, 2006) and to frequent use and comfortable feelings in woodlands (Bixler, Floyd, & Hammitt, 2002;
Ward Thompson, Aspinall, & Montarzino, 2008).
Among adults favorite places, everyday natural settings, such as parks, beaches, or forests, have constituted the
largest category (50%63%) in the studies from Finland, Ireland, Senegal, the United States, and the United
Kingdom (Evans et al., 2005; Gross & Lane, 2007; Gulwadi, 2006; Jorgensen et al., 2007; Korpela, 1992; Korpela &
Hartig, 1996; Korpela et al., 2001; Newell, 1997; Regan & Horn, 2005; Smaldone et al., 2005). Providing evidence
for environmental self-regulation hypothesis, attachment toward favorite places (measured by a two-item scale)
was very strong, and favorite place preferences were not momentary choices but showed stability over a 10month period in a Finnish follow-up study with adults (Korpela, Yln, Tyrvinen, & Silvennoinen, 2008).
Restorative outcomes, that is, being relaxed, forgetting worries, and contemplation, have characterized visits to
natural favorite places in particular (Korpela et al., 2001). Adults with high negative moods are more likely than low
negative mood scorers to choose natural favorite places than other favorite places, such as sports, commercial, or
community service settings (Korpela, 2003). Moreover, adults with a certain number of health complaints are more
likely than few-complaint scorers to choose natural favorite places in the vicinity than to choose other favorite
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Place Attachment
places, such as sports, commercial, or community service settings (Korpela & Yln, 2007). More important and
indicating self-regulation is the fact that they also benefited more in emotional terms from their visits than did those
with few complaints. Furthermore, a controlled, prospective field experiment showed that there is a kind of doseresponse relation between the frequency of visiting a favorite place and restorative experiences (Korpela & Yln,
2009). Thus, the increase in the frequency of favorite place visits during five days increased the strength of
restorative, stress-alleviating experiences.
What Are the Consequences of Place Attachment?

Consequences to Ecological and Conservation Behavior
Place identity and place dependence, while moderately and positively correlated, had different psychological
properties and different effects on evaluations of social and environmental conditions (e.g., trail development, use
impact, depreciative behavior, perceived crowding, use conflict, and development encroachment) encountered
along a nature trail (Kyle, Graefe, Manning, & Bacon, 2004). The results showed that as respondents scores on the
place identity dimension increased, they were more inclined to perceive the condition encountered as problematic
(e.g., trail too developed, too many other hikers, conflict between different types of visitors). The opposite
pattern of relations was observed for place dependence.
Studies on place attachments association with environmentally responsible attitudes and behavior have reported
mixed results. For example, place identity as an emotional affinity to a locale was positively associated with the
environmental attitudes of accepting the fragility of the balance between humans and nature in a study with Indian
16- to 60-year-old respondents (Budruk, Thomas, & Tyrrell, 2009). Place identity was also associated with weaker
support for the notion of the dominant role of humans in nature. In turn, place dependence as a functional need for
a specific place to recreate was not associated with these attitudes. Such results raise questions for future studies
about the relationship between personality characteristics and attachments. For example, might the relationship
between emotional sensibility to places and environmental attitudes be associated with a third variablea more
open and sensitive attitude toward everything? To date, it is not known, for example, whether both measures tap
the personality trait called openness in the Big Five factor model of personality (Heine & Buchtel, 2009; McCrae &
Costa, 1987).
In a study with 14- to 17-year-old adolescents, it was noted that individuals with a high functional dependence on
the local natural resource area (where they participated in a natural-resource-based work program) were more
likely to identify emotionally with the setting (place identity) and as place identity increased, general (e.g., talking
with others about environmental issues) and specific (e.g., joined in community cleanup efforts) pro-environmental
behavior increased (Vaske & Kobrin, 2001). Thus, affective place identity fully mediated the relationship between
place dependence and pro-environment behaviors. In a study of property owners in the United States, place
identity was positively associated with intention and willingness to engage in behaviors that maintain or enhance
the valued attributes of the local setting (Stedman, 2002).
(p. 157) In contrast, some studies have found both positive and negative or no associations between place
attachment and ecological attitudes. A study of two British neighborhoods found out that in one, both place
identification and social cohesion contributed positively to place-related social identity, which, in turn, was
positively related to attitudes and behaviors in respect of environmental sustainability, such as ecological
considerations in the purchase of products. However, in the other neighborhood, place-related social identity was
weakly and negatively associated with environmental sustainability, suggesting different kinds of collective social
processes underlying environmental attitudes and behaviors than in the first neighborhood (Uzzell, Pol, & Badenas,
2002). In a similar fashion, a study of residents in two Welsh coastal towns indicated that public responses to
offshore wind farms were different in these two towns (Devine-Wright & Howes, 2010). Particularly, trust in the key
actors (developer and the opposition group) moderated the relationship between place attachment and project
acceptance. For those individuals with a high level of trust in the opposition group, place attachment was
negatively related to support for the wind farm (on attitudinal, emotional, and behavioral levels), whereas for those
with a low level of trust, there was no relationship.
In addition to mixed results concerning the direction of the relationship, studies on the relationship between proenvironmental behavior and emotional attachments have brought up an interesting difference between the
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Place Attachment
level/scale of the attachment object: a difference between attachment to a particular place and attachment or
connectedness to nature (Gosling & Williams, 2010). Results of a survey among Australian farmers showed that
on-farm vegetation protection behaviors (e.g., planting of native trees to improve degraded areas) were positively
correlated to connectedness to nature but not to place attachment (to a persons own farm). The relationship
between connectedness to nature and protection behaviors was mediated by the importance given to the
environmental benefits of vegetation management, such as the protection of native birds or contributing to the
health of the landscape (Gosling & Williams, 2010). Measures of environmental identity, which also refer to the
level of nature in general (incorporating emotional association and identity with nature, importance of nature, the
extent of interactions with nature), not specific places, have had significant positive correlation to environmentally
protective behavior (e.g., donating to environmental organizations, turning off lights) and to support for providing
rights to animals and to the environment in general (Clayton & Myers, 2009; Clayton, this volume). Similarly,
Schultzs (2001) Inclusion of Nature in Self (INS) scale was quite highly (r = .43) correlated with the frequency of
self-reported pro-environmental behavior, such as recycling newspaper or purchasing products in a reusable or
recyclable container, among US undergraduates. In a similar sample population, a moderate positive relationship
between biospheric concerns and implicit connections with nature, and a negative relationship between implicit
connections with nature and egoistic concerns was found (Schultz et al., 2004).
An on-site survey study with 20- to 71-year-old Canadian residents from two towns showed that attachment to the
natural aspects of the local area was a significant unique predictor of pro-environmental behavior when controlling
for the town of study, length of residence, gender, education, and age. In contrast, attachment to the socialsymbolic (civic) elements of the place was not a significant predictor of pro-environmental behavior once the other
variables were taken into account (Scannell & Gifford, 2010b). Echoing the nature versus civic distinction, DevineWright and Howes (2010) found that natural places interpreted as psychologically restorative were most likely to
be defended by the strongly attached local residents.
The above-mentioned inconsistencies in the results may also partly reflect the current methodological problems in
measuring emotional attachments to place with questionnaires. Namely, Perrin and Benassi (2009) reported on the
basis of a series of studies that rather than measuring emotional connections, the connectedness to nature scale
(Mayer & Frantz, 2004) measures cognitive beliefs about a persons connection to nature.
Consequences of Place Attachment in the Disruptions in Place Relationships

When discussing the behavioral consequences of disruptions in place relationships, it is again difficult to argue
whether we address consequences/outcomes, antecedents, or mediating/moderating processes. In the context of
migration it has been proposed that the mediating processes that impact place attachment and place identity in the
transition from home to university during the first year might include place significance, the occurrence and extent
of social relationships, the sense of dislocation (e.g., place alienation), a persons experience of continuity across
time and situation, and proximity to home (p. 158) (Chow & Healey, 2008; cf. Schultz, Scopelliti, & Tiberio, 2010).
Anecdotal evidence of refugees to Cyprus who have faced an involuntary relocation shows that place attachment
may be a long-lasting memory (e.g., an image of an ideal home) that is continually kept or cherished even in a
new settlement (Boa, 2009). Providing adequate housing may not alleviate the feelings of loss and alienation.
This result of a cherished image is interestingly related to Korpelas (1992) study of 17- to 18-year-old Finnish
adolescents and Wlfings (1996) study of adult immigrants to Germany, which indicated that humanization (the act
of ascribing humanlike attributes to a place, such as an understanding listener) and control of a place are
important aspects of the experience of a favorite place. The feeling of control and the humanization of the place
can be interpreted as functional temporary illusions, the maintenance of which guarantees that recovery from
personal setbacks can happen in a favorite place. This interpretation is based on Taylors (1983) theory of
cognitive adaptation to threatening events. It holds that when individuals experience personal setbacks, they
search for meaning in the experience, try to regain mastery over the event, and try to restore self-esteem.
Succeeding in this depends on the ability to form and maintain a set of illusions, that is, overly positive selfevaluations, exaggerated perceptions of control or mastery, and unrealistic optimism. Illusions have functional
significance in contributing to maintaining the self as a highly organized system, producing behavioral persistence,
and promoting psychological well-being (Greenwald, 1981; Taylor & Brown, 1994; for a discussion about the role
of positive illusions in mental health, see also Block & Colvin, 1994; Colvin & Block, 1994). Thus, place attachment
may also include illusory aspects (cf. Epsteins [1991] associationistic conceptual system) that help to create or
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Place Attachment
maintain self and well-being in the disruptions of place relationships and attachment.
Somewhat in contrast to the above mentioned study by Boa (2009) (refugees having difficulty in giving up a
cherished memory, resulting in alienation in the new settlement), a study of young (11- to 19-year-old) refugees to
Australia found that an individuals active efforts toward place-making may provide therapeutic benefits and
enhance becoming at home in a new country (Sampson & Gifford, 2010). Understanding such mixed results (the
feelings of alienation, not giving up cherished memories vs. active place-making providing therapeutic benefits)
requires further theoretical thinking in this area and may involve understanding the regularities in emotional
reactions to negative and positive events. For example, there is evidence for the mobilization-minimization
hypothesis assuming that adverse or threatening events evoke strong and rapid physiological, cognitive,
emotional, and social responses (Taylor, 1991). Negative events elicit more causal attributional activity than
positive events (Bohner, Bless, Schwarz, & Strack, 1988). People are also inclined to assume responsibility for
positive outcomes but avoid it for failure, although sex, self-esteem, and achievement motivation affect this
tendency (Zuckerman, 1979). The mobilization of the organism is followed by physiological, cognitive, and
behavioral responses that minimize and even erase the impact of that event (Taylor, 1991). For example, the
opponent-process theory of Solomon and Corbit (1974) holds that emotional states are automatically opposed by
offsetting responses that reduce the intensity of the original emotional experience. Taylor (1991) assumed that the
pattern of mobilization and minimization is greater for negative events than for neutral or positive events. The
question of how such regularities of emotional and cognitive (attributional) processes affect place attachment and
place identity cognitions poses an interesting challenge for future studies.
Conclusion
In brief, dimensional frameworks and models of place attachment provide researchers adequate taxonomies with
which they can locate their specific operationalizations and studies. We need more studies to verify causal
sequences, underlying needs, and processes/dynamics of place attachment, and we need more evidence to be
able to differentiate between consequences/outcomes, antecedents, and mediating/moderating processes.
Noteworthy in the studies of rapid affective responses to environments is that such automatic evaluation of ones
own environment may be a pervasive and continuous process in our lives. Such processes in future theories of
place attachment have to be acknowledged. Automatic inclinations may be the first phase in our reactions to
places but how self, personality, learning, and culture play upon these inclinations is a largely open question.
The development of place attachment includes a complex interplay of automatic processes, social influence,
individual and collective values and meanings, needs, and personality characteristics. To capture these
developmental issues, several theoretical starting points are already available including (p. 159) general
attachment theory; the mere-exposure hypothesis; theories of self-, privacy, and friendship regulation; theories of
coping (with developmental tasks and stress); theories of identity development; and self-theories.
Evidence for the positive connection between place attachment and conservation behavior is still mixed and we
cannot be sure whether place attachment affects pro-environmental behavior or vice versa. Moreover, the scale of
the object of attachment may be crucial, and from a psychological perspective there is little research on
attachment to the globe or biosphere level. In this regard, studies on environmental attitudes (and their biases)
might prove a fruitful direction of study (see Gifford et al., 2009). Disruptions of place bonds and relationships may
be one window to further studies on coping with threatening events and the use of places and place attachment in
the service of this coping.
Future Directions
The current situation warrants efforts to deepen the theoretical and empirical work in at least three directions. First,
integrative workeven speculative to start withbringing together theories and results from several areas of
psychology, such as emotion, developmental, and personality psychology, with place research would be fruitful.
For example, how do we connect place attachment to theories of affect and emotion (including automatic
responses to the environment) and how do rational, experiential, and associationistic conceptual systems
(described by CEST) operate in place attachment? How do attachments to different places influence one another?
What views of personality functioning are included in the lists of the functions of place attachment? Why does the
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Place Attachment
human psyche develop attachments in the first place?
Second, questions concerning the role of pleasure and human attachment figures wait for further study. For
example, what is it that provides pleasure in the place? Why do experiences of pleasure create attachment and
not just the sense of security or familiarity? What creates arousal and motivates a child to seek pleasure in places
and what is the role of human attachment figures in this? Is place attachment a substitute for the lack of human
attachment?
Third, the development of place attachment in different types of places deserves further study. For example, does
place attachment grow and develop on the basis of restorative, vitalizing, or autonomy-enhancing experiences in
personally important places? Do natural settings provide a different basis for place attachment than built
environments (cf. Scopelliti & Giuliani, 2004)? Does the basis of place attachment change from physical to social
over time or vice versa? What is the interplay between aesthetic, cognitive, emotional, and social needs in the
development of place preferences and place attachment?
Questions abound but the door to a deeper understanding about place attachment is invitingly open.
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Environment and Identity

Susan D. Clayton
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0010

Identity is a core psychological construct: a way of describing an individual that locates him or her within a social
and political context. It has become an increasingly prominent topic in psychology, and one with clear relevance to
environmental attitudes and behaviors. But definitions of identity and of the role of the natural environment in
identity remain imprecise, just as attempts to include measures of identity in environmental research have
proliferated. This chapter will discuss the psychological construct of identity and describe how it is relevant to the
natural environment. I review research that has directly or indirectly addressed environmental identity, and that
has shown the importance of identity in predicting behavior. I conclude with a call for further research that is
clearly grounded in theory about identity, as well as research on the ways in which societies and environments
can facilitate a strong environmental identity.
Keywords: identity, self, environmental attitudes, ideology, behavior, measurement, values

Identity is a prominent and growing topic in psychology. Key developments since 2000 include the Handbook of
Self and Identity (Leary & Tangney, 2005), the Handbook of Identity Theory and Research (Schwartz, Luyckx, &
Vignoles 2011), and the journal Self and Identity, which was first published in 2002. The concept of identity has
been utilized in psychological research to inform topics from race and gender, morality, development, and social
groups, to less obvious areas such as leadership, organizations, economics, and foreign policy; this doesnt even
take into account much related work in sociology, philosophy, and political theory. Within a focus on the natural
environment, we see reference to environmental identity (Clayton & Opotow, 2003; Weigert, 1997); ecological
identity (Thomashow, 1995); environmental self (Cantrill, 1998); environment identity (Stets & Biga, 2003);
and ecological self (Bragg, 1996; Naess, 1989). At this writing, a keyword search for identitythough by no
means exhaustiveturned up 44 articles in the Journal of Environmental Psychology, all since 1996. The journal
Environment and Behavior has a longer but less comprehensive history, with 34 articles that reference identity, of
which only 5 were published before 1990. (The earliest, notably, was by Harold Proshansky, one of the first people
to study place identity.) Clearly, identity is both an important psychological construct and one that is increasingly
recognized as relevant to environmental issues.
This chapter will not try to impose uniformity on such a diverse and evolving topic, nor attempt a comprehensive
review of all relevant literature. Rather, by reviewing the literature and focusing primarily on work within
psychology, it will address several intertwined questions: What is identity, particularly as it pertains to the
environment, and how can environmental identity be measured? Why does it merit our attentionhow does it
impact (p. 165) experience as well as behavior directed at environmental protection and conservation?
Throughout, how does an environmental identity fit into a social context? I begin by discussing the construct of
Page 1 of 21

identity in general, the sources of identity, and its psychological significance. I then describe the role of natural
environments in identity and examine some ways of measuring this environmental component to identity. Finally, I
review some of the research suggesting the relevance of identity for understanding environmental behavior. I
close with a suggestion for future research directions.
Identity
Some of the earliest work in psychology focused on the self, including work by William James, early social
psychology by George Herbert Mead and Charles Horton Cooley, and more psychodynamically oriented
explorations of the topic by writers such as Albert Adler and Erik Erikson. Although the behaviorist revolution
eschewed a focus on such abstract and ill-defined topics as the self, the limitations of the behavioral approach
quickly became clear and psychologists turned their attention again to cognition, emotion, and finally identity. That
identity emerged as an important topic reflects its central role in the way humans process and respond to external
stimuli. Fundamentally, a discussion of identity is required by the recognition of the importance of the individual:
people are not passive recipients of experience, but active constructors of that experience. When we start to think
about what it is that selects and interprets information and constructs a narrative about experience, in ways that
result in different narratives for different individuals, we open the door for discussions of identity.
Identity is fundamentally a way of defining, describing, and locating oneself. There are many possible definitions
that can be generated, and most theorists would agree that people have multiple identities, which can vary in
salience and significance over a lifetime and across different social contexts. McGuire (1984), for example, found
evidence that the salience of ones own gender was greater when it was a distinguishing characteristic. An identity
can be generated from within, when people choose their own labels, but it can also be imposed by others. An
internal or self-generated identity, one that represents the way in which one represents oneself, to oneself, is a
self-concept or sense of self. An identity is not just a self-concept, however, but also a label that locates a person
within a broader social context. Societies have certain semi-fixed categories and emphases that serve to highlight
particular identities for their members. Ones position in regard to the natural environment and environmental
issues, for example, is more relevant to society than it was a few decades ago.
The dividing line between an internal and an external source of identity is not firm. Internal identities that are selfconsciously adopted by a person are likely to have an effect on the way in which he or she is perceived by the
rest of society, and external labels that are imposed by society, even when they are not freely chosen by the
individual, will probably affect that persons self-perception. Attributes that are considered to be important by a
society, such as gender and some ethnicities, are more likely to form the basis for an enduring identity than ones
that are not particularly relevant to a culture, such as eye color and handedness. The impact of societal
stereotypes on peoples sense of themselves has been demonstrated by a wide body of work on self-fulfilling
prophecies (Snyder & Swann, 1978) and stereotype threat (Steele, 1997). People who are stereotyped as flaky
environmentalists may develop attitudes and behaviors that are consistent with that identity. Alternatively, people
whose identities are thought to be anti-environmental, such as industrialists and members of the Republican Party,
may begin to act in more environmentally unsustainable ways to uphold the norms they associate with those
identities.
Identities are acquired over time (Ryan & Deci, 2003) and within particular sociopolitical contexts, as people
develop a sense of how they fit into a particular place and time. Social contexts affect identities in several ways.
One is by making certain attributes more salient and giving them specific significance. Cultures vary in the way
they highlight specific attributes; for example, the importance of religious affiliation is far greater in some societies
than in others, and although gender is important in every society, its specific implications vary widely across time
and culture.
A second impact of social context is the extent to which identities are fixed or fluid. In Western society today,
people have far more choice in identities than they used to, with greater flexibility in geographical location,
religious affiliation, political ideology, occupational identity, and even gender identity than was typical a century
ago. This flexibility makes identities more responsive to political events, and more reflective of personal
preferences, blurring the line between personal and social. Although some identities, such as ethnicity and gender,
are (p. 166) still imposed, people are strongly defined by identities they choose, such as those based in political
Page 2 of 21

affiliation and occupation. Even the ways in which people define ethnic and gender identity, and the importance of
those identities, are subject to individual preferences, which has opened the door to a wide body of research on
individual differences (e.g., Bem, 1981; Helms, 1990).
Identities describe not only personal attributes, but also connections and groupings: who we are like and unlike,
and who we are tied to. A third impact of context is found in cultural differences in the extent to which one thinks of
oneself as separate from, or connected to, others. Theorists have argued that some cultures are more
collectivistic, stressing an interdependent conception of the self that emphasizes connections between individuals,
with associated role demands and responsibilities; other cultures are more individualistic, stressing a more
independent self that is defined in terms of individual attributes and goals (Triandis, 1995). The influence of social
norms, and of connections to others, is likely to be greater in collectivist as compared to individualist cultures.
Finally, identity also has instrumental aspects that give it a role within a given societal infrastructure. Thus,
sociologists discuss movement identity and organizational identity (cf. Dunlap & McCright, 2008). Dono, Webb, and
Richardson (2010) reviewed some of the distinctions between a focus on an environmental identity and an identity
with environmentalism as a social movement. This chapter will focus primarily on psychological rather than
sociological aspects of identity, but their relevance to political ideology and to collective behavior will be discussed
below.
Content
Identity is a rich and complex topic in part because it can be viewed either as an object, whose content and
organization demand elucidation, or as a process, whose impacts should be investigated. William James (1890)
described this as the me and the I; more recently, McAdams, Jossellson, and Lieblich (2006) have referred to
the self-as-tale-told and the self-as-teller. In describing the objective (i.e., self-as-object) self, one of Jamess
important contributions to our understanding of identity was to define three aspects: the personal or spiritual,
social, and material. The personal self referred to inner states, felt experiences, and psychological dispositions; the
social self to the recognition from, and relationships with, others; and the material to physical things associated
with the self, including body, clothes, family, and property. James did not go beyond this to consider the wider
environment, but in describing the material aspects of the self, he acknowledged that identity existed not just inside
a persons head, but also extended into the physical environment. He thus made room for a consideration of the
relevance of natural entities to ones self-definition.
Within psychology, an important (but imperfect) distinction has been made between personal and social identities.
Personal identities are generally considered to be those based on ones individual traits, values, and abilities.
Social identities are those that reflect ones position in a social network: social roles and group memberships.
Group identities (a subset of social identities) are based on shared attributes, including external features, such as
skin color; internal features, such as values or attitudes; experiences; and heritage. They may be based on direct
interaction with like-minded others, such as a political action group, a soccer team, or a book group, or merely on a
perceptual grouping of oneself with similar others who may rarely or never meet in person, such as other New
Englanders, socialists, or people with diabetes.
The distinction between personal and social is inexact, because personal identities can become social when
people with similar personal identities find each other and then a social meaning is attributed to that identity. Rather
than consider personal and social identities as discrete categories, Clayton and Opotow (2003) argued that
identities can be described according to the degree to which social forces have been influential. When social
influence is minimal, the focus is on individual experience. As social influence becomes stronger, social
connotations of identities and interactions with others become more important. Finally, the societal groupings and
political implications of identities become salient when social influence is powerful. To the extent that identities
have a social component, they are likely to acquire associated social stereotypes.
According to Self-Determination Theory (Ryan & Deci, 2003), identities are adopted in the service of basic needs:
the desire for relatedness or belonging, competence or esteem, and autonomy or independence. Identities can
also serve a defensive function, as a way to resist influence or threats from others. Thus identities that are more
effective in filling these needs are likely to become stronger and more salient. Both cultural context and personal
experience will affect identity development (p. 167) through their influence here. People who experience
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belonging and esteem on the soccer field are more likely to develop strong identities as athletes than those who
routinely fail to achieve their objectives. People who have positive social experiences in natural settings may
associate such settings with a sense of belonging. Some cultures may stress social interactions as the primary
source of esteem, while others emphasize individual achievement. Specific events may generate a need to
develop a particular identity; for example, a strong ethnic identity may be developed as a way to resist assimilation
into the mainstream.
Process or Function
Identity demands our consideration because of its function. Identities can affect attention, evaluation, memory, and
motivation. Decades of research have shown, for example, that information that is self-relevant attracts more
attention (Kihlstrom et al., 1988). The so-called cocktail-party effect references the fact that ones own name will
emerge and be recognized in a background hum of noise that is otherwise ignored. Identities tend to generate
cognitive schemas that affect the way people organize and process information (Bem, 1981). Self-relevant
information is also better remembered, as reflected in classroom study techniques that encourage students to
apply information to situations in their own lives, and is likely to have more emotional significance because of its
implications for ones self-image and social standing.
More insidiously, identities are responsible for information-processing biases. Best known is the tendency to
evaluate oneself and ones own groups as better, more worthy, and more moral than others on average. Selfserving attributional processes ensure that we tend to explain events in ways that enhance our own self-image. Ingroup biases show that we rate work by people with whom we share an identity as better than work by others.
Beneffectance refers to the tendency to preferentially remember information that casts us in a positive light
compared to information that portrays us more negatively. Identities even determine ethical standards; people who
share an identity with us are evaluated according to a different standard than those who do not (Lerner & Clayton,
2011), and some people may fall completely outside the realm of moral relevance (Opotow, 1996).
Relatedly, identities can both prescribe and motivate action. Role-based identities describe the social expectations
for associated behavior. Across multiple different roles, we are motivated to behave in ways that are socially
valued to maintain identities that present us positively to others as well as to ourselves. Even more important,
perhaps, is the motivation to behave in ways that are consistent with our desired self-image. Research suggests
that the desire for consistency can be stronger than the desire for a positively evaluated self. A greater degree of
consistency across different life roles is even associated with greater well-being (Ryan & Deci, 2003).
In a more abstract and indirect way, identities serve an important psychological function in allowing people to make
meaning of their lives. Cary (1993) described symbolic beliefs, those connected with identity and values, as
allowing people to transform transient experiences into internal models (p. 556); in other words, to construct an
internal sense of self out of external experiences. Identity theorists (e.g., McAdams et al., 2006) have described
identity as the stories people construct and tell about themselves to define who they are for themselves and for
others (p. 4). These stories serve an important function in addressing developmental challenges (Erikson, 1963)
and allowing people to maintain a sense of themselves as consistent and continuous over time. The success with
which people construct an integrated identity for themselves will have implications for their psychological wellbeing (Hinds & Sparks, 2009), and the content of these identities will have a major impact on how people relate to
the world.

Clayton (2003) has argued that people can develop a specific environmental identity: a sense of connection to
some part of the nonhuman natural environment that affects the way we perceive and act toward the world; a
belief that the environment is important to us and an important part of who we are (pp. 4546). As earlier theorists
noted, identity can stem from many sources, including personal values, social affiliations, and material
possessions. What would make the natural environment particularly important to identity? That is, why would the
natural environment provide relevant content for identity? For three reasons, described below: First, it is a
particularly rich source of psychological significance. Second, it fulfills core self-relevant motives. Third, it has
sociopolitical significancepartly because of its function in generating attention, evaluation, and actionand thus
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may be imposed or reinforced from the outside (Clayton, 2003; Clayton & Myers, 2009).
(p. 168) The natural environment is associated with strong emotional (cf. Kals & Mller, and Vining & Merrick, this
volume) and social experiences; for this reason, time in natural settings is likely to be well remembered and to help
satisfy the need to belong. The natural world can help people to conceptualize their identities cognitively:
anthropomorphizing interactions with animals (Myers, 1998/2007; Myers & Russell, 2003) and even plants
(Gebhard, Nevers, & Billmann-Mahecha, 2003) provides opportunities for people to think about what it means to be
human. Research showing that time in natural settings restores attentional capacity (e.g., Kaplan, 1995) and
promotes cognitive functioning suggests that it may provide an appropriate context for reflecting on ones own
identity, goals, and values, and thus contribute to self-understanding. Indeed, people report that natural settings
are desirable places for self-reflection (Korpela, Hartig, Kaiser, & Fuhrer, 2001).
Experiences in nature also present an opportunity to fulfill other self-relevant motives. According to SelfDetermination Theory, these include desires for autonomy and esteem (Ryan & Deci, 2003). Autonomy could be
enhanced by the opportunities for self-reflection, and the reduction in social imperatives, that are typically
characteristic of natural settings compared to built environments. A recent experimental study, for example, found
that immersing people in nature via slides or the presence of plants enhanced their perceived autonomy
(Weinstein, Przybylski, & Ryan, 2009). Although I do not know of research addressing this directly, nature could
contribute to esteem simply because it is not dominated by critical judgments from other people. Relatedly, people
often report, as a positive attribute of relationships with pets, that they feel their pets accept them for who they are
without judging them (e.g., Serpell, 1986). Certainly to the extent that an environmental identity reflects socially
valued attitudes and behaviors, or that positive connotations are associated with environmentalism, an
environmental identity can contribute to self-esteem (Fraser, Clayton, Sickler, & Taylor, 2009).
Esteem can also be enhanced to the extent that the natural environment allows for a feeling of efficacy and
competence. Barton and Pretty (2010) described evidence that as little as five minutes of exercise within a natural
setting enhances self-esteem, particularly when that setting includes water. Fraijo, Corral-Verdugo, Tapia, and
Gonzlez (2010) discussed the ways in which perceived competence may function with regard to conservation
behaviors. A more poetic description is found in an essay by nature writer Sharman Russell:
When I open to the world, the boundaries of self, my worries and fearsall of it diminishes against the lift of
land, colors, and cliffs. Im as big as this view, five miles wide. Im as powerful as the gathering storm.I
feel special.Im so cool to live in this place. (2011 , p. 52)
Another list of identity principles, described by Breakwell (e.g., 1992), includes efficacy (which could be related to
autonomy), esteem, continuity, and distinctiveness. The contrast between Breakwells distinctiveness and Ryan
and Decis connectedness may be resolved by referring to Brewers (1991) optimal distinctiveness theory: what
people really want is a sense of themselves as belonging to a group, and yet not wholly contained in or defined by
that group. People in natural settings often report feelings of belonging and connectedness, but also the freedom to
be themselves (Clayton, 2003).
Social Identities
Identity can be considered in many subtle and complex ways, but the more obvious components of identity should
not be overlooked. Socially ascribed identities, based on characteristics such as gender, nationality, ethnicity, and
socioeconomic status, have important implications for ones relationship with nature. Identities affect access to
nature and ability to benefit from natural environments, as well as vulnerability to environmental hazards (e.g.,
Bullard, 2000). The term environmental injustice, as used in the sociological or political sense, refers to the
unequal distribution of environmental harms across social categories. These objective social realities, because of
which the natural environment affords different experiences for different social groups, in turn become refracted
into social identities that describe different relationships with nature. Many writers have examined and debated the
extent to which national, cultural, gender, and ethnic identities are associated with differences in environmental
attitudes.
There has been much written by anthropologists and others about cultural differences in the ways people
conceptualize their relationship with nature (see Milfont, this volume). Some Native American cultures, for example,
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are said to think of the natural world as interdependent with the human world, at times even sending animals as
ambassadors to (p. 169) have a role in human society. As a result, nature demands respectful and fair treatment
(e.g., Berkes, 1999; James, Hall, Redsteer, & Doppelt, 2008). Within psychology, there is little work that explicitly
examines environmental identity in different cultures. In one example, Chang and Opotow (2009) interviewed a
small sample of Americans resident in Namibia, and Namibians, concerning their thoughts about environmental
identity, environmental values, and moral standing. Chang and Opotow found a sense of environmental identity
among all respondents but noted that the Americans were more likely to root their descriptions in narratives based
on childhood experiences, for example, with friends or family, that taught them to value nature. The Namibians, on
the other hand, were more cognizant of generational changes in the valuing of nature such that younger people
accorded more rights to nonhuman entities. Namibians were also more likely to note the sociopolitical connotations
of different orientations with regard to nature. This small study illustrates the extent to which environmental
identities depend on cultural context as well as specific experiences.
Culture may have a direct impact on the perceived relationship between self and nature, or an indirect relationship
mediated by social groups. In collectivist cultures, for example, peoples attitudes toward the environment may be
affected by a general tendency to be mindful of social responsibilities, or by perceived social norms that
encourage environmental concern. Ando, Ohnuma, and Chang (2007) found that subjective norms were a stronger
predictor of environmental behavior in Japan than in the United States (though people in the United States were
somewhat more affected by a more descriptive social norm). Clayton and Pape (2010), similarly, found that
perceived social norms were a stronger predictor of environmental behavior intentions in China than in the United
States.
Specific sociopolitical contexts will also affect a sense of environmental identity. Environmental identities have a
significance in the 21st century that differs from what they might have had in earlier years. Such identities may
emerge in response to perceived threats to natural environments; in fact, environmentalists often report being
motivated by an experience of environmental destruction (Kempton & Holland, 2003). They also may be
associated with political realities that make environmental attitudes socially significant. Defensive attempts to
protect ones social identity can be responsible for some of the unsustainable ways in which people behave or how
they react to information about environmental threats. Environmental messages are often perceived as threats to a
lifestyle, for example, one associated with a particular social identity, and may be rejected on that basis (Clayton,
2011; Opotow & Brook, 2003). This is one reason for some of the politically associated differences in attitudes
toward climate change, discussed further below.
Creating Environmental Identity

Several chapters in this volume (e.g., Chawla; Korpela; Steg & Abrahamse) describe some of the ways in which
people construct an identity that incorporates environmental attitudes and values, or that describes oneself in
relation to the natural environment. Most of this research has focused on the person and his/her repeated
experiences over time. It is also possible to look at specific contexts that can be used to foster environmental
identity. Zoos are an environment whose impacts on both visitors and volunteers have been examined. Research
by Clayton, Fraser, and Saunders (2009) examined the ways in which zoo visitors might create a sense of shared
identity with animals. In observations of almost 1,900 visitor comments, small but significant proportions of people
were heard to make comments in which they imitated the animal, compared the animal to a human being, or took
the perspective of the animal (i.e., spoke as if they were the animal). Almost 25% of visitors made a comment that
reflected some inference about what the animal might be thinking. These responses all suggested ways in which
the zoo visitors were creating some cognitive connection between themselves and the animal. Emotional
connections were reflected in the high proportion of positive comments (about 22% of visitors). In follow-up
research, Clayton, Fraser, and Burgess (2011) observed interactions within social groups that indicated ways in
which people used the stimulus of an animal exhibit to create a sense of socially shared value and appreciation for
nature.
In research looking at a more explicit sense of identity, Fraser, Clayton, Sickler, and Taylor (2009) found evidence
that zoo volunteers created strong social identities through their experience working at the zoo. These identities
were positively valued and important to the volunteers, as measured by scores on a collective self-esteem scale
(Luhtanen & Crocker, 1992). In interviews, the volunteers described the identities as satisfying personal needs and
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values, including the importance of animals (p. 170) and nature, affiliations to a specific place, and connecting to
others who shared their values.
Environmental identity can also be nurtured, and socially expressed, through gardening. An extremely popular
leisure pursuit, gardening provides people with the opportunity to spend time in, and to appreciate, nature. It also
serves as a form of public self-expression, through the planting choices and competence in caretaking, and as a
way of affirming a social identity by contributing to the community (Clayton, 2007). Gross and Lane (2007)
conducted in-depth interviews with 18 gardeners and found that identity was a strong emergent focus, primarily
evident in themes of ownership and self-expression. Recently, Kiesling and Manning (2010) further investigated the
expression of identity through gardening and its relationship to a more general environmental identity. In a sample
of 466 urban gardeners, they found that people who rated the opportunity to connect with nature as a strong
motivation for gardening tended to be higher in environmental identity as measured by the Environmental Identity
(EID) scale.
A few studies have looked at the effects of specific manipulations on sense of environmental identity. Bragg (1996)
used the Twenty Statements Test, a standard measure of self-concept, to evaluate the impact of participation in a
Council of All Beings workshop, which asks people to play the part of a nonhuman component of the natural
world. Immediately after the workshop, participants described a greater ecological component in their selfdefinitions; however, this was not retained at a six-week follow-up. Schultz and Tabanico (2007) reported that a
visit to the zoo appeared to increase participants level of implicit connection with nature (discussed further below),
such that people had higher ratings of connection as they left the zoo than they had when they entered. However,
there was no long-term follow-up.
Environmental and Place Identity

There is a well-established literature on the emotional attachments people form to specific environments and on the
connections between identity and the physical environment (see Korpela, this volume, for an extensive discussion
of place identity). Research on place attachment (e.g., Altman & Low, 1992) has examined peoples sense of
connection to specific physical environments, including built as well as natural environments. It has primarily
focused on connections based on residential experiences (but see Manzo, 2005, for an expanded discussion of
place meaning). These identities, like an environmental identity, are based on experience and form the basis for
both self-chosen and ascribed social labels.
Although an identity rooted in a specific place may be related to general concern for the natural environment (Kyle,
Graefe, Manning, & Bacon, 2004), it is conceptually distinct from a more general sense of connection to the natural
world. One important distinction between a place identity and an environmental identity is that the latter should
have implications for entities associated with nature and yet not affiliated with a particular place, such as animals.
Research on environmental identity has, in fact, consistently shown that a strong environmental identity is
associated with feelings of similarity to animals and with support for animal rights (Clayton, 2008).
Twigger-Ross and Uzzell (1996) presented a thoughtful and thorough discussion of how identity principles may be
satisfied by an identity linked to place, by distinguishing a person from others; by highlighting a characteristic one
shares with others; or by serving as a source of pride. Much of what they say can also apply to a more general
environmental identity. It is possible, though, that place is better suited to satisfy peoples desire for distinctiveness
for example, as Knez (2005) described, Im a Londoner, not a New Yorkerwhereas environment may be
better at satisfying the need for connectedness, by encouraging people to recognize their interdependence with a
larger system. Future research could examine this question.
Measuring Environmental Identity

Clearly, not everyone feels a high level of environmental identity; thus it is useful to find some way of assessing its
strength. As with other identities, such as gender or ethnic identities, the strength of an environmental identity can
be assessed as an individual difference variable. Many studies of environmental behavior measure identity by
asking participants to respond to a few simple statements such as I think of myself as someone actively committed
to the environmental cause (Castro, Garrido, Reis, & Menezes, 2009) or I think of myself as an environmentalist
(Fielding, McDonald, & Louis, 2008). Others, however, have attempted to explore the psychological aspects of
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identity in more detail. In a sign that the topic is timely, a number of similar measures have been developed, many
within a few years of each other, to assess this or related constructs.
(p. 171)
Environmental Identity Scale
The 24-item EID scale was developed to assess the extent to which the natural environment plays an important
part in a persons self-definition. More recently a shorter form of only 11 items has been developed. It includes
items relating to a sense of connection to the natural world as well as to its importance to the individual. The EID
Scale also includes items related to competence, autonomy, and belongingness, and to engaging in outdoor
activities. Reliabilities for the EID Scale are high, with alphas of about 0.90 in samples from the United States,
Turkey, Spain, and Finland, both student and nonstudent, and it has shown the expected pattern of correlations
with attitudes, values, and worldview: it is positively correlated with ecocentric attitudes, universal values, and
horizontal collectivism, and negatively correlated with environmental apathy and vertical individualism (Clayton,
2003). Importantly, it also seems to reflect the internal cognitive structure of information related to environmental
issues: in one study, people high in EID found it slightly easier to make decisions about environmental dilemmas
and were more confident in their decisions. In research in a zoo setting, EID was related to a reported sense of
connection to the animals and a perception of the animals as similar to humans. Zoo members also scored higher
than nonmembers on a measure of environmental identity (Clayton et al., 2011).
Although Clayton (2003), in a factor analysis of the scale among college students, found only a single dominant
factor, Olivos and Aragones (2011) found evidence for five factors in a Spanish sample. The first factor,
accounting for by far the largest proportion of variance (32.8%, with the second factor accounting for only 7.2%),
was described as environmental identity; additional factors (after eliminating one that was represented by a
single item) were identified as assessing time in nature, appreciation for nature, and environmentalism. Each
subscale was correlated with pro-environmental behavior, but only the environmentalism and environmental
identity subscales contributed unique variance in a regression analysis.
Environment Identity Scale

The Environment Identity Scale was also published in 2003 by sociologists Stets and Biga. They defined
environment identity as self-meanings in relation to the environment (p. 401). This scale consists of 11 bipolar
items that assess involvement with and emotional response to nature. Respondents are asked to select a point
along the scale that best indicates their own position regarding the two endpoints: for example, detached versus
connected to nature, concerned versus indifferent, advocate versus disinterested. Stets and Biga found a reliability
of 0.91 for this scale, and it has been used in other research. However, one of their items asks respondents to
indicate the extent to which they are superior or inferior to nature. Neither end of this scale indicates a true
sense of identity with nature, so it is problematic to include this item as part of the overall identity score.
Inclusion of Nature in the Self

The Inclusion of Nature in the Self (INS) scale, developed by Schultz (2001, 2002), represents a very different
structural approach. Based on Aron, Aron, and Smollans (1992) Inclusion of Other in Self scale, the INS measures
the extent to which people perceive themselves as distinct from, related to, or commensurate with the natural
environment by asking them to select from a series of seven pictures. Each picture depicts two circles, one labeled
self and one labeled nature, which range from completely separate to completely overlapping. Schultz has
found fairly high correlations between the EID and the INS (in one study, r = .65, p < .001). The INS is also a good
predictor of behavior: Schultz (2001) reports an r = .41 between the INS and a measure of environmental behavior.
Connectivity to Nature
Dutcher et al. (2007) developed a measure of connectivity, which they defined as assessing a fundamental
sameness between [oneself] and the natural world (p. 478). Their measure included some survey items, similar to
those on the EID, and the overlapping-circles measure included on the INS, and was a stronger predictor of
environmental concern than demographic characteristics such as age, education, gender, income, and political
orientation. However, with an internal reliability of only 0.72 for the combined scale, it does not seem to represent
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an advance over previous measures.
Implicit Connections to Nature

Schultz (Schultz, Shriver, Tabanico, & Khazian, 2004; Bruni & Schultz, 2010) developed a form of the Implicit
Associations Test that uses a reaction-time paradigm to assess the extent to which people have strong cognitive
connections between themselves and nature. The advantage of such an approach is that it does not rely on selfreport; people may not (p. 172) have conscious access to their own sense of interconnectedness with nature, or
their report may be biased by social desirability. Schultz found that a high degree of implicit connectedness to
nature was associated with more biospheric, and fewer egoistic, concerns. This measure, however, does not
always correlate with explicit measures related to identity or environmental concern (Bruni & Schultz, 2010).
Further research is needed to assess the difference between implicit and explicit measures.
Connectedness to Nature Scale

Mayer and Frantz (2004) developed a Connectedness to Nature Scale (CNS), which they defined as a measure of
emotional connectedness to the natural world. Similar to the EID in some ways, it is shorter and primarily focused
on an affective response to the natural world. Like attitude measures, CNS is likely to be more responsive to
situational manipulations than identity measures would be, and thus useful as a measure of contextual variability in
perceived nature-relatedness (Frantz, Mayer, Norton, & Rock, 2005). However, there is some ambiguity over
whether the CNS is primarily a measure of affective or cognitive response to nature (Perrin & Benassi, 2009). Kals,
Schumacher, & Montadas (1999) Emotional Affinity Toward Nature scale, or Perkinss (2010) Love and Care for
Nature scale may be more explicitly concerned with affective attachment.
Related Constructs
New Environmental Paradigm
The New Environmental Paradigm (NEP; Dunlap & Van Liere, 1978; Dunlap, Van Liere, Mertig, & Jones, 2000) is a
widely used and well-validated measure of what might be called an ideology or belief system concerning nature
and the relationship between humans (as a species) and the natural world. The NEP has been shown to predict
self-reported environmental behavior. Although it includes items regarding belief in the balance of nature, limits to
growth, and human domination over nature, it is generally considered a unidimensional scale. Compared to
identity, the NEP is a set of relatively cold cognitions about what nature is, while measures of environmental identity
are more emotionally tinged assessments of the personal significance of nature. Nevertheless, endorsement of the
NEP should be associated with a strong environmental identity. Data collected by Schultz (2002, personal
communication) from 75 college students show a correlation of r = .44 (p < .001) between the EID and the NEP.
Environmental Attitudes Scale

The Environmental Attitudes Scale (EAS), developed by Thompson and Barton (1994), is designed to measure
three different attitudinal stances toward the natural environment: ecocentrism, or a valuing of nature for its own
intrinsic worth; anthropocentrism, or a valuing of nature for its utility to humans; and apathy toward the
environment and environmental issues. The EAS correlates in expected ways with the subscales of the EID (see
Clayton, 2003). However, the EAS is a measure of attitudes rather than a (part of a) self-definition. As such, it
should be less predictive of self-relevant phenomena, and it has in fact been found to be a weaker predictor of
behavior than the EID (Clayton, 2003). Stets and Biga (2003), using different measures, also found that attitudes did
not predict behavior when controlling for identity.
There is a potential for conceptual fuzziness here. Many writers have focused on emotional experiences in
response to nature (Kals & Mller, and Vining & Merrick, this volume); indeed, the biophilia hypothesis suggests
that we have an innate tendency to experience such emotions (Kellert & Wilson, 1993; Wilson, 1984). Others have
described a relationship with nature, similar to a relationship that might exist between humans (Davis, Green, &
Reed, 2009). Both emotions and relationships are useful constructs through which to consider the ways in which
people relate to nature, and they are certainly related to the construct of identity, but they are not the same thing.
Because identity refers to a self-concept or definitional label, a consideration of environment and identity concerns
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the extent to which the natural environment affects or is implicated in or overlaps ones self-concept. An
environmental identity, in particular, refers to a sense of self as conceptually interdependent with or connected to
the natural world. This interdependence should imply an increased perception of similarity with, and moral standing
accorded to, nonhuman natural entities, and a sense that threats to the natural world are personally relevant.
Because of the multiplicity of similar, but not identical, measures, Devine-Wright and Clayton (2010) suggested
several ways of distinguishing identities from related constructs. They proposed that identities should have
implications for cognitive processing, for example, that people high in an environmental identity would pay more
attention to environmental information, have a tendency to organize information on the basis of environmental
implications, and respond more quickly (p. 173) to environmentally relevant decisions. They also suggested that
identities be considered with reference to their social significance: that environmental identities, for example,
should be able to characterize a group of people with something in common. One implication of this is that social
stereotypes should be associated with these identities; another is that they should give rise to motivational ingroup biases on behalf of those who share an environmental identity. Similarly, Bragg (1996) noted that what she
describes as an ecological self should lead to greater sensitivity to information about the environment as well as
to greater feelings of sympathy or empathy with environmental entities. Although some research has been done
along these lines, more is needed, especially on the implications of identity for cognitive processing.
The Impact of Environmental Identity
Emotional Significance
Like other identities, environmental identities have strong emotional consequences. In a small study of British
undergraduate students, Hinds and Sparks (2009) found a positive correlation between environmental identity and
affective well-being. Emotional consequences of identity can be linked to specific environments, or to changes in
environments. To the extent that people feel personally reflected in the natural environment, a beautiful
environment can be a source of self-esteem. On the other hand, a contaminated environment can be a source of
stigma. Those who reside in environments that are known to be toxic experience a range of effects including
threats to their social identity, as they recognize not only the negative perceptions others have of their
communities but also the limits to their own sense of self-control and personal security (Edelstein, 2002). Some
authors have argued that a general tendency toward decreased psychological well-being stems from our attempts
to construct a sense of self within degraded and industrialized environments (Jordan, 2009; Kidner, 2007).
Frightening messages about environmental degradation or dangers may be personally threatening by evoking a
fear of death. Terror management theory suggests that people respond to a fear of death by emphasizing and
promoting personal values; that is, they respond by affirming their identities (Solomon, Greenberg, & Pyszczynski,
1991). Research has shown that mortality salience may encourage increased consumption, but that people who
are self-defined as environmentalists, instead, are likely to affirm their identities by acting on their environmental
values (Vess & Arndt, 2008). An environmental identity may provide a buffer that helps people cope with these
frightening messages. On the other hand, it may increase the anxiety that is associated with environmental
problems by making them more salient and self-relevant.
Bearing in mind the core self-motivations of autonomy, connectedness, and esteem and the more basic need for
security, as well as the possible ability of the natural environment to satisfy these needs, Kasser (2009) has argued
for more research into ways to promote psychological well-being through environmental opportunities.
Ethical Implications
Identity matters in considering environmental problems because it is contested: Who counts? Who is considered?
Standards of justice vary according to the status of those involved (Lerner & Clayton, 2011; Skitka, 2003); even
the tendency to consider justice may depend on the extent to which personal identity is salient (Opotow, 1996;
Skitka, 2003). Do animals have rights? Do trees have legal or moral standing (cf. Stone, 1974)? There is wide
variability in the extent to which people believe that the environment, and nonhuman entities, are entitled to justice.
Those who are defined as having an identity within a particular moral universe (Opotow, 1996) are entitled to just
treatment; otherwise, their treatment is guided by purely instrumental considerations. Thus it is telling that an
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environmental identity, as measured by Claytons EID scale, predicts willingness to consider the rights of nature
and the rights of future generations in resolving environmental dilemmas (Clayton, 2003). It is also associated with
support for animal rights (Clayton, 2008).
Similarly, many environmental problems have been characterized as commons dilemmas (cf. Hardin, 1968):
situations in which a shared resource, available to all and regulated by no one, is depleted by being used at a rate
faster than it can be replenished. The commons dilemma occurs because individuals make the rational decision to
use as much as they can; benefits accrue to the individual and costs are shared across the group. Research
shows that one of the best predictors of cooperation in a commons dilemma is a sense of group, or collective,
identity (Brewer, 2000; Parks, Sanna, & Berel, 2001; Van Vugt, 2001). A recognition that all those who use the
common resource share an identity means that they are more likely to care about each others welfare, trust each
others (p. 174) intentions, and come together to formulate a shared plan for regulating the use of the resource
(Dovidio, Gaertner, & Esses, 2007).
James et al. (2008) described the joint US-Canadian management of the Great Lakes as an example of
environmental regulations that are based on a collective identity (shared proximity to the Great Lakes) rather than
on more individually focused identities. A specific test of this was presented by Bonaiuto et al. (2008), who found in
a field study that those who had the highest level of identification with the local community were the most likely to
voluntarily cooperate with appeals to conserve water. Similarly, Carrus, Bonaiuto, and Bonnes (2005) found that
regional pride, suggesting a sense of self-esteem based on place of residence, was associated with support for a
local protected area.
In general, one might expect a sense of collective identity to be associated with increased concern for the
environment and willingness to protect it. Research that has measured or manipulated such a tendency does tend
to find such an association. For example, Arnocky, Stroink, and DeCicco (2007) defined a metapersonal selfconstrual as a tendency to think of oneself as having a deep interconnection with all forms of life; they found that
this was associated not only with environmental concern but also with the tendency to cooperate in a commons
dilemma. Buchan et al. (2011) found that a sense of national or global identity predicted concern about global
issues, and cooperation in a social dilemma, across six countries. (One of the issues was global warming, but the
authors grouped five issues together.) As described above, Claytons EID has been found to be associated with
Triandiss collectivism scale (Clayton, 2003); it is also negatively correlated with Social Dominance Orientation,
which reflects a preference for hierarchical, non-egalitarian distributions of power and resources (Clayton, 2008).
Winter and Chavez (2008), in surveys of visitors to California wilderness areas, found that higher scores on the EID
were associated with greater support of managing natural resources for environmental protection.
Experimental research by Clayton (1998, 2000) has also demonstrated that environmental appeals are more
successful when they emphasize collective rather than individual well-being, and the reverse is true for antienvironmental arguments. Relatedly, a national study of American attitudes found that people who are concerned
about climate change are more egalitariansuggesting a moral focus centered on the collectivethan those who
dismiss it, while the reverse is true for individualism (Leiserowitz, 2005). In a country-level comparison, Gouveia
(2002) found that collectivist values were related to an index of sustainable development.
Behavioral Implications
Identities make the link between abstract issues and personal relevance. One reason so few people take action to
address environmental problems, such as climate change, is probably that it seems remote, and people do not feel
personally responsible (Broder & Connelly, 2007). However, a strong place-based identity can motivate action to
protect a particular location, and a strong environmental identity can motivate action to protect the environment.
Schultz argued that environmental concern was a function of the extent to which people include nature in their
cognitive representation of self (2000 , p. 403), and in a manipulation of perspective-taking he found that students
who took the perspective of an animal harmed by environmental degradation showed greater concern about
environmental problems. Berenguer (2007), in a similar manipulation, succeeded in getting participants to adopt the
perspective of a tree, with a corresponding increase in environmental concern.
In a sense, an environmental identity can serve to transform the motive for environmental behavior; when one
shares an identity with another, promoting their welfare is selfish rather than altruistic. Some evidence for this
Page 11 of 21

transformational effect is suggested by a recent study (Fritsche & Hfner, 2011). The researchers found,
consistent with previous research, that mortality salience decreased biospheric concerns but not egoistic ones;
however, this was not true for people high in environmental identity. In other words, fear of death apparently leads
one to focus more on self-relevant than on universal values, but for people high in environmental identity,
environmental concerns are self-relevant.
Using the EID measure, Clayton (2003) has found a strong relationship between environmental identity and selfreported tendency to engage in environmental behavior, as well as level of environmental concern. Kiesling and
Manning (2010) found a strong correlation between EID and more environmentally friendly gardening practices.
Though not measuring environmental identity directly, Bruyere and Rappe (2007) found evidence that deep-seated
personal values were strong motivators for environmental behavior. They surveyed 401 volunteers for natural
resource agencies about their motivations for volunteering. In response to both closed-ended (p. 175) questions
and an open-ended question asking for the most important motivation, factors related to personal values (e.g.,
the opportunity to express my values through my work) were the secondmost important motivations listed. The
most important was the opportunity to help the environment, which may suggest, again, that the environment itself
had become self-relevant.
Many other researchers have found that considerations of environmental identity contribute to the ability to predict
pro-environmental behavior, above and beyond the traditional variables of attitudes and social norms (Castro et
al., 2009; Fielding et al., 2008; Mannetti, Pierro, & Livi, 2004; Terry, Hogg, & White, 1999; Whitmarsh & ONeill,
2010)
Values and Behavior

Verplanken and Holland (2002) presented a useful discussion of the relationship between environmental identities,
values, and behavior. They stated that values, defined as cognitions that help to interpret situations, elicit goals,
and motivate behavior, may form important ingredients of a persons self-concept and thus contribute to a sense
of identity (p. 434). They distinguished among the range of values that individuals might endorse, noting that
shared values may constitute the basis for group or collective identities, and particularly emphasized that values
are hierarchically organized and vary in centrality. It is the more central values, they argued, that make up part of
ones self-definition and, thus, contribute to ones sense of identity (p. 435). In other words, most people value
pleasure, honesty, success, and so on, but only values that are central to identity are likely to affect behavior.
Skitka (e.g., 2003) made a similar point when she proposed that certain moral values, central to ones sense of
identity, lead to the development of moral mandates that are experienced as compulsions toward action that is
consistent with those values.
Bolderdijk et al. (2012) hypothesized that people would consider protecting the environment to be a moral act, one
that was consistent with moral values. As expected, they found that people anticipated more positive affect from
responding to an appeal based on biospheric values than one based on economic values. In a field study,
participants were more likely to engage in an environmental action (checking whether their tires were properly
inflated) when that action was tied to biospheric values rather than economic values, but only when the relevance
to the self and personal values was made explicit. In a series of studies, Verplanken and Holland (2002)
demonstrated that environmental values will affect behavior (giving more weight to environmental factors in
consumer decisions), but only if those values are (a) central, that is, rated as self-descriptive, and (b) activated by
being primed or by an increase in self-focus. Interestingly, in line with the idea that identities serve to guide
attention, one of their studies found that the impact of values on behavior was mediated by attention to valuerelevant information.
Self-Presentation
Perhaps the most overt way in which identities impact behavior is by setting up the presentational pressures that
were described above. So, to the extent that behaving pro-environmentally is positively valued, people should
want to present themselves as supporting the environment; to the extent that people think of themselves as
supporting the environment, they should be motivated to act in a way that is consistent with that self-image.
Crompton and Kasser (2009; Ecopsychology Roundtable, 2009) have argued for the importance of identity
campaigning in attempts to promote pro-environmental behavior, campaigns that understand how people think of
Page 12 of 21

themselves and understandthe dynamics around how peoples identities influence their behavior and influence
their attitudes towards environmental outcomes (Ecopsychology Roundtable, p. 169).
Although pro-environmental behaviors are not always socially valued, perhaps because they connote costconsciousness and thus lower socioeconomic status (Sadalla & Krull, 1995), they can in some circumstances
reflect a willingness to sacrifice personal comfort in the service of higher principles, such as the collective wellbeing. Griskevicius, Tybur, and Van den Bergh (2010) demonstrated that self-presentational concerns, when made
salient by the presence of an audience and by the activation of status motives, led people to make product
choices demonstrating green valueschoices that they did not make when self-presentation was not salient and
their behavior was unobserved.
The Politics of Identity

The shared values that form the basis for group identities have a fundamental link to social and political position.
Social identities provide the foundation for the activation of group-based social norms that include not only
behavioral expectations but also, potentially, ideology. McAdams et al. (2006) have said that identity is built upon
ideology, in the (p. 176) sense that ones identity reflects ones values. An ideology is a coordinated set of
beliefs, opinions, and values (cf. Freeden, 2003) that may or may not be held by a group of like-minded people, but
that is often associated with motivational tendencies.
The impact of ideology is particularly evident in the political sphere, referring to ideologies that are associated with
political parties and the associated sets of policy preferences. Political ideologies are not themselves
environmental identities; they are not founded around experiences with or understandings of the natural
environment, nor do they typically have environmental issues as a central focus. They can, however, have
significant implications for reactions to environmental issues. In the United States, environmentalism is associated
with left-wing rather than right-wing tendencies. Surveys consistently find that Democrats are more supportive of
environmental protection than are Republicans (e.g., McCright & Dunlap, 2008). A recent national survey of more
than 2,000 Americans found that party affiliation was the strongest predictor of belief in climate change, with a
greater impact than gender, race, educational level, or age (Borick & Rabe, 2010). In the United Kingdom,
Whitmarsh (2011) similarly found that political orientation and endorsement of the NEP, taken together, were
stronger predictors of skepticism about climate change than lifestyle or socioeconomic status; knowledge and
education did not contribute predictive power at all.
What could be the reason for this association? Several possibilities have been proposed. McCright and Dunlap
(2008), for example, suggested that progressive ideologies share a focus on the extension and protection of rights.
Similarly, environmental support has been found to be associated with egalitarianism (Clayton, 1998; Sabbagh,
2005), and environmental identity is negatively associated with social dominance orientation (Clayton, 2008). Thus,
although environmentalism is not restricted to those on the Left, there may be an intrinsic compatibility between the
collective, egalitarian orientation that is associated with a left-wing ideology and the emphasis on interdependence
that is required by an understanding of ecology (Clayton, 2008). Kahan, Jenkins-Smith, and Braman (2011)
described a kind of cultural cognition: cultural values shape individual information processing, partly through the
creation of identity-protective motivations, to fit into a given culture or group. Jost (2009) has suggested that
these ideological differences may even be hardwired, in the sense that they are tied to fundamental differences in
personality that are heritable and lead to observable physiological responses.
Others have noted the connection between resistance to environmentalism and system justification (Feygina, Jost,
& Goldsmith, 2010), suggesting that the ideological stance may be associated with acceptance of change
versus support of the status quo. System justification is the motivation to reduce anxiety and satisfy the need for
certainty by endorsing the status quo. Because of the explicit or implicit critique of society represented by
environmentalism, those high in system justification tendencies tend to reject environmental attitudes and beliefs.
Notably, Feygina et al. (2010) were able to overcome the negative effect of system justification on environmental
behavior when they rephrased their environmental message to make it consistent with respect for the system, as
follows: Being pro-environmental allows us to protect and preserve the American way of life. It is patriotic to
conserve the countrys natural resources (p. 333). This highlights the relevance of targeting environmental
messages to specific audiences who can be described as having discrete identities.
Page 13 of 21

Conclusion
The research reviewed illustrates that identity and environment have a bidirectional relationship. The natural
environment, and ones relationship with it, help to construct and activate an identity; this identity, in turn,
influences the way people behave toward the environment. As the field of environmental psychology reminds us,
all of these relationships exist within a social and physical context. The impact of environment on identity will be
limited by the extent to which people are able to have a range of experiences with the natural environment. If only
minimal experiences are available, environmental identities are likely to be weak. City planning decisions, as well
as the influence of family, peers, and teachers, will determine whether individuals are likely to spend time in a
The impact of identity on environment is indirect. It is mediated by pro-environmental behavior, which is also
powerfully affected by forces in the immediate social and physical context. In the long run, behavior toward the
natural worldsustainable or unsustainableis most strongly affected by the affordances of ones physical
environment and by ones social context. Some living situations mandate a high-consumption lifestyle, others allow
only (p. 177) a fairly low level of consumption, while still others provide possibilities for individual decisions about
how to regulate their consumption. Some social groups provide norms that facilitate sustainability, while others
discourage it.
Thus, we should think about the role of identity in determining the contexts that people (choose to) occupy, and
the specific ways in which contexts make identities salient. Schultz and Tabanico (2007), for example, found
evidence that natural settings increased peoples sense of connectedness to nature. Some have argued that shifts
in perspective are necessary to adequately address the environmental challenges we face: for example, James et
al. (2008) called for major reorientations in culturally based values and identities vis--vis nature (p. 284).
Research on identity and environment has thus far been primarily descriptive in the sense that it examines whether
and how identity predicts behavior, and there is much scope for more research on this topic. However, it is time for
more applied research on ways in which to create and nurture environmental identity.
Future Directions
Three foci for future research seem particularly promising to advance the practical relevance, and conceptual
understanding, of environmental identity. First, as described above, given the evidence that environmental identity
can contribute to personal and societal well-being, there is a need for applied environmental psychologists to
consider how to design environments that nurture environmental identity.
In addition, research is needed to further explore what it means to talk about environment as an aspect of identity,
as distinct from an attitude or value. Conceptual confusion and lack of precision can be reduced by clarifying what
it means to refer to an identity: how and why it becomes part of a self-concept, and how it affects psychological
functioning. Two directions for such research can be described. The first would address the extent to which, and
ways in which, an environmental identity helps to satisfy different core self-relevant needs, such as esteem,
autonomy, and connectedness. The second would examine the effects of environmental identity on cognitive
processes as well as on affective responses to others who share the identity.
Finally, environmental identities clearly exist within a social context. Further research is needed to examine ways in
which people create a socially shared sense of identity that links them to the natural environment. Given the social
meanings that currently adhere to environmental attitudes and values, intra- and intergroup processes are
implicated in the development of an environmental identity.
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Kalevi Korpela and Wes Schultz for their comments on an earlier version of this chapter.
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Cultural Differences in Environmental Engagement

Taciano L. Milfont
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0011

Cultural influences on environmental attitudes and behaviors have been examined in an increasing number of
studies. This chapter provides an introductory review of cultural explanations concerning environmental
engagement. Besides discussing theoretical models that explain cultural differences in human-environment
interactions, the chapter summarizes recent research examining environmental attitudes and behaviors across
cultures. The majority of studies have examined cultural differences at the individual level of analysis, but the past
few years have seen the emergence of country-level studies as well as studies employing multilevel strategies to
examine the effect of individual-level and country-level variables simultaneously. The review suggests that
affluence and value orientations are the main determinants of the development of and differences in environmental
engagement across cultures. The chapter also discusses important methodological issues for designing and
evaluating cross-cultural studies and future directions for this developing field of research.
Keywords: cultural difference, environmental engagement, environmental attitudes, environmental behavior, environmental issues, cross-cultural
research
Introduction
Our individual lifetime represents only a fraction of the history of humanity, which in turn represents merely a
fragment of the history of planet Earth. Yet, the impact of our individual actions upon the environment can last
many lifetimes, and the cumulative impact of humanity on the planet is far greater than that caused by any other
species. Human societies have always had to adapt to their surroundings, learn seasonal and ecological patterns,
and change the environment to survive. However, in the relatively short time since the Industrial Revolution,
humans have made unprecedented environmental transformations (Gardner & Stern, 2002; Millennium Ecosystem
Assessment, 2005).
The history of human-environment interactions can be broadly classified into five stages (Simmons, 1993): huntinggathering economy and early agriculture (fully established around 7500 BC in Asian regions), riverine civilizations
(from about 4000 BC until about the first century AD), agricultural empires (from about 500 BC to AD 1800), the
Atlantic-industrial era (from AD 1800 to about the 1960s), and the Pacific-global era (from about 1960 to the present
day). The hunter-gatherer stage covered at least 99% of human history (Wilson, 1993) and its permanent impact
upon the environment is well documented, including reduction or extinction of animal species and the clearance of
land by fire. But recent environmental transformations are unequaled in their scale and impact. These
transformations include the accumulation of materials in large concentrations and the creation of new materials
unknown in nature, such as pesticides; the expansion of cultivated areas and unsustainable agricultural practices,
leading to erosion, deforestation, and the extinction of many species; and the development (p. 182) of large
conglomerates of humans in urban cities, resulting in resource shortages and increases in waste production. It is
estimated that from 1800 to 1985 the world human population increased fivefold, and the proportion living in urban
Page 1 of 24

areas rose from 2% to nearly 50%. These recent changes in the history of human-environment interactions have
also led to the rise of global environmentalism, which is arguably the most significant social revolution in
contemporary history (Brechin, 1999).
These changes, coupled with the contemporary increase in globalization and migration, have resulted in a growing
need to understand human-environment interactions across national cultures. Tackling environmental problems
requires a cooperative effort from decision makers worldwide (cf. Brett & Kopelman, 2004), but their decisions to
cooperate with or defect from any such wider effort will be made according to the values and behavioral patterns
dominant in each national culture. This chapter aims to provide an introduction to the influence of culture on the
way we deal with the environment. In particular, it reviews past research and current trends, and highlights new
advances in the study of cultural differences in attitudes and behaviors toward the environment (see Gifford &
Sussman and Schultz & Kaiser, this volume, for more on these topics). The chapter is divided into three main
sections. The first section discusses selected theories and models describing cultural differences in humanenvironment interactions. The second section summarizes cross-cultural studies that assess environmental
engagement. The third section considers some of the methodological concepts and issues that are important in the
development of cross-cultural studies in this field. The chapter concludes by considering directions for future
studies.
Understanding Human-Environment Interactions Across Cultures

Do cultural variables influence whether individuals are concerned with the environment? As it will be evident from
the discussion in this chapter, the answer seems to be yes. It appears that the way members of a society relate to
the environment is culturally patterned, which means that human-environment interactions differ from one society
to another, and also between individuals within a given society. This section will summarize useful theoretical
models for understanding human-environment interactions across national cultures. The models posit universal
categories of culture, whereby countries or nations can be positioned on the scale expressed by each category.
Culture is a contestable concept with hundreds of definitions proposed (Kroeber & Kluckhohn, 1952). To avoid
getting into definitional issues, culture is broadly defined here as the human-made part of the environment that
encompasses both material culture (dress, food, houses, tools) and subjective culture (the distinctive way a
society perceives its social environment). Subjective culture forms cultural syndromes and behavioral patterns that
can be identified among those who speak a particular language, in a defined geographic location, during a specific
historic period (Triandis, 1996, 2002). The theoretical models discussed below all address subjective culture (see
Atran, Medin, & Ross, 2005, for a different cross-cultural perspective).
The list of models below is not comprehensive; many other models of cultural syndromes and behavioral patterns
have been proposed in the past few decades (see, e.g., House, Hanges, Javidan, Dorfman, & Gupta, 2004; Leung
& Bond, 2004; Smith et al., 2002; Trompenaars & Hampden-Turner, 1998). However, the models discussed are
perhaps the most widely used to investigate cultural differences. Most of the models originated within other
disciplines but have been extensively used in psychology. Commonalities between the models will be highlighted
later.
Kluckhohn
The American anthropologist Florence Kluckhohn (1951, 1953) proposed a conceptual scheme distinguishing five
basic human problems that all peoples across history must find some solution for. She argued that specific
patterns of behavior insofar as they are influenced by cultural factors (and few are not so influenced) are the
concrete expressions reflecting generalized meanings or values (Kluckhohn, 1953, p. 345). Table 11.1 presents
Kluckhohns five problems and their possible responses. Another value dimension of space (here, there, or far
away) was also later proposed but not fully developed (Kluckhohn & Strodtbeck, 1961).
The five problems and their answers lead to cultural value orientations that are distinct from each other in terms of
their main solutions to the universal problems, but are at the same time related. The second problem regarding the
way humans relate to nature is the most relevant in the context of this chapter. In her seminal text, Kluckhohn
(1953) illustrated possible cultural answers to this problem by arguing that Spanish-American cultures have a (p.
183)
Page 2 of 24
Table 11.1 Five Universal Basic Questions and the Value Orientations Reflected in Their Answers (adapted from
Kluckhohn, 1953; Hills, 2002)
Human
problems
Type of solution/value orientation
Human
nature: What
are the innate
predispositions
(basic nature)
of humans?
Evil (mutable or
immutable). Born evil
and capable/incapable
of being changed.
Neither good nor bad or mixed

(mutable or immutable). Born
neither good nor bad, and can learn
(or not) good or bad traits; or born
with both good and bad traits, and
can learn (or not) to be either better
or worse.
Good (mutable or
immutable). Born
good and
capable/incapable of
being changed
Humannature
relationship:
What is the
relation of
humans to
nature?
Humans subjugated
to nature
(submissive).
Emphasis on lack of
control over nature,
and submission to the
higher power of natural
forces.
Humans in nature (harmonious).

Emphasis on partial control over
nature and living in a balance with
the natural forces.
Human over
nature. Emphasis on
total control over
nature and the
supernatural.
Time
orientation:
What is the
significant time
orientation?
Past. Emphasis on the

past (the time before
now), and on
preserving and
maintaining traditional
teachings and beliefs.
Present. Emphasis on the present

(what is now), and on
accommodating changes in beliefs
and traditions.
Future. Emphasis on
the future (the time
to come), planning
ahead, and seeking
new ways to replace
the old.
Mode of
Activity:
What is the
valued
personality
type?
Being. Emphasis on
being, on internal
motivations, and
activities valued by
oneself, which are not
necessarily valued by
others in the group.
Being-in-becoming. Emphasis on
developing and growing abilities
related to activities valued by
oneself, which are not necessarily
valued by others in the group.
Doing. Our
motivation is
external to us,
emphasizing activity
that is both valued
by ourselves and is
approved by others
in our group.
Mode of
social
relations:
What is the
nature of the
relationships
of humans to
other humans?
Lineal (hierarchical).
Emphasis on
hierarchical principles
and deferring to higher
authority or authorities
within the group.
Collateral (equal). Emphasis on

consensus within the extended group
of equals.
Individualistic.
Emphasis on the
individual or
individual families
within the group who
make decisions
independently from
others.
fate orientation toward nature, in which humans are subjugated to and victims of natural forces, while Chinese
culture places humans in nature and sees humans and nature as equal parties in a harmonious whole, and
American culture is oriented toward dominance over nature, in which the environment is to be put to the use of
human beings. These cultural value orientations are thus theoretically useful for between-group comparisons (e.g.,
Werner, Brown, & Altman, 1997) and have been empirically applied for this aim (for a review, see Hills, 2002).
Page 3 of 24

Hofstede
The Dutch social psychologist Geert Hofstede (1980) proposed four dimensions of cultural variability based on
impressive empirical data. He surveyed more than 88,000 employees of IBM from 72 countries (reduced to 40
countries with more than 50 responses each) and 20 languages, and later included 10 additional countries and 3
regions (i.e., Arab countries and East and West Africa). His work is arguably the most studied cultural values model
currently used and has led to a great deal of further research due to its heuristic value. Hofstede used an
ecological factor analysis, in which analysis is performed at the country level rather than at the level of individual
responses, to initially propose four basic value dimensions: individualism/collectivism, power distance, uncertainty
avoidance, and masculinity/femininity. Table 11.2 provides a description (p. 184)
Table 11.2 Cultural Value Dimensions Proposed by Hofstede
Hofstedes
dimensions
Description
Individualism
versus
collectivism
Integration of individuals into primary groups. In an individualistic society, people

are only supposed to take care of themselves and of their immediate families (e.g.,
Australia, United States, Netherlands). In a collectivistic society, there is a clearer distinction
between in-groups and out-groups, and people expect their in-group to look after them in
exchange of absolute loyalty to the in-group (e.g., Ecuador, Guatemala, Pakistan).
Power
distance
Different solutions to the basic problem of human inequality. In a society with high
power distance, people accept the fact that power in institutions and organizations is
distributed unequally, and the level of inequality is endorsed by the followers as much as by
the leaders (e.g., India, Malaysia, Panama). A society with lower power distance has less
tolerance to inequality (e.g., Austria, Denmark, New Zealand).
Uncertainty
avoidance
The level of stress in a society in the face of an unknown future. People in a

society with high uncertainty avoidance feel threatened by uncertain and ambiguous
situations and try to avoid these situations by creating societal mechanisms to foster
stability, such as formal rules, intolerance to deviant ideas and behaviors, and support to
absolute truths (e.g., Greece, Portugal, Belgium). People experience less stress to uncertain
and ambiguous situations in a society with low uncertainty avoidance (e.g., Singapore,
Jamaica, Hong Kong).
Masculinity
versus
femininity
Division of emotional roles between men and women. In a masculine society, there
is a higher degree of sex differentiation of roles and the dominant values are related to
assertiveness, the acquisition of money and things (e.g., Japan, Switzerland, Italy). In a
feminine society, the dominant values are related to caring for others and the quality of life
or people (e.g., Sweden, Norway, Costa Rica).
Long-term
versus
short-term
orientation
Choice of focus for peoples efforts, on the future or the present. In a society with
long-term orientation, people focus on future-oriented values such as persistence and thrift
(e.g., China, Japan, Brazil), whereas in a society with short-term orientation people focus on
past- and present-oriented values such as respect for tradition and fulfilling social
obligations (e.g., Philippines, United Kingdom, Canada)
of each dimension. Drawing from the findings of the Chinese Culture Connection (1987), he later introduced a fifth
dimension related to temporal orientation: short-term/long-term orientation (Hofstede, 2001; Hofstede & Bond,
1988).
None of Hofstedes dimensions are conceptually linked to environmental issues. However, his dimensions have
been empirically related to environmental engagement. For example, Hofstede (2001) correlated his dimensions to
Page 4 of 24

two questions from the Health of the Planet Survey (Dunlap, Gallup, & Gallup, 1993). One question asked whether
priority should be given to protecting the environment or to economic growth, and the second question asked
whether respondents would be willing to pay higher prices to protect the environment. The first question was
negatively correlated with power distance (r = -.42), indicating that respondents in countries with lower power
distance were more in favor of giving priority to the environment. The second question was negatively correlated
with both power distance (r = -.60) and masculinity (r = -.48). Hofstede also found similar results for public
acceptance of biotechnology in 12 European countries, with respondents from masculine, large power distance
cultures perceiving less threat from biotechnology. These findings suggest that the stronger the cultural emphasis
on masculinity and power distance, the less people will be concerned about environmental issues choosing to
instead rely on the judgment of the authorities to deal with such issues.
Despite these findings, researchers have tended to focus on the individualism-collectivism dimension. Schultz
(2002) used this dimension to explain the cross-cultural differences he found on emphasis attributed to egoistic or
biospheric environmental attitudes. As a result of the focus placed on an autonomous self in individualistic cultures,
individuals in those cultures could be expected to also place greater (p. 185) focus on egoistic attitudes. In
contrast, individuals in collectivist cultures would place greater focus on biospheric attitudes because of the focus
their culture places on relationships with others (which may also include the natural environment). Supporting this
argument, research has shown that individuals holding collectivist orientations tend to express higher
environmental concern than those holding individualist orientations (Arnocky, Stroink, & DeCicco, 2007; Clayton,
2003; Milfont, 2010; Olofsson & Ohman, 2006; Park, Levine, & Sharkey, 1998).
Schwartz
The American social psychologist Shalom Schwartz (1992, 1994a; Schwartz & Bilsky, 1987) expanded on
Rokeachs (1973) work to develop a broad model for classifying the dimensions of human values. Drawing from
large cross-cultural data, he proposed 10 value dimensions that manifest universally in individuals and 7
dimensions that appear at the cultural level of analysis. A number of cross-cultural studies have demonstrated the
usefulness of his model (e.g., Fontaine, Poortinga, Delbeke, & Schwartz, 2008; Spini, 2003).
Schwartz defines values as trans-situational goals ordered by importance that serve as guiding principles in life.
Examining the grouping of 56 value-items across 97 samples in 44 countries, Schwartz (1994a) observed the
emergence of 10 motivationally distinct types of values: achievement, hedonism, stimulation, self-direction,
universalism, benevolence, tradition, conformity, and security. These 10 motivational value types could, in turn, be
located in a two-dimensional value space, grouped into four higher order value clusters: openness to change
(values favoring change and independent thought and behavior), conservation (preservation of traditional
practices and stability), self-transcendence (concern for the welfare of others), and self-enhancement (pursuit of
ones own relative success and dominance over others). Schwartzs is the most widely used model of human
values and has been used to explain environmental engagement. Cross-cultural studies have shown that
environmental attitudes and behaviors are associated with greater levels of self-transcendence values and lower
levels of self-enhancement values (Milfont, Sibley, & Duckitt, 2010; Schultz et al., 2005; Schultz & Zelezny, 1998,
1999; Schwartz, Sagiv, & Boehnke, 2000).
Later, Schwartz (1994b, 1999; Smith & Schwartz, 1997) established equivalence for 45 of the 56 value-items and
proposed a theory of cultural values, defining these as the implicitly or explicitly shared abstract ideas about what
is good, right, and desirable in a society (Schwartz, 1999, p. 25). Using the same organizing principle used by
Kluckhohn, Schwartz argued that there are issues that all societies must confront, but instead of Kluckhohns five
problems, he proposed three basic issues with their resolutions leading to specific cultural dimensions. Table
11.3 provides a description of the resulting cultural dimensions. The first issue refers to the nature of the relations
between the individual and the group, which yields a cultural emphasis on conservatism (person viewed as an
entity embedded in the collective) on one pole of the dimension, and autonomy (person viewed as an autonomous
entity) at the other pole. The second issue refers to ensuring responsible behavior that preserves the social fabric,
which yields a cultural emphasis on hierarchy (socially responsible behavior ensured via power differences and
hierarchical systems) versus egalitarianism (socially responsible behavior ensured via voluntary cooperation and
recognition of others as moral equals). The third issue, which is most related to the context of this chapter, refers to
the relation of humans to the natural and social environment. This basic issue leaves societies with two possible
Page 5 of 24

approaches: either to fit harmoniously into the world and try to preserve it (harmony) or to exploit and change the
world (mastery). Further to this conceptual link with environmental issues, the harmony dimension is measured by
three value-items (unity with nature, protecting the environment, world of beauty) that overlap with environmental
engagement and could be posited to express a cultural emphasis on environmental values (see Steg & de Groot,
this volume, for more on this topic).
Cultural Theory
Cultural theory was originally proposed by the British anthropologist Mary Douglas, and further developed by other
scholars including American political scientist Aaron Wildavsky and British anthropologist Michael Thompson.
According to the theory, group and grid are the two dimensions of sociality that reflect ways of looking at the world
(Douglas, Thompson, & Verweij, 2003; Douglas & Wildavsky, 1982; Thompson, Grendstad, & Selle, 1999). The
group dimension refers to inclusion, or the claim of groups over members. High group indicates the extent to which
the life of an individual is absorbed and sustained by group membership, whereas low group indicates the extent to
which an individual avoids all group involvement. The grid dimension refers to classification, or the (p. 186)
Table 11.3 Cultural Value Dimensions Proposed by Schwartz
Schwartzs dimensions
Conservatism
Cultural emphasis on maintenance of the status quo, and restraint of actions or inclinations
that might disrupt the status quo or the traditional order (social order, respect for tradition,
family security) (e.g., Nepal, Malaysia, Georgia).
Autonomy
Cultural emphasis on individuals uniqueness and encouragement of expressing of their

own internal attributes, with two types. Intellectual autonomy refers to a cultural emphasis
on encouraging individuals pursuit of their own ideas and intellectual directions (curiosity,
broadmindedness, creativity) (e.g., Netherlands, French Canada, France). Affective
autonomy refers to a cultural emphasis on encouraging individuals pursuit of affective
positive experiences (pleasure, exciting life, varied life) (e.g., Greece, New Zealand, East
Germany).
Hierarchy
Cultural emphasis on the legitimacy of inequality in the distribution of power, roles, and
resources (social power, authority, wealth) (e.g., China, Zimbabwe, India).
Egalitarianism
Cultural emphasis on transcending selfish interests in favor of commitment to promoting the

welfare of others (equality, social justice, responsibility) (e.g., Finland, Italy, Netherlands).
Mastery
Cultural emphasis on succeeding through active self-assertion (ambition, success, daring)

(e.g., English Canada, United States, Japan).
Harmony
Cultural emphasis on fitting harmoniously into the environment rather than on changing or
exploiting it (unity with nature, protecting the environment, world of beauty) (e.g., Slovenia,
Estonia, Czech Republic).
degree to which social interaction is subject to rules. High grid indicates the extent to which there is an emphasis
on institutionalized classifications (based on class, social roles, ethnicity) in a society to regulate the interactions of
its members and keep individuals apart, whereas low grid indicates the extent to which there is less emphasis on
institutionalized regulations making individuals to negotiate their own relationships with other members in society.
The interplay of the group-grid dimensions produces a fourfold typology of social solidarities: individualism,
hierarchy, fatalism, and egalitarianism. Each of these four forms of social solidarities represent primary ways of
organizing, perceiving, and justifying social relations (see Table 11.4). The social solidarities also correspond to
particular myths of nature that are symbolized by the balance between the vulnerability of nature and
Page 6 of 24

environment-risky behavior (Steg & Sievers, 2000; Thompson, 2003). Figure 11.1 depicts the four forms of social
solidarities and their corresponding myths of nature and human nature. In this figure, the horizontal axis
(competition) refers to the social dimension, while the vertical axis (transactions) refers to the grid dimension. For
each myth of nature, the line or landscape symbolizes the vulnerability of nature, while the ball symbolizes the
environment-risky behavior (Table 11.4 provides more detail).
Since its inception, cultural theory has been applied to environmental risk assessment and management, and
empirical studies have examined the associations between the myths of nature and environmental engagement.
Research has shown that the four forms of social solidarity and myths of nature correspond to systematic
individual differences and that, in line with this theory, egalitarians show stronger environmental concerns
compared to individualists. These include higher awareness of the problems of car use and higher sense of
responsibility for these problems and their solutions (Steg & Sievers, 2000), preferences for environmental risk
management strategies related to energy use (Poortinga, Steg, & Vlek, 2002), environmental pollution concerns
(Dake, 1991), and self-reported environmental behavior (Grendstad & Selle, 1999).
These four forms of social solidarity are also related to other theoretical models used to understand cultural
differences. For example, Fiske (1992) proposed four patterns of social relationship associated with the universal
need to distribute resources in a society: communal sharing, authority ranking, equality matching, and market
pricing. The social solidarities are also related to the typology of vertical and horizontal individualism and
collectivism, in which Hofstedes dimensions of power distance and individualism-collectivism are combined to
create four constructs (Singelis, Triandis, Bhawuk, & Gelfand, 1995; Triandis & Gelfand, 1998). Hierarchy is related
to authority ranking and vertical collectivism; individualism is related to (p. 187)
Page 7 of 24
Table 11.4 Cultural Value Dimensions Proposed by Cultural Theory

Cultural Theorys dimensions
Hierarchy
Strong group involvement (high group) coupled with maximum regulation (high grid)
produces social relations that are hierarchical. In this form of social solidarity, there are
strong group boundaries and binding prescriptions. Individuals in this type of social
environment are subject to the control/influence of other individuals and the demand of
socially imposed roles. Inequality and autonomy are justified because imposing different
roles to different people allows them to live together harmoniously. The world is
controllable and nature is stable until pushed beyond discoverable limits set by certified
experts and authorities (hence the perverse/tolerant myth of nature in which the ball is
stable until pushed beyond certain limits). Hierarchists want to regulate the natural
environment from the top down. Hierarchy items measure support for authority and respect
for the past (One of the problems with people today is that they challenge authority too
often; The best way to provide for future generations is to preserve our customs and
heritage).
Individualism
Weak group involvement (low group) coupled with minimal regulation (low grid) produces
social relations that are individualistic. In this form of social solidarity, individuals are not
bound by group assimilation or prescribed roles. In this form of social solidarity, nature is a
resilient system able to recover from any exploitation (hence the benign myth of nature in
which the ball will always return to stability at the bottom of the landscape). Individualists
oppose collective control and view the market system with its self-regulated networks as
the best way to regulate the natural environment. Individualism items measure support for
equal opportunity and the accumulation of property (Everyone should have an equal
chance to succeed and fail without government interference; If people have the vision
and ability to acquire property, they ought to be allowed to enjoy it).
Egalitarianism
Strong group involvement (high group) coupled with minimal regulation (low grid) produces
social relations that are egalitarian. In this form of social solidarity, the natural environment
is seen as an intricately interconnected system with a delicate balance that may easily
collapse (hence the ephemeral myth of nature in which the ball has a fragile equilibrium).
As a result, egalitarians are concerned with environmental problems and favor a
concerted grassroots effort to solve these problems. Egalitarianism items measure
commitment to make things equal (What this world needs is a fairness revolution to make
the distribution of goods more equal; I support a tax shift so that the burden falls more
heavily on corporations and people with large incomes).
Fatalism
Weak group involvement (low group) coupled with maximum regulation (high grid)
produces social relations that are fatalistic. In this form of social solidarity, individuals are
non-actors and excluded from group membership but experience strong binding
prescriptions responsible for regulating their lives. Nature is seen as unpredictable and
unmanageable and having no clear principles (hence the capricious myth of nature in
which there is no obvious indication of the direction the ball will roll and the resulting
consequences). Fatalism items measure individual inefficacy and the futility of cooperation
(Cooperation with others rarely works; It seems that whomever you vote for, things go
on pretty much the same).
equality matching and horizontal individualism; egalitarianism is related to communal sharing and horizontal
collectivism; and fatalism is related to market pricing and vertical individualism.
Inglehart
Page 8 of 24

Figure 11.1 Four Forms of Social Solidarity and Their Associated Myths of Nature (adapted from
Thompson, 2003).
The American political scientist Ronald Inglehart has developed a model to explain the development of modern
societies that also addresses mass attitudes toward environmental problems. Based on data from the World Values
Survey, which comprises representative national surveys from many countries, Inglehart (1977) argued that the
increasing affluence and security achieved by industrial societies, especially after World War II, resulted in a shift
from materialist values (personal and national security, economic well-being) to post-materialist values (quality of
life, self-expression). He argued that this shift in values, led by economic prosperity and political security, resulted
in societies becoming more environmentally concerned. Although some variations were found across countries,
the overall finding from cross-cultural studies support this view by showing that the links between post-materialist
(p. 188) values and environmental protection are stronger than those between materialist values and
environmental protection (e.g., Grob, 1995; Inglehart, 1995; Olofsson & Ohman, 2006; Pierce, Lovrich, Tsurutani, &
Abe, 1987).
Several scholars have challenged Ingleharts post-materialist values thesis because of its underlying assumption
that concern for the environment can be found only among Western industrialized countries, and because of
empirical evidence showing that participants from poorer nations also express high levels of environmental
concern (for a discussion of this issue, see Social Science Quarterly, 78[1], March 1997). Indeed, Inglehart himself
recognized that a shift to post-materialist values is not the only factor that could explain environmental concern;
he later proposed a challenge-response model to explain public support for environmental protection not
accounted by his post-materialist values thesis (Inglehart, 1995). Environmental concern, he argued, is also
derived from direct experience of pollution and other environmental degradation. People who experience objective
environmental problems in their own country will be more willing to support environmental protection than those
who are not exposed to severe environmental problems. Environmental concern can thus be a response to
environmental challenges experienced in ones country. It worth noting that this view of greater environmental
concern linked to greater exposure to pollution and environmental degradation has long been proposed by the
environmental deprivation theory (Tremblay & Dunlap, 1978).
When combined, Ingleharts challenge-response model and the post-materialist values thesis are often referred to
as the objective problems, subjective values hypothesis, and both are important for understanding and
explaining global environmentalism (Brechin, 1999; Inglehart, 1995). According to this hypothesis, environmental
concern stems from a negative effect of experienced environmental degradation and/or from a positive effect of
post-materialist values.
The materialistpost-materialist value dimension is still used extensively to compare countries, even though
Inglehart went on to propose two different dimensions: one reflecting cross-cultural differences between survival
versus self-expression values (similar to materialistpost-materialist values) and another reflecting differences
between traditional versus secular-rational orientations toward authority (Inglehart, 1997). Analyses have (p. 189)
been conducted to locate societies based on these two dimensions (Inglehart, 1997; Inglehart & Baker, 2000).
Traditional societies (e.g., Nigeria, Pakistan, India) tend to have low levels of tolerance for abortion, divorce, and
homosexuality, and tend to emphasize religion, deference to parental authority, and the importance of family life,
while secular-rational societies (e.g., Germany, Japan, Norway) tend to have the opposite characteristics.
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Analyzing cross-cultural data from 65 societies surveyed by the World Values Survey, Inglehart and Baker (2000)
found that traditional values were positively correlated to an item expressing the view that environmental problems
can be solved without international agreements, and that survival values were positively correlated with items
measuring lack of environmental activism (has not recycled things and has not attended meetings or signed
petitions to protect the environment). These findings support the view that environmental concern is higher in
societies holding secular-rational and self-expression values.
Linking the Models

There are many commonalities among the theoretical models discussed above. First, the models either include a
specific cultural dimension related to human-environment interactions or incorporate environmental issues in their
premises. Second, the models focus (explicitly or implicitly) on value orientations from which national cultures can
be compared. Finally, studies have found empirical links between the constructs proposed by the models most
related to environmental engagement. For example, in comparing cultural theory with Ingleharts theory in a large
Norwegian sample, Grendstad and Selle (1999) found that egalitarianism correlated positively with post-materialist
values. They also found that egalitarianism was positively related to environmental concern, while post-materialism
values were not. Hofstede (2001) also reported correlations between his dimensions and the dimensions proposed
by Schwartz and Inglehart. For example, Schwartzs harmony was related to Hofstedes uncertainty avoidance (r =
.45) and mastery was related to masculinity (r = .53), while none of Hofstedes other dimensions correlated with
harmony and mastery.
Besides these commonalities, the main contribution of these theoretical models is the empirical identification of
meaningful dimensions of cultural variability, which allows researchers to place national cultures on these
dimensions. To the extent that these dimensions can be used to explain cultural variability, many studies have
incorporated them to understand cross-national differences on environmental engagement. Some of these studies
are reviewed below along with other recent studies examining culture influence on environmental engagement.
Cross-Cultural Studies on Environmental Engagement

There is an increasing interest in understanding and measuring environmental engagement across countries (e.g.,
Kaiser & Wilson, 2000; Milfont & Duckitt, 2010). Many large international surveys have also incorporated
environmentally related questions, including a 16-country survey (Louis Harris & Associates, 1989), the 24-country
Health of the Planet Survey (Dunlap et al., 1993), the World Values Survey discussed above, and the International
Social Survey Programme, which included environmentally focused surveys in 1993, 2000 and 2010. An increasing
number of publications also covers the area, including books and book chapters (e.g., Brett & Kopelman, 2004;
Ehlers & Gethmann, 2003; Garcia Mira, Cameselle, & Martinez, 2003; Gouveia, 2002; Werner et al., 1997). A
recent review of three large databases (PsycInfo, Web of Science and Scopus) identified more than 100 crosscultural studies published over the last 35 years related to environmental engagement, including the topics of
environmental concern, attitudes, beliefs, values or behavior (Milfont, Prez-Lpez, & Tabor, 2010).
This section provides a brief review of several kinds of cross-cultural studies, distinguishing those conducted at the
individual level of analysis and those conducted at the national culture level. Studies using individual-level analysis
focus on cross-cultural comparisons of individual average scores on particular measures, with individual
responses as the unit of analysis. Studies using culture-level analysis have national culture as the unit of analysis
and focus on country-level aggregate scores for cross-cultural comparisons (Leung, 1989). Studies using
multilevel analysis that incorporate both individual-level and country-level variables are reviewed in a separate
section. Variables examined at the country level are not always culture variables strictly speaking (e.g., cultural
values), but also incorporate macrolevel variables that might influence environmental engagement, such as the
countrys affluence and environmental quality.
(p. 190)
Individual-Level Studies
An increasing number of studies examine the influence of culture on environmental engagement and
environmental risk perception (Ando, Ohnuma, & Chang, 2007; Chan & Lau, 2001; Lvy-Leboyer, Bonnes, Chase,
& Ferreira-Marques, 1996; Lorenzoni, Leiserowitz, Doria, Poortinga, & Pidgeon, 2006). Additionally, research
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examining the relationship between individual values and environmental engagement comprise most of the crosscultural studies available (e.g., De Groot & Steg, 2007; Leiserowitz, Kates, & Parris, 2006; Milfont, Duckitt, &
Wagner, 2010; Milfont et al., 2010; Schultz et al., 2005; Schultz & Zelezny, 1998, 1999). This seems to follow a
trend in cross-cultural studies to use values as a way to unpack cultural differences in psychological
phenomena. These studies show that individuals holding altruistic, pro-social, post-materialist value orientations
tend to be more environmentally concerned.
Other studies have examined cross-cultural differences in the environmental attitudes of teachers and/or students
(e.g., Bogner & Wiseman, 1999; Muoz, Bogner, Clement, & Carvalho, 2009; Palmer et al., 1998; Uzzell et al.,
1994; Van Petegem & Blieck, 2006). For example, the PISA (Programme for International Student Assessment)
evaluates the academic performance of 15-year-old students across OECD (Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development) countries and other participating countries. With 400,000 students from 57 countries,
the PISA 2006 focus was on science and included questions on sense of responsibility toward resources and the
environment (OECD Programme for International Student Assessment, 2007). Although awareness of environmental
issues varied by country and was stronger for students performing better in science (see discussion of Pauw &
Van Petegems study below), within OECD countries 73% of the students said they were aware of the
consequences of clearing forests for other land use, 58% said they were aware of the increase of greenhouse
gases in the atmosphere, and 35% said they were aware of the use of genetically modified organisms. The
questionnaire also asked students to indicate whether selected environmental issues will improve or get worse
over the next 20 years. Some degree of pessimism was observed, with only 21% of students across OECD
countries indicating a belief that problems associated with energy shortages would improve over the next 20 years
and lesser percentages believing that other environmental issues would improve. The students most pessimistic
about the future of the environment were those with higher performance in science and who reported greater
awareness of environmental issues. This area of research is important because fostering care for the environment
at schools will undoubtedly lead to pro-environmental actions in the future (see Myers, this volume, for more on this
topic).
Cross-cultural temporal pessimism in environmental assessment is not limited to young people (Dunlap et al., 1993;
Dunlap & Mertig, 1995; Gifford et al., 2009). For example, Gifford et al. (2009) conducted a cross-cultural study in
18 nations to specifically investigate spatial optimism and temporal pessimism. Spatial optimism refers to the view
that environmental conditions are better here than there, while temporal pessimism refers to the view that
environmental conditions will get worse. They included the assessment of 20 environmental conditions, including
the availability of fresh drinking water, quality of air, environmental impact of vehicle traffic, and the effects of
greenhouse gases. Gifford et al. observed a cross-cultural trend for both spatial optimism and temporal pessimism.
Positive assessments of environmental conditions decreased as spatial distance increased (i.e., environmental
conditions are better in my local area than in my country, which are better than the situation globally) and
assessments about the future of the environment were negative (i.e., environmental conditions will get worse in 25
years compared to now). Spatial optimism was also observed in a number of other studies (Dunlap et al., 1993;
Milfont, Abrahamse, & McCarthy, 2011; Uzzell, 2000). Gifford et al. (2009) also performed country-level analysis by
correlating assessments of current national conditions and spatial optimism scores with the 2005 Environmental
Sustainability Index. They found that countries with higher sustainability scores were those in which respondents
had more spatial optimism and had a more positive assessment of their countrys current environmental conditions.
Culture-Level Studies
Gouveia (2002) examined the associations between Schwartzs cultural values and economic, environmental,
institutional, and social indicators of sustainable development across 30 countries. By combining cultural values
into self-centered (egalitarianism, intellectual autonomy) and social-centered (harmony, conservatism) values, he
created individualist and collectivist scores. Individualist (p. 191) cultural values were negatively (albeit
nonsignificantly) related to a general index of sustainable development, while collectivist cultural values were
strongly and positively related to the sustainable development index. His findings support the individual-level
studies linking collectivistic orientations and concern for the environment as discussed above.
Oreg and Katz-Gerro (2006) analyzed data from the 2000 International Social Survey Programme across 27
countries and used structural equation modeling to test a mediating model of the influence of values on ecological
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behavior. Their model posited that values precede environmental concern, which precedes intention (i.e.,
willingness to sacrifice for the environment), which in turn precedes ecological behavior. The full model can be
depicted as: values environmental concern/perceived threat willingness to sacrifice for the environment
ecological behavior and perceived behavioral control willingness to sacrifice behavior. Overall, the mediating
model was supported. More important, they found that Ingleharts post-materialist values were positively related to
environmental attitudes but that Schwartzs harmony values were unexpectedly weakly and negatively related.
The authors discussed this unexpected finding in terms of methodological limitations of the data. Nevertheless, the
findings suggest that harmony values are negatively associated with environmental engagement, which
contradicts the view postulated above.
However, other studies provide support for the view that Schwartzs harmony values are equivalent to
environmental values. First, Hofstede (2001) critiqued the theoretical argument that harmony and mastery are two
opposite poles on a single dimension dealing with the environment. Second, Milfont and Sibley (2012, Study 3)
empirically examined the associations between harmony values and three other indices of country-level
environmental indicators across 36 countries: (1) country-level scores on the New Environmental Paradigm (NEP)
Scale (Hawcroft & Milfont, 2010); (2) the 2010 Environmental Performance Index (EPI, retrieved from
http://epi.yale.edu), which ranks countries based on their scores on 25 performance indicators; and (3) an
environmental concern score derived from 9 items from the 2000 International Social Survey Programme data (ISSP
2000, Franzen & Meyer, 2010). Correlations showed that harmony values were associated with the EPI 2010 (r =
0.49, p < .01, N = 29), but not significantly associated with country-level NEP score (r = 0.41, p > .05, N = 15) or
the ISSP 2000 (r = -0.01, p > .10, N = 14), which might be due to small sample size. Similar results were reported
by Gouveia (2002), who found a strong correlation (0.66) between harmony values and his environmental
development index. These associations support the view of harmony as measuring environmental values and
provide a reliability test for these values as country-level indicators of environmental engagement.
Another large country-level study used publicly available data to investigate the relationships between the
Environmental Performance Index and socioeconomic and sociopolitical variables across 168 countries (Mukherjee
& Chakraborty, 2010). The researchers observed a linear relationship between environmental quality and both
political freedom and level of corruption, with environmental quality being higher in countries with greater political
freedom and a greater ability to control corruption. In contrast, they observed an S-shaped curve for the
relationships between environmental performance and both per capita gross domestic product and Human
Development Index. This index is a country-level measure of human development comprising three components:
health (life expectancy at birth), education (adult literacy rate and educational attainment), and living standards
(gross national income per capita). The nonlinear relationship indicates that environmental quality increases with
income and human development, decreases with further rise of both, and then starts to increase again. That is,
environmental quality initially increases as a result of wealth and living standards until reaching a peak from which
it starts to decrease due to intensified economic activities, but with further rises in wealth and living standards,
environmental quality starts to increase again. These findings suggest that environmental quality increases with
income and human development up to a point, but it is still not clear what that point is or the basis for saying what
stage of development is represented.
A more recent study has examined the association between environmental quality and time perspective by
integrating country-level data on time orientation dimensions from 73 countries (Milfont & Gapski, 2010). Factor
analysis yielded two time orientation factors: Factor 1 grouped data measuring how cultures assign different
meanings to past, present, and future temporal frames, with an emphasis on future orientation (fast pace of life,
planning, and investing in the future), while Factor (p. 192) 2 grouped data measuring how cultures assign
different meanings to time horizons, with an emphasis on long-term orientation (enduring goals, long-standing
plans). Factor scores were computed and correlated with other country-level variables, including per capita gross
national product, the 2007 Human Development Index, and the 2010 Environmental Performance Index. Factor 1
was negatively related to a countrys environmental quality, while positively related to national wealth and level of
human development. Correlations for Factor 2 were nonsignificant. The negative association between country-level
time orientation and environmental engagement contrasts with the positive associations found at the individual
level (e.g., Corral-Verdugo, Fraijo-Sing, & Pinheiro, 2006; Milfont & Gouveia, 2006), and highlights the fact that
individual-level correlations are not necessarily aligned with country-level correlations (this is discussed under
Ecological Fallacy below). Inconclusive findings on the association between time perspective and environmental
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engagement at the country-level were also reported in a recent article by Hofstede and Minkov (2012). Although
arguing that long-term orientation should affect how societies handle its natural environment, they observe that
China is a large polluter despite having a high long-term orientation.
Multilevel Studies
Some recent studies have used multilevel models to assess the combined effect of individual-level and countrylevel variables in explaining environmental attitudes. Cross-cultural studies often work with multilevel data. These
data sets have a hierarchical structure in which observations at the individual level of analysis are nested within
observations at the culture level of analyses (see Nezlek, 2011; Raudenbush & Bryk, 2002). In multilevel analyses,
the effects of variables in each level of analysis on the outcome variable are estimated while controlling for the
other variables, and cross-level interaction can also be estimated.
Although not strictly using multilevel modeling techniques, Kemmelmeier, Krol, and Young (2002) examined
individual-level and country-level variables in explaining environmental attitudes across 22 countries that took part
in the 1993 International Social Survey Programme. At the individual level they observed no consistent effects of
age and sex on willingness to protect the environment (measured by three economy-vs.-environment trade-off
items), but environmental protection was higher for those holding post-materialist values and with higher levels of
education and income. At the country level, they found a linear relationship between a countrys wealth (measured
by the gross national product per capita) and both post-materialist values and environmental protection, so that
greater affluence is related to higher post-materialism and greater willingness to protect the environment. The
authors also tested the mediating role of post-materialist values on the associations between affluence and
environmental protection at both levels of analysis. This mediating model is derived from Ingleharts theory and
posits that post-materialist values can explain the impact of economic prosperity on environmental engagement.
However, this position was not supported; the effect of personal income and the countrys wealth on environmental
protection was not mediated by post-materialist values. Instead, they observed a cross-level interaction: the
correlation between personal income and environmental protection was greater in countries that had experienced
recent economic growth (for another study using the same data set, see Ignatow, 2006).
Using data from the World Values Survey and European Values Study, Gelissen (2007) examined how support for
environmental protection (measured by two economy-vs.-environment trade-off items) could be explained by a
number of variables at the individual level (age, sex, household income, post-materialist values, environmental
involvement, and educational attainment) and country level (national wealth, growth in national wealth, societallevel post-materialist values, and objective environmental problemsincluding population density, and air and
water quality). Examining variables at the individual level first, Gelissen observed that older individuals with higher
income who held post-materialist values, who were actively committed to environmental organizations either by
membership or volunteer work, and with higher levels of educational attainment were those with greater willingness
to make financial sacrifices to protect the environment. Unexpectedly, male and female participants did not differ
on their support for environmental protection in this analysis. (Female participants often hold higher environmental
concern and pro-environmental behavior than their male counterparts [see, e.g., Milfont & Duckitt, 2010; Zelezny,
Chua, & Aldrich, 2000].) Examining country-level variables, Gelissen found that (surprisingly) national wealth was
negatively related to public support for environmental protection, (p. 193) while higher levels of post-materialist
values and growth in national wealth were related to greater public willingness to make financial sacrifices for the
environment. None of the measures of objective environmental problems was significantly related to support for
environmental protection. Taken as a whole, these findings support Ingleharts post-materialist values thesis while
rejecting his objective problems thesis.
Liu and Sibley (2010) examined in 34 countries the association between perceived importance of global warming
and participants willingness to make sacrifices in their standard of living to protect the environment; they also
examined whether human development in the country would moderate that association. First, they observed that
older and female participants were more willing to make sacrifices to protect the environment, and that greater
importance placed on global warming was predictive of intention to make sacrifices. More important, they examined
cross-level interaction effects in which observations at the individual level interact with observations at the country
level. As they predicted, Human Development Index moderated the effect of perceived importance of global
warming on willingness to make sacrifices to ones living standard to protect the environment. That is, the influence
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of perceived importance of global warming on intention to make sacrifices for the environment was higher in
countries with higher standard of living than in those with lower standard of living.
Another recent study used data from both the 1993 and 2000 International Social Survey Programmes to examine
cross-cultural differences in environmental concern (Franzen & Meyer, 2010). They examined whether
environmental concern could be explained by individual-level variables (age, sex, years of education, relative
income within country, post-materialist values, knowledge about environment, and perceived environmental
quality) and country-level variables (affluence, income inequality, educational participation, proportion of postmaterialists, environmental quality, proportion of urban population, and population density). All individual-level
variables had an effect on environmental concern independently of the others. Environmental concern was highest
for younger and female participants, for those with higher income and education level, and for those holding postmaterialist values, those having environmental knowledge, and those with a negative perception of environmental
quality. At the country level, only wealth was significantly related to environmental concern, with concern higher in
wealthier countries. Another consistent result across the 1993 and 2000 ISSP data sets was the effect of individual
income on environmental concern. This relationship was nonlinear, showing that concern increases to a marginally
declining degree with income. Overall, these findings support others (e.g., Diekmann & Franzen, 1999) suggesting
that affluence is a stronger predictor of environmental engagement than post-materialist values.
Finally, another recent study used the 2006 PISA data to examine the influence of individual-level variables (sex,
science performance, family socioeconomic background) and country-level variables (Human Development Index,
indices of environmental quality of the countries) on environmental attitudes (Pauw & Van Petegem, 2010). The
results indicated that environmental attitudes were greater for 15-year-old students who were female, with a higher
performance in science and coming from a more advantaged family background. Surprisingly Human Development
Index had no significant effect on students environmental attitudes, whereas the environmental quality of their
country of origin was a significant predictor. Environmental attitudes were higher for students in countries with
more polluted environments, which is in line with the environmental deprivation theory (Tremblay & Dunlap, 1978)
and Ingleharts (1995) challenge-response model.
Linking the Findings

Taken as a whole, results from the studies reviewed above and others enable us to summarize pan-cultural effects.
At the individual level of analysis, consistent cross-cultural findings show that environmental engagement is
positively related to being female, post-materialist values, higher income, educational level, environmental
knowledge, and negative assessment of environmental quality. At the country level of analysis, there is strong
evidence that affluence and certain value orientations, such as self-expression/post-materialist values, lead to
higher environmental engagement.
But despite these convergences, it is still unclear what are the main country-level determinants of environmental
engagement. Two important hypotheses arising from Ingleharts models still need further testing. First, there is the
hypothesis related to objective problem and subjective values, in which environmental engagement is a (p. 194)
result of either a shift from survival/materialist to self-expression/post-materialist values or the experience of
concrete environmental degradation. Second, there is the hypothesis related to modernization and affluence, in
which environmental engagement is a result of an increase in income and human development. A number of
studies have made a start on testing these hypotheses but no consensus has so far been reached (e.g., Diekmann
& Franzen, 1999; Franzen & Meyer, 2010; Kemmelmeier et al., 2002).
Methodological Considerations for Evaluating and Designing Cross-Cultural Studies

Large international surveys are often well financed and follow strict methodological procedures in questionnaire
translation and data collection. However, even such studies are not immune to methodological difficulties (see,
e.g., Dunlap et al., 1993), and researchers aiming to gather cross-cultural data should consider the design of their
studies very carefully. This section outlines practical methodological concepts for evaluating and designing crosscultural studies. These concepts have been extensively discussed in publications in the area of cross-cultural
psychology, and their detailed discussion is beyond the scope of this chapter, but given the increasing number of
cross-cultural studies in environmental psychology, even a brief discussion of the issues outlined below seems
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warranted for this developing field (for a fuller discussion of methodological issues in cross-cultural research see
Berry, Poortinga, Segall, & Dasen, 2002; Matsumoto & van de Vijver, 2011; Neumayer, 2002; van de Vijver &
Leung, 1997).
Culture as an Independent or Moderating Variable

Cross-cultural studies are based mostly on quasi-experimental designs. In contrast to true experiments, such
studies compare previously existing, intact groups; subjects cannot be randomly assigned to culture as a
treatment or experimental manipulation; and culture is beyond experimental control (van de Vijver & Leung, 1997).
Cross-cultural studies can be further classified in terms of the role of culture in the relationships being investigated.
In cross-cultural studies using culture as an independent variable, observed differences between cultural groups
on environmental attitudes and behavior are attributed to culture. Culture can also be considered as a moderating
variable. There are at least three ways to examine moderating effects of culture: (1) one can first test whether
people from various countries are significantly different on, say, environmental engagement and then, based on
these differences, use country as a moderator; (2) one can test the moderating effects of culture using actual
assessments of the cultural variable of interest (e.g., post-materialist values, individualism-collectivism
orientations); or (3) one can first test the moderating effects of the cultural variable and then determine whether
country explains additional variance (see Kirkman, Lowe, & Gibson, 2006). These approaches are useful when
designing a study and are important for the proper unpacking of cross-cultural differences.
Ecological Fallacy
Ecological fallacy is the incorrect assumption that relationships occurring at the country level of analysis (or
another aggregate or higher ecological level) are necessarily the same at the the individual level of analysis
(Jargowsky, 2005). This fallacy often arises in cross-cultural studies when culture-level characterization is used ex
post facto to explain relationships between variables at the individual level without any empirical justification. For
example, it is an ecological fallacy to assume that all members of individualistic cultures hold individualistic values
and that all members of collectivistic cultures hold collectivistic values, or to assume that because a strong and
positive correlation was found between societal post-materialist values and environmental concern, the correlation
between these two variables will have the same direction and strength for individuals. The reverse ecological
fallacy occurs when it is assumed that relationships between variables at the individual level correspond to the
same relationships at the culture level.
Distinction Between Emic and Etic Approaches

Cross-cultural researchers have drawn an interesting distinction between emic and etic approaches to crosscultural research (Berry, 1969). The emic approach is linked to a cultural perspective in psychology in which
behavior is approached as culture-specific, and criteria to understand behavior are relative to internal
characteristics and are understood in the cultures own terms. In contrast, the etic approach is linked to a
comparative perspective in psychology in which behavior is approached as culture-general and universal, and
behavior is examined and compared across many cultures. The emic-etic distinction (p. 195) is useful for
categorizing studies but can limit the development of cross-cultural research if an emphasis is placed on the
shortcomings and pitfalls of each approach instead of a focus on their interdependency. This is because local
knowledge and interpretations (the emic approach) are essential, but more than one study is required in order to
be able to relate variations in cultural context to variations in behaviour (the etic approach) (Berry, 1999, p. 166).
With a focus on the contributions of each approach, there is a clearer recognition of the existence of both culturespecific and culture-general aspects of a given phenomenon. For example, the use of clothing can be argued to be
a universal human phenomenon, as it is observed across cultures, but at the same time variations in terms of its
use and style are also observed. As a result, scholars in the area now emphasize a three-step process from
imposed etics (where a construct from one culture is applied to another), to emics, to finally derived etics (where
imposed etics is combined with emics to formulate knowledge that is valid cross-culturally) (Berry, 1999; Berry et
al., 2002). First, psychological knowledge and perspectives are transported and tested in other cultures to assess
their validity (e.g., use of an environmental attitude measure in another country). Second, new aspects of the given
phenomenon are explored and discovered in the local culture (e.g., adapting and/or adding items to the measure).
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Finally, the knowledge produced from these first two approaches is integrated to achieve a more universal
description of the psychological phenomenon (e.g., validation of the measure across cultural groups). Research by
Schwartz (1992) and Leung and Bond (2004) are good examples of the use of this three-step process and could
guide research in our field.
Issues of Equivalence and Bias

Besides the more conceptual topics just reviewed, issues of equivalence and bias are important methodological
aspects to consider when designing and analyzing data from multiple groups. Cross-cultural studies often compare
groups on psychological variables, and an assumption is made that the scales used measure the same
psychological construct in all groups. Despite its appeal, this assumption is often not justified and needs to be
tested to see whether the measures are equivalent across the cultural groups investigated. Indeed, the
establishment of measurement equivalence is a prerequisite for meaningful comparisons across groups. If the
appropriate tests are performed and the measures are shown to be equivalent, then cross-cultural comparisons
are valid and differences or similarities between cultural groups can be meaningfully interpreted. However,
comparisons and interpretations are not fully meaningful if measurement equivalence has not been established.
Four levels of equivalence can be distinguished (Fontaine, 2005): (1) functional equivalence implies that the
theoretical variable of interest, say, environmental attitudes, has the same psychological meaning across the
cultural groups; (2) structural equivalence implies that observed variables, say, items from an environmental
attitudes measure, refer to the same latent variable in each of the groups; (3) metric equivalence implies that the
weight parameter (i.e., measurement unit) between observed and latent variables, say, associations between items
and the latent construct, has the same value across the cultural groupsthus allowing cross-cultural comparisons
of score patterns; and (4) full-score or scalar equivalence implies that both the weight and intercept parameters
(i.e., origin of measurement unit) of the relationship between observed and latent variables have the same values
across the cultural groups. Lack of equivalence is likely to arise from multiple causes, including cultural specificity
of the theoretical variable of interest, domain underrepresentation, and measurement problems such as method
and item biases (Fontaine, 2005; van de Vijver & Leung, 1997).
Although it is a challenging task to achieve measurement invariance in cross-cultural research, equivalence is a
prerequisite to the meaningful evaluation of group differences. A group mean comparison on a scale can be
meaningfully conducted and interpreted only if the scale items have the same meaning in each of the comparison
groups. If the scale items denote one thing to one group and something different for another groupbecause of
poor translation, cultural specificity of item contents, and so onno comparison can be made.
Suppose we are interested in measuring peoples feelings of guilt for not acting more environmentally. Research
has shown that guilt feelings is an important variable in models trying to predict pro-environmental intentions
(Bamberg & Mser, 2007; Kaiser, Schultz, Berenguer, Corral-Verdugo, & Tankha, 2008). Research has also shown
that guilt can be understood as a communal-oriented emotion related to reactions such as norm violation, damage,
repair, and others expectations (Fontaine et al., 2006). The importance of interpersonal (p. 196) relationships in
guilt means that guilt feelings might vary from one culture to another. In collectivist cultures where the self is deeply
connected with family, friends, and the group, guilt feelings regarding environmental inaction could be expected to
be higher than in individualistic cultures. Despite this reasonable hypothesis, however, one could meaningfully
compare and interpret group mean differences only after establishing that the guilt feelings measure is equivalent
across the groups.
Many authors have discussed ways of identifying and addressing measurement equivalence (Chen, 2008; Cheung
& Rensvold, 1999; Fischer & Fontaine, 2011; Milfont & Fischer, 2010; Steenkamp & Baumgartner, 1998; van de
Vijver & Leung, 1997, 2011; Vandenberg & Lance, 2000). In particular, a study by Milfont, Duckitt, and Cameron
(2006) provided an application of measurement invariance testing in the area of environmental psychology.
Conclusions and Future Directions

This introductory review reveals substantial interest in exploring cultural differences in environmental engagement.
The meaningful dimensions of cultural variability now available can help the selection of national cultures or
cultural groups aimed at answering questions of theoretical significance, instead of using data collection driven by
Page 16 of 24

an easy availability of participants from two or more cultural groups. Researchers have progressed beyond simply
pointing out similarities and differences between groups on indicators of environmental engagement, to focus on
the development and empirical testing of theoretical models that can explain those similarities and differences.
The majority of studies have examined cultural differences at the individual level of analysis, but the past few years
have seen the emergence of country-level studies. More significantly, many recent studies have employed
multilevel strategies to simultaneously examine the effect of both individual-level and country-level variables in
explaining environmental engagement. Theoretical development in dimensions of cultural variability and the
availability of socioeconomic indicators mean that researchers can better examine the effect of country-level
indicators on environmental engagement.
Some aspects not discussed in this chapter should be noted, including indigenous perspectives in humanenvironment interactions (e.g., Gbel, 2001; James, 1993). This chapter can be regarded as taking a Westernized
and colonizers perspective, and viewpoints of indigenous peoples are essential for a complete understanding of
human interaction with their surrounding environment. The chapter has also taken a causal approach in which
culture influences views of the environment, but the reverse influence of the environment on culture also needs to
be considered. A dialectic perspective on the mutual influence of culture and environment is important to better
understand human-environment interactions (for such a holistic approach, see Werner et al., 1997). For example,
there is evidence that climate (combined with affluence) has an important role in the creation of national cultures
(Van de Vliert, 2009). How both climate and affluence determine cultural emphasis on environmental protection
would be an interesting area to be addressed in future studies.
Future directions for the field include the more extensive use of multilevel modeling for analyzing hierarchical,
cross-cultural data, and not merely using culture as an independent variable but also designing studies to test the
moderating role of cultural variables in explaining environmentally relevant constructs. To create the new
generation of research addressing cross-cultural differences in environmental engagement, theoretical and
methodological approaches developed and used in other fields could be drawn upon, especially those in crosscultural psychology. The increasing environmental problems we face mean that we will be forced to become more
environmentally conscious. And as this chapter has shown, culture plays a major role in the development of
environmental engagement.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the 2010 students from the Environmental Psychology Research Group at the Victoria
University of Wellington, P. Wesley Schultz, Ross Galbreath, and Aidan Tabor, for their helpful comments on an
earlier draft of this chapter.
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Taciano L. Milfont
Taciano L. Milfont Centre for Applied Cross-Cultural Research School of Psychology Victoria University of Wellington Wellington,
New Zealand
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Cities

Cities
Gabriel Moser
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0012

This chapter considers urban territory as a place where more than half of the world population lives. After an
objective description of the perceptions and images associated with a city, the physical and social environmental
urban conditions are reviewed and their impact on the behavior and sociability of city dwellers is analyzed. City
dwellers have been observed to have specific adaptive behavior patterns and sociability within the constraints
imposed by urban stress and the bad conditions of urban life. Current city developments and especially the
growing disparity within the population raises the question of the appropriation of the overall urban infrastructure
and of a way of living together in cooperative harmony from the standpoint of an urban citizenship, indispensable
for the sustained development of the megapoles of today.
Keywords: urban environment, urban stressors, living conditions, density, adaptive behaviors, civility, social relationships, interpersonal
relationships, appropriation, urban identity, urban dweller, sustainable development of cities
Introduction
Since the early 20th century, along with industrialization, populations across the globe have been concentrating in
large urban structures. Cities spread out and transformed themselves in vast agglomerations. Today more than half
of the worlds population lives in cities, many of them in urban structures of more than 10 million inhabitants, socalled megapoles, which offer particular living conditions. They give shelter to a diverse population from a wide
range of backgrounds. This intermingling of cultures is certainly enriching, but it raises the problem of living
together in cooperative harmony. Moreover, the built-up area, the physical urban environment (noise, pollution),
and the social environment (density) trigger a number of repercussions on behavior patterns and conduct through
the conditions of daily life, as well as on the individuals interpersonal relations. These different aspects of the
urban environment and the adjustments that result from them imply that the inhabitants of big cities have to face
conditions that certainly make them more flexible, but at the same time expose them to more risks in their physical
and mental health. And this is all the more true for those living in mediocre conditions, or in disastrous conditions,
as is the case in the ever-present shantytowns in most big agglomerations over the world.
The inhabitants of the big metropolises are often identified as such by their behavior. In this chapter, we will focus
on objective urban characteristics and the perception of cities and different behavior patterns identified in the
literature, as well as on urban sociability and the development of interpersonal relationships. The cornerstone of
sustainable development of metropolises is the appropriation not only of the residential neighborhood but also of
the city, itself a beneficiary of the individuals (p. 204) investment in the urban territory and in a certain social
cohesion. It is only under these conditions that an urban identity can develop, based on the physical as well as on
the social aspects of the city. These different aspects are dealt with from a descriptive and perceptive view of the
urban environment, city life, and typical urban behavior patterns. A final paragraph brings together the urban
identity through the appropriation of the urban infrastructure and a certain social cohesion, conditions for the
Page 1 of 21
Cities
transition of the city dweller into an urban citizen concerned with sustainability.
The Urban Environment

The constant growth of the city population is due to the fact that cities offer a great variety of cultural, social, and
material options to their inhabitants. But their attractiveness goes along with a mostly uncontrolled growing and
spreading out, which is accompanied by particular conditions that negatively affect daily living of city dwellers.
Cities as Specific Environments

The more cities grow, the more they seem to lose their structure. Not only are the transformations into
agglomerations noticeable in the structure of the built-up area but they also modify the activities of their
inhabitants.
According to Lefebvre (1970), the traditional city has three essential functions that distinguish it from loosestructured agglomerations: (1) an information function: the city is a perpetual source of information and the street
occupies a central place in it; (2) a symbolic function: the architecture, the monuments, and the urban
infrastructure form a social and cultural whole; and (3) an amusement function: enjoyable activities, such as
games that bring people together, a variety of planned and chance encounters, the street as spectacle
Nowadays the traditional city, structured with a center of attraction and its own history, has been transformed into
diffuse agglomerations composed of heterogeneous zones. Its expansion blurs the distinction between town and
country, which is disappearing and being replaced by the notion of agglomeration, bringing together town and
periphery (the center and suburbs nearby and farther away).
For Proshansky (1978), the city is a huge collection of people and activities concentrated in a given geographical
place and destined to facilitate the dimensions of human life representing an organized society. Barker (1968 ;
Barker and Gump 1964; Barker and Wright, 1995) considered the city as an aggregate of behavioral sites, an
organizational framework, with its facilities, behavioral resources, and activities. But as a collection of overcrowded
behavioral sites, the city makes it more difficult for its inhabitants to directly involve themselves in collective
activities, such as charity organizations, occasional help, and so on. This brings about a lowering in service
performance and a lessening of individual responsibility and attention paid to others.
The presence of a large number of different people in a restricted area is often considered to be the essential
characteristic of a big city (Sadalla & Stea, 1978). The city is likely to modify behavior patterns reflecting the citys
characteristics: (1) The physical aspect: the buildings compartmentalize the space (transport, roads, housing,
commercial centers, and factories) and also as a consequence compartmentalize the users of these different
spaces. (2) The functional aspect: each built-up area has a specific function. (3) The cognitive aspect: the built-up
area provides a framework for and acts as a guide to individual performances. (4) The affective aspect: the whole
environment stirs the emotions. It is perceived and evaluated following personal values and cultural norms. In this
way it is capable of providing a feeling of security and of being protected or, on the contrary, of giving individuals a
feeling of insecurity. (5) The social aspect: the capacity of the environment to match the specific needs of the
individual.
Zeisel (1975, 2006) pointed to the importance of taking into account peoples needs in relation to their built-up
environment. Needs are meant to apply to all sizes of environments, that is to say, just as much at a microlevel
(individual housing) as at an intermediate level (neighborhood, residential blocks) and at a macrolevel (cities,
agglomerations). Five needs can be identified: a need for security, a need for clarity and readability, a need for
privacy, a need for social interaction (the built-up environment must make interaction easier as well as enabling
isolation), a need for identity (the environment should favor identity through the relationship the individual creates
with it). Do todays cities meet the needs of their inhabitants? Sustainable cities cannot be achieved without
reference to local culture and local needs and therefore also by taking into account the inhabitants and their
needs. People do have environmental concerns, and the lack of environmental quality may be seen as an
important threat to their well-being and thus impeding sustainability (Moser,2009).
(p. 205) Characteristics of the Urban Environment
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Cities can be characterized by the opportunities and facilities they offer their inhabitants: school and educational
opportunities, health care resources, leisure pursuits, cultural aspects. They can also be characterized by their
principal activity (tourism, industry, commerce, university, or a mix), and they are often the mirror of their
inhabitants, for example, industrial cities, touristic places, university cities (Thorndike, 1939). Cities are meant to
determine behavior by providing the context in which practices are shaped (Wicker, 1979; Wirth, 1938).
Big cities are perceived as culturally diverse, allowing for a free choice of the type or style of life, tolerant but
overcrowded, noisy, exacerbating competition, anonymous, producing isolation, impersonal, and encouraging
mistrust (Krupat, 1985). Noise and pollution, problems of security, inadequate facilities in the neighborhood, and
lack of satisfactory transport are repeatedly mentioned by city dwellers as threatening their quality of life (Rizk,
2003). On the other hand, small towns are perceived as calm, safe, healthy, intimate, and relaxing, but the people
are too concerned by what their neighbors are doing and do not like strangers. In a general way, city dwellers
seem to be less satisfied and less optimistic about life than country dwellers (Hynson, cited in Krupat, 1985).
The research concerning the perception of the city highlights the very personal knowledge of the people.
Evaluations are based on four dimensions: an evaluative aspect of the environment (beautiful, rich); the presence
of activity (busy, noisy); the spatial configuration of the buildings (horizontal, open); and the descriptive aspect
(uniform, dense). Others have looked into the emblematic aspects of some cities (Milgram, 1970). In a research
by questionnaire built on critical incidents, the author shows that New York is characterized by its physical
attributes: its diversity, its size, its rhythm of life, the cultural opportunities it offers, the heterogeneity of its
population, and the respective isolation of the different urban communities; London by its tolerance and the
courteous relations between its inhabitants. Paris is the subject of evaluations focusing as much on its architectural
aspects as on the special nature of its inhabitants: Parisians are perceived as being cold and unfriendly, even
hostile; others mention the cafs, parks, and gardens illustrating the citys charm.
Environmental Stressors and Urban Living Conditions

People need stimulation, complexity, novelty, and excitement (Geller, 1980; Geller, Cook, OConnor, & Low, 1982).
The environment is perceived and lived differently according to each persons necessities and the city is an
environment that does not necessary correspond with everyones life preferences. For some people the city with
its opportunities is the ideal place. For these people the relative understimulation of rural life is certainly a less
than attractive prospect.
The city makes people smart in as far as they are confronted by a whole batch of novel situations of different kinds
that they learn to face with flexibility (Proshansky, 1978). Nevertheless, most of the time citizens are exposed to
visual and sound stimulations as well as high population density. Urban environments display three specific
aspects: the prevailing physical conditions (essentially noise and air pollution), the social conditions (density), and
overstimulation (exposure to a high number and variety of stimulations). Furthermore, the multiplication of visual
and auditory stimuli to which the city dwellers are exposed is a constant informational overload, which increases
fatigue. Generally, people are more likely to perceive environmental problems when they can hear (noise), see
(smoke), smell, or feel them (Baum, Singer, & Baum, 1982; Evans & Cohen, 1987). Noise is the most spectacular
stress to which city dwellers are exposed on a daily basis. It is the most frequently mentioned form of stress and
the one that leads to the highest amount of complaints. One-fourth of urbanites are exposed to at least one loud
noise at work, at home, or during transportation on a daily basis (Lvy-Leboyer, 1978). Cities also often
accumulate different forms of density due to population concentrations. City dwellers may be exposed to social
density outdoors (high number of individuals in the same place) and to spatial density in their habitat (lack of space
per person).
The image of city life differs according to the size of the agglomeration (Wright, 1967). Franck (1980) showed that
students newly arrived in a big city admit to more stress than those who arrive in a medium-sized city. It has been
noted that city dwellers complain more about problems they have with their physical environment (pollution, noise,
density) than with their social environment (poor people, beggars, alcoholics, dirty individuals, etc.). But one must
not forget that city dwellers are almost (p. 206) unanimously ready to sacrifice the environment for their careers,
careers that are clearly followed more in big urban centers than in a rural setting (Lvy-Leboyer & Veyssire,
1978).
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Citizens not only are exposed to environmental stress factors, but also face bad living conditions. Urban mobility is
more constraining than in small towns: commuting daily from residence to the workplace and facing frequent
gridlock or crowded mass transit increases the stress of city dwellers. Their spare time is compressed because of
larger commuting duration, and there is less time available for social interactions. Compared to inhabitants of small
towns, city dwellers experience overall ever-increasing difficulties of access to various services due to increased
competition (subway, taxis, lining up for services, etc.). And bureaucratic formalism is also more frequent in big
cities than in small towns.
However, despite being generally more exposed to environmental stress factors, the inhabitants of big cities, with
the exception of newcomers, do not mention these factors as annoying them more frequently than the inhabitants
of small towns or even than people living in rural habitats (Moser & Robin, 2006). Overall, city life seems to be
constraining and demanding. All the analyses in terms of environmental overload, environmental stress, and
behavioral constraint point out the potentially negative effects of life in big cities compared to life in small towns.
Sustainable cities cannot be achieved without reference to local culture and local needs and therefore also by
taking into account the inhabitants and their needs. People do have environmental concerns, and the lack of
environmental quality may be seen as an important threat to their well-being and thus impeding sustainability
(Moser, 2009).
Vandalism, Criminality, and Insecurity

Vandalism, criminal activity, and the feeling of fear that they instill are the aspects of life in large agglomerations
that contribute to giving a bad reputation to certain urban areas, disturbing urban conviviality and thereby
conditioning behavior patterns to a large extent.
Vandalism is almost exclusively an urban phenomenon. It does not concern all environments indifferently: some
environments are quickly degraded; others, on the contrary, seem to remain unscathed. These gratuitous
degradations are an indication of societal dysfunction, of a disturbed relationship with the environment, and
provoke a feeling of insecurity.
All-pervading criminality is considered one of the most negative aspects of city life. In the United States in 1981,
one-third of the inhabitants of big urban centers had been the victim of an offense at least once in the previous 12
months, and criminality is the most often cited reason for people moving house (Fischer, 1976). Certain categories
of people, especially old people, will go out from their home only for exceptional reasons (Lavrakas, 1982).
Generally speaking, there is more delinquency in city centers than on the periphery, no doubt because the center
is denser and, because it is a focus of attraction, it acts as a drain on a sizeable proportion of the population of the
agglomerations.
Nonetheless, it is clear that there is a lot more to steal in the big city centers and less social control and mutual
surveillance capable of dissuading potential thieves. On this point Zimbardo (1969) referred to the phenomenon of
de-individuation to explain the high crime rate. The presence of an anonymous crowd is likely to protect the
potential criminal, reducing the risk of being identified and punished. Finally, it seems evident that the mutual
indifference and non-assistance to another person that one observes in big cities (Latan & Darley, 1970)
contribute to the protection of the potential aggressor.
The Feeling of Insecurity

Insecurity unquestionably represents stress for the individuals who are exposed to it (Fischer, 1976; Moser, 1992).
Anxiety about criminality and fear of being a victim in urban environments limit social contact (Newman & Franck,
1982). The feeling of insecurity has been considered for a long time to be the individual and emotional response to
prevailing criminality. In this perspective, it would be the prevailing criminality that would generate a reaction of
fear. However, the feeling of insecurity is more widespread than criminality, and many research projects have
confirmed that fear is not directly related to, nor is it in any way justified by, criminality: the feeling of insecurity is
not the simple consequence of the perception of real risks (Ackerman, Dulong, & Jeudy, 1983; Lagrange & Roche,
1987). McCann, Sakheim, and Abrahamson (1988) proposed a model according to which the perception of
security, self-esteem, and self-confidence, and the feeling of control (the feeling that the situation can be
mastered), all tend to reduce the sentiment (p. 207) of insecurity. According to Norris and Kaniasty (1991),
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victimhood makes people who have been victims believe they are vulnerable and incapable of protecting
themselves. If the feeling of insecurity and vulnerability can be explained by a perceived loss of control, it can be
analyzed in terms of personal control (Fischer, 1986; Moser, 1992). Distress, the feeling of insecurity, the fear of
becoming a victim again, and the strong emotion, as well as the helplessness that follows the experience of an
aggression, are clearly attributable to the perceived loss of control of the situation, as the victim sees no way of
protecting him- or herself. Attributing the potential cause of such an event makes it possible to explain the
emergence of a feeling of insecurity. Attribution theory has emphasized the relationship between internal
explanations and the accompanying feeling of control (Kelley, 1967; Deschamps, 1990). On the other hand, the
victim is likely to be all the more distressed given that he or she attributes what has happened to external causes,
which are therefore, by definition, beyond his or her control, increasing the fear of being very probably a victim of
the same incident again (Moser, 1988b).
How does the feeling of insecurity express itself in environmental terms? The characteristics dark, deserted,
winding streets, and presence of graffiti generate a feeling of insecurity, and this is even more the case in
unknown environments (Moser & Lidvan, 1992). Familiarity with the environment turns out to be a key
characteristic in the differentiated representation of the insecurity of a given place. Moreover, Newman and Franck
(1982) showed that anxiety about criminality and fear of being a victim in urban environments differ according to
the size of the housing estates; they explained this phenomenon by the lack of social contacts in the big estates.
The nature of the built-up area would tend to encourage a person to extend the zone for mixing with others outside
his or her apartment toward neighboring zones, which would increase or diminish the feeling of security. Likewise,
Fischer (1976) and Hunter (1978) attributed the feeling of security to the sharing of the same behavior norms in a
given residential environment. This approach is corroborated by other studies that highlight the link between the
presence of graffiti and the feeling of insecurity (Skogan & Maxfield, 1981; Lewis & Salem, 1985). On the other
hand, when there is no perceived incivility, the inhabitants would support a lower rate of criminality, which led
Taylor, Gottfredson, and Brower (1984) to conclude that the feeling of insecurity is positively linked to the loss of
territorial control.
Living in Cities
Behavioral Adaptation to Urban Living Conditions

In 1903 Georg Simmel was already of the opinion that city dwellers based their relations with others on distance
and otherness. The psycho-sociologists of the School of Chicago held that the inhabitants of big cities are able to
adopt only an individualist mentality, to strive to be free and to avoid all collective restraints so as to guard against
the unremitting stimulation to which they are subjected. Most of the analyses insist on the negative aspects of city
life. The simultaneous presence of density, atmospheric pollution, and above all noise would constitute a stressful
and essentially aversive environment. What are the effects, then, of urban conditions on the behavior of
individuals?
Adaptive Behaviors
City dwellers seem to have special strategies for adapting: Franck (1980) noted, for example, that individuals newly
arrived in the city are more involved in planning their actions and their movements. This is even more so if they
come from a rural area than if they come from another big city. The latter are more relaxed, probably because they
feel the stress of the city less, having already lived in one.
People accomplish a certain number of activities more rapidly in big cities than in small towns (Lowin, Hottes,
Sandler, & Bornstein, 1971). Wirtz and Ries (1992) observed that the speed at which people move around
increases with the size of the agglomeration. The authors concluded that life in big cities is less easygoing due to
its stress conditions. An extension of this study to cover a greater number of agglomerations confirms that the
rhythm of life is faster in cities (Bornstein, 1979). In fact, the speed at which pedestrians move varies in a straight
line according to the number of inhabitants. Marked cultural differences exist between reactions to environmental
conditions: the Chinese accept conditions of high density; they are reserved at an emotional level and have a
highly regulated family life, in all probability because of the high density of their living quarters (Mitchell, 1971).
Canter and Canter (1971) pointed out that in Tokyo there is a very low rate of vandalism and delinquency because
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that city is made up of small districts organized as villages, which facilitate social control. Similarly, (p. 208)
Rogler (1967) underlined the respect for intimacy and an intense community life in the shantytowns of South
America. In the final analysis, there are multiple ways for city dwellers to adapt and adjust their behavior when they
are provided with stable social structures.
Urban Civilities
Urbanity is rooted in the respect of individuals for a number of routines concerning relations with other people
that define social order in a normative way (Goffman, 1974). Urbanity is commonly associated with civilization, with
control of the self and its impulses (Elias, 1969), with good manners toward each other, and with socially
acceptable practices; however, it is also known that the urban environment, by generating specific stressful
situations, has a significant effect on interpersonal relations to the extent that they provoke indifferent and selfish
behavior (Simmel, 1903). Urbanity functions like a guide to managing social relations through observing current
proprieties (Bernard, 1997, p. 107). Rules of civility are tacit rules, a set of shared conventions concerned with
the normal acts of daily life.
Public spaces as places where community values are in evidence reveal the changing rules and codes
indispensable to the individual by which he or she keeps his distance from others to protect personal space or, on
the contrary, comes closer to them. Urban behavior is paradoxical: individuals must cooperate socially to maintain
their anonymity. Indifference has to be controlled; it is the object of socialized and socializing precautions. For
Hannerz (1980) social density, such as it can be observed in big cities, has the effect that contacts are
characterized by physical proximity and social distance. Polite behavior, therefore, seems indispensable to living
peacefully together in an urban setting. Moser and Corroyer (2001) showed that polite behavior, like most pro- or
antisocial interactional behavior, is both dependent on general environmental conditionsless so in an urban
setting than in a small townand susceptible to occasional environmental overload, depending on the existence or
not of a heavy, prevailing density. Big cities are characterized by more indifference and by a lack of regard for
others; in the modern world they have ceased to be synonymous with civility, and polite behavior no longer figures
in their daily way of life.
The city, in principle, encourages the multiplication and diversification of social contacts, but at the same time it
creates withdrawal and an indifference to others. City dwellers regularly mix with a number of people without
necessarily having any real contact with them. Nearly all travelers recognize at least one person familiar to them in
a photo of the crowd waiting for the same suburban train, but would not be able to imagine getting to know them
(Milgram, 1977). Thus individuals who have just arrived in a big city reckon that it is more difficult to make friends
than in a small town. But after a certain time these differences disappear (Franck, 1980).
Newman and McCauley (1977) observed that in a big city, eye contact with strangers is less frequent, and one
finds less eye contact in city-center railway stations than in suburban stations. Korte (1978) showed that in big
cities pedestrians not only walk more quickly, but also look straight ahead without noticing what is happening
around them. Snapshots taken without warning of passers-by in big and small cities and then blind-tested by
students show that city dwellers are perceived as being more hostile and less friendly than inhabitants of small
towns (Krupat, 1985). At the behavior level, a study by Milgram (1977) showed that when you offer a helping hand
to someone in the street, one-third of city dwellers respond, while in small towns two-thirds do so. Likewise,
apartment dwellers or inhabitants in high-density districts have less eye contact, a much greater interpersonal
distance, and fewer spontaneous conversations (Sundstrom, 1978; Baum & Paulus, 1987). Does this relative
indifference toward others in daily routine have any effect on behavior patterns involving interacting with others,
such as being helpful?
Social Behavior
Reticence to help others, such as answering an inquiry by a passer-by, helping someone to pick up something he
or she has dropped, and so on, has been described as one of the characteristics of life in the big urban
agglomerations. Indifference to someones distress was highlighted in a series of studies undertaken following an
event: the case of Catherine Genovse, a girl murdered in a New York street, in 1964, without any witness
intervening. Latan and Darley (1970) showed that when the subjects are alone they intervene in 70% of cases to
help someone in distress, while the higher the number of witnesses, the weaker the probability that someone will
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intervene. For the authors, these results are to be explained by the fact that in the city the presence of a high
number of witnesses likely to intervene creates a dispersion of responsibility. But these behavior patterns change
with the context. (p. 209) Latan and Darley (1970) showed that being helpful to others varies according to the
context in the same city (in this case New York). When a person on crutches approaches and collapses, four out of
five people help him into the subway, while fewer than half help him in an airport. The authors conclude that it is
familiarity with the place: to most people, the subway is more familiar than the airport. Drawing on the field studies
by Latan and Darley (1970), Korte (1978, 1980) and Merrens (1973) agreed in pointing out that urban conditions
reduce regard for others and decrease the behavior of availability and help. City dwellers are less willing to let a
stranger in distress use their telephone, are less likely to correct receiving too much change in a shop, and less
frequently denounce a thief than people in rural settings (Korte & Kerr, 1975). The mistrust that city dwellers have
for one another can be observed with new householders, who open their door more slowly to a stranger than
householders who have lived there for any length of time, and might be better integrated in their neighborhood
(Edney, 1975). Similarly, a child alone who asks for help in a New York street or in a small town is more likely to be
helped in small towns.
What explanations can be given for these phenomena? Kammann, Thompson, and Irwin (1976) considered that
one determinant is the number of passers-by on the site. Korte (1980) observed less helpful conduct in cities
exclusively toward strangers, a phenomenon that has been shown in a study on the role of the ethnic group to
which the protagonists belong. In fact, several research projects show that subjects offer more help to someone
needing assistance from the same ethnic group as the one to which they belong.
While we are aware of the global effects of the urban environment, we know very little about the respective impact
of the single components of this environment (available space, density, number of visual stimulants, noise, traffic
noise, etc.) as far as they are interlinked for the most part and constitute what some authors call urban stress.
Noise is often identified as the most important component of urban life and it is not surprising that most expressions
of discomfort crystallize around noise. A study on the effect of noise on behavior and/or verbal responses shows
that the subjects in a noisy condition have a tendency on the one hand to avoid verbal interaction and on the
other to be less attentive (Moser, 1987, 1988a). Environmental overload, such as the presence of intensive noise,
has a negative effect on helpful behavior toward others.
It would seem that urban environmental conditions have an impact on aggressiveness and rude behavior (LvyLeboyer, 1980). Phone booths that dont work are treated more brutally in Paris than in a provincial town (Moser,
1984). In Paris, the introduction of information (the possibility of being reimbursed, and to locate other booths
available nearby) gives back to the individual partial control by indicating the possibilities of being able to complete
his or her phone call. Brutal behaviors, when this information is provided, are far less prevalent.
Overall, physical environmental conditions function as stress factors and are likely to have the following effects
(Moser, 1987):
(1) an activation effect from which one can observe that some dominant behavior patterns are amplified
under stress. Physical conditions can, therefore, increase peoples aggressive behavior through a transfer of
excitement effect;
(2) an interference effect on the behavior of the individual. The unsuitability of the environment can prevent
the latter from reaching certain goals and can bring on a feeling of losing control over the environment.
Losing control, as well as the attempt to master the situation, is often accompanied by aggressive behavior
(Moser & Lvy-Leboyer, 1985); and
(3) an extreme annoyance and discomfort, which the individual will attempt to stop by running away from the
situation. If, however, this proves impossible, instrumental aggressive behavior (i.e., intended to put an end to
the disagreeable situation) or hostile behavior can appear.
Added to this, in complex environments, an overloading of demands to which the subject can respond only
inadequately increases the risk of behavior badly suited to the situation and as a consequence increases the risk
of aggressive conduct.
Finally, it seems that the city for Freedman (1975) has effects that are both positive and negative according to the
characteristics of each and every person: urban density would intensify and amplify the typical response of the
individual; those who tend to isolate themselves will be even more alone, while sociable people will find numerous
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opportunities for encounters in the city.
Cities and Their Inhabitants

Four aspects in particular portray urban social environment and consequently the specificity of social life: the
emergence of urban subcultures, the (p. 210) reference to a world of strangers, the compositional approach, and
urban life as a choice.
The emergence of subcultures: For Fischer (1982) the city is characterized by the superimposition of different
groups. Individuals with specific tastes and interests have more opportunity to meet people who are similar to them.
What he called urban subculture is formed in this way. Cities become mosaics of little worlds that are defined
physically, geographically, and through affinities with one another. A critical mass of the population exists that
makes it possible for people with esoteric interests to join together to form a group and to build for themselves
specific opportunities, and big cities do indeed make it possible for these groups to be created.
A world of strangers: Within a radius of a quarter of an hour on foot or by car, an individual in a small provincial
town will pass several dozen people and will know, at least by sight, a good proportion of them, while within the
same radius of a big city, a city dweller will pass several hundred people. Cities are in fact full of strangers. The city
dweller moves around with ease among all these people who are strangers to him; he tolerates them and
expresses surprise when he passes someone he knows. Even most of those the city dweller meets every day on
his way to work or in the neighborhood are only familiar strangers.
For Lofland (1973), the considerable number of strangers creates a context of anonymity for city dwellers.
Anonymity has two aspects: it means first that others are not identified, and second that the subject is anonymous
for others. The first aspect results in the city dwellers developing the skill to perceive others based on certain
superficial characteristics (external appearance, dress, and place where the individual in question is to be found).
This perception allows the city dweller to act or react according to certain signs to other people. Where his own
anonymity is concerned, the individual manages the frequentation of different urban spaces according to whether
he wishes to initiate or, on the contrary, prevent certain interactions and thereby keeps control over his own need
for privacy.
Urban life as a choice: According to Herbert Gans (1962), the differences between urban and rural people are due
to particularities of the people who live in urban or rural environments. In other words, differences between the
ways of life of urban and rural dwellers are no greater than the differences between ethnic and racial groups,
social classes, and age groups. There would thus be self-selection in big cities, certain individuals choosing to live
in an urban center, others preferring the small town or the country. In this way it is not the inhabitants who are the
reflection of the city, but the cities that are the reflection of their inhabitants. In a similar vein, Ktsanes & Reissmann
(1960) pointed out that people who move out from the city center to the suburbs are already different in their
values and their tendencies from those who prefer not to leave. The suburbs are not places where you have to
adopt yourself to a new style of life; they are simply new places to live for people who live there. It is true that
different populations give a structure to some cities and thereby a new identity. For example, Nice and Cannes in
France or Florida in the United States are places for old people.
Urbanites Relationships
Work carried out on sociability and loneliness shows that it is essential for the individual to belong to a social
network and to maintain stable links. Numerous research projects have amply shown that interpersonal relations
are particularly important when confronting stressful situations (Moser, 1994). A positive relationship exists
between the fact of spending time with a number of friends and acquaintances and effectively overcoming stressful
periods of life (Arling, 1976), and the intensive interaction with friends correlates with a high level of well-being
(Palisi, 1985). Emotional support relies essentially on friendships in an urban setting because of the higher
incidence of separation from families (Amato, 1993). Moreover, individuals strike up acquaintances less easily in
urban settings (Sundstrom, 1978).
The rapid demographic growth of the large agglomerations is accompanied by a diversification and an extension of
daily to-ing and fro-ing, which tends to limit opportunities for getting together with other people. Consequently, it is
not surprising that many inhabitants of large agglomerations complain that it is impossible to have a satisfactory
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social life. For all that, can one conclude that city dwellers in general are lacking in sociability and interpersonal
relations and have poor social ties? A comparison of the world of relationships and the social behavior between
provincials, Parisians, and inhabitants of the outskirts of Paris (Moser, Legendre, & Ratiu, 2003) showed that
provincials have significantly more long-term interpersonal relationships than those who live in outer Paris (an
average of 6.8 in the Paris region, 8.1 in the provinces). At an adult age, the friendship network is essentially
centered on work and leisure pursuits (Fischer, 1982; Fischer & Phillips, 1982). In large agglomerations, nearly half
of all relationships originate from the world of work, from mixing with people in the neighborhood and in
associations. For this population the network is based essentially on the local area and on their relations at work. In
small towns, more than two-thirds of all relationships are based on older friendships from childhood and school.
Thus city dwellers relational networks distinguish themselves from those of medium-size towns, by being
composed essentially of recent acquaintances.
The city does not damage social relations; it favors a different organization of the world of relationships, at least for
internal or external immigrants who have put their roots down more recently. Because of mobility, the inhabitants of
big cities lose some of their former relations and thus compensate by establishing relationships dependent on their
place of residence. City dwellers networks of relations are not based in a single place on account of social and
residential mobility and the separation of workplace and residence. City dwellers are thus members of several
networks, dispersed in different places (network with work colleagues, for leisure pursuits, etc.), with whom they
mix according to their activities and special interests. In big cities, relationships and exchanges are based more on
affinity criteria (interests, values, beliefs) than on physical or territorial proximity. In a study on different Italian
cities, Prezza and Constantini (1998) showed that the relationship between a community feeling based on territory
and life satisfaction is higher in villages than in large agglomerations.
Urban Sociability
The fact that daily life in large urban centers is fragmented in place with a relatively limited time span is bound to
influence social relations, activities, and the satisfaction of needs, as well as the position of the individual where
others are concerned. According to Grafmeyer (1995), three types of urban sociability can be distinguished: an
organized or formal sociability, an informal sociability involving a minimum of how often and for how long the
exchanges take place, and a sociability of interactions or contacts.
Friendlier relations and more life satisfaction have been noted in small towns than in the large agglomerations
(Oppong, Ironside, & Kennedy, 1988). There are twice as many inhabitants of residential estates in the Paris
agglomeration without any relationship with neighbors as among inhabitants of individual houses in the provinces
(Hran, 1987), and it is in cities that one meets most people having a strong feeling of loneliness.
Relationships in small towns are composed more often than not of a unique, multifunctional network characterized
by shared social norms; by the existence of strong constraints, pressure to conform, and little privacy; and by
being a place where people all know each other. More than three-quarters of the inhabitants of small towns see
each other at least once a week, while in Paris only two-thirds can meet up regularly with friends and
acquaintances. In the city, these encounters are much more planned in advance and are based around specific
activities, especially sporting and leisure activities. Ways of expressing sociability in big cities are by no means
spontaneous. The time involved in commuting is the important issue facing inhabitants on the periphery, and this
not only restricts the time available for visiting with friends and acquaintances but also reduces the possibility of
informal encounters by obliging suburban dwellers to plan them with more care (Moser et al., 2003). In a study on
Mexico City, Salvador (2000) identified two types of everyday social contacts according to districts: opening
outward, or withdrawal into the home. According to the author, this tendency to open out or to withdraw is
expressed through the various ways of life in different districts. Inhabitants in working-class areas tend, on a daily
basis, to have continuous informal social contacts in outdoor spaces, such as the street, local shops, and meeting
places, while in better-off districts, inhabitants tend to keep to private spaces to a great extent.
On the periphery, whatever the status of the neighborhood happens to be, privileged or not, the inhabitants refer
much less to acquaintances and/or friends living nearby than in the inner-city districts (Flonneau, 2003).
Sociability turns out therefore to be geographically more spread out. Asked to characterize their neighborhood,
inhabitants of the city center mention more sociable places, such as bars and restaurants, than those living in the
outskirts (Flonneau, 2003). Paris, for instance, is rich in places where the inhabitants have the opportunity to meet
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with each other and to cultivate their sociability. In Mexico sociable places vary considerably between Mexico City
and provincial cities and according to whether the district is well off (Contreras, Moser, & Savina, 2008). Inhabitants
in less well-off districts meet in the street and in public places. In Mexico City meetings take place in bars and
variety theaters, as well as in one anothers homes. They are thus, for the most part, formalized, (p. 212)
organized, and planned sociability activities, while in the more provincial region of Queretaro these activities seem
less formal and meetings also take place in public spaces during the daily promenade.
Appropriation of the City and Urban Identity

People identify with the place where they live. Feeling at home is an important aspect of ones well-being and this is
everywhere a human experience. Individuals create privileged relationships with their habitat, which then becomes
their home, and their home provides their identity. This involves a way of building ones life within a
geographically defined space. The building up of a urban identity can be achieved only through the appropriation
of proximal as well as distant places within the urban structure. It is also in the inner-city districts that local
inhabitants invest socially and refer spontaneously to neighbors, friends, and relatives in the neighborhood.
Urban Spatial Investments

How are the different urban spaces, city center, districts, and local neighborhoods perceived and experienced,
and what role do they play in the inhabitants appropriation of the city? Urbanity constitutes one of the sources of
that feeling of belonging to a community personified by a place, in other words, an identity that is closely linked to
the territory and its characteristics/distinctiveness, and becomes a major identity component. Urbanity is the result
of an urban culture characteristic of relatively dense and compact cities, with a heavy concentration of population
and activities, a heterogeneous built-up area, centers of essential and secondary importance, as well as
communication channels on this scale (Fhrer & Kaiser, 1997).
The Role of Proximity

Proximity, such as it is perceived by city dwellers in the practice of their everyday lives, presents a character
relative to the urban infrastructure to which it refers. Two contrasting situations stand out according to the size of
the city: one with reference to large conurbations and the other to medium-size cities. The extent of a zone
perceived as local grows bigger according to the distance from the center of the conurbation. Proximity is to be
found in its most restricted sense at the level of the neighborhood in the heart of medium-size cities. On the other
hand, in the large conurbations proximity is perceived on a much larger scale. Where Paris is concerned, it can
refer to the size of a district or even larger. The suburban inhabitant can perceive an amenity located more than
12 miles away from his place of residence as being nearby (Bourroche, cited in Benot et al., 1993). Perceptions of
proximity are also dependent on the inequalities of access to city spaces, social positions, and environmental
constraints. Thus Contreras et al. (2008) identified a dynamic of urban proximities according to the social
categories of the inhabitants and the localization of spaces. Other than the strategic capacities, the perceptions
and image contribute to a neighborhoods becoming the place for the projection of identity independently of the
real or imagined possibility of accessing other city spaces.
Proximity has a particular function for the appropriation of the city. Certain environmental qualities of the immediate
housing area seem to encourage a satisfactory relationship between the urban infrastructure and the making of a
home (Noschis, 1984). The same applies to the physical attributes of the environment, suitable parkland, for
example, as well as to its social dimensions, social relations, for example, perceived as being agreeable, a network
of social support (Rivlin, 1982; Sixsmith, 1986, Ratiu, 2003). Moreover, different types of symbolic relations can be
distinguished in this local space according to the relationship between the individual and the city: an open place
for exploring the city, or a closed place with a protective character, substituting for the city for sedentary
populations, particularly those with little economic power (Palmade, 1977).
Mobility and proximity are important for understanding how to achieve urbanity. Everyday relationships in urban
spaces constitute a fundamental element for reinforcing identity. Being able to access spaces according to the
economic, cultural, and physical capacities of different social groups determines, for a large part, the nature and
quality of living harmoniously together in the city. Changes in urban conditions lead to modifications in the notion of
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proximity by changing it from something of physical importance to a less spatial notion, more connected with time,
and more psychological (Fhrer & Kaiser, 1997). Proximity, defined first on an exclusively spatial and objective
basis, is more and more based on subjective dimensions linked above all to accessibility and to the perceived
desirability of each sector by the different populations (Blasco, Lajoie, Marchand, & Rople, 1998).
The context of large conurbations and neighborhoods resulting from zoning and from a monofunctional
specialization of the urban infrastructure (p. 213) has revealed other kinds of relationships with the city, the
catchment area of daily life (Benot et al., 1993). In these conditions, proximity is completely relative, growing
according to distance from the habitat. This context has brought out two ways of functioning vis--vis the urban
infrastructure, one local and the other not local, which means for certain categories of people the local and the
global (Burgel, 1993).
Urban proximity is not only a matter of distance. Large-scale mobility turns proximity into a distance in time that
depends on available amenities as well as on their accessibility and on the choice of the individual to make use of
them. Today, mobility constitutes one way of managing specific proximities (avoidance/convergence) according to
the perceived characteristics of the places. Accessibility becomes multifaceted, proximity multidimensional;
consequently, the appropriation of the city is less dependent on local conditions, except for people who feel
confined in their place of residence. In this way the city dweller constructs links with the city based on several
scales (local/global) that incorporate two distinct dimensions: territory and network (Haegel & Levy, 1998).
The Role of Centrality

Urban centrality derives from an archetype of the city. The inhabitants of cities tend to judge their city center
according to this archetype. Thus, they expect centrality to fulfill a series of functions (conviviality, social mixing, a
concentration of activities and shops) and a configuration (density of buildings, available space, wide choice of
routes) that have a direct influence on living harmoniously together (Marchand, 2002). Many city authorities tended
in the past years to render city centers attractive. Harlems gentrification process is an example of these initiatives.
The improvement of local landscapespublic space, housing stock, cultural institutionsleads to the gentrification
of the neighborhood and to the neighborhoods being considered a place to visit and to frequent (Nevarez, 2009).
Conviviality appears as a central concept in the assessment of an urban center. Individuals adopt the place where
they live and their city all the more as they find satisfying social and historical elements and activities (Marchand,
2002). A satisfying and rewarding environment will constitute the basis for a positive social identification and for
putting down roots in an urban setting.
The dynamic of the relationship with the city is to be found between the feeling of belonging and dependence on
the perceived proximity of where one lives at one extreme and the spatial extension of the appropriation of the city
at the other (Gaster, 1995). It happens by defining, and differentiating between, the locations that one has
appropriated. The spatial extension, the confinement, the differentiation, and the complexity of this system of
locations that one has appropriated in the city correspond to an urban practice controlled by the individual.
Strauss (1961) was the first to describe the city as made up of a range of psychosocial locations. Thus, it is not
surprising that the different structures of practices, in the different sectors of the city and in the city as a whole,
seem to be linked overall to different categories of residents and to their relations with the city (Bonnes, Mannetti,
Secchiaroli, & Tanucci, 1990). The social dimension modulates the extent to which the urban infrastructure is
appropriated, as can be shown by the case of people in transition or households in a stable situation with young
children (Flonneau, 1997; Marchand, 2002).
The spatialization of identity would therefore be based on the feeling of psychological proximity by comparison with
the citys perceived environmental characteristics (physical and social), and on its central places and their
perceived accessibility. Thus, the spatial identity of the individual would be the result of people permanently and
individually regulating their relations to their environment with a view to controlling three dimensions of urban
proximities: avoidance/convergence; introversion/expansion; involvement/withdrawal (Krupat, 1985;
Korpela, 1989).
The transition of the appropriation of the city from the mono-local type to the multi-local model corresponds to the
appropriation of several places dispersed around the city, seen as a system of places with multiple connections
(Bonnes et al., 1990; Huriot, 1998). Mobility allows those who can practice it to develop complex relations of
choice, with an ever-growing and increasingly heterogeneous urban environment and/orif necessaryto
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compensate elsewhere for certain perceived insufficiencies in the residential environment. City dwellers are ready
to cover, under pressure but also by choice, longer and longer distances and to cross more or less distinct
environmental units to work, consume, see their family, pursue leisure, or simply meet one another. Breaking with
the place or places that have been appropriated leads to the reconstruction of the spatial identity through
significant experiences with other places (Stokols & Shumaker, 1981).
(p. 214)
Attachment and Place of Identity
Attachment to a specific environment supports place identity. People often develop an emotional bond to their life
space, essentially their home and neighborhood, but often also to urban places and spaces on a larger scale.
Such anchoring is an ongoing process, dependent on individual time perspectives: the duration of residence is
essential for the individuals appropriation of his or her life space, which in turn is indispensable for well-being.
Anchoring reflects the individuals motivations, social status, family situation, and projects for the future.
Appropriation: From Home to the Neighborhood

While identity is essentially linked to the notion of appropriation, the theoretical importance of this notion remains
obscured by being observed in a manner that is too specialized through a theoretical prism that is too narrow. Pol
(2002) underlined the relevance and heuristic reach of the concept of appropriation by making it the keystone of
the relationship between the individual and his environment. Following Canter (1977), he placed the link between
appropriation and a sense of place: the process of appropriation transforms a neutral space into a significantly
symbolic place. This dynamic process is based on two essential components: a behavior component, acting on
space, transformations, traces, and so on, and a symbolic component through the identification of the individual
with his environment. Appropriation is thus indissociable from identification.
Appropriation not only operates at the level of ones home, but also extends to urban places such as the street, the
district, or even the town. Although the size and comfort of the habitable space are essential for residential
satisfaction, other aspects of living conditions, such as social integration, availability of satisfactory services,
existence of parks or gardens, aesthetics of the built environment, and easy access to the public transportation
network, also modulate its importance. The feeling of being at home in ones neighborhood is linked to the
frequency of encounters, the nature of local relationships, and the satisfaction that they provide. It involves social
integration extended to local service providers, such as physicians, shopkeepers, and others, and constitutes the
framework for the different individual networks (workplace, leisure, school, etc.). Furthermore, as far as the feelings
of attachment are concerned, the social relations provided by a place may be more relevant than the place itself.
Taking root corresponds to a desire for stability and permanency in ones way of relating to a certain place and
ones involvement in the latter in the long run. Steady or transitionally occupied places produce place attachment
and are often accompanied by ties to personal objects, such as furniture, pictures, and souvenirs, which indicate
the appropriation of the place (Serfaty-Garzon, 2003).
Each neighborhood community has its own norms, which help to create a feeling of belonging to the subculture of
the district or even of the city, and sharing the same behavioral norms in a given residential environment brings
about a feeling of security (Fischer, 1976; Hunter, 1978). Inhabitants in a given neighborhood expect behavior
from others that fits the current formal and informal behavior norms.
Several studies that analyze reasons for neighborhood satisfaction underline security as an attribute that appears
frequently in the overall residential evaluation. Those who express a high degree of satisfaction with their daily
residential environment tend to express a low feeling of insecurity (Baba & Austin, 1986; Fleury-Bahi, 2000).
Feeling at home goes hand in hand with a clearly more positive appreciation of the neighborhoods population,
more numerous contacts between them, and the establishment of relationships that go beyond a simple
relationship based on politeness and the expression of a residential identity (Moser, 2004). On the other hand, the
feeling of insecurity damages the image and usefulness of public spaces (Amerio & Roccato, 2003), and of course
their use by the public.
Finally, one can assume that individuals who appropriate their environment and feel at home where they live may
also care more about the environment in general, that is, more frequently exhibit ecologically beneficial behavior,
an association that is put forward in the CIS model (Pol, 2002).
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The Spatial Extension of Appropriation: Toward an Urban Identity
The spatial extension of identity draws on concepts such as place identity (Proshansky, 1978; Proshansky, Fabian,
& Kaminoff, 1983; Sarbin, 1983; Korpela, 1989), urban identity, urban related identity (Lally, 1992), settlement
identity (Feldman, 1990), and residential attachment (Fried, 1982). Residential identity is strongly associated with
residential history (Fleury-Bahi, 2000). The belonging of individuals in a given urban neighborhood is linked to
residential history, to the notions of taking root, of attachment, of identification, and of familiarity, while the
belonging of city dwellers to (p. 215) the city is linked to the position they occupy within the variety of urban
setting. The city dwellers need to distance themselves from home and neighborhood, and to gradually appropriate
the city. In this perspective, one might describe them as construing the city as representation made up of positive
areas and areas to avoid (Moser & Uzzell, 2003).
Feeling at home leads to a more extended image of the home range, a familiarity with more distant places, and
often also with the expression of an urban identity. On the other hand, withdrawal into oneself is accompanied by a
search for well-being in a more confined world, with fewer social relations in the neighborhood and an identity that
reflects nostalgia for a residential past elsewhere (Lvy-Leboyer & Ratiu, 1993). Appropriating ones residential
environment is accompanied by attitudes of familiarity and solidarity based on the neighborhood, a phenomenon
that has for some time been highlighted in studies on the dynamic of neighborhood communities: Sanchez,
Wiesenfeld, and Cronick (1991) for Venezuela and Reid and Aguilar (1991) for Mexico. We are thus witnessing
essentially a search for consistency in the way of life and interpersonal relations by achieving a positive
environmental identity based on ones feeling of being safely at rest in ones neighborhood. Residential satisfaction
is associated with social conditions in the neighborhood, with the social circle, with being in contact with others,
and with the social atmosphere, as well as with the security elements found there.
According to Pol and Valera (1999), five aspects shape the construction of the urban identity: (1) the territorial
dimension, (2) the temporal dimension, (3) the behavioral dimension, (4) the social and psycho-social dimension,
and (5) the ideological dimension through cultural values. The spatial identity or topological identity (Flonneau,
2003) is expressed at different levels of the environmental scale from the home to the region (Feldman, 1990), but
the social dimension appears to be more important for extended scales of the urban environment (Lally, 1992).
For Feldman (1990), the concept of urban identity corresponds to the realities of modern society undergoing major
changes, which involve the mobility of its members. She proposes the concept of settlement identity, which allows
the categorization of these places at a cognitive level, while at an emotional level it involves preferences and
sensitivity for certain categories of places frequented by the individual that the latter can distinguish and for which
he is prepared at a cognitive level (scripts, prototypes, and situational, social, and material frameworks). By
adapting the definition of Proshanskys place identity, Feldman makes clear that living identity is characterized by a
group of ideas, feelings, expectations, preferences, values, and conscious or unconscious goals, as well as by
behavior tendencies and skills that link identity to a type of space organization and then encourage its relations
with the same type of environment. These preferences allow people who are mobile to establish coherence and an
identity beyond their multiple residences. Mobile individuals, because they maintain relations with the same type of
environment, are thus capable of keeping the predictive nature of their environmental experiences.
In conclusion, the urban social identity is as much an individual and social construction of meanings concerning
space and its division into coherent units and of the identification of associated social groups, as strategies of
social differentiation through investment in ones environment.
Conclusion: From City Dwellers to Citizens

The metropolises of today accommodate a heterogeneous population and are characterized by the juxtaposition of
cultural, religious, ethnic, economic, and social diversities (Moser, 1998). If the cultural differences are defined
through a feeling of belonging to a group, they also find expression in urban territorial identifications: individuals
often group themselves together spontaneously or are grouped in the urban infrastructure according to their
social, cultural, and economic affinities, creating more or less homogenous neighborhoods that tend to make them
conspicuous, distinguishing them from the overall urban community.
Faced with the extension of homogenous out-of-town zones to the detriment of urban centers, which overall are
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becoming depopulated, are we not witnessing a tendency to progressively disqualify a cosmopolitan model that
has gained value from its potential for encounters, for exchanges, and for the unknown, to satisfy the increasingly
acute desire of citizens to be exclusively among their own kind in a socially homogenous space? If this is already a
long-standing tendency, it seems to be gathering strength today and spreading to new social categories,
especially on the American continent and the Middle East. While in our culture the very idea of the city, a public
space, is associated with the idea of democracy, the exchange of goods and ideas, and freedom, certain planners
are developing gated communities, socially and culturally homogenous by taking (p. 216) advantage of the
feeling of insecurity. In the United States there are some 20,000 private cities. These communities have been
constituted by and for populations wanting to isolate themselves from an urban environment judged to be
increasingly hostile. The motivation for living there is the choice of a certain way of life, based on the principle of
exclusion. These projects clearly not only run counter to social diversity strongly recommended in the framework
of urban solidarity, but also fly in the face of the final declaration of the World Congress of Cities and Local
Authorities (Habitat II, Istanbul, Turkey, May 3031, 19961). Moreover, well-being, as defined by the World Health
Organization (1997), includes the relationship with the place where one lives and is defined in terms of a match
between the individual and his environment. Identification with ones place of residence and social cohesion are
closely linked to environmental-friendly behavior (Uzzell, Pol, & Badenas, 2002).
For successful integration, it is not sufficient to live next door to each other, but together. Far from encouraging
withdrawal into oneself as it is commonly accepted, social and cultural diversity, for a large part of the population,
seems to be an essential asset of the city, at least in Europe. And this does not vary because of strategic
capacities, geographical position, or neighborhood (Flonneau, Marchand, & Fleury-Bahi, 2005). In response to a
questionnaire on urbanity developed by the authors, a majority of Parisians say that a neighborhood composed
of very different people can be enriching and that respect for different ways of life is indispensable. This shows
that at least in French society, conditions for cohabitation at a neighborhood level seem to be fairly accepted,
which constitutes a necessary condition for living together harmoniously through the discovery and acceptance of
others.
In conclusion, the environmental psychology of the city must not forget that the individual is part of a group or a
community through which he perceives and conceives the city in both its physical and social dimensions. If we
wish to understand the relationship between the individual and the city, we need to know the individual and the
social image the individual constructs for himself of the urban territories and their population. What is more, the
appropriation of the city can be achieved only if the physical and social environmental conditions allow the
individual to identify himself within the overall urban community. In other words, one has to move from cohabiting at
the level of the district and neighborhood to living harmoniously together and appropriating the city as a whole.
It is therefore urgent today to emphasize the socio-environmental management of urban diversity. One must not
only favor coexistence between cultures and encourage a harmonious development of all minorities, but also
ensure a fair and just distribution of services by providing different communities with the infrastructures they need.
Only good collaboration between inhabitants and the authorities and participation in decision-making will
encourage the feeling of belonging to the same urban community. Two complementary aspects need to be
promoted and consolidated: the public expression and recognition of difference on the one hand, and on the other
the construction of a common destiny through the feeling of belonging to the urban community. Could the wish to
stay there forever, that is, to be buried there, be the ultimate expression of ones having become an urban citizen
(Casal, Aragons, & Moser, 2010)?
Future Directions
Of course, there are a lot of questions open, and therefore to be addressed in the coming years. Further studies
should be based on two aspects: first, the fact that cities face an increase of urban populations with specific
needs, and second, that cities are not always prepared to furnish an adequate framework and a proper
infrastructure for the development of their citizens. Some specific research priorities include the following:
Looking at the health impact of the urban physical and social living conditions linking behavioral studies and
fragility of urban dwellers.
Poverty has been identified as having an important impact on the development of children (see Evans &
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Wachs, 2010). Further studies within that framework are needed.
How populations with high economic capacities and frequent intra- and intermobility and sedentary
populations with weak economic capacities experience the city, and what their respective needs are.
What is the impact of telecommuting and relocation of activities on mobility and more generally on the urban
way of life?
Overall, further studies of environmental quality-of-life criteria according to different urban populations with
different cultures and aspirations are needed.
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Notes:
(1.) The city, as a fundamental place for social interaction, must be recognised as the pivotal human settlement
which provides a focal point for growth and sustainable development, for the well-being and social cohesion of the
majority of the population, for its capacity to adapt and to innovate technically, socially, culturally and politically,
for the creation of our future and a renewed vision of the progress of humanity and for the evolution of our
civilisation.
Gabriel Moser
Gabriel Moser Institute of Psychology University of Paris Descartes LPS, University of Aix-en-Provence Paris, France
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Residential Places and Neighborhoods: Toward Healthy Life, Social Integration, and
Reputable Residence

Residential Places and Neighborhoods: Toward Healthy Life, Social
Integration, and Reputable Residence
Marino Bonaiuto and Susana Alves
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0013

The multi-place system of the main residential places, from home to neighborhood to outdoor spaces up to the city,
is considered within an ecological, transactional, and systemic theoretical framework. A broad theoretical model is
presented, based on the residential affordances and the residential environmental fit coming out from peopleenvironment transactions realized through the residential activities. Four main topics or processes are discussed to
highlight the importance of such an approach to residential places: perception, evaluation, and satisfaction for the
residential place, with particular attention given to the neighborhood; uses and activities, green areas and health;
social segregation and aggregation; and place branding and reputation.
Keywords: ecological approach, environmental fit, residential affordances, health and well-being, social integration, place reputation, quality of life
Introduction
The purpose of this chapter is to provide an overview of research examining residential environments within the
discipline of environmental psychology: Attention is given to different levels of the residential environment, but
especially to the residential neighborhood. Residential environments are defined in a broad way both to
encompass actual physical properties and to take into account peoples perceptions and use of these spaces by
highlighting different theoretical approaches. In the first part of the chapter, a broad conceptual framework based
on the notion of environmental fit is presented to integrate research on residential environments and
neighborhoods. In the second part of the chapter, a review of four main research topics is given, including
traditional ones, such as perception, evaluation, and satisfaction, as well as new developments, such as branding
and reputation; all provide empirical evidence of the main theoretical tenets presented in the first part of the
chapter. In conclusion, suggestions for future researches in this field are given based on the conceptual framework
and the empirical evidence offered.
The theoretical framework presented in this chapter is based on our past work and focuses on the notions of
environmental fit (Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 2002; Bonnes & Bonaiuto, 2002) and supportive environments (Sugiyama,
Ward Thompson, & Alves, 2009). The framework emphasizes not only actual and perceived properties of
environments, but also peoples capabilities and how resources are used to promote quality of life in the context of
their everyday lives. Central to this framework are the notions of fit (e.g., Higgins, 2005; Kaplan, 1983; Lawton,
1980), everyday life and its time dimension (e.g., Horelli, 2010; Alves, 2011), and environmental affordances
(e.g., Heft, 2011; Kytt, 2002; Gibson, 1979).
The theoretical framework requires the use of transactional concepts (e.g., affordances; everyday life) to integrate
peoples experiences with perceived and actual properties of their residential and (p. 222) neighborhood
environment. It also requires addressing residential environments in a more integrated way as to relate to everyday
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patterns of activities and their temporal qualities. The frequently cited notion of person-environment (P-E) fit
(Lawton, 1980) is proposed as applicable to research addressing residential and neighborhood environments.
However, here we emphasize the cross-setting perspective, which poses that residential fit depends on both the
congruence with the specific residential setting and the perceived quality of other major life domains, such as work
and recreational activities that are also part of the current residential period (Stokols & Shumaker, 1982).
Lewins (1951) early explanation of behavior as a function of the person and the environment is taken as a starting
point to try to enlarge the notion of fit in the context of neighborhood and residential environments research. A
situated approach (Alves, in press) shows that evaluations, preferences, and choice of activities are bound to a
larger ecological system of everyday spaces to which individuals take part (see also Bonaiuto, Bonnes, &
Continisio, 2004). In particular, studies are considered for how they endeavor to complement and expand Lewins
initial work (e.g., Bronfenbrenner, 1979).
For example, Bonnes, Passaro, and Carrus (2010) examined attitudes in relation to urban green areas. The results
showed a two-factor structure toward urban green areaswith positive evaluations linked to ecocentric values and
biospheric worldviews and negative evaluations related to conservative values and anthropocentric and apathetic
worldviews. Ambivalent attitudes toward green areas seem to be associated with environmental values and
worldviews and to a lesser extent with everyday experiences in urban green spaces. This finding points to the
consideration of motivations and factors other than attitudes (such as habits) as guiding the decision to spend time
in neighborhood green areas. Experiences and time spent in urban green areas may be linked to habitual
organization of everyday activities with the motivation and decision to spend time in green areas in the
neighborhood being based on the organization of everyday activities. As such, this study shows the need to
consider moderator variables (such as habits) and sociocultural differences in the examination of attitudes toward
residential green areas. The way the residential neighborhood affords the realization of specific activities may
explain the decision to spend time in the green areas in the neighborhood.
Bonnes et al. (2010) have expanded the concept of environmental fit in the sense of considering the motivational
basis of peoples attitudes and use of urban green areas. By doing this, the concept of fit is considered within
peoples everyday life and environment. Horelli (2010) defined everyday life as referring to the subjective
experience of everyday, in contrast to the structures or systems made of institutions, financial flows, etc.
Scientifically everyday life can be approached as a process and practices in which people shape in their homes,
at work, or in the living environment the structural conditions into lived life (p. 11).
The notion of everyday life and its affordances may be a path to integrate diverse topics of research in residential
environments. Accordingly, enhancing quality of life means creating a supportive infrastructure of everyday life. In
this sense, design and management of residential environments and neighborhoods need to be linked to peoples
everyday practices. Such a view demands a systemic and transactional approach, that is, an ecological view, and
the examination of environmental affordances, place-specific experiences, and their temporal operations, which
are reflected in the conceptual framework presented next.
A Place-Specific Approach: Ecological View and Affordances

A place-specific approach is the basic theoretical idea guiding this chapter. It is placed within the context of
broader ecological theory applied to the study of person-environment interaction (Barker, 1968; Bronfenbrenner,
1979). It aims at an ecological model in relation to research applied to neighborhood and residential contexts
(Bonnes & Secchiaroli, 1995; Bonnes & Bonaiuto, 2002; Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 2002).
Here the general focus is on the residential environment. This ranges from the home, to the neighborhood, to the
local open spaces, up to the city. Within the chapter, reference can be made to each of these settings. However,
the neighborhood at the intermediate level of the residential environment is focused on the most. The residential
neighborhood can have a special privileged attention because it has been widely researched in the environmental
psychological literature. Moreover, the residential neighborhood is at an intermediate geographical scale and it is a
mix of private and public properties. As Bonaiuto and Bonnes (1996) observed, The neighbourhood as an
intermediate level of analysis was chosen for the following reasons: (1) it allows (p. 223) considering private and
public structures and processes, while the home and city levels mainly consider the former and latter,
respectively; (2) earlier studies showed that it serves as a link between home and city levels in peoples
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perceptions and actions regarding the residential environment (pp. 4142).
Peoples daily activities (but also perceptions, evaluations, etc.) are emphasized as part of a broader system of
activities and related settings, that is, a so-called multi-place system of activities (e.g., Bonnes, Mannetti,
Secchiaroli, & Tanucci, 1990; Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 1996, 2002; Bonaiuto, Bonnes, & Continisio, 2004; Rapoport,
1990). To understand the responses of adjustment or maladjustment (environmental fit or environmental misfit) in
terms of health and quality of life, there is a need to understand patterns of activities and their locatedness
(Dixon, 2001); that is, how they are carried out in urban residential and neighborhood settings considering also
corresponding patterns of activities carried out by the same person in other places (e.g., city center and
periphery). By addressing these different scales, the sequential and time-related purpose of residential activities is
pointed out. Within this framework, time is also a crucial dimension (both linear and cyclic time) as environmental
experience can be analyzed according to psychologically meaningful temporal and spatial boundaries. This model
is depicted and summarized in Figure 13.1. It focuses on residential features, activities, and their affordances and
consequence in terms of quality of life.

Figure 13.1 Conceptual Model to Examine Residential Environments, Affordances, and Related Quality of
Life
The issue of residential places necessarily links to quality of life. Quality of life is therefore an overarching
construct within which residential place quality plays a role (Lawrence, 2010). Quality of life is a multidimensional
concept related to the assessment (affective or cognitive) of the congruence between ones life expectations and
achievements and the objective properties of the physical environment. It includes the objective environment,
behavioral competence, perceived quality of life, and psychological well-being (Lawton, 1991). Despite problems
with definition and measurement, quality of life has been used as an important outcome measure in socialeconomic policy (Costanza et al., 2008). An ecological understanding of the concept of quality of life
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979) proposes the analysis of person-environment relations as referring to a system comprising
four embedded levels: the microsystem (e.g., the immediate social setting); the mesosystem (e.g., the relations
among different social settings); the exosystem (organizations, communities, and social systems); and the (p.
224) macrosystem (e.g., broader cultural and sociopolitical influences).
For examplefollowing what Becker, Bonaiuto, Bilotta, and Bonnes (2011) noted for health care environments and
translating it here to the residential environmentthe microsystem focuses on the interactions between individuals
and the members of their immediate environment; for example, family, friends, local acquaintances. The
mesosystem considers the relationships and connections among different microsystems, and the ways in which
they operate on each other: for example, ones local acquaintances and the settings in which one interacts with
them influence, and are influenced by, related microsystems, such as friends or family members. Thus, ones
response to and evaluation of the local acquaintances microsystem may be affected by what ones spouse or
other family members think about the nature of the local residential system. The effects also flow in the opposite
direction: our experience with local acquaintances affects our family relations. The exosystem includes
organizations and social systems with which individuals may or may not have a formal contact, but which are still
part of and influence their actions and lives. The legal system, along with its laws and regulations that influence our
behavior, is an example of one such exosystem. Finally, the macrosystem includes societal norms, expectations,
and beliefs that characterize the larger social environment in which the other systems operate: for example, beliefs
about the proper role of the government in the management of residential environments. The central tenant of
Bronfenbrenners ecological theory is that the focus of ecological research should be on identifying the properties
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and relationships among these interdependent, loosely coupled systems. Bronfenbrenners (1979) proposal, with
its ecological emphasis on the several levels of people-environment transactions, necessarily implies an
examination of environmental affordances.
The concept of affordances becomes a useful reference to explore the multi-place system of activities and to
examine the relations between evaluations and actions. When addressing specific environmental elementssuch
as existence of urban green spaces, streets, routes, and presence of other peopleand their effects on the quality
of life, a useful question to ask is how these elements support peoples daily activities and personal projects (Little,
1983). Everyday life and its physical, social, and temporal affordances become necessary issues to address.
Affordances are possibilities or preconditions for action expressed as properties of objects and layouts that are
available to the perceivers perceptual system (Gibson, 1979). They range from interactions with fixed and
semifixed elementsan aesthetically pleasing and well-maintained path will offer people possibilities for walking,
while a dark and poorly maintained one will perhaps restrict itto complex relations involving nonfixed elements,
such as spatial dimensions of relations between groups. In this regard, Dixon and Reicher (1997) reminded us that
social affordances as expressed in positive intergroup contact are unlikely to happen in desegregated spaces
where everyday encounters may be viewed as a threat to those perceived as outsiders.
Affordances as bound on physical/spatial properties, time, peoples goals and capabilities, and intergroup
perceptions are a means to frame quality of life in reference to everyday patterns of activities. For instance,
different groups can be analyzed in terms of urban qualities and related environmental affordances. If the goal is,
for example, to maximize quality of life in residential environments and neighborhoods, then it is important to detect
those features in the environment that are significant for ensuing action and well-being for those target people. In
this sense, the temporal dimension of activitiesthe availability of time for different activities; the integration of
activities in different time periods, in relation to work, mobility, recreation, private and social activities, and so on
may be seen as a good indicator of fit/unfit and quality of life.
In the line of argument proposed by Horelli (2010), when referring to psychological sustainability, it is possible to
argue that quality of life needs to be seen in the context of a supportive infrastructure where positive affordances
in ordinary settingswhere most of ordinary peoples lives takes placepromote everyday behavior in its
individual, social, and environmental dimensions. This line of theorizing fits with current European policies, such as
urban time policies (Mckenberger, 2011) in support of health (but just for a similar line of reasoning applied to
health care environments in the United States, see Becker et al., 2011) and quality of life. The examination of a
supportive environmental infrastructure touches directly on the reciprocal relation between people, settings, and
activities, their fit, and consequent implications for quality of life.
Explaining Environmental Fit

The residential environment is a place where people-environment congruity is crucial. Person-environment (p.
225) (P-E) fit models (e.g., Kahana, Lovegreen, Kahana, & Kahana, 2003) show that peoples activities are a result
of the match between what is offered by the environment versus what people, based on their capabilities, choose
to do in that environment. It involves a combination of environmental (E) and person-related (P) factors and a
good fit or compatibility between these two aspects. A reduced fit or lack of compatibility would lead to
decreased well-being (Kaplan, 1983). Originating from this P-E model, the concept of environmental support
refers to the extent to which the environment facilitates or inhibits ones own goals.
Building on these models, the notion of environmental fit can be expanded to relate it to that of everyday life,
affordances, and time (Horelli, 2010; Belloni, 1984; Mareggi, 2002). Everyday activities and their temporal and
spatial rhythms then become crucial to detect supportive affordances in the residential environment for different
groups of people (e.g., permanent residents, commuters, patients and families using hospital services, immigrants)
and their different practices of use.
The concept of environmental fit involves diverse patterns of interaction that compose peoples everyday life. It is
a matter of seeing environmental features and peoples activities in a holistic and integrated way. It requires an
analysis of the place and time where the person is, her or his life stage, gender, and the different social and
environment features to which she or he is exposed. The fit or lack of fit involves different spheres of life (e.g.,
work, residential place, recreation, care activities) and the flow of information (Salingaros, 2000) between these
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different components. Quality of life, as the outcome variable in the model, thus depends on the physical as well as
the social and temporal structure offered in a specific residential environment. Supportive residential environments
are those with an infrastructure to support everyday patterns of activities and integrate them in its spatial and
temporal dimensions.
The diagram depicted in Figure 13.1 refers to these processes at any possible level of the residential environment:
from home, to residential neighborhood, to outdoor spaces, up to the whole city (for a similar, simpler model
referring to health care environments, see Bonnes, Bonaiuto, Fornara, & Bilotta, 2009). It synthesizes how the
match between people and environment features is realized through peoples activities according to the
affordances available in the transaction of any given person with any given environment. This process originates
either a fit or a misfit between certain people and certain environments within a specific time. Since these
processes happen within time, time itself is an important component on the process of environmental fit and quality
of life. Time budgets in a persons life, as spent in particular places (e.g., open spaces, airports, waiting rooms, and
kitchens), as well as time budgets related to others, such as between men and women, and to those who need
care, such as children or older people, are important aspects of ones quality of life.
Thus fit, rather than being evaluated in absolute terms, needs to be referred to particular settings, social roles, and
their times. Varying degrees of fit or misfit can be reached and people will regulate their behaviors to manage this
issue: their main strategies in managing the fit can be oriented toward the preventive side (i.e., avoiding the
negative outcomes) or toward the promotion side (i.e., looking for positive outcomes), as theorized by Higgins
(2005). Finally, the either subjectively or objectively evaluated outcome of this process corresponds to the quality
of life (QOL) issue: in fact, the quality of the urban environment, especially of the residential one, is one of the main
components of peoples overall QOL, although it tends to come, in terms of importance in the overall QOL, after
elements such as leisure activities, economic conditions, work, friendships, and marriage/family life (e.g., Bonaiuto,
2004; Lawrence, 2002). But at the same time it is strongly correlated with and facilitates or impedes all those other
features of the QOL.
This framework, coherent with transactional approaches (e.g., Altman & Rogoff, 1987; Stokols, 1987), tries to
convey the point that public policies, design, and governance activity in residential environments should be
directed to support everyday life and thus promote quality of life.
Reality appears as a result of people and environment transactions. Mead (1934, p. 131) expressed this idea with
the simple example of grass starting to be a food only when an ox appears: the grass as food is therefore created
by the outcome of the interaction between an organism and an environment. Similarly (Figure 13.1), it can be said
that any residential place is the outcome of the transaction between person(s) and environment. Strictly speaking,
the term environment could be used to refer to physical and social features, while a residential place would
necessarily be the outcome of organism(s) experiencing an environment within a residential framework. Although
here organism is (p. 226) always intended in terms of human beings, such a general framework can of course
be applied to animal and particularly to urban domestic animals, which are increasingly considered as residents of
the urban ecology, for example, in the case of urban cat colonies (e.g., Benson, 1981).
Following this ecological understanding, the chapter can be divided into sections addressing residential settings at
different scales in which daily activities are embedded. These sections are used here for illustrative and
classification purposes. In this sense, they are not exhaustive, with in-between categories being also possible.
Moreover, it is perfectly plausible to have smaller or larger geographical scale environments: for example, ones
own room, on the one side, or ones own country, on the other side. Any scale can be more or less salient
according to the specific moment: for example, being abroad or coming back from a travel abroad, can make
ones own country as the most salient residential level, maybe for nostalgia feelings; another example can be
adolescence as a period during which ones own room is a residential preferred level to experience attachment
and satisfaction compared to the whole home, etc.
For the sake of the present chapter, the following four main geographical levels, or places can be formalized:
1. Home-related settings, with indoor and outdoor spaces
2. Neighborhoods at a larger level
3. Outdoor spaces: natural and built urban spaces, streets, leisure spaces, and so on
4. City
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Moreover, there are a number of classical or recent issues and problems that can be addressed across these main
residential places, which are listed in Table 13.1. The list proposed in Table 13.1 must be considered as an openended list. This means that a number of other issues and problems can be conceptualized and therefore the list
could be enlarged to incorporate other residential relevant issues. Four topics or residential processes are
discussed here, starting with some more traditional issues within environmental psychology about residential
places discussed in the first section and then progressing with more recent issues in the following three sections. It
may be noted that in many cases a research topic addressed at a certain place level brings knowledge relevant
for another topic and/or another place level: this is evident in the next paragraph in several passages and it shows
how Table 13.1 serves as a conceptual clarifying tool rather than a systematic map of the empirical studies. This is
also highlighted by ticks in Table 13.1 to stress main emphasis in relating a topic to the possible residential places.
Four Residential Topics or Processes

A traditional research area in environmental psychology refers to residential environments, with a particular focus
at the neighborhood level (although home and city have also been researched traditionally). The development of
studies focusing on the residential neighborhood allows, however, the highlighting of fundamental issues or
processesrelated to settings people use on a regular basisthat are relevant to understand peoples
experiences in the larger context of the whole residential environment. This can also be due to the crucial link
exerted by the neighborhood in connecting a persons home residence with her or his own city residence,
especially in modulating the activities carried out within all the different residential places (e.g., as it can be seen in
a multi-place perspective analyses; see Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 2002). The following four subparagraphs can be
viewed as enriching the environmental psychological analysis of the residential places by progressing with a
transactional and ecological emphasis when looking at a specific residential place: starting from the individual
perceptual and
Table 13.1 Matrix of Residential Place by Topic (or Process), with Ticks Highlighting Minor or Main Emphasis of
Empirical Results Reported in the Present Chapter
Home
Neighborhood
Perception, evaluation, satisfaction
Uses and activities
Segregation or aggregation
Branding and reputation
Outdoor Spaces
City
x
(p. 227) evaluative level (first topic or process); passing to the individual action level (second topic or process);
moving then to the social level of groups and collective action (third topic or process); to finally reapproach the
persons perceptual and evaluative level within a different conceptual view (fourth topic or process).
In fact, perception and evaluation of, and satisfaction with, the residential neighborhood have been extensively
researched. Here we try to show how peoples perceptions and evaluations can be linked to uses and activities a
person carries out within her or his own several residential places.
Peoples uses and activities in residential places are therefore subsequently considered in the second selected
topic, with particular emphasis on implications for health and well-being. This first passage, between the first two
topics, adds an enriched transactional and ecological flavor to the residential place that is given by treating
peoples activities as the interface between an individual and her or his own everyday environment (as depicted in
Figure 13.1).
Afterward, the third selected topic shows how, in turn, peoples residential activities can be crucial not only for their
own personal QOL but also, at a broader and more social level, for the collective impact they have on other people
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and groups. This second passage, between topic two and three, highlights a further increased transactional and
ecological flavor in the residential place analysis, which is given again by the activity as the interface between the
person and her or his environment, but this time within the frame of social and cultural groups, categories, and
systems they belong to.
Finally, the fourth topic allows us to go back to the first topic with a refreshed conceptual perspective, that is,
focusing on recent developments that can be relevant for peoples perceptions and evaluations of residential
places. This process is framed in terms of place branding and reputation, which emphasize the impacts on the
residential perceptions and evaluations of the individual and collective residential pragmatics resulting from the
people-environment transactions happening at all the ecological levels of the residential places system.
Perception, Evaluation, and Satisfaction

Home
The perception and evaluation of the home environment is basic daily-life experience (van der Klis & Karsten,
2009). The evolution of mobility and its impact on the residential experiences, including that of home and
neighborhood settings, have been addressed (Lord, Desprs,, & Ramadier, 2011). The use of longitudinal studies
coupled with analyses of the spatial-temporal dimensions (e.g., trip pattern analysis) and experiential (e.g.,
biography-related methods) of the residential setting have proved significant to capture the psychological, social,
and material tensions involved in peoples experiences of the home environment.
When examining the meaning of home for suburban elders in Quebec, Desprs and Lord (2005) discovered six
major dimensions related to the meaning and experience of the home environment related to the desire to age in
place: psychological (e.g., personal control and self-related experiences); social (e.g., socialization; access to
human resources); economic (e.g., affordable housing; ownership); material (e.g., network of urban places;
housing type); temporal (e.g., familiar setting; attachment and memories); space-time (e.g., center of daily life;
proximity and accessibility). These categories are related to both house and neighborhood scales and highlight
how the retrofitting of postwar suburbs could improve positive experiences of the home environment.
An important aspect of this research is its consideration of spatial-temporal variables and the specification of how
research results can contribute to the planning and design of home and its related settings and activities. For
instance, Lord et al. (2011) have studied the evolution of the relationship to home for older adults living in
suburban settings. By using longitudinal data and focusing on daily mobility, this study revealed elders adaptation
strategies (e.g., constructed behaviors) of their daily mobility and the evolving nature of the experiences of the
city: the shrinking city, the fragmented city, and the city by proxy. These results show the importance of aging at
home, how elders who do so can maintain the social-spatial references that contribute to their sense of identity,
and how the evolution of mobility is a major aspect of residential experience.
Among others, the focus on home settings and its relation to psychosocial processes have also been addressed
by Evans et al. (2010). When comparing the association between crowding and cognitive development in US and
UK samples, the authors reported maternal responsiveness as an important mediator variable. Mothers in more
crowded homes were less responsive to their children.
In some cases, people may live separate livesa work life and a private lifeas is the case with the dualresidence situation of commuters (e.g., van der Klis & Karsten, 2009), and find it difficult to integrate the
experience of the home environment. (p. 228) These studieseither focusing on the dwelling setting or in relation
to its association with the neighborhood and city levelsshow the need to analyze home settings in a continuum
of experiences related to daily patterns of activities.
Neighborhood
The topic of residential neighborhood has been traditionally addressed within environmental psychology since its
inception and, therefore, represents a classical one within the disciplines statutory or established knowledge (e.g.,
Bonnes & Secchiaroli, 1992; Lawrence, 2002; Tognoli, 1987).
Various authors concerned with residents evaluation of their neighborhood (e.g., Guest & Lee, 1984) have
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referred to a theoretical model that considers three main aspects of the neighborhood: spatial (architectonic and
town planning, including green areas), human (population and type of social relations), and functional (available
services). Subsequently, further developments showed that a fourth component characterized residents
evaluation of their neighborhood (Bonaiuto et al., 1999; Bonaiuto et al., 2003; Bonaiuto et al., 2006; Fornara,
Bonaiuto, & Bonnes, 2010a): that is, contextual features (time and pace of life, health/nonpollution, upkeep).
Moreover, within a contextual or transactional theoretical perspective (e.g., Altman & Rogoff, 1987; Stokols,
1987), investigators have underlined the importance of considering molar units of analysis, such as place, in the
study of people-environment relationships (Canter, 1977, 1988; Proshansky, Fabian, & Kaminoff, 1983; Russell &
Ward, 1982). Researchers have also emphasized recognizing the centrality of the temporal dimension for peoples
environmental experience (e.g., Werner, Altman, & Oxley, 1985), both in terms of linear time (referring to the length
of time a resident has lived in the neighborhood) and in terms of cyclic time (referring to time spent daily in the
neighborhood).
In theoretical terms, it is useful here to distinguish among three main conceptual constructs following Bonaiuto
(2004).
Residential satisfaction (RS): the experience of pleasure or gratification deriving from living in a specific place; that
is, global evaluation inhabitants report with their housing, which can be considered at various levels of scale
(home, building, neighborhood, city).
Place attachment (PA): forms and degrees of affectfeelings, moods, emotionsthat people develop over time and
come to experience with reference to the places in which they are born, live, and act. Neighborhood attachment
(NA) focuses specifically on bonds developed with ones own residential neighborhood. Another construct dealing
with the affective evaluation of the place is the perceived affective quality (e.g., Russell & Pratt, 1980; Perugini,
Bonnes, Aiello, & Ercolani, 2002), which is not a place-specific one but can also be used for differentiating
residential places (e.g., Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 2002).
Residential (urban) quality (RQ): evaluation of the different specific attributes of the residential (urban)
environment; such evaluation can be technical (i.e., expert-based, objective) or observer-based (i.e.,
perceived, subjective). Within the second one, perceived residential environmental quality indicators (PREQIs)
are a standard set of perceived indicators for evaluating a specific place, which can also be used for policy and
monitoring functions.
The first construct, RS, can be considered an overall, global evaluation of the residential environment from the
perspective of the inhabitant and operationally, most of the time, is measured via the inhabitant answer (in a range
from not at all to completely) to global items such as How satisfied are you with the house (or building or
neighborhood)? It can be, however, conceptually considered as comprising the three main components of the
psychological construct of attitude (affect, cognition, behavior): the realm of peoples affective response toward
the residential environment, the realm of their cognitive evaluations of the same environment, and the realm of the
action carried out in that environment. Only a very few studies concern the behavioral component, while the first
two components have been studied to a greater extent. The first two aspects are caught, respectively, by the
other two important constructs mentioned above, which are strictly related to, and partly overlapping, with
residential satisfaction: namely, PA and perceived RQ.
PA, and more particularly residential attachment and NA in our case here, encompasses cognitive, motivational,
and behavioral aspects, reflected in psychological correlates such as the tendency to give favorable evaluations
of their dwelling place, reasons for improving it, and reluctance to leave it. PA, and specifically NA, can be
operatively defined in terms of inhabitants responses to items such as (in the case of the neighborhood scale
level) This neighborhood is part of me or It would be very hard for me to leave this neighborhood: it aims to
catch the global affective response of the person toward her or his own residential environment.
(p. 229) Differently, RQ refers to evaluations of the degree of quality of a range of single features of the
home/neighborhood, and perceived residential environment quality refers to such evaluation from the point of view
of the users, typically inhabitants. Perceived residential environment quality can be operatively defined in terms of
inhabitants answers to items such as (again, referring to the neighborhood scale level) Buildings have unpleasant
colors or The air is clean: it aims to catch specific cognitive evaluations with respect to a range of certain
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residential features from the point of view of the person. Moreover, environmental quality is typically considered a
multidimensional construct because, for example, RQ can comprise an array of features (e.g., as mentioned
above, from architectonic and town planning features to human and social features, from services to contextual
elements, where each of these categories comprises a range of subcategories, each having many different items).
Finally, environmental quality, including RQ, can be viewed in terms of both technical and observational
assessments (Craik & Feimer, 1987): in the first case, environmental quality is evaluated on the basis of technical
systems of measurement (so-called objective or expert assessment); in the second case, perceived environmental
quality is evaluated on the basis of consensual impressions expressed in an ordinary language framework by the
inhabitants (so-called subjective or layperson assessment).
In fact, the quality of the very same urban environment can then be evaluated from at least two perspectives: the
technical, experts assessment or the observer-based, laypersons assessment. The first perspective is often
referred to as objective because it involves tools and measures (metrics, weights) of scientific and technical
disciplines; that is, mechanical monitoring equipment or other physical means to produce a reading of environment
quality (it does not require individual exposition). The second perspective can be referred to as subjective
because it relies on self-report tools through which the person expresses her or his everyday life in terms of
perceptions, observations, impressions; that is, it employs the perceptual abilities of humans to judge
environmental quality. This means that observational assessment offers a measure of the quality of the
environment as it is experienced.
However, both kinds of environmental assessments aspire to objectivity, inasmuch as they strive to have
reproducible measures that are valid, reliable, sensible, and useful. Similarly, both share subjectivity, because
technical assessment relies on human choice about selecting which dimension to examine, sampling times and
places, interpreting results; and observational assessment is derived, by definition, from individual experiencebased responses (which, however, in some cases can show a strikingly high intersubjective agreement). Both
kinds of evaluations aim to address the environment in which people live, but probably different values, ideals, and
goals about the environment underlie the experts technical and laypersons observational assessments.
Theoretically, such underlying discrepancies reflect the processes of social and cultural construction of the
environment and of environmental issues, where social conflicts and controversies affect environmental
descriptions and evaluations. For example, ethical, aesthetic, and ideological forces play a role in defining what
should be considered polluted or dangerous for the environment and for people (Douglas, 1966).
Therefore, the degree of correspondence among the different types of evaluations (technical and observational)
can be a problematic issue. For example, when assessing the quality of urban green areas, experts and laypeople
are often in strong disagreement because laypeople give strong importance to green areas accessibility and
usability during different times of the day, while experts assessments tend to overlook such components (e.g.,
Bonnes & Bonaiuto, 1995). Thus, different systems of values can generate different, and sometimes opposite,
evaluations of the quality of the same urban residential environment. For this reason, it is important to compare and
to integrate technical assessments with observational ones in designing and managing the environment.
Measures of Neighborhood Cognitions, Affects, and Activities

The focus here is on observational assessment exemplified at the residential neighborhood level. A basic issue in
observational assessment is to establish criteria and devise valid and reliable tools to operatively describe
constructs such as residential satisfaction and perceived quality of the residential environment, as well as to
measure them. The general aim here is to know how laypeoplethat is, residentsperceive and evaluate such
aspects. Such a problem can be generally framed within a broader place theory (e.g., Canter, 1977, 1986;
Bonnes & Secchiaroli, 1995), which conceives any place experience, at any given scale level, as psychologically
constituted by three main elements: the physical attributes of the setting; the activities carried out in (p. 230) it;
and the descriptions or conceptions that people hold about it. Therefore, describing inhabitants residential
satisfaction and perceived residential quality is a prerequisite to gaining a complete environmental psychological
picture of their residential place, which should, however, be complemented by a technical assessment on the
places physical features as well as by an assessment of the inhabitants uses of that place (uses and activities are
focused in part of this paragraph and then in all the next one, while the relation among peoples descriptions and
activities with the technical assessment is referred to here and there in different parts of these same paragraphs).
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In describing how inhabitants perceive, conceive, and evaluate a residential place, two main methodological
approaches can be adopted (Bonaiuto, 2004). The first, more inductive approach, which moves from how the
inhabitants spontaneously think and/or talk about their own residential environment, and the second, more
deductive approach, moving from the features of the residential environment that the researcher reckons to be
theoretically relevant, and then eliciting the inhabitants evaluations about such features. Often the two
approaches represent two successive phases of a broader research effort.
On the basis of the first approach, inhabitants can take part in unstructured or semi-structured interviews, or in
small group discussions, and the researcher can then try to describe the way they talk about their residential
environment: this approach usually privileges qualitative evidence to depict the folk, commonsense ways to
conceive and evaluate the residential environment.
On the basis of the second approach, inhabitants are typically administered a questionnaire where they are
presented with several items, selected as relevant within the researchers theoretical framework and referring to
their residential environment; then they are requested to answer them by filling in agreement-disagreement or
satisfaction-dissatisfaction graduated scales: this approach typically privileges quantitative methods, gathering
large samples of inhabitants and using statistics to infer a populations main trends.
While the first approach can offer an in-depth and fresh description of the residential ethnography, that is, of the
inhabitants ways to give meaning to and to organize their social-physical residential reality, the second approach
can offer quick, systematic, and broad information on how the inhabitants position themselves on the whole array
of features that are considered crucial by the researcher to evaluate the perceived residential environment quality.
Each method can emphasize different aspects. Take, for instance, the residential neighborhood perceived quality:
if you concentrate on inhabitants free expressions, you will probably notice that they often collapse together the
evaluation of aspects that are technically or theoretically considered as separate (say, architectonic or urban
planning features with social features, or services and social features); on the contrary, if you ask them directly,
via ad hoc prepared scales, to evaluate each feature of the residential environment, you will end up with separate,
pure indicators for each feature. In the first case, you can, for example, appreciate the fact that the method
allows you to reconstruct the weft of the inhabitants residential perceptions and evaluations, discovering how
they psychologically bring together different features on the basis that, for example, they all pertain to urban
safety. In the second case, you would probably appreciate the possibility of knowing the inhabitants position on
exactly the same matters you are interested in, which can then be used to make systematic comparison among
different groups or places, or among such perceptions and other indicators that consider the very same features
from the point of view of a technical assessment.
Having said that, it must be recognized that the results of different studies carried out in several countries in the
past 30 years converge to show a stable structure lying at the basis of peoples evaluation of their residential
environment: keeping the focus on the residential neighborhood scale level and considering the initial starting
model mentioned above comprising four main areas of evaluation (space, people, services, context), some main
results can be summarized in the following five main points (adapted and updated from Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 2002,
referring mainly to a long-term research line that started from that initial model within a UNESCO-MAB Rome Project;
see also Bonnes, Carrus, Bonaiuto, Fornara, & Passafaro, 2004).
1. Spontaneous inhabitants evaluations of their own residential neighborhood tend to collapse different aspects of
the environment, especially gathering together human/social features with architectonic, town-planning, and
functional features (Bonnes, Bonaiuto, & Ercolani, 1991; Bonnes, Bonaiuto, Ercolani, & De Rosa, 1991). Laypeople
thus tend to evaluate their residential environment not in a molecular way, but according to a molar perspective
that almost always integrates social with physical (p. 231) or functional elements. The three main dimensions
underlying these links (confirmed in different towns and times) seem to be density (space and social), safety
(space and social), and opportunity of use (services and social uses).
2. The subjective molar perspective intuitively adopted by laypeople partially correlates with experts technical
and objective indicators, as far as the built environment is concerned (architectural, town-planning, or functional
features of the neighborhood). However, as far as green spaces are concerned, the overlap between laypeoples
perspective and objective indicators is more problematic. Molecular indicators referring to specific aspects of
green areas and vegetation tend to negatively correlate with peoples molar evaluations of green areas (which
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collapse together spatial features with social uses of green areas). These results (see Bonnes & Bonaiuto, 1995)
highlight the importance of questioning and further analyzing the correspondence between the two evaluative
perspectives: it does not appear that they can be easily reduced, one to the other. Congruently, a proper
environmental assessment should always include both perspectives and approaches. These observations also
raise the problem of devising proper instruments for tapping both kinds of environmental assessment (as
traditionally known; e.g., Craik & Feimer, 1987).
3. The development of the PREQI (perceived residential environment quality indicator) measurement scales aims to
give an answer to this problem, too; that is, to provide a reliable and valid tool for measuring inhabitants
evaluations of their own residential neighborhood. PREQIs are designed to tap three main features of the residential
environment according to traditional theoretical models of place (architectonic and town-planning, social, and
services; e.g., Canter, 1997; Guest & Lee, 1984), plus contextual features (as emerged from further qualitative
exploratory studies). Furthermore, it is conceived with a modular and flexible structure: that is, it provides a tool
composed of a set of partly independent indicators that can be used together or separately, according to the
needs of the specific environmental assessment. They comprise 19 specific indicators of perceived residential
environmental quality. Moreover, a measure of PA has been developed, too, with reference to the residential
neighborhood and in terms of both process and outcome (Altman & Ginat, 1992; Harris, Brown, & Werner,
1996) as one NA scale. Both PREQIs and NA scale have been created and refined with a systematic progression of
correlation studies: an initial study on several neighborhoods in Rome (Bonnes et al., 1997; Bonaiuto et al., 1999);
a confirmation study on a different sample in Rome (Bonaiuto et al., 2003); a generalization study to extend their
validity through a large sample of medium and small cities in Italy (Bonaiuto et al., 2006); and the development of a
final extended version and a final short version of the PREQIs and of the NA scale, via confirmatory factorial
analyses techniques (Fornara, Bonaiuto, & Bonnes, 2010a). In the last version, the 19 PREQIs are grouped as
follows (141-item extended version: 612 items for each indicator with 0.71 < alpha < 0.90; 62-item short version:
34 items for each indicator with 0.62 < alpha < 0.88): architectural and town-planning features (visual-perceptual
space: architectural and urban planning space, functional space: organization of accessibility and roads, green
areas: indicators 16); socio-relational features (indicators 79); functional features (welfare services, recreational
services, commercial services, transport services: indicators 1015); context features (pace of life, environmental
health, upkeep and care: indicators 1619). The 19 specific indicators are the following:
1) buildings aesthetics
2) buildings density
3) buildings volume
4) internal functionality
5) external connections (with the city)
6) green areas (presence and care)
7) security
8) discretion
9) sociability
10) school services
11) social-care services
12) sport services
13) social-cultural activities
14) commercial services
15) transport services
16) relaxing versus distressing pace of life
17) stimulating versus boring pace of life
18) environmental health (unpolluted environment)
19) upkeep
There is also a neighborhood attachment (NA) scale (8-item extended version and 4-item short version,
respectively alpha = 0.91 and 0.82).
A first Italian standard version of PREQIs and NA scale has been released (Fornara, Bonaiuto, & Bonnes, 2010b).
Further studies in other countries are in progress to extend the generalizability of the PREQIs and NA scale to
different linguistic (p. 232) and cultural contexts, starting with samples from Turkey, France, Portugal, China, and
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so on.
Moreover, some of the PREQIs proved to be important in predicting NA, which appears to have therefore a multicomponential nature, being predicted by a mix of indicators belonging to all the four areas, with the following
priority: contextual features especially with pace of life (indicators 16 and 17); then architectural and townplanning especially with built and green features (particularly indicators 1 and 6); and finally social (particularly
indicator 9) and services (particularly indicator 13) features (Bonaiuto et al., 1999). Thus, an affective-molar
evaluation of the neighborhood is linked to cognitive-molecular evaluations of the same place.
Such PREQIs and NA scale, together with traditional measures of RS, have been used in post-occupancy
evaluation (POE) researches and assessments, that is, to examine the effectiveness for human users of occupied
designed (residential) environments. They have been successfully used, for example, to provide evidence-based
information for the design in Rome of a public square in a peripheral degraded area of the city (e.g., see Bonaiuto
& Bonnes, 2002), or in the assessment and design of high-quality complexes in residential areas of the city
(Fornara, Bonaiuto, Bonnes, Carrus, & Passafaro, 2007).
4. As traditionally stated in theoretical models of people-place transactions (e.g., Canter, 1977, 1986; Russell &
Ward, 1982), peoples residential experience is not limited to perceptions and evaluation (whether cognitivemolecular or molar-affective) of neighborhood features: it also comprises activities carried out within the residential
place (see also Rapoport, 1990). Moreover, these activities are interdependent with activities carried out within
other urban places, namely, the city center and the periphery. Studies showed that each city inhabitant develops a
specific multi-place system of activities composed of activities carried out within these three locations (Bonnes et
al., 1990). These systems of activities seem to be organized according to very typical and stable configurations
that recur in cities of different sizes as well as in the same city across a period of 10 years (Bonaiuto & Bonnes,
1996; Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 2002). Generally, the residential place tends to be a pivot in organizing the inhabitants
system of activities and each system of multi-place activities tend to integrate complementary activities across
different places. However, different social categories of inhabitants are characterized by different patterns of
activities: some people living in a large metropolitan area (apparently this does not happen within a small city) are
confined in a single place (usually the neighborhood, sometimes the city center); some people use two places; and
a relative minority of people display an integrated mastering of the city by using all three urban places. Socialdemographic features allow these categories of inhabitants to be described by gender, age, years of residence,
occupation, and so on. On the whole, such an approach shows the systemic and ecological nature of places,
which are organized in terms of a system of places interconnected, through the persons inter-place activities.
5. Finally, such a multi-place system of activities proves to be significantly correlated with perceptions and
evaluations regarding the specific residential place involved in such a pragmatic system (Bonaiuto, Bonnes, &
Continisio, 2004): that is, environmental cognition and action are coherently merged within the personal and
everyday experience of the residential place. In fact, that research shows that four groups characterized by
specific different patterns of multi-place activity were significantly different in their degree of satisfaction with
respect to the three dimensions of residential environmental qualities. Briefly, as Bonaiuto et al. (2004) summarized,
a system of urban practices oriented toward integrationthat is, high degree of specificity and variety, high urban
mobility, high social exchange (quality users group and multi-place hyperactive group)is associated with (1)
greater perceived residential quality regarding the relational aspects linked to social-spatial security and (2) more
negative evaluations for the functional aspects and, to a lesser degree, for the aspects of spatial-social density. In
contrast, a system of urban activities oriented toward alienation and confinementthat is, low specificity, low urban
mobility, and little social exchange (marginal escape users group) is associated with greater perceived residential
quality regarding the aspects of both spatial-physical density and functional adequacy; however, for relational
aspects linked to social-spatial security, it is associated with an experience of lower quality.
These results verify the association between the evaluations of residential quality and satisfaction regarding the
neighborhood and the system of activities carried out in the place-city and in the neighborhood subplace. The
existence of this type of association pattern is consistent with the conceptual model of residential place (in this
case, the neighborhood) as a psychological unit constituted by activities and by coherently articulated evaluations
(p. 233) (Canter, 1977, 1991). Overall, these results show that residential evaluation and satisfaction are
articulated coherently with the type of activities carried out in the residential place and in other parts of the city,
underscoring the interconnection between evaluative and action aspects involved in the psychological experience
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of place. Such a relationship has been empirically tested in very few cases (e.g., Aragons, Amrigo, & Sukhwani,
1992, cited in Amrigo & Aragons, 1997, p. 51; Skjaeveland & Grling, 1997).
The general issue of uses and activities is therefore expanded in the second point in the above list in relation to
recent research about residential place uses and activities relating to both individual health and collective
processes.
City
Urban green spaces enhance residential satisfaction (Bonaiuto, Aiello, Perugini, Bonnes, & Ercolani, 1999). Van der
Meer et al. (2011) have used the city of Berlin as an example of a high-density residential environment to test their
model of residential satisfaction. They designed three studies to examine the relationship between objective
attributes of residential environments (e.g., street width, building height); peoples evaluations (cognitive and
affective judgments); and the effect of different types of greenery (vegetation-covered wasteland areas) on
peoples perception and affective judgment; as well as a task-evoked pupillary response as an indicator of
cognitive resource allocation. First, they showed that building density has an impact on crowding. This was shown
by manipulating specific attributes of the built environment, namely street width, building height, story height,
number of parked cars, and greenery. Thus, wide streets, greenery, and a fewer number of parked cars decrease
the perception of crowding among residents.
Second, they tested the hypothesis that processing highly complex urban wilderness areas consumes more
resources than processing less complex urban wilderness areas and measured peak dilation to evaluate the
magnitude of the pupillary response. The results showed that visually structured sites (less demanding visually)
were associated with smaller pupil dilations.
Finally, they examined what factors predicted residential satisfaction in the urban area of Berlin. They found that
traffic noise, litter and dirt, unpleasant odors, cold temperatures in winter, and air pollution were rated as the most
critical ambient stressors.
Uses and Activities

To move a step further into a more ecological and transactional approach to the residential places, this section
focuses more on the persons uses and activities in her or his own residential places, with particular attention to
those pertaining to urban green areas and outdoor green spaces, which have been studied as potential
determinants of health and well-being. According to the proposed ecological framework (Figure 13.1 and Table
13.1), studies examining these factors can focus on the four main residential places, although obviously without a
uniform distribution over the four levels.
It is important to stress that although environmental psychology emphasizes the importance of residential green
areas for human health and well-being, it is not the only perspective giving such a guideline. The difference,
however, from other perspectives that give similar indicationsoften from nonscientific points of viewis that of
being able to scientifically demonstrate the underlying mechanisms and therefore to scientifically explain the
guidelines, arguing for an evidence-based design on the basis of both scientific theories and empirical data
(Bonaiuto, Bilotta, & Stolfa, 2010; see also, for example, Becker et al., 2011). In fact, from one theoretical
perspective, psychological restoration has been studied in terms of stress reduction (Ulrich, 1983); from another
theoretical perspective, it has been studied in terms of recovery of cognitive resources (Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989).
Both perspectives have been largely supported by empirical research (Berto, 2005; Hartig, Evans, Jamner, Davis,
& Grling, 2003; Hartig, Mang, & Evans, 1991; Tennessen & Cimprich, 1995; Ulrich, 1981; Ulrich, Simons, Losito,
Fiorito, Miles, & Zelson, 1991). Different psychological mechanisms have also been invoked to explain the
restorative effects of green areas in general, including the perception of the restorative potential of the
environment and its positive affective quality (e.g., Scopelliti et al., in press).
Home
In relation to health and quality of life promotion, which is the focus of this chapter, studies show that green and
open spaces closer to home reduce stress with a lower likelihood of obesity being associated with access to a
garden and shorter distances to green areas from the dwelling (Nielsen & Hansen, 2007). The health impact of
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private gardening (Stigsdotter & Grahn, 2004) has also been studied. Green space in peoples living environment
has also (p. 234) been examined to see whether social contacts are an underlying mechanism of the relationship
between green space and health. Results showed that less green space in peoples living environment coincided
with feelings of loneliness and with perceived shortages of social support (e.g., Maas, van Dillen, Verheij, &
Groenewegen, 2009a).
A current major concern for research refers to sedentary behavior and obesity, particularly among children. A
study by Granich (2010) demonstrated that the family home environment (house design and the availability of
multiple electronic devices within the home) was associated with childrens use of electronic media (i.e., television,
electronic games, and computer) in the home environment. The examination of routine activities showed that
children spent two or more hours a day using electronic media. Home and the activity routines related to it may be
a strong context-specific factor associated with sedentary behavior among children. However, additional studies
related to peoples daily routines in home settings are needed.
Neighborhood
In general, the use of the cumulative risk model (Evans & Marcynyszyn, 2004) shows that the ample aggregated
number of potential risk factors increases fear of crime and decreases well-being in the inhabitants (Bilotta,
Bonaiuto, & Bonnes, 2010). More specifically, research at the neighborhood place level has addressed the
percentages of green space in a 1 km and 3 km radius around the home to examine how perceived general health
is moderated by amount of green space in the neighborhood. The findings have demonstrated that participants
with a high amount of green space in a 3 km radius are less affected by experiencing stressful life events than
respondents with a low amount of green space in this radius (van den Berg et al., 2010). When addressing the
amount of green space in relation to the prevalence of physician-assessed morbidity, Maas et al. (2009b) showed
that green space close to home (1 km radius) was also associated with lower annual prevalence rates of
investigated disease clusters than green space farther away.
Common outdoor spaces in deprived communities might contribute to social cohesion (Kuo, Sullivan, Coley, &
Brunson 1998; Kweon, Sullivan, & Wiley, 1998), and perceived amounts of open spaces and level of vegetation
are linked to lower crime rates and feelings of safety in urban contexts (Kuo et al., 1998; Kuo & Sullivan, 2001b). In
fact, the amount of green space close to where people live has a significant relationship with their perceived health
(Maas et al., 2006) with green spaces being a preferred element when trade-offs among specific attributes of
neighborhood open spaces are put into question (Alves et al., 2008).
Research findings also point to the potential of neighborhood green space to enhance health by helping people
restore from mental fatigue (Scopelliti & Giuliani, 2005), by acting as a resource to facilitate physical activities
(Bjrk et al., 2008), by reducing mortality (Mitchell & Popham, 2008), by reducing stress levels (e.g., Nielsen &
Hansen, 2007), and mitigating stressful life events (van den Berg, 2010). Korpela et al. (2010) showed that there is
a link between the need for restoration (worries and stress), the use of environmental self-regulation strategies
(favorite places), and restorative outcomes.
Use of green spaces has also been examined in relation to thermal discomfort during periods of heat stress. Users
of selected green spaces in Italy and the United Kingdom have been studied. The findings show that longer and
frequent visits to green spaces may alleviate the perception of thermal discomfort during periods of heat stress
among users (Lafortezza, Carrus, Sanesia, & Davies, 2009).
A group of studies have focused on younger populations and children showing, for instance, that preferred outdoor
places vary according to childrens age and degree of vegetation (Castonguay & Jutras, 2009). For example, a
study comparing the cultural contexts of Finland and Italy demonstrated the importance of child-friendly
neighborhood spaces, particularly the existence of settings that allow outdoor playing (Haikkola, Pacilli, Horelli, &
Prezza, 2007). Child-care policies and environment (Trost, Stewart, Ward, & Senso, 2010) and childrens physical
activity after school in green space (Wheeler, Cooper, Page, & Russell, 2010) have also been main topics of recent
research with proximal social and physical variables been studied (e.g., Aarts et al., 2010).
A considerable portion of recent studies have focused on neighborhood variables, such as open and green
spaces, and their effect on physical health. Both objective and subjective assessments (e.g., Seaman, Jones, &
Ellaway, 2010) have been used to understand why people in urban areas choose to use, or not use, local public
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green space. Studies have been giving attention to children and have investigated associations between observed
built environmental characteristics and childrens walking and cycling behaviors (e.g., de Vries et al., 2010).
(p. 235) In relation to objective and subjective/perceived evaluations of green and open spaces, there seems to
be a lack of agreement in the literaturesuggesting that these measures are capturing different aspects of
neighborhood greenness (Leslie et al., 2010). Recent efforts have been targeted to objective measurements of
specific diseases (as derived from electronic medical records of general practitioners) and how they are related to
green space (Maas et al., 2009b) and to differences in the perceptions and evaluations of urban green areas in
relation to peoples attitudes and values toward human-nature relationship (Bonnes, Passafaro, & Carrus, 2010).
Moreover, green areas is one of the 19 PREQIs (perceived residential environment quality indicators) identified by
Bonaiuto et al. (1999, 2003, 2006) and Fornara et al. (2010a, 2010b), showing therefore that inhabitants focus on
both the amount and the maintenance and accessibility of the green areas located in ones own neighborhood. In
fact, green areas presence, perceived availability, and maintenance index are also among the best predictors of
NA among PREQIs (Bonaiuto et al., 1999). However, subjectively measured general areas quality does not seem to
relate with objectively measured specific green quality (e.g., Bonnes & Bonaiuto, 1995) because of different foci in
the measures. Further research is needed to understand which objective measures of green spaces quality better
relate with peoples perceptions of quality of green spaces. As previously mentioned, a persons uses and
activities in the residential neighborhood are related to her or his own activities in other places (e.g., the periphery
and the city center) and therefore a places uses are always part of a broader multi-place pragmatics (e.g., Bonnes
et al., 1990; Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 1996; Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 2002).
Outdoor Spaces
Research on neighborhood outdoor spaces has addressed specific environmental attributes, such as
attractiveness (which is related to the presence of natural features and environments), street connectivity, access
to outdoor recreational facilities, and access to places of interest (Sugiyama et al., 2009), demonstrating that these
factors are related to recreational physical activity. The perceived attractiveness of streets for walking has also
been examined and showed that tidiness of the street, its scenic value, and the presence of activity or other
people along the street contributed to walking behavior (Borst et al., 2008). In general, there are few studies
concentrating on street settingsspecifically for green spaces and outdoor activities (Alves, under review).
Specific configurations of park environments have been examined in relation to physical activity (e.g., Floyd et al.,
2008) by means of direct observation. Also, assessment of physical activity in public parks has been directed to
the study of outdoor play areas and their association with physical activity for children (Sugiyama et al., 2010).
Availability of neighborhood parks has been associated with higher participation in active sports, and greater green
space coverage has been associated with reporting higher indices of physical activity (Boone-Heinonena,
Casanova, Richardson, & Gordon-Larsena, 2010).
Outdoor spaces at larger scales, such as woods, have been studied in relation to emotional and physical stress.
For instance, Hartig et al. (2003) compared participants taking a walk in the woods versus those taking an urban
walk and found lower levels of stress in the nature-related walk. Also, Staas and Hartig (2003) tested social context
and the need for psychological restoration by simulating a walk through a forest and a walk through an urban
center. They found that fatigue increased preference for the natural over the urban environment.
Research has revealed which aspects of neighborhood outdoor spaces affect levels of physical activity and other
outdoor activities, such as walking (e.g., Pikora et al., 2006). Specific factors in the neighborhood settingsuch as
the neighborhood walkability (Saelens et al., 2003), level of traffic in the neighborhood, and the type of urban
design (e.g., pedestrian-friendly design; e.g., Cervero & Kockelman, 1997)also exert an influence on patterns of
physical activity (Appleyard, 1981; Strach et al., 2007). Neighborhood socioeconomic status (van Lenthe et al.,
2005) is also associated with the levels of physical activity, such as walking, with deprived neighborhoods offering
fewer chances for independent mobility for older people. Walking, for instance, can be used by people in diverse
settings and the promotion of regular physical activity can be a main nonpharmaceutical measure toward a
preventive approach for a successful ageing (Vogel et al., 2009).
City
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Here the relevance of residential green areas and outdoor spaces refers to the fact that a city can have different
levels of outdoor and green areas available for its citizens. This can have a range of possible effects, from
increase in health indices of, and (p. 236) well-being activities carried out by, the local population, to pollution
decrease; from attraction toward tourism to maintenance of local citizenship and contrast to city shrinkage. Cities
become differentiated among more and less desirable residential places according to their being more or less
green. This started from the degree of green and outdoor areas, as a first evidence of their sustainability, and is
moving to their capacity of hosting a number of sustainability activities and tools (from proper recycling, to green
mobility, to intensive use of alternative energies sources, etc.).
Segregation and Aggregation

Peoples activities in their places are crucial not only for their physical and psychological well-being, but also for
their social-psychological well-being and for the collective well-being: their in-place and inter-place urban activities
therefore contribute to macro-social dynamics and are involved in larger societal levels. This third topic (or
process) illustrates how transactions among people and their residential places are framed within a large complex
ecological system where elements and dynamics of the exosystem and the macrosystem intervene on specific
transactions between inhabitants and their residential places. This issue is strictly linked to the fact that people are
different, between individuals and between groups.
Urban diversities can refer to many different levels and issues (Bonaiuto, Bonnes, Nenci, & Carrus, 2011), but
certainly the social-psychological one has a striking relevance for residential places, where it can contribute to a
range of phenomena and dynamics with important individual and social consequences.
Particular places can serve as contact zones and support or impede particular kinds of social interactions. Some
lines of research have focused on differences in terms of material subsistence, that is, they addressed the impact
of poverty or aging on the inhabitants transactions with their residential places (e.g., social-economical or age
status). Other research lines focused on differences in other social features of the inhabitants, such as belonging
to different (and conflicting) social groups (e.g., racial segregation). In the following subparagraphs, some
examples for different levels of the residential place transactions are presented on the basis of these two main
research lines.
Home
The immediate home environment represents a major living space, and issues of segregation have been studied in
relation to older and younger adults. Based on the understanding that older people in such neighborhoods are
prone to different types of exclusion and exposed to different stressors (e.g., reduced material resources, lack of
safety), the question arises of the degree to which outdoor spaces can mitigate these negative effects and
ameliorate their quality of life. It also must be remembered that this trend toward a home confinement system of
place activities, which especially characterizes the older population, is peculiar to a large city compared to a small
city (Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 1996, Bonaiuto & Bonnes, 2002).
Research by Kuo (2001) in the US context of public housing has revealed that exposure and activities in green
spaces may help people cope with major life eventsincluding stressors related to demands of living in
impoverished neighborhoods, which may include poverty and violence and bringing up children under stressful
conditions. With the aim of testing the attention restoration theory in the context of life demands and coping
strategies, the author demonstrated that residents who had some nearby vegetation were more effective in
managing major life issues than residents living in barren environments. Higher scores in the measure of attention
were also achieved for those in greener settings, showing that contact with natural environments restored
individuals from depleted attention resources and helped them cope with major life issues. The explanation has
been that exposure to green surroundings refreshes the ability to concentrate, leading to greater effectiveness at
coping with major life issues. Goffmans (1959) concepts of frontstage and backstage regions have been used
to analyze the relationship between adolescents use of inside and outside spaces (Abbott-Chapman & Robertson,
2009). Abbott-Chapman and Robertson suggested that adolescent preferences for home-related spaces, including
their own bedroom as well as outdoor spaces, may be a way to redefine the boundaries of private spaces and face
intergenerational power relationships.
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Neighborhood
A recent literature review on how residential environments may affect health and contribute to social and
race/ethnic inequalities in health (with emphasis on obesity and depression) shows how studies have been divided
into those that use census proxies and studies that directly measure neighborhood attributes using a variety of
methods (Diez Roux & Mair, 2010). When looking at the features (p. 237) of the social environmentfor example,
safety/violence, social cohesion and related constructs, and measures of disorderthe authors show that the
evidence linking neighborhood social environments to health is present for mental health outcomes (specifically
depression). In a recent analysis, a study showed that lower levels of social cohesion and aesthetic quality and
higher levels of violence were associated with higher levels of depressive symptoms in a large sample of adults
(Mair et al., 2009). When addressing residential satisfaction, Checa and Arjona (2010) have demonstrated that
run-down area, conflictive inter-ethnic relationships, isolated location, low quality construction, shops,
and crime predicted residential dissatisfaction among the inhabitants (immigrants and Spanish-born) of El Puche,
a neighborhood on the outskirts of the city of Almeria in Spain.
A major factor in the aggregation-segregation literature is the association between deprived neighborhoods with
aging. Aging in place may be associated with several risks that are tied to the physical structure of deprived
settings, such as poor transportation and housing, high crime rates, and consequent reduced safety and the loss
of local amenities and serviceswhich can impair the management of everyday activities, such as going outdoors.
It is estimated that the majority of older people will continue to live in the community well into later life. Thus the
quality of the neighborhood environment and how it is perceived may play a major role in successful aging and in
delaying the chances of institutionalization (Baltes & Carstensen, 1996).
Evans (2004) studied the association between income inequalities and development, particularly in childhood, to
examine why childhood poverty is so harmful. He has pointed to the role of exposure to multiple stressful
conditions (e.g., counting the number of physical or psychosocial risks to which a child has been exposed) to
evaluate cumulative risk and its health consequences in adulthood (e.g., Evans & Marcynyszyn, 2004). For
example, Wells et al. (2010) showed that early childhood poverty predicted obesity in young adulthood. Social and
physical risk factors served as a mediator of the relationship with family turmoil, violence, child separation from
family, density noise, and housing quality acting as mediators of the link between poverty and obesity. A life course
approach has been used to explain that children exposed to multiple risk factors tend to become overweight
adults. The life course approach represents a major contribution of this literature in the sense that it not only
elucidates the association between risk exposure and obesity, but also points to key environmental attributes
contributing to this relationship.
These results show that low-income children are exposed to risk factors, putting much pressure on their adaptive
abilities and thus generating stress, which Evans described, to enhance levels of chronic (and toxic) stress within
the body (e.g., obesity problems and lower academic achievement). The findings have major implications for the
planning of health-related strategies: for example, to target the mediating role of risk factors, such as family turmoil
and violence. A key point derived from the research by Evans and colleagues is that in disadvantaged residential
settings, individuals are exposed to more than one risk factor at a time. This exposure to multiple stressors has
major negative physical and psychological consequences. That is, chaotic environmental systems, which are
characterized by lack of structure and predictability in everyday activities in daily life, lead to major decrements in
health and psychological well-being. Everyday activities thus may be one key element to be targeted in future
interventions and health-related strategies.
Recent research (Young, LaMontagne, Dietrich, & Wells, 2012) has demonstrated that socioeconomic status (i.e.,
participants from lower SES families) is associated with negative attitudes (i.e., negative inferential style and
ruminative thinking style). It may be that negative life events experienced in childhood will contribute to
dysfunctional developments when individuals face stressful and negative situations. Moreover, researches show
also that low socioeconomic status is associated not only with lower objectively assessed residential conditions but
also with lower perceived quality of residential conditions (e.g., for crowding perception, Bonnes, see Bonaiuto, &
Ercolani, 1991).
Outdoor Spaces
Do outdoor/green spaces mitigate the experience of multiple deprivation? There are two mechanisms to worsen
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health: one through psycho-physiological stress and another through unhealthy means of coping with stress.
Doing activities in outdoor/green spaces may be a healthy coping strategy against major life stresses.
When studying outdoor spaces in deprived areas and trying to prioritize interventions for maximum benefit, a main
question to be asked is the extent to which open and green spaces help ameliorate and decrease stress related to
deprivation. Evidence shows that older people living in deprived areas are (p. 238) at a higher risk of being
affected by poor mental and physical health (Lang et al., 2008). Since they are long-term residents of areas high in
social and environmental stressors, they are also directly confronted with negative neighborhood factors.
Scharf et al. (2003) have studied the characteristics of poverty and its impact on the daily life of older people in the
UK context. The results of this study showed that the experience of multiple exclusion was significantly linked to
age and ethnicity. People age 75 and over were more likely to be excluded than those age 60 to 74. Of the
respondents who were excluded on the material dimension, 58% were also excluded from social relations. Older
people who feel cut off from their surroundings are more likely to experience limitations in their informal
relationships than those who perceive their neighborhood more favorably.
A key factor to be encouraged in old age is maintenance of independence (Baltes & Carstensen, 1996). Evidence
has shown that QOL is reduced by limitations in mobility and difficulties with everyday activities (Netuveli et al.,
2006) Situations of reduced independence (Lang et al., 2008), such as inability to participate in activities and
social networks, loss of maintenance of usual routines, and forced reliance on other people, may be aggravated in
the context of multiple deprivation. Different kinds of disadvantage can combine to exclude older people in
deprived neighborhoods, including relying on income from state benefits and being exposed to higher crime rates,
air pollution (associated with fewer green spaces), and an accident-prone residential setting. However, despite the
poor living conditions, some older people may have resided in these areas for an entire life and may hold a sense
of attachment to their neighborhoods (Kearns & Parkes, 2003).
Notwithstanding the restricted social and environmental conditions of these places, a percentage of older people in
the United Kingdom will spend the rest of their lives in these places. The question raised is how to create more
supportive environments to encourage higher levels of mobility and help people undertake daily activities and
projects.
Research has revealed some key environmental factors that can be used to improve situations of independence
for an older population (e.g., Lord, Desprs, & Ramadier, 2011;). Exposure to open and green spaces has been
associated with increased social networks, increased physical activity, increased capacity to deal with major life
events such as poverty, and recovery of attentional resources that are depleted in conditions of extreme stress
(i.e., to achieve restorativeness): all common relevant factors for people living in deprived urban environments.
City
The dynamics of desegregation and re-segregation (Dixon, Durrheim, & Tredoux, 2011, p. 239) in residential
and urban spaces take different forms. According to Dixon, et al., (2008), segregation is part of a social system,
which includes micro-ecological scales of analysis and thus needs to be analyzed according to different scales.
Here the focus is on uncovering some of the physical features portrayed in segregation research that afford
opportunities for increased sustained social relations and aim to decrease discrimination and inequality.
Based on his work in post-apartheid South Africa, Dixon, Durrheim, and Tredoux (2011) observed that urban
design reflected in different social-spatial arrangements can either encourage or restrict social integration. In this
sense, environmental psychology has a fundamental role to help overcome racial segregation as it can identify
person-environment relationships and environmental features that may promote racial social integration. The
analysis of ordinary peoples perceptions and evaluations and everyday patterns of social contact and isolation
is fundamental to understand the different meanings of desegregation in everyday contexts, such as suburbs
(Cape Town in Dixon et al.s research), public seating areas, leisure spaces, bars, clubs, cafeterias, and so on.
The processes of segregation have been studied in relation to residential and urban settings. Everyday settings
and activities have been researched to understand lived realities of contact and separation (Clack, Dixon, &
Tredoux, 2005, p. 13). For example, Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux (2005) have investigated segregation in relation to
its micro-ecological process by observing social-spatial patterns of seating in a cafeteria among university
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students from a university in northwestern England. The results showed that segregation is revealed in the socialspatial organization of mundane activities, such as seating and eating. The authors found that most individuals of
white and Asian descent sat in units with members of their own ethnic group. These two groups were also found in
disproportion in different areas in the cafeteria. One conclusion of this study is that even though the cafeteria
served a diverse clientele, its everyday context was marked by segregation, such as convergence of groups in a
specific area of the cafeteria. An important aspect of (p. 239) this research is the focus on micro-ecological
processes and the understanding that segregation takes place in settings where proximity and co-presence are
expected and where informal relationships are taking place.
Branding and Reputation

The complex residential ecological system based on inhabitants transactions with their own residential places is
characterized by: (a) perceptions and evaluations that can or cannot lead to satisfaction and attachment; (b) uses
and activities that can or cannot lead to health and well-being; (c) patterns of possible risk factors that can lead to
urban segregation outcomes (instead of aggregation) if not properly managed at different levels. The complexity of
the residential ecological system with its outcomes can therefore contribute to a rich array of information and data
characterization. That is, there is a system of beliefs about residential places that is based on both direct and
indirect experiences. Traditionally, attention has been paid to direct forms of transactions among residential places
and people. However, there are also indirect, that is, mediated, forms of transactions. This is the case when a
person and a place transaction is mediated by another social agent, such as another person or groups, or mass
and new media. Indirect place experience is eminently mediated by language uses and can refer to a number of
environmental issues (Aiello & Bonaiuto, 2003; Castro, 2006). Once such a complex system of beliefs exists
either being an individual feature and/or a socially shared enterpriseit works as a basis to develop expectations
for the future of the transactions between the person and the residential place. In turn, such expectations can be a
further basis affecting transactions among people and their residential environments. The set of beliefs and
expectationsbased on direct and indirect experiencesregarding people-environment transactions, that is, a
certain place, can be defined as place branding and reputation.
Although this topic has been systematically developed only very recentlycompared to the three reviewed above
it can have far and deeper roots in some works linked to the image or the identity of a place (e.g., Lynch, 1960).
It is, however, possible to differentiate between an image and a reputation approach because the image or identity
of a place is based more on a perceptual transaction than on an action and pragmatic one, which conversely is
much more central in a reputational view. The activity or pragmatic focus is intrinsic in the reputation conception of
any social entity conceived as a social agent: it is given by the idea that any place experience arises on the basis
of environment and person transaction reciprocity as well as on the relevant expectations that that triggers for
future transactions. In the study of place reputation (vs. image or identity of place), more emphasis has been given
to (a) the a priori pragmatics, that is, the fact that a place reputation primarily develops from past reciprocal actions
among people and environment; (b) the a posteriori pragmatics, that is, the fact that a place reputation primarily
affects future reciprocal actions among people and environment; and (c) the linguistic and social dimension, that
is, the fact that a place reputation develops not only from the direct (perceptual) experience but also from the
indirect one (mediated by other people and by the media, essentially by language).
It has been only in the past 10 or 15 years that this topic emerged more clearly and research started to focus on
place branding and reputation processes. Firstly, contributions in terms of place branding appeared, but they
tended to be nearer to a perceptual rather than reputation approach. Then only more recently, and still quite
unsystematically, some contributions started to be framed in terms of place reputation especially at the level of the
country or nation.
Klingmann (2007a) and Lang (2011) addressed brandscape, referring to branding and its relation to architecture,
in terms of expressing identity. This can be applied to a city, a neighborhood, or an enterprise. The concept of
place branding involves the use of the themes of identity, image, and sense of place (Kavaratzis & Ashworth,
2008). According to these authors, place branding is not a new phenomenon, as places have tried to differentiate
themselves from each other to be able to gain in economic, political, or social-psychological goals. That means
that for the purposes of branding the placewhether a country, a region, a city, or a neighborhoodbranding
needs to be understood as a multidimensional construct, consisting of functional, affective, relational, and strategic
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elements that collectively generate a unique set of associations with the place in the public mind (Kavaratzis,
2005).
The basic argument is that it is through perceptions and related images that people come to understand a place or
a city (similar to more traditional image-based approaches, e.g., Lynch, 1960). For cities, a process takes place in
the formation of (p. 240) images that is similar to that of other social entities, such as products or corporations,
managed as brands. These arguments are rooted in the assumption that in essence, people understand cities in
the same way as brands. Extending this assumption raises the argument that the best way to attempt to influence
perceptions and images about cities must be similar to the way that businesses have been successfully attempting
the same for their products, namely branding. The above assumptions are, of course, subject to scrutiny as is
found in the academic literature on place and city branding.
According to Klingmann (2007), branding can be seen in positive and negative terms. It is negative when it is a
mere culture of copy. However, it can be seen as positive and a catalyst for cultural and economic
transformation when it puts together architecture, economics, sustainable strategies, and QOL in an attempt to help
people and places regain self-sufficiency (for a similar view, see also Florida, 2002).
Neighborhood
Brand or reputation at the level of residential neighborhood is a greatly under-researched topic. This contrast with
commonsense experience where our information search, judgments, and actions (in terms of approaching or
avoiding a certain environment) are greatly affected by a neighborhoods being famous or infamous on the basis of
either our own direct experiences, or of our acquaintances reported direct and indirect experiences, or of news
and guides reported direct and mediated experiences. Moreover, very tangible consequences arise from a
neighborhood reputation, such as housing prices on the market, investments, tourism, and so on; as well as
consequences in terms of residents behaviors (Parmentier, van Ham, & Bolt, 2007).
A typology of marketing themes is usually used to change the image of a neighborhood. Quite often, the physical
environment is used to build a specific brand identity of the urban neighborhood. For instance, branding attempts
include major cultural facilities and entertainment complexes, public art installations, renovated historic areas, and
ethnic neighborhoods to represent an attempt to revitalize the image of the entire city. Neighborhood marketing
and branding is part of the local governments strategy to present a positive image of the local place and
neighborhood. This is done with the objective of attracting potential investors, tourists, and residentsthat is, the
various stakeholders. It is often the case that municipalities are engaged in what Pine and Gilmore (1999) called
experience economy. Similar to the brand of many companies in the global market, which have created a
powerful image around their products or services using logos, mottos, jingles, and so on, municipalities also try to
create an experience and to brand their cities and neighborhoods in a competitive real estate market. The
presentation of a positive image, brand, or reputation of a place can bring economic advantages but can as well
distract the use of common goods away from the interests of the local community.
Urban design and planning have become even more intertwined with branding and imaging (Vale & Warner, 2001).
Authors have referred to staging of experiences (Grodach, 2009) and symbolic economy (Zukin, 1995) to
define the manipulation of a neighborhood image. Many cities also promote their manicured suburban
neighborhoods. For instance, the San Lorenzo quartiere in Rome is trying to emerge as a more attractive place,
particularly for young people, where the presence of places to go out, such as restaurants, cafs, and recreationrelated venues may be a way to put behind the declined industrial past of the district. For example, an antique
chocolate factory has been enriched by an attractive caf and restaurant, behind the still active chocolate factory.
Additional research is needed in this area to find out what are the marketing images of some urban neighborhoods,
how they are used to attract specific groups of people, and what images of QOL they try to depict or hide.
City
Branding is a holistic process that affects settings and peoples perceptions, activities, and relations with others.
Landmarks to communicate a citys image are constructed, especially to attract tourists and business (and there
have been very good examples in recent decades, such as the Guggenheim Museum in the city of Bilbao in Spain).
However, the extent to which residents recognize and identify themselves with the image transferred is questioned.
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The subfield of place management and marketing has emerged in the past decade and recognizes satisfaction with
a place as important. Cities and municipalities try to bring together a range of images into a singular, coherent
messageor brand. The goal is to increase the symbolic and economic value of their urban spaces and
economies (Mommaas, 2002) and to retain tourists, residents, and businesses. Several branding packing and
branding practices are used to revitalize the image of a city. It is important to study the ways city branding is used,
as these practices play a fundamental role in peoples perception (p. 241) of urban places and in what type of
activities people would subsequently engage in there.
The discussion also addresses the role of the local community and the social responsibility behind fostering the
construction of place brands. Grodach (2009) did an analysis and inventory of the images displayed on the official
city and visitors bureau websites in the United States. He showed that picturesque built environments on city sites
potentially reflect local governments concerns with marketing an attractive quality of life to new and existing
residents.
Associated with the emphasis on cities as places to play or to engage in unique experiences is the tendency to
downplay cities as sites of work. An interesting result is that the portrayal of scenes of everyday lifesuch as
those involving workplacesis usually avoided in these websites. Grodach said that when cities claim to portray
everyday life, they focus on iconic images such as San Franciscos homepage, which features pristine Victorian
houses, cable cars, and the Golden Gate Bridge under the heading images of life in San Francisco (p. 187).
Many cities have tried to change or overcome negative images and perceptions of urban decline and enhance
perception of a rich multicultural environment. For instance, Bilbao has used the Guggenheim Museum as an urban
icon to promote the image of the city characterized by an image of negative social and economic elements. The
use of underutilized areas to promote diversity of activities and attract different groups of people has been
illustrated in Copenhagen, with its large pedestrian area and good paths and locations for cycling: the city is
usually associated with sustainable transport and healthy lifestyle (Gehl & Hook, 2005; Gehl, 1996).
The local population is usually a salient target audience for brand construction (Lindstedt, 2011). Thus the types of
images that are featured as well as the ones that are not featured in branding campaigns are very important for
planners and designers. They can get a better understanding of how people (outsiders and insiders alike) perceive
and experience their neighborhoods, local spaces, and cities. Place branding is a political process that is carried
out through policy agendas, as branding also means to communicate and target images of places in the continuum
of past, present, and future of places. The aim of place branding to control these representations is present in the
literature (e.g., Bellini, Loffredo, & Pasquinelli, 2010). Rizzi and Dioli (2010) pointed to some evidence in measuring
the effects of place marketing. For instance, these authors showed that Italian cities such as Turin and Genoa have
improved their appeal and changed their look by taking advantage of events hosting and by conceiving a new
image to communicate.
An issue that was mentioned as crucial more than 20 years ago for future reputation research was the dimensions
of reputation (e.g., Emler, 1990, p. 190). This is central information to be obtained to promote any area of
research about reputation and, indeed, some of these areas devoted a high effort in identifying the pillars of
reputation. Recently, contributions started to appear addressing the issue of identifying and measuring a countrys
or a citys reputation features. For example, such an approach has been developed by the Reputation Institute
(e.g., Fombrun & van Riel, 2004) to measure a countrys reputation. Though the conceptual and methodological
assumptions are basically the same of the corporate Rep Trak, used to measure a corporate reputation, the
identified dimensions are specific to the peculiarity of this social agent or entity: the country. This highlights that
even using the same approach, the reputation dimensions are different for different social agents (in that case,
moving from the corporate to the national level). Within the geographical realm, other models have been
developed for addressing and measuring city branding. Although this has not been explicitly conceptualized in
terms of reputation, it is a field that is evolving along very similar lines, aiming at tapping conceptual and
methodological features describing a citys evaluations from the perspectives of several stakeholders with
references to the pragmatic effects that a place exerts on its stakeholders.
One of the most well-known examples systematically applied to a geographical entity is the model proposed by
Anholt (2007, 2010). In 1996 he used the expression nation branding and then developedin collaboration with
GfK (Growth for Knowledge)the Anholt-GfK Roper Nations Brands Index and, since 2005, the Anholt-GfK Roper
City Brands Index (CBI). The CBI has six dimensions: Presence, based on the citys international status and
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standing and the global familiarity/knowledge of the city. It also measures the citys global contribution in science,
culture and governance. Place explores peoples perceptions about the physical aspect of each city in terms of
pleasantness of climate, cleanliness of environment, and attractiveness of buildings and parks. Prerequisites
determines how people perceive the basic qualities of the citywhether they are satisfactory, affordable, and
accommodatingas (p. 242) well as the standard of public amenities, such as schools, hospitals, transportation,
and sports facilities. People reveals whether the inhabitants of the city are perceived as warm and welcoming,
whether respondents think it would be easy for them to find and fit into a community that shares their language and
culture, and whether they would feel safe. Pulse measures the perception that there are interesting things to fill
free time with and how exciting the city is perceived to be in regard to new things to discover. Potential measures
the perception of economic and educational opportunities within the city, such as how easy it might be to find a job
and whether it is a good place to do business or pursue a higher education. This system is based on 40 items and
a panel of 20,000 people living in 20 different countries, and allows us to rank the main 50 metropolises in the
world, but apparently pays little or no attention to the smaller scale urban contexts.
Conclusion
The present chapter proposes a general ecological, transactional, and systemic model to frame the study of all
residential places, from personal room, to home, neighborhood, outdoor places, and city, up to the country. The
model focuses on person-environment transactions emphasizing the role of activities through which affordances
are realized, at several ecological levels. Such transactions generate different degrees of environmental fit or misfit
that impact the general quality of life of the person. Evidences for such a model are presented with a preferential
emphasis on the residential neighborhood, but also with reference to other residential places such as home,
outdoor spaces, and city. The processes addressed in this chapter illustrate the components of the conceptual
model (Figure 13.1), which include perception, evaluation, and satisfaction with neighborhood spaces; uses and
activities in the residential place, particularly in relation to health and well-being; social segregation and
aggregation between individuals and groups; and branding and reputation of residential places. The examination of
these different topics illustrates the increasing importance of ecological factors in the study of residential spaces.
Although many of these processes have been investigated, thus allowing the accumulation of knowledge, for
example, in terms of measurement tools and established relationships among variables, there are a number of
important processes still to be researched: the following are 12 recommendations.
Future Directions
1. Need for innovative methodologies, integrating different strategies.
2. Need for more standard valid and reliable measurement tools.
3. More behavioral and observational data.
4. More mediation and moderation analyses.
5. Need for an integrated definition of residential places quality, using both subjective and objective measures
and comparing these measures to integrate them in one system.
6. Need to enhance the knowledge and methodologies transfers from research to policy: to develop
evidence-based residential design and to increase post-occupancy evaluation.
7. Using more new technologies for integrating different kinds of data and making social research data more
available to the laypeople or to other scientists and experts, to increase the diffusion of good-quality
environmental psychology knowledge on residential places and to increase the probability that it can be used
in design and political decision-making over residential place issues.
8. Emphasis on complex social aspects of peoples interaction in and with residential places, linked to multifactorial and cumulative factors models.
9. Exploration of new residential hybrid places: that is, public places people use for carrying out residential
activities (e.g., cafs or other places people can use for realizing traditional residential functions, such as emailing or reading as if they were at home).
10. Globalization and/or localization of residential places features and processes.
11. Longitudinal frameworks and time-related analysis as crucial to understand the dynamic relationship of
peoples experiences of their residential and neighborhood spaces.
12. Participatory planning strategies are necessary to create a supportive infrastructure for everyday life.
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Further research on participatory planning can involve issues of urban time policies, therefore taking always
into account not only the spatial dimension but also the time dimension involved in peoples uses and
activities in residential neighborhood environments.
Acknowledgments
The authors are grateful to Professor Mirilia Bonnes for her helpful comments on draft versions of this chapter. They
also would like to thank Barrett Gaylord for the English review.
(p. 243) The first author would like to thank the Sapienza University of Rome 2010 grant City Reputation:
Multidimensional Offer and Stakeholder Demands and 2011 grant City Reputation: Development of Measurement
Indicators in partial support of his work on this chapter.
The second author would like to thank the Royal Society of Edinburgh for partially supporting her work on this
chapter through the RSE Research Award in the Arts and Humanities.
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Marino Bonaiuto
Marino Bonaiuto CIRPA (Centro Interuniversitario di Ricerca in Psicologia Ambientale) Dipartimento di Psicologia dei Processi di
Sviluppo e Socializzazione Sapienza Universit di Roma Rome, Italy
Susana Alves
Susana Alves Faculty of Engineering & ArchitectureDepartment of Architecture Okan niversitesi Tuzla KampsAkfrat-
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Tuzla/Istanbul, Turkey
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Work Environments
Jennifer A. Veitch
2012

Organizational Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0014

Work environment research is a vibrant area not only within environmental psychology, but also in a broad range
of building sciences concerned with making buildings work for their inhabitants. Understanding how work
environments affect comfort, satisfaction, performance, and health comes through the study of such processes as
privacy, attention, stress, affect, and cognition and builds upon the foundation of previous decades. Conversely,
the study of workplace behaviors as they affect the environment is comparatively new, with pressing societal
questions needing answers. Psychologists together with professionals from fields such as engineering, physics,
architecture, and ergonomics have combined roles to play in adding to human knowledge and to design, construct,
operate, and inhabit spaces that support the work we do today while sustaining Earth for the future.
Keywords: indoor environment, personal space, satisfaction, thermal comfort, environmental stress, control, positive affect, sustainability, green
buildings, workplace
Introduction
Offices are the dominant workplaces in North America, and the proportion of the workforce in these settings is
increasing (Woods, 2009). Over half of the workforce is employed in offices, a statistic that does not include the
many people for whom an office is part of the work setting rather than its entirety (e.g., nurses, teachers, retail
managers). Not surprisingly, offices also predominate among the settings studied by environmental psychologists.
For that reason, this chapter focuses primarily on the understanding the effects of the physical environment on
people in offices, and secondarily on the environmental effects of peoples working in offices. Offices are major
resource users, particularly for energy, as well as major sources of employment.
Understanding the behavior and experiences of people in offices requires a systems approach. One such
approach is shown in Figure 14.1. Individuals experience physical, social, and organizational contexts, and bring
to work their individual differences and states created by conditions and social roles outside of work. Many internal
processes, acting in parallel, take these various influences and result in a variety of outcomes. This figure cannot
show all of the possible contextual influences, processes, or outcomes, but does show the structure underlying the
chapter. Internal processes are the organizing principle.
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Figure 14.1 Conceptual Model for Work Environment Effects on Individuals, Groups, and Organizations.
2011, Her Majesty the Queen in Right of Canada, National Research Council of Canada, Ottawa.
Sundstroms book (1986) and handbook chapter (1987) on work environments and the BOSTI books (Brill, Margulis,
Konar, & BOSTI, 1984) are the classic work environment psychology documents. The past quarter-century has of
course brought dramatic change to offices, principally in the rise of information technology. This has changed both
the nature of tasksfor example, few employees now need to read soft pencil or handwritten fourth-generation
carbon copiesand jobsfor example, (p. 249) no longer is there a typing pool. Consequently, some of the
results reported in these classic works do not generalize to present-day offices. This review focuses primarily on
papers published since 2002, with the publication of the second Handbook of Environmental Psychology and its
review of work environments (McCoy, 2002).
Popular media tell us that contemporary ways of working are dramatically different than old ways. This may be true,
but many of the fundamental characteristics of people in organizations are unchanged. Moreover, even in
organizations that emphasize teamwork, or that use hoteling to manage the assignment of workstations to itinerant
employees, there is need for quiet spaces with suitable lighting, temperature, and accommodation while doing
individual work (Brill, Weidemann, & BOSTI, 2001).
Employers perennially ask why one might concern oneself with providing superior working conditions. After all, the
Hawthorne experiments found contrary results in which performance could be improved even by placebo changes
in lighting conditions (Roethlisberger & Dickson, 1939; Snow, 1927). Herzberg (1966) theorized that the physical
work environment was a hygiene, rather than a motivating, factor, with increases beyond the baseline of adequacy
not providing any substantive return in the form of better job performance. However, several commentators have
observed flaws in the design of the Hawthorne illumination experiments (Gifford, 2007; Kompier, 2006), and
Herzberg had very limited data to support his theory.
More recent analyses of the costs of employment show the value of a better work environment. Brill and colleagues
(2001) calculated that over the life of a building, 82% of the costs are associated with the salary and benefits of
those who work in it; 10% of the costs (circa 2000) are for the technology they use; 5% is the initial cost of building
and furnishings; and 3% is the cost of operations and maintenance for the building. Small investments in the
physical (p. 250) environment can pay off well if they enable the employees to be more effective at work.
Moreover, unlike person-centered interventions. such as training, coaching, or immediate rewards, they persist
over time and affect new waves of employees as the workforce ebbs and flows. There is no general equation to
calculate the return on investment of work environment interventions, although there are methodologies that may
be applied to organizations (Linhard, 2005; Neftzger & Walker, 2010).
As these methods underscore, understanding which investments will pay off requires an integrative approach to
research, taking together not only human resources management, industrial-organizational psychology, and
facilities management (Haynes, 2007), but also engineering and environmental psychology. In some respects, work
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environment psychology illustrates the identity challenge described by Stokols (1995). Although it seeks to
understand the person embedded in a specific context (Craik, 1996), a complete understanding requires truly
interdisciplinary investigations.
Behavioral Consequences of Work Environments

This section of the chapter takes the traditional approach of considering the effects of the physical and social
environment on employees. Rather than organizing the literature by independent or dependent variables, the focus
is on internal processes. Some internal processesvisual perception, for instancerelate more clearly to a
specific physical environmental parameter, whereas others, such as cognitive processing, receive influence from
several variables (including other processes).
Social Relations and Personal Space

Decisions about the size and arrangement of offices are fundamental to their design, and have financial,
functional, style, and practical dimensions. The outcome of these decisions is the creation of the places where
people work. Other design decisions have physical ramifications, but these start from the decisions about space.
The space decisions influence personal space perceptions, privacy, crowding, and territoriality, processes that
themselves form the foundation of environmental psychology (Gifford, 2007).
Office Type
Few issues have created such debate among office workers as has office type; arguably, open-plan office design
was the inspiration for the comic strip Dilbert, by Scott Adams, and its many panels about life in the cube farm.
North American offices adopted this arrangement of modular furnishings cubicles in the 1960s (Albrecht & Broikos,
2000). (Note that in Europe, the label open plan describes offices in which many individual desks occupy a large
area, with no visual barriers between themwhat North Americans would call a bull penand systems of
furnishing panels are less common.) One reason for the popularity of the layout is economic: the reduced footprint
and ease of rearrangement translates into reduced organizational costs. The other is ideological: the belief that by
reducing barriers between individuals, one can increase the opportunities for interaction and communication in
ways that will promote teamwork, collaboration, and creative problem-solving. This belief is widespread among
designers and has appeared repeatedly in the popular press (Galt, 2002; Lets chuck the cubicles! 2011;
Mourtada, 2011). However, the reduced barriers also reduce privacy (Brill et al., 1984), as discussed below.
Broad comparisons between office types reveal many simultaneous processes and, consequently, mixed results.
For instance, Sundstrom (1987) observed that field studies reported both favorable and unfavorable outcomes in
comparisons of office types: some studies found that satisfaction declined with a shift from an enclosed to an
open-plan layout, perhaps because of decreases in privacy and increases in noise and distraction, whereas
others found that employees preferred more rather than less exposure to other people. Job category appeared to
moderate the relationships, in part because of the use of enclosed offices to provide status markers.
In recent years there have been few investigations that compared office types, probably because of the
dominance of the open-plan form (Brill et al., 2001; Haynes, 2008); BOSTI estimated that 71% of American offices
fall into this category (Brill et al., 2001). The recent publications demonstrate the complexity of the issues without a
clear conclusion about optimal office types.
Brennan, Chugh, and Kline (2002) followed an organization for an extended period before and up to six months
following a move from downtown quarters with primarily enclosed offices to a suburban location with open-plan
arrangements. The respondents to this longitudinal study reported a decline in privacy and confidentiality in two
post-move surveys, as well as persistent declines in environmental satisfaction, job performance, and increases in
physical stress. The longitudinal design is a strength (p. 251) of this report, but the authors had no physical
measurements of either the pre- or post-move offices and no control group. Moreover, although their questionnaire
focused on judgments of the interior of the workplace, the fact that the geographic location had also changed
remains a confound. The change in the commute to work might have been stressful, or the new commute itself
might be more stressful than the old; commuting stress is known to spill over into other life domains (Novaco &
Gonzalez, 2009).
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For further consideration of the complexity of the office type issue, consider the results from Danielsson and Bodin
(2008), concerning the health status of occupants in various Swedish offices. Classifying offices into seven types
differing in both enclosure and the number of occupants, they found that occupants of a medium-size open-plan
office (1024 occupants, with few architectural separations between them) had the highest risk of poor outcomes
for physical and emotional health and for aspects of job satisfaction. However, it was not possible from these data
to determine precisely which features of this layout were responsible for the increased risk. The large open-plan
office, rare in Sweden but more typical in North America, did not show as many increased risks as the smaller
version. This is puzzling, as one might expect less privacy and more distraction from the larger number of people.
Privacy
The original BOSTI study of workplace productivity identified visual and acoustic privacy as among the most
important design elements for individuals (Brill et al., 1984), and this remains an important issue. Veitch et al. (2003)
surveyed more than 770 occupants of cubicles in North America and found that privacy was the second-mostimportant feature to them among seven ranked features, and the lack of privacy was most likely to be mentioned in
open-ended responses as a disliked feature or a feature that the respondent would change.
One way to achieve visual privacy and a degree of acoustic privacy is to provide a higher panel between
cubicles. Brill et al. (1984) recommended 65 inches (165 cm) or higher on three sides as a means to provide
adequate privacy, but the design trend in recent years has been for panels to be lower than this (Space
planning, 2003). A field study comparing two Turkish companies found that privacy perceptions were better when
panels were 140 cm (~55 in)high enough to provide visual privacy to the seated occupantthan when they
were 120 cm (~47 in) (Yildirim, Akalin-Baskaya, & Celebi, 2007). However, Newsham, Veitch, and Charles (2008), in
a reanalysis of the Veitch et al. (2003) data, found no effect of panel height on the risk of dissatisfaction with
privacy and acoustics. Workstation size was a significant predictor, with larger workstations reducing the risk of
dissatisfaction, probably because of the greater separation between people (and their noise) that larger cubicles
provide.
Individual differences and the nature of the work both play a role in employees responses to work space design
(Maher & Hippel, 2005). Stimulus screening and inhibitory ability, perceived privacy, and task complexity showed
interactive effects on job satisfaction in this Australian sample. Higher panels increased perceived privacy. When
both perceived privacy and task complexity were high, stimulus screening ability was a significant predictor of job
satisfaction. Maher and Hippel suggested that this result revealed a weakness in the use of higher panels to
improve perceived privacy, in that they provide more visual privacy than acoustic privacy. Without acoustic
privacy, those with poor stimulus screening ability who have complex tasks might experience more distractions
than the higher visual privacy would lead them to expect, with concomitant reductions in job satisfaction. These
authors suggested that noise is a greater problem for poor stimulus screeners when they lack the visual cues to
identify where the noise is coming from.
The seating orientation in the cubicle offers another means to regulate social interaction or to provide privacy.
Physical constraints can limit this choice; for example, Sommer and Augustin (2007) found that 97% of users of
desktop computers with monitors worked with the primary work space facing into the corner of the cubicle (an
arrangement that was common when almost all monitors used cathode-ray tubes, needing a deep desk area for the
tube). However, users of laptop computers varied between orienting into the corner (facing in) and facing to the
side or the entrance (facing out). Interviews with employees of both orientations revealed that those who faced
out did so to facilitate communication and to avoid being surprised by visitors entering the cubicle; not being
startled by people coming up from behind outweighed increased distractions of people passing by. Those who
faced in cited fewer distractions and the availability of more desk space on which to spread materials, as well as
the physical constraints of the equipment. Personality variables (introversion-extroversion, locus of control, and
self-monitoring capacity) did (p. 252) not predict the choice of orientation, although the small sample size and the
fact of physical constraints limiting choice might have obscured the relationship. As computer monitors become
shallower the physical constraints should decline in the future, making it easier to detect the influence of
psychological variables.
The development of Internet-based survey technologies has greatly facilitated the development of large data sets
of office employees responses to their work environments. Physical measurements lag because they remain time-
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consuming and expensive to conduct. The Center for the Built Environment at the University of California, Berkeley,
is unusual in having a database comprising more than 50,000 individual responses together with a limited set of
physical parameters of each office (Goins, Jellema, & Zhang, 2010). A recent analysis of this data set revealed
than the measured height of cubicle enclosures was not as good a predictor of self-rated job performance as was
the symbolic character of the office, being viewed as having a home-like atmosphere or being a place to be proud
of. The authors suggested that designers seeking to influence organizational outcomes should attend to the
symbolic attributes over simple enclosure measures. However, physical attributes matter: the symbolic attributes
themselves were influenced by speech privacy, air quality, amount of light, and temperature, all of which are
influenced by the physical design of the work space (Newsham et al., 2003).
Communication and Collaboration

The belief that reducing barriers between individuals will create a culture of open communication and information
flow began with the landscaped office (burolandschaft) movement in the 1950s (Albrecht & Broikos, 2000), and
continues today (Lets chuck, 2011). The reality is more complex than this ideology suggests. There exists a
tension between providing opportunities for social interaction and creating conditions that are not conducive to
concentration (Heerwagen, Kampschroer, Powell, & Loftness, 2004). Successful workplaces achieve a balance
between the two that is appropriate to the organization, or more accurately, to the work unit and the nature of its
activities.
Heerwagen et al. (2004) analyzed collaborative knowledge work along three social dimensions: awareness, which
concerns knowledge of what is happening in the surroundings; brief interactions, which are short exchanges of
fact or personal connections; and collaborations, which may range from a few minutes to several hours in length.
Workplace design features affect these dimensions in different ways, and each dimension has different benefits
and drawbacks to the organization.
Awareness, for instance, is particularly important in organizations that have high time pressure and require a high
degree of coordination between individuals. Proximity to others and high visual access both contribute to
awareness. However, they do so at the cost of lost privacy and lost confidentiality (Heerwagen et al., 2004).
Brief interactions also benefit from visual access; people tend to interact with people they can see (Rashid,
Kampschroer, Wineman, & Zimring, 2006), and they interact more with people who are nearby. Thus, more open
office designs and layouts that place groups in close proximity to one another should prove beneficial (Heerwagen
et al., 2004). However, because people tend to meet in individual work spaces rather than in communal spaces,
even in offices designed to encourage the use of communal spaces, there is a high risk of distraction in more open
spaces (Rashid et al., 2006).
Collaboration, as defined by Heerwagen et al. (2004), encompasses many types of interactions as well as time
spent in individual work. Most of the literature in this area comes from studies of group and team work without a
specific focus on the physical environment, and yet this category best captures the balancing act between the
individual and the group. Various forms of open design for project or team work can facilitate communication
among group members, and this coordination can decrease the time required to complete the task; however, for
the parts of the task that require individual work, these open areas can be distracting to individuals and can prove
stressful (Heerwagen et al., 2004).
Overall, decreasing barriers between individuals appears to increase communication between them, as expected;
however, it is less clear that this is, on balance, always a good thing. Not all individuals need to interact with all
others all the time. Using physical space to promote social interaction requires a careful consideration of the nature
of the work to achieve the appropriate balance given the tasks and needs of the work group. If the balance is
wrong, individuals and organizations both lose, as seen in two reports based on data collected 20 years apart.
Stokols, Clitheroe, and Zmuidzinas (2002), analyzing data collected in 19871988, found evidence for a mediated
relationship between environmental distraction, perceived support for creativity, and job satisfaction in which more
environmental (p. 253) distraction (more visual access, higher noise levels, more people passing by) decreased
perceived support for creativity and this in turn decreased job satisfaction. A longitudinal study of European
knowledge workers whose work required little interaction found that cooperation became less pleasant, whereas
distractions and difficulty in concentrating increased, after they had moved from private offices to an open-plan
space (Kaarlela-Tuomaala, Helenius, Keskinen, & Hongisto, 2009).
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Density
Personal space, or the control of it, largely concerns the regulation of our social interactions. The need to do so is
partly a function of the density of possible relations. Theorists differentiate between two types of density: social
density concerns the number of occupants per office, and addresses issues such as the number and complexity
of social relationships that an individual must manage. Spatial density is the area available to each occupant
(e.g., m2 per person) (Duval, Charles, & Veitch, 2002). For a given office size, the two are clearly related: if social
density increases, spatial density will decrease. However, the relationship is not perfect because architectural and
interior design choices also play a role; one could reduce social density by providing separation between work
groups, even if spatial density stayed constant.
Taken to an extreme, high social or low spatial density could give rise to perceptions of crowding (Stokols, 1972),
which can act as a stressor (Sherrod, 1974). At the other extreme, very low social or spatial density could lead to
isolation (real or perceived). Present-day office environment research provides little guidance on the effects of
density on employees, despite the importance placed on social interaction. In the facilities management and office
design literature it seems that real estate costs (Space planning, 2003) and the above-mentioned emphasis on
visual access, especially for work groups, drive social and spatial density choices.
Duval et al. (2002) surveyed the literature concerning open-plan offices specifically, seeking evidence for
recommendations concerning social and spatial density. Many studies were excluded from the review because of
insufficiently specific characterization of the density measure. They concluded that overall, both higher social
density and lower spatial density had adverse effects on overall environmental satisfaction, but were not able to
establish numerical limits. Other data suggested that workstations smaller than 4.5 m2 (49 sq ft) increase the risk of
dissatisfaction with privacy/acoustics and dissatisfaction with lighting (Newsham et al., 2008), but were unable to
address social density.
Territoriality
Territoriality is a difficult process to define (Gifford, 2007), but a colloquial definition would hold that it is the process
by which people mark space as their own, both to protect belongings and to regulate social interactions. The
literature on territoriality in offices is very limited, and focuses primarily on personalization as the means by which
individuals mark territories.
Wells has provided valuable insights into the predictors and consequences of office personalization with a series
of cross-sectional field investigations. The results are counterintuitive. Although most people believe that the items
on display give insight into the personality of the occupant, personality variables as assessed by the Big Five do
not predict the nature of the display or the number of items on display (Wells & Thelen, 2002). These personality
variables predict the individuals status in the organization, which in turn does predict personalization: for instance,
high-status individuals tend to personalize more. Organizational culture, rather than individual characteristics, is
the larger influence on personalization, particularly as it influences the work space design and the explicit policies
governing personalization (Wells, Thelen, & Ruark, 2007). Permissive personalization policies are important in that
organizations with such policies show a greater degree of personalization, and in turn higher levels of satisfaction
with the work environment, job satisfaction, and employee well-being as well as higher organizational well-being
(Wells, 2000).
Attention and Distraction

Individual knowledge work remains an important component of work in most organizations: Brill et al. (2001) found
that in all job categories, people spent 50% or more of their time in solo activities or on the telephone. For these
activities, visual and auditory stimuli from people and equipment are detrimental to concentration and are
consistently rated by office occupants as problematic (Banbury & Berry, 2005; Haynes, 2008; Schwede, Davies, &
Purdey, 2008; Veitch et al., 2003).
Auditory distraction lends itself well to laboratory investigation, and the work of applied cognitive psychologists
studying attention is directly relevant to environmental psychology. It is clear from the literature that irrelevant
sound disrupts cognitive (p. 254) performance (Banbury & Berry, 1998; Perham, Banbury, & Jones, 2004; Szalma
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& Hancock, 2011). The nature of the sound is more important to the cognitive effects than is its level, at least within
the range of commonly encountered sounds, from 48 dB(A) through 80 dB(A) (Banbury, Macken, Tremblay, &
Jones, 2001). Sounds that are repeated are less disruptive than are sounds that have acoustic changes in pitch,
timbre, or tempo; the changing state attracts attention and disrupts task-related cognitive processing (Banbury et
al., 2001).
Individual differences moderate the effects, with those who have smaller working memory capacity being most
adversely affected by noise exposure (Srqvist, Halin, & Hygge, 2010). A different individual difference measure,
task absorption, showed complex interaction effects with noise exposure on performance and subjective mental
workload ratings (Smith-Jackson & Klein, 2009). Both papers concluded that the role of individual differences is
worthy of further investigation.
Although some laboratory studies show that habituation is possible, with the effect being diminished after 20
minutes of exposure to the irrelevant sound (Banbury & Berry, 1998), field studies do not find that the problems
disappear with repeated exposure (Banbury & Berry, 2005). This might be explained by the fact that even in
offices, exposure to irrelevant sound is not continuous. Banbury and Berry (1998) found that even a short silence
after a period of noise exposure was sufficient to reverse the habituation effect. Conversely, Szalma and Hancock
(2011) suggested that longer or repeated exposures might permit the development of compensatory or coping
mechanisms and identified this as a topic worthy of investigation.
Cognitive performance is not the only problem associated with distraction; there is also an affective component,
varyingly operationalized as annoyance, loudness, and distraction ratings, or combined into ratings of acoustic
satisfaction (Navai & Veitch, 2003). Acoustic satisfaction diminishes when the ambient sound level rises above 45
dB(A) and when the ambient sound is predominantly of high frequency (Navai & Veitch, 2003).
Speech sounds have the strongest relationship to acoustic satisfaction, and for this reason acousticians have
developed a predictive metric based on the physical properties of the acoustic environment. They calculate the
speech intelligibility index (SII) to quantify the degree to which speech sounds from outside the target area (a
workstation or a room, in the case of offices) are audible against general background noise (Acoustical Society of
America, 1997). SII replaces an older quantity known as the articulation index (AI) (American Society for Testing
and Materials [ASTM], 1993). Among acousticians, spaces with SII > .20 are thought to be unacceptable.
Adding masking sound to the office environment is one way to improve the SII, because it increases the
background level. Masking sound, being a continuous sound with no changing state, should not cause cognitive
performance problems. A successful masking sound will be loud enough to cover speech sounds and with enough
high-frequency sound to cover most speech sounds, but neither loud enough nor over-weighted in the high
frequencies to cause annoyance. Veitch et al. (2002) tested a variety of simulated masking sounds and levels in
two experiments, and concluded that spectra that closely match the speech spectrum can be good maskers and
provide good acoustic satisfaction, provided that they achieve an SII > .20 and an overall sound pressure level not
greater than 4548 dB(A).
Schlittmeier and Hellbrck (2009) found that a continuous masking sound played over office noise reversed the ill
effect of the office noise alone on a serial memory task, but that legato music was rated as a preferable sound
when heard in isolation. They observed that masking sounds need to be acceptable to the hearers, adding that
taking other processes into account, it would be preferable to add a degree of individual (personal) control to the
sound. Interestingly, Lee and Brand (2010) reported that the effect of distraction on self-rated performance in office
settings is mediated by the relationship between distraction and perceived control; people who reported higher
distraction reported lower perceived control, whereas those with higher perceived control reported higher
performance.
Ocular Light-Initiated Processes

Visual Perception
In this section we consider the effects of the work environment as processed by the visual system. We see objects
and surfaces around us because they reflect light that the retina detects and the visual cortex processes. The light
may come from electric sources, daylight, direct sunlight, or all of these sources. The lit environment will achieve
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good quality to the extent that the combination of light sources, their location and controls, and the surface
properties of the space and objects in it meet functional, cognitive, and emotional needs of the individual
occupants of the space in balance with the architectural characteristics of the space and the (p. 255)
environmental and energy constraints particular to the context (Quality of the Visual Environment Committee, 2009;
Rea, 2000).
Lighting requirements for North American workplaces are established by the Illuminating Engineering Society of
North America (IES, 2004). Providing an adequate quantity of light1 to see common office tasks is not difficult
because most office workers today use computer monitors, which are self-luminous, and most paper tasks are
printed crisply in relatively large type in high contrast (black on white). Under the 300500 lx that is currently the
recommended illuminance for office work (DiLaura, Houser, Mistrick, & Steffy, 2011; IES, 2004), relative visual
performance of these tasks will be high (Rea & Ouellette, 1991).
Light distribution is another important dimension of lighting design. Both experimental and field investigations have
consistently found that office workers prefer a mixture of direct and indirect lighting with higher proportions of
occupants rating such lighting as comfortable, judging spaces lit by direct/indirect systems as more attractive, and
reporting higher levels of environmental and job satisfaction after working in spaces lit with direct/indirect systems
(Boyce et al., 2006a; Hedge, Sims, & Becker, 1995; Houser, Tiller, Bernecker, & Mistrick, 2002; Veitch & Newsham,
2000a; Veitch, Newsham, Mancini, & Arsenault, 2010).
Most office workers today use computer monitors for much of the day. Display technology has changed in recent
years, with flat-panel liquid-crystal displays (commonly known as LCD monitors) having displaced the cathode-ray
tube (CRT). The overall effect is beneficial in that LCDs, being flat and having matte surfaces, are less prone to
reflection problems than were the spherical (curved), high-gloss surfaces of CRTs. LCDs are also capable of higher
luminances than were CRTs, with average luminances of ~300 cd/m2 for monitors available in 2010 versus 3035
cd/m2 being typical in the late 1990s (Veitch & Newsham, 2000b). Existing recommendations call for the ratio of
luminances between the task area and the surrounding surfaces to be on the order of 1:3 or 3:1 (IES, 2004),
although experiments with both CRTs (30 cd/m2 ) and LCDs (91 cd/m2 ) have shown that people prefer ratios closer
to 1:1 (Sheedy, Smith, & Hayes, 2005; Veitch & Newsham, 2000b). If this is true, it will be more difficult to lower
electric light levels as monitor luminances increase.
One obvious way to achieve both higher light levels and reduced energy consumption is to increase the use of
daylight. The preference for a window in the office is well established (Collins, 1976; Farley & Veitch, 2001).
Successful daylighting, however, requires careful planning so that one delivers the desired light level without
causing discomfort. There does not yet exist a widely accepted method to predict visual discomfort from daylight
(Osterhaus, 2005), but several methods and metrics have been proposed, such as the daylight glare probability
(DGP; Wienold & Christoffersen, 2006) and statistics based on high-dynamic-range images of the office
(Osterhaus, 2008; Van Den Wymelenberg, Inanici, & Johnson, 2010). Lindelof and Morel (2008) proposed a
Bayesian probability approach in which discomfort is inferred from occupants use of lighting and shading controls,
and built into the building automation system as an input to creating conditions that provide adequate light levels,
limited discomfort, and energy savings.
All of these approaches to understanding discomfort assume that discomfort can be reliably predicted from the
physical properties of light in the space. Research in this domain would benefit from improved scales to measure
discomfort and more sophisticated research designs to explore the role of individual differences and contextual
variables on the experience of discomfort. For instance, discomfort ratings are lower when participants are more
involved in their tasks (Osterhaus & Bailey, 1992) and when the source of the glare is a scene judged to be
interesting (Tuaycharoen & Tregenza, 2005).
Pressure to reduce lighting energy use is high, which has resulted in many technological developments in lighting
equipment, lighting controls, and daylighting systems. Some of the proposed techniques are controversial because
of their overall effects on office occupants. Among the most heated debates have occurred over the suggestion
that the electric lighting in an office should use a light source that, although still white, has a relatively higher
proportion of short-wavelength radiation (i.e., more blue light) so that its correlated color temperature (CCT) will be
around 6,500 K. The basis for this argument are findings that show increased depth of field, higher brightness
perception, and improved visual acuity for very small, low-contrast targets under this type of light (Berman, 1992);
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therefore, the proponents of so-called spectrally enhanced lighting argue that the same level of visual performance
could be achieved with lower illuminance levels than would be needed for other light sources.
Although the argument sounds compelling, there is no evidence that the correlated color (p. 256) temperature of
a fluorescent lighting system up to 6,500 K influences task performance at light levels typical of office interiors
(Boyce, Akashi, Hunter, & Bullough, 2003). In this laboratory experiment, higher CCT reduced pupil size, but the
increased depth of field made no difference to the performance of the task. The illuminance (light level) and size of
the task did affect both speed and accuracy. There was no interaction of illuminance and CCT, as there would
need to be to support the idea of spectrally enhanced lighting. Boyce et al. (2003) concluded that using high CCT
light sources would have no practical benefit on task performance.
This issue highlights the importance of considering multiple measures when making decisions about suitable design
criteria. Visual performance is only one aspect of office work: we might reduce light levels with a particular light
source to maintain visual performance of paper-based tasks, only to find that we have caused a problem with other
outcomes, such as aesthetic judgments or visual comfort. Taking a different approach to the question, Akashi and
Boyce (2006) examined the acceptability of a reduction in illuminance (from ~575 lx, slightly above the
recommended range, to ~450 lx, in the middle of the range) and a change in CCT (from 3,500 K to 6,500 K) in a
field setting. They found that office occupants could accept a reduction in ambient illuminance following an
adaptation period, that the low-illuminance offices were perceived as brighter under higher-CCT lamps (6500 K),
and that visual performance remained at the same level even with the reduction in light level. Some individuals
added task lamps to boost their local light levels. However, the 6,500 K lamps were perceived as unattractive when
used at higher illuminance. Akashi and Boyce concluded that energy savings are feasible, but do not necessitate
the use of a high-CCT lamp.
Environmental psychologists have long sought an understanding of the effects of color on behavior,
operationalized either by using colored room surfaces with conventional white light sources (fluorescent or
incandescent), or by using colored lights in a white room. Results in recent years do not contradict the conclusions
drawn by Beach, Wise, and Wise (1988) in a thorough review over 20 years ago: there are no simple, deterministic
effects of color on behavior. Kwallek, Soon, and Lewis (2007) concluded an extensive series of experiments
addressing the interactive effects of environmental sensitivity and room color (white, red, or blue-green) on clerical
task performance with a week-long test. Taking into account the changing pattern of results for the various tasks
over the work week, the three-way interactions had no straightforward interpretation. Hoonhout, Knoop, and Vanpol
(2009) used colored lights on white room surfaces to vary the stimulus, but also failed to find straightforward
effects of red versus blue light on task performance.
Kller et al. (2006) examined preferences for light and color cross-culturally and across seasons. They found that
seasonal differences in mood were more pronounced for people in countries farther from the equator, but overall
the main effect held that people preferred offices that they judged to be bright, rather than dim. There was a small
effect in which emotional states were more positive for those who judged their offices to be colorful rather than
neutral or colorless, but they did not collect data on precisely which colors were present in the offices. A
subsequent set of laboratory experiments by part of the team also supported the contention that moderately
colorful offices lead to beneficial emotional states that support task performance (Kller, Mikellides, & Janssens,
2009)but not that any specific color is the ideal color for office decor.
Photobiology
Until 2001, it was thought that the only light-sensitive (photoreceptive) cells in the retina were the rods and cones
that process visual signals. In that year we learned that there exist intrinsically photoreceptive retinal ganglion cells
(ipRGCs), which transduce information about light and dark but not detailed visual information (Berson, Dunn, &
Takao, 2002; Hattar et al., 2002). The ipRGCs have a unique spectral response function that has peak sensitivity in
the range from 459 to 483 nm (i.e., in the range of blue light) (Brainard & Provencio, 2006). The information from
these cells travels a different pathway from the retina to several higher structures (Commission Internationale de
lEclairage [CIE], 2009). These structures include the pineal gland, where the information about the presence of
light and dark regulates the release of the hormone melatonin, thereby setting the circadian clock (Berson et al.,
2002). The ipRGCs also interact with the rods and cones of the visual system and are part of the pupillary light
reflex (Gamlin et al., 2007; McDougal & Gamlin, 2010).
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This discovery has energized photobiology researchers and has excited the architectural lighting community as
well (van Bommel & van den Beld, 2004), although some commentators have cautioned that by placing application
ahead of fundamental science, we could do more harm than (p. 257) good (Boyce, 2006; DiLaura, 2005). Those
who urge caution point out that those who would make health claims of any kind for any technology require
evidence. Changes to workplace lighting based on limited evidence risk causing unintended problems, making
early application both an ethical and liability risk to practitioners and industry.
Of the many brain structures linked to the ipRGCs, only the connection to the suprachiasmatic nucleus and on to
the pineal gland has been extensively studied (CIE, 2009). This has given us a fair understanding of lights role in
circadian regulation but leaves much to be learned about other processes. This understanding has led to one area
where applications have been quickly developed: lighting for shift work settings (e.g., Eastman & Martin, 1999;
Smith, Fogg, & Eastman, 2009). Judicious use of light exposure during night work and time in darkness at home can
aid in maintaining alertness at work and promote better sleep afterward, benefiting the employee, the employer,
and society at large (the latter by reducing the risk of accidents both on the job and during the home commute).
The International Commission on Illumination (known by its French acronym, CIE) published a consensus report in
2004 (rereleased in 2009 with an erratum page) that outlined five Principles of Healthy Lighting as derived from
the literature of the day:
1. The daily light dose received by people in industrialized countries might be too low.
2. Healthy light is inextricably linked to healthy darkness.
3. Light for biological action should be rich in the regions of the spectrum to which the nonvisual system is
most sensitive.
4. The important consideration in determining light dose is the light received at the eye, both directly from the
light source and reflected off surrounding surfaces.
5. The timing of light exposure influences the effects of the dose. (CIE, 2009)
The most relevant principle for workplace lighting, for both day- and night-shift workers, is the conclusion that most
people in industrialized countries would benefit from higher light exposures than they currently experience. This is
controversial because it raises the possibility of a demand for higher light level requirements for electric lighting in
workplaces, at the same time as energy and environmental concerns are leading to pressure to lower light levels.
The suggestion that this light should be rich in the short-wavelength portion of the spectrum has led manufacturers
to propose new light sources and to field-test them. Despite these developments, many questions remain
unresolved (Brainard & Veitch, 2007). What should the light exposure be? Need it be continuous, all day, or could
it be achieved with an appropriately timed exposure?
The sum of knowledge does not yet permit a precise answer to any of these questions, but there are tantalizing
hints that light exposure can influence social behavior in the short term and sleep quality later, in addition to
measures of well-being cited in the CIE report (CIE, 2009). Using an event-contingent recording method combined
with wrist monitors of overall light exposure, aan het Rot, Moskowitz, and Young (2008) found that social
interactions that followed exposure to 1,000 lx of white light tended to be less quarrelsome than those following
lower light exposures. Participants were exposed to this level for on average 19.6 min per day, a value typical for
that latitude and season (Hbert, Dumont, & Paquet, 1998).
Three teams have developed devices to enable improved ecological measurements of daily light dose that take
into account its spectral properties (Gordijn, Gimnez, & Beersma, 2009; Hubalek, Brink, & Schierz, 2010; Miller et
al., 2010). Few studies have as yet been completed with these tools. As would be expected, Miller et al. (2010)
found that the daily light exposures of day- and night-shift nurses in the United States are very different and
suggested that this tool could be used for further studies of circadian disruption and its effects on health. Hubalek
et al. (2010) studied office workers in Germany, collecting both light exposures and questionnaire data concerning
mood and sleep quality. Light exposure did not directly predict mood but did influence sleep quality on the following
night: sleep quality improved with higher light exposure during the day.
Partly because of the energy implications and partly in recognition of circadian changes in light sensitivity,
researchers have begun to explore ways to increase light exposure for shorter periods rather than as continual
increases in light levels. The findings are suggestive but not conclusive, partly because of research design issues.
Kaida, Takahashi, and Otsuka (2006) exposed Japanese participants to daylight through a window (> 2,000 lx) for
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30 min after lunch and found that this improved one positive mood scale and reduced subjective sleepiness
relative to a control condition (100 lx electric light, lamp type unspecified); a short nap at the same time (p. 258)
on a different day improved three mood scales and reduced subjective sleepiness. Another Japanese team
examined the effect of using bright light in the morning and into the early afternoon, in comparison to a constant
lower level all day. They interpreted the findings to suggest that the higher light level increased afternoon clerical
task performance (Obayashi et al., 2007). Both studies, however, have order effect confounds, and the
performance data reported by Obayashi et al. (2007) seem to show a strong effect of practice over the three
weeks of the experiment.
de Kort and Smolders (2010) tested a dynamic lighting scheme in which both light level and correlated color
temperature varied according to a schedule that was designed to provide more short-wavelength stimulation at
times of day when it was thought to be beneficial, and reduced light levels at other times of day to reduce energy
use. The experimental condition varied from 700 lx at 4,700 K in the early morning and after lunch, then shifted
slowly to 500 lx at 3,000 K in the later morning and late afternoon. This was compared to a static condition of 500 lx
at 3,000 K. The field experiment took place in the Netherlands, where the law requires all employees to have a
window within 5 meters of the workstation, and this building had very large and unobstructed windows; thus, all
participants also experienced high levels of daylight in the workplace (which would not necessarily be the case in
North American offices). Daylight-responsive dimming reduced the amount of electric lighting to the extent that
daylight provided the required level, and therefore modified the experimental exposures. Although the
experimental design itself was strong (an ABA/BAB design over various floors in the building), it is not surprising
that most of the outcome measures did not show statistically significant differences. Most interestingly, however,
occupants with dynamic lighting did report higher satisfaction with the lighting than when they experienced the
static lighting condition.
Another approach to stimulate the ipRGCs has been to use a light source with relatively more light in the short
wavelengths to which these cells are more sensitive. The light source that has been tested is nominally white but
has a correlated color temperature of 17,000 K. Most people will experience this as much more blue than any
commonly used fluorescent lamp (in North America, most lamps are either 3,500 K or 4,100 K, although 5,000 K and
6,500 K lamps are sometimes used, particularly by those who invoke the spectrally enhanced lighting approach
described above). Two field trials of the 17,000 K lamp have found that employees in areas with this lamp reported
higher alertness and self-reported concentration and performance at work, and reduced fatigue at home in the
evening (Mills, Tomkins, & Schlangen, 2007; Viola, James, Schlangen, & Dijk, 2008). These initial positive results
merit further investigation and extension to include consideration of the aesthetic judgments of the spaces lit with
these lamps. (Anecdotal evidence suggests that some people will strongly dislike the appearance of rooms lit with
such an extreme CCT.)
Comfort
Comfort as an outcome receives research attention from human factors researchers, from engineers, and to a
lesser extent from psychologists, although each discipline takes its own perspective. Among human factors
researchers the focus is largely on physical comfort associated with the musculoskeletal system as influenced by
furnishings, equipment, and layout, although thermal conditions and thermal comfort also receive some attention
(Brand, 2008). Because Brand extensively reviewed physical comfort and musculoskeletal injury issues associated
with workstation design, these are not considered here. Here, we consider the temperature and ventilation
conditions that contribute to comfort as being topics less well-known among psychologists.
Thermal Comfort
The engineering community has a long tradition of interest in thermal comfort and perceived air quality (Fanger,
1970), particularly with the aim of setting standards for workplace temperature and ventilation systems (American
Society of Heating, Refrigerating, and Air-Conditioning Engineers [ASHRAE], 2001, 2004). Although comfort is
entirely a subjective phenomenon, few psychologists have engaged in its study. This is puzzling, as de Dear
(2004) has noted.2
Among engineers, the dominant model of thermal comfort is Fangers (1970) Predicted Mean VotePredicted
Percent Dissatisfied (PMV-PPD) model. Psychophysical experiments in climate chambers established that thermal
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sensation relates to air temperature, air velocity, radiant temperature, relative humidity, clothing, and activity
levels. This model forms the basis of standards for thermal conditions in sealed, air-conditioned buildings (typical in
North America), with the target being the achievement of conditions that 80% of the population will find satisfactory
(ASHRAE, 2004).
(p. 259) Although this model has dominated North American engineering practice for 40 years, its limitations have
long been apparent in the literature. Rohles (1980) reviewed five studies showing that context influences thermal
comfort. Newsham and Tiller (1997) found that the Fanger model predicted only 11% of the variance in thermal
sensation scores. Humphreys and Hancock (2007) asked respondents both their desired sensation and their
thermal sensation. More than half the time, the desired sensation was not neutral and there was substantial
individual variation in desired sensation.
Elsewhere in the world, natural ventilation (i.e., using windows that open) is more common than it is in North
America. In naturally ventilated buildings the PMV-PPD model is not predictive of thermal comfort (de Dear, 2004;
Wagner et al., 2007). Better prediction is possible using the adaptive model of thermal comfort, which takes
contextual factors into account, such as the individuals past thermal history, his or her expectations for the
thermal environment, and behavioral adjustments he or she makes (Brager & de Dear, 1998).
Ventilation
The North American standard for the supply of fresh air in mechanically ventilated buildings specifies that a volume
of 10 L/s/person of outdoor air should be provided (ASHRAE, 2001). The level was set with the aim of providing
sufficient outdoor air to remove pollutants (including carbon dioxide created by occupants) to maintain health and
comfort, and in parallel to limit energy use. In cold climates the outdoor air must be heated in winter, and in all
seasons fans are required to move the air.
The evidence is mounting, however, that this level may be too low. A multidisciplinary panel of European experts
(although not including any psychologists) reviewed the literature in 2002 and concluded that as much as 25
L/s/person might be needed for adequate comfort and health (Wargocki et al., 2002). They also noted that many of
the initially identified papers had to be excluded because of methodological limitations. Charles and Veitch (2002)
made some of the same criticisms; although they did not view the evidence in favor of levels above 10 L/s/person
as being clear, they did conclude that levels lower than this are clearly too low.
Many studies are limited to physical data at the building or perhaps the floor level; few have data on local
conditions in workstations. Therefore, there is little data on the achievement of the design conditions in the places
where people work. Charles et al. (2006) analyzed data from a study of ~770 North American workstations. The
dependent variable was a satisfaction with ventilation scale for which ratings of satisfaction with temperature, air
movement, and overall air quality were averaged (Veitch, Charles, Farley, & Newsham, 2007). The physical
conditions generally met the applicable standards (e.g., the mean carbon dioxide, or CO2 , concentration was 648
ppm [Charles et al., 2006], whereas the standard specifies 1,000 ppm as the upper limit [ASHRAE, 2001]).
Satisfaction with ventilation showed the predicted inverse relationship with CO2 , with satisfaction being higher when
CO2 levels were lower.
Newsham et al., (2008) used log-linear models to analyze the risk of dissatisfaction with this data set, and found
that people whose local CO2 levels were above 650 ppm had a three-times-higher risk of dissatisfaction with
ventilation. Other risk groups for dissatisfaction with ventilation were those who were either next to, or very far
away from, a window; experienced a temperature more than 0.5 degree C away from the calculated neutral
temperature; or were female.
Integrated Models of Comfort

Practical separations between building systems and furnishings support the development of separate research
lines for thermal comfort, ventilation, acoustic satisfaction, and so on. Understanding how temperature conditions
influence comfort can enable engineers to design systems to create those conditions. Nonetheless, researchers
have called for integrated systems approaches combining these domains (Bluyssen, Aris, & van Dommelen,
2011; Brand, 2008; Frontczak & Wargocki, 2011; Vink & Hallbeck, 2011). The approach of studying each physical
domain separately (temperature, ventilation, acoustics, lighting) does not allow for the possibility of interactions.
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The North American workstation environmental satisfaction project cited earlier explicitly took an integrated
approach (Newsham et al., 2008; Veitch et al., 2003). All results and reports from the Cost-effective Open-Plan
Environments project are available online at www.nrc-cnrc.gc.ca/eng/projects/irc/cope.html. Its field study led to
the development of three separate scales for satisfaction with lighting; privacy and acoustics; and ventilation and
indoor air quality. There also was a separate scale for overall environmental satisfaction and one for job
satisfaction. Physical conditions in all environmental domains were measured simultaneously with the (p. 260)
occupant surveys. Domain-specific and general regressions were run. The value of this approach is evident when
one considers the different results for different satisfaction domains. For example, satisfaction with lighting was
highest for people next to a window, but satisfaction with ventilation and overall environmental satisfaction were
better for people in the second row (who benefit from the daylight without potential thermal problems) (Veitch et al.,
2003).
Bluyssen et al. (2011) tested regression models for overall comfort on a large European data set for which both
summer and winter data were available (N > 5,700). The outcome measures were derived from averages of scores
for comfort with individual dimensions (e.g., noise, lighting, etc.). The predictors were self-reported adequacy of
building conditions (view; environmental controls; and privacy, cleanliness, decor, and layout as one office
conditions scale) and office characteristics (cardinal orientation). The models showed strong effects (~25%
explained variance) for which the predictors differed in summer and winter. The strongest predictors in both
seasons were the reported quality of the view and the overall satisfaction with the office conditions. However, the
between-building differences were large enough to lead the authors to suggest that future studies require
additional data collection concerning individual and social variables, before the desired practical shortcuts for
building design can be developed.
Inadequate datanot enough studiesis a common refrain in this domain. Frontczak and Wargocki (2011)
reviewed the literature on workplace comfort, seeking studies that would permit the development of a ranking of the
importance of comfort in the domains thermal, lighting, acoustics, and air quality. They observed that such a
ranking would permit practical judgments to be made about which condition to address first. It was evident that
when such a ranking was possible, thermal comfort was the highest priority for occupants. However, they also
noted that there are too few studies to determine whether the importance of the domain is related to the level of
satisfaction with it. Some studies have found that when satisfaction with a building condition is high, the importance
of that condition is lower (Boubekri & Haghighat, 1993; Veitch et al., 2003). As did Bluyssen et al. (2011), Frontczak
and Wargocki (2011) called for more studies, and stronger methodologies, concerning the effects of personal and
organizational characteristics on comfort.
Ergonomists have begun to distinguish between comfort and discomfort as separate dimensions (Helander &
Zhang, 1997; Zhang, Helander, & Drury, 1996). This approach has had little influence as yet outside the domain of
product development. The studies cited here have considered comfort to be a unidimensional concept with a
negative state (discomfort) and a positive state (comfort), and largely synonymous with the concept of satisfaction
with the physical environment. Vink and Hallbeck (2011) have proposed a new model of comfort that differentiates
between comfort, neutral, and discomfort outcomes resulting from individual, environmental, and contextual
aspects of exposures. Whether indoor environment researchers (from any discipline) take up and test this model
remains to be seen.
Stress and Health

Interest in work environments as contributors to strain through stress processes has a long history, as seen in nowclassic articles and chapters (e.g., Wineman, 1982). The early focus was on specific stressors in the work
environment, such as noise and temperature; this was followed by studies of sick building syndromea particular
interest in the indoor air quality and ventilation communities. These studies can contribute to workplace design and
engineering choices with the aim of preventing adverse outcomes. Such attention to detail is particularly important
given evidence that mild to moderate risk factors act in sum as a cumulative stressor to reduce well-being (Evans
Becker, Zahn, Bilotta, & Keesee, 2012; Wellens & Smith, 2006), and chronic exposure to environmental stressors
can cause learned helplessness (Evans & Stecker, 2004).
Noise
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Noise is among the most-studied stressors. Apart from its effects on hearing, chronically high levels of community
noise have detrimental effects on health and well-being, influencing outcomes from annoyance to cardiovascular
health (Ising & Kruppa, 2004). This has led the World Health Organization Regional Office for Europe (WHO Europe)
to formulate guidelines for urban noise levels (WHO Europe, 2007).
Exposure to very high noise levels is associated with reports of stress-related health problems. Raffaello and
Maass (2002) observed a decline in reported stress-related health problems among factory workers whose
conditions changed from a range of 7884 dB(A) to 6972 dB(A) as a result (p. 261) of a move to a new factory,
in comparison to a control group whose conditions stayed in the range of 7586 dB(A).
Other investigations have found that the effects of workplace noise on health are interactive rather than simple. In
an industrial setting in Israel where the mean noise level was 71 dB(A), Melamed, Fried, and Froom (2001) found
that the effects of noise exposure on blood pressure and job satisfaction were greater for workers with greater job
complexity. Fried, Melamed, and Ben-David (2002) analyzed noise exposure and sickness absence data from
white-collar workers in Israel. (Both papers used data collected as part of a larger study in industrial organizations
conducted between 1985 and 1987.) The mean noise level was 63 dB(A) for this sample. Sickness absence was,
as predicted, a function of both noise exposure and job complexity. Working on cognitively complex jobs in noisy
conditions had adverse health consequences, particularly for women (Fried et al., 2002).
Evans and Johnson (2000) found that exposure to simulated office noise played at an average level of 55 dB(A)
with peaks to 65 dB(A) in a laboratory setting resulted in increases in epinephrine secretion (but not in cortisol, the
fight or flight hormone), reduced postural adjustments, and behavioral aftereffects typical of motivational deficits,
as compared to the quiet condition of 40 dB(A). A UK field study observed noise conditions in the range 4663
dB(A), with a mean of 55 dB(A) (Leather, Beale, & Sullivan, 2003). Noise did not exert a main effect on self-reported
health symptoms, but did moderate the relationship between job strain and symptom reports. Job strain had no
effect on health symptoms for people in low noise, but the combination of high job strain and high noise exposure
was associated with increased reporting of symptoms of ill health.
Overall, a workplace noise level of 55 dB(A) or higher may contribute to ill health, particularly for people with
complex jobs or who experience high levels of job strain. However, contemporary offices in North America are not
typically this noisy. Two field studies of North American open-plan offices found the median background sound
level to be 46 dB(A) (Veitch et al., 2003; Warnock & Chu, 2002).
Sick Building Syndrome

Sick building syndrome (SBS), also known as non-specific building-related symptoms (BRS), is among the most
frustrating contemporary built-environment problems. As compared to diseases with symptoms that cluster
according to known physiological mechanisms, SBS is both difficult to describe and difficult to understand.
Identifiable diseases, such as lung cancer or asthma, have reasonably well-understood causes. SBS symptoms
include eye, nose, or throat irritation, headache or fatigue, breathing problems, and skin irritation, and generally
improve following periods of time away from the target building (Mendell, 2003). Despite the absence of an
operational definition of the condition (Hodgson, 2002), several risk factors have been identified. After 20 years of
study, it is now known that symptoms are associated with high temperatures, low outdoor air ventilation rates,
poorly maintained humidification systems, and microbial contamination (Mendell et al., 2008; Norbck, 2009;
Wargocki et al., 2002). The condition is somewhat more likely in mechanically ventilated than in naturally ventilated
buildings (Gomzi et al., 2007).
In addition to these physical factors, research also shows that individual characteristics and working conditions
contribute to symptom reports. Women report more SBS symptoms than do men (Brasche et al., 2001; Runeson,
Wahlstedt, Wieslander, & Norback, 2006). Personality variables such as neuroticism, somatic anxiety, and psychic
anxiety have been associated with higher risks of reporting SBS symptoms (Gomzi et al., 2007; Runeson, Norback,
Klinteberg, & Edling, 2004; Runeson et al., 2006). Working conditions also play a role, but in complex ways. High
job demands and role overload have been associated with symptom severity, suggesting a role for stress in the
development of sick building syndrome (Mendelson, Catano, & Kelloway, 2000; Runeson et al., 2006), but both
studies also found more complex interactions of social support than would be predicted by the traditional demandcontrol-support model of workplace stress (Doef & Maes, 1999). Mendelson et al. concluded that support from the
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organization and the reduction of role stress might be effective responses to the problem of SBS, whereas
interventions designed to increase support from coworkers are less likely to reduce symptom severity.
Control
Classically, stressful conditions are created when environmental stimulation creates demands but one lacks control
over the source of stimulation (e.g., Glass & Singer, 1972). In occupational health psychology the dominant model
for this is the demand-control model (Karasek & Theorell, 1990). In the absence of control over the job (i.e., when
one has (p. 262) little job autonomy), greater demands act as stressors, leading to strain outcomes such as ill
health. In work environment psychology, it has long been thought that the provision of individual environmental
controls would facilitate stress reduction (Becker, 1985). Specifically, giving people control over the stressoror
the perception that they have the power to control the stressorwould be expected to diminish its physiological
and behavioral effects (Averill, 1973; Glass & Singer, 1972).
The demand-control model as understood by occupational health psychologists has been modified to include
social support (Doef & Maes, 1999). The availability of social supportfor example, friendly relations with
coworkerswould be expected to buffer (or prevent) the strain associated with exposure to a stressor, even if the
support does not itself confer actual or perceived control over the stressor. In environmental psychology, this
concept has an extension in the form of organizational support as evidenced in the work space design, the
organizations responsiveness to reported problems in the physical environment, and the involvement of
occupants in design and operation (Becker, 1985; Leaman & Bordass, 2001).
Vischer (2007) integrated negative and positive dimensions of stress in a proposal for a model of what she called
work space stress, a modification of the demand-control model (Karasek & Theorell, 1990). The key concepts in
Vischers model are the psychological demands that the work space makes on the occupant, and the decision
latitude available to the occupant for responding to the demands. Such a model, she argued, could encompass the
conceptual complexity of physical features that simultaneously influence several processes, such as work space
separations that create territories, define the boundaries of privacy, enable social interaction, define work groups
and social networks, and permit distractions, particularly by focusing on the fit of the environmental characteristics
with the needs of the occupant. Decision latitude, according to Vischer, means the degree to which individuals
may participate in determining what the work space conditions will be; a higher degree of decision latitude should
provide a buffer against the adverse effects of high levels of work space demands.
Most studies in this field examine the effects of perceived control (varyingly defined as limited to the physical
environment, or incorporating elements of the job, tasks, or work life) on outcomes such as environmental
satisfaction, job satisfaction, and self-reported job performance. (A few studies have experimentally manipulated
providing physical control; see below.) Lee and Brand (2005) found that perceived environmental control was
positively related to environmental satisfaction directly, and both directly and indirectly related to job satisfaction,
the indirect effect being through an effect on group cohesiveness. Distractions also negatively predicted
environmental satisfaction. Later, the team examined the effect of distractions on perceived (environment and job)
control and self-rated job performance (Lee & Brand, 2010), finding that perceived control mediated the effect of
distractions on performance; that is, where distractions were greater, control was perceived as lower and in turn,
self-rated job performance was also lower.
Through the integration of concepts from organizational psychology and environmental psychology comes a more
nuanced view of the influence of environmental control on employees. ONeill (2010) described environmental
control as about giving people the work space design, furnishings, technology and policy tools that provide
choice over how to work, as opposed to being controlled by the space and organizational policies (p. 133). He
developed a model of controlactual control, not only the perception of itat the individual, group, and
organizational levels, and identified research directions, pointing out that there is ample evidence for the benefits
to individual behavior and performance of adjustability and flexibility in the physical environment, but less evidence
for the consequences at the organizational levelthat is, the effects on business outcomes that will be used to
justify investments.
Knight and Haslam (2010a) conducted two elegant experiments testing hypotheses related to the performance and
satisfaction effects of working in offices they characterized as lean (without decoration), enriched (with plants
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and art), empowered (with plants and art chosen by the participant), and disempowered (with plants and art
chosen by the participant but then removed by the experimenter). As predicted, permitting peoples input into the
office decoration improved performance on clerical tasks and well-being (physical comfort, psychological comfort,
and job satisfaction), and removing their choices diminished their performance and well-being.
Knight and Haslam (2010a) did not observe expected effects on organizational identification in these laboratory
settings; they had expected that providing autonomy over the environment would lead to increased organizational
identification. In (p. 263) two field surveys they did find support for such a model (Knight & Haslam, 2010b).
Autonomy over the physical work environment and involvement in it predicted psychological comfort (conceptually
related to what other researchers have called environmental satisfaction; Veitch et al., 2007), which in turn
predicted organizational identification, and this concept in its turn predicted job satisfaction.
Organizational identification as defined by Knight and Haslam (2010b) has similarities to affective organizational
commitment as understood by organizational psychologists (Allen & Meyer, 1996), and in turn managerial control
of space is an element of organizational support, along with human resources practice and policies. Organizational
support is a predictor of affective organizational commitment (Meyer, Stanley, Herscovitch, & Topolnytsky, 2002).
Further exploration of the concepts explored by Knight and Haslam (2010a, 2010b) could provide the needed link
to organizational outcomes, by adding office space management concepts to existing models showing that
business units with greater average job satisfaction show reduced turnover, higher customer satisfaction, and
greater business unit performance (Harter, Schmidt, & Hayes, 2002).
Restoration
In addition to the classical physiological consequences of exposure to stressors (Selye, 1956), contemporary
researchers also hypothesize that demanding environmental conditions force the allocation of attentional
resources to cope with the threat (Hancock, Ross, & Szalma, 2007; Szalma & Hancock, 2011). Kaplan (1995,
2001) argued that natural environments are inherently rich in the properties required to restore directed attention,
such as mystery and coherence. Indeed, environmental psychologists studying homes, workplaces, and
recreation settings have found consistently that access to nature can provide opportunities for restoration from
stressful experiences. This access to nature can take the form of active presence, such as a wilderness hike
(Hartig, Mang, & Evans, 1991) or passive viewing of films (Berman, Jonides, & Kaplan, 2008; Ulrich et al., 1991).
The possibility of restoration might account for the persistent and strong preference for windows in workplaces
(Farley & Veitch, 2001; Veitch et al., 2003). Beyond the simple presence of a window, the amount of view provided
is a predictor of the judged pleasantness of the office (Cetegen, Veitch, & Newsham, 2008) and of satisfaction with
lighting (Newsham, Brand, et al., 2009). The preference for more view seems to cross cultures, as Dogrusoy and
Tureyen (2007) found that occupants of offices in Izmir, Turkey, also preferred window shapes providing more
extensive views. Similarly, Ozdemir (2010), studying the judgments of office occupants in a building in Ankara,
Turkey, found that occupants of offices with more natural views rated their satisfaction with the room more highly.
Chang and Chen (2005) found that watching a nature view and being in the presence of indoor plants reduced
both anxiety and physiological measures of tension and arousal.
Although most investigations have focused on access to nature, the relationship may be more complex. Aris,
Veitch, and Newsham (2010) obtained independent ratings of the attractiveness of office views, and studied both
this variable and the view content (natural vs. urban) as they affected judgments of the room appearance and in
relation to physical and psychological comfort at work and sleep quality at home. The data were obtained from
Dutch office workers, all of whom are guaranteed window access within 5 m of the desk. Those with more attractive
views had more favorable impressions of their offices, better psychological and physical comfort at work, and
better sleep quality at home. The views of nature from this set of offices had contrary effects: they directly
improved office impressions, thereby indirectly contributing to improved psychological and physical comfort;
however, nature views directly reduced comfort, as compared to urban views. The latter finding is very unusual,
and the study awaits replication.
Few field studies are able to incorporate detailed physiological measurements together with self-reported data on
environmental satisfaction, but Thayer et al. (2010) were able to do so in a pre/post comparison of employees in a
building undergoing renovation. Many aspects of the interior design changed in the renovation, making causal
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attributions difficult; however, the most salient changes according to the environmental satisfaction questionnaire
were an increase in daylight availability and access to a view, improved lighting quality, and improved air quality.
Overall results of heart-rate variability and cortisol secretion measurements showed lower autonomic activation
and lower stress hormonal response in the new space (Thayer et al., 2010). Whether these results relate to the
light exposure, the view content, or the air qualityor all threecannot be determined from these data.
(p. 264) In many North American buildings, the large floor plate precludes providing window access to all
employees, whereas in many European countries it is a legal requirement (e.g., Danish Building and Housing
Agency, 1995; Government of Norway, 1997). It might be thought that one way to provide a natural element in a
windowless space, or in a windowed space without a nature view, would be to provide plants. Two recent reviews
have concluded that the literature testing this idea has several methodological weaknesses (Bakker & Voordt,
2010; Bringslimark, Hartig, & Patil, 2009). Both reviews concluded that in general, the presence of indoor plants
appears to reduce stress in some fashion, but the precise physiological, affective, or cognitive effects and the
mechanism by which they operate is unknown. Bakker and Voordt (2010) further noted that little attention has been
paid to the type of plant or to its state of health.
Positive Affect
Individual control allows people to influence stressors at work, but also allows the possibility of obtaining conditions
that suit their personal preference. The default conditions might not themselves be stressorsthey might be
adequate conditions for the work to be donebut they might not be those that the individual prefers. By making it
possible for adjustments to be made it becomes possible for individuals to satisfy their desires. In experimental
work, this effect is subtle enough that there might be no main effect of individual control, as seen in Veitch and
Newshams (2000a) study of office lighting levels and light distribution, but large individual differences in preferred
conditions (Veitch & Newsham, 2000b) and evidence that individuals who work under their preferred conditions
experience greater well-being (Newsham & Veitch, 2001).
Positive affect theory is the mechanism by which this effect is thought to operate (Baron, 1994; Isen & Baron,
1991). Regardless of whether one has chosen the conditions or has the power to alter them, working under
preferred conditions can create a state of positive affect that in turn leads to benefits in the form of increased
cooperation, reduced competition, improved intellectual performance, and increased creativity (Baron, 1990;
Baron & Thomley, 1994). Barons experiments concerned scent. Kuller et al. (2006) conducted a multi-nation
survey of office lighting and color conditions and found that when light levels were said to be just right, mood
measures reached their highest levels.
Most thermal environment research is atheoretical, seeking deterministic relationships between environmental
conditions and various experiential and observable outcomes. However, positive affect might be the mechanism
behind findings that are used to justify engineering standards. For example, classroom performance on
standardized tests improved when temperatures were reduced such that students reported neutral comfort rather
than feeling too hot (Wargocki & Wyon, 2007). In the laboratory, when participants work in thermal environmental
conditions close to the neutral point of comfort between too warm and too cold, they show the best
performance on neurobehavioral and clerical tasks (Lan, Wargocki, & Lian, 2011).
The benefits of conditions that create positive affect can be used to justify investments in specific design features
known to be generally preferred, and particularly to support the implementation of individual environmental controls
in offices. Any single design criterion can satisfy only a portion of the population (Newsham & Veitch, 2001),
whereas individual control enables a broad range of conditions to be achieved. This was the motivation behind the
Light Right Consortium laboratory and field investigations of energy-efficient office lighting featuring workstationspecific, individually controllable direct-indirect lighting as the condition thought to create the best overall
environment. Both in the laboratory and in the field, this was the case. In the laboratory, this lighting system was
judged to be the most comfortable and the individual control appeared to provide a buffer against the progression
of fatigue over the workday (Boyce et al., 2006a). In the field, employees with this lighting installation reported
greater satisfaction with lighting, overall environmental satisfaction, job satisfaction, and organizational
commitment, and lower intent to turnover (Veitch et al., 2010).
Three studies, with five independent data sets, have supported a theoretical model in which people who report
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better appraisals of their office lighting show predicted beneficial effects through improved mood. Veitch,
Newsham, Boyce, and Jones (2008) used mediated regressions to establish a chain of effects from higher lighting
appraisals through improved room appearance judgments to more pleasant mood and on to improved health and
well-being in the form of physical and visual comfort reports at the end of the workday and higher end-of-day
satisfaction with the environment and their work during the day. Veitch, Stokkermans, and Newsham (in press)
found support for a similar (p. 265) model in which improved mood led to stronger work engagement. Data from
an organization undergoing an office renovation showed support for a model in which lighting appraisals led to
improved room appearance judgments, which in turn led to improved mood; improved mood in turn led to a chain
from improved overall environmental satisfaction to reduced intent to turnover and to a separate chain from
improved mood to reduced health problems in the form of visual and physical discomfort at work and fewer days
absent from work (Veitch et al., 2010). Thus, providing conditions that employees perceive as comfortable or better
has benefits for organizations as well as for the individuals themselves.
Famously, Herzberg (1966) concluded that the physical environment is a hygiene factor in work motivationthat if
the physical conditions are inadequate (e.g., dark, noisy, badly arranged) then motivation will decline, but that
there is no room to improve motivation above the baseline using the work space design or furnishings.
Contemporary researchers would beg to differ. Although most of the recent research testing the positive affect
theory has focused on lighting systems and their individual control, in principle this model could be applied to study
the benefits, to organizations as well as to individuals, of providing environmental conditions that create a state of
comfort or satisfaction.
Cognition
A few investigations have examined how cognitive processes influence ones environmental appraisals or
judgments about work environments. These investigations, although each taking a different perspective, remind us
of moderating effects internal to the observer that influence the processes described above.
Fischer, Tarquinio, and Vischer (2004) examined the influence of the self-schema on environmental appraisals and
job satisfaction. The work environments of the participants were broadly comparable, but the perceptions of those
environments differed for participants with a success-oriented or a failure-oriented professional self-schema. Those
with a success-oriented professional self-schema tended to hold more positive views of their work environments
and of their jobs.
For all but the self-employed, the provision of a work environment is managements responsibility. This has a
physical and a symbolic aspect, in that organizations implicitly communicate the value of the employees in the
office environment provided (Marquardt, Veitch, & Charles, 2002). One would expect this communication function
to influence the organizational identification process that Knight and Haslam (2010b) explored, although no studies
appear to have tested this notion.
Marquardt et al. (2002) concluded that when individuals needs are met by the working conditions provided,
environmental satisfaction is improved. Expressing the relation in this form, there is no room for a positive increase
in environmental satisfaction. Perhaps similarly, Lee (2006) found that when employees expectations for the office
environment are met, satisfaction plateaus; office environments that exceeded expectations did not result in higher
environmental satisfaction. This finding merits further examination, in view of the contrast with the positive affect
results and those of Goins et al. (2010), both discussed above.
Innovative Work Arrangements

With the advent of the Internet, increasing real estate costs, and the cost and time associated with commuting, we
hear much about the new ways of working, including telework (working electronically from a site that is not the
corporate office) and hoteling (working at the corporate office in a workstation assigned temporarily). Although
computing and communications technology today makes these practices easier, they are not new concepts (van
Meel, 2011). Moreover, the fundamental processes that employees experience are not different for different work
arrangements; privacy, distraction, comfort, and so on occur regardless of where one is.
Very few studies have examined the physical work environment aspect of teleworking (Ng, 2010). Ngs review
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concluded that teleworkers desire in their home office the same qualities they would find in the corporate office, but
that there can be challenges to fulfilling these desires. Even for employers with policies that mandate the provision
of equipment and furnishings for home-based work, there is no guarantee that the employees home will have a
suitable space in which to put the office. The health and safety aspects of these issues remain unresolved in both
Canada and the United States; as Ng pointed out, there might be hidden costs to organizations associated with
moving employees out of the corporate office. This area warrants systematic research.
Communications researchers have begun to examine the social dimension of remote working. They note that the
information and communications technologies (ICT) that permit distributed working are paradoxical. Distributed
work means (p. 266) less face-to-face communication, which some argue is a fundamental aspect of work life
(van Meel, 2011), but also creates an expectation of constant, instant availability. Leonardi, Treem, and Jackson
(2010) observed that teleworkers used ICT in covert ways to manage availability so that it appeared that they used
time in the same way as they would have had they been in the corporate office. Leonardi et al. also observed that
some of the same distractions and interruptions that the teleworkers were trying to control, such as e-mail, also
affect workers in the corporate office. Others have found that the reduction in the experience of these stressors
explained higher job satisfaction for teleworkers as compared to office workers (Fonner & Roloff, 2010).
Danielsson and Bodin (2008) presented one of the few studies to consider the effects of hoteling in comparison to
other office types. The flex offices in their sample were assigned on an as-needed, temporary basis, and offered
no opportunity for personalization. Based on the previous discussion concerning territoriality, one would predict
that such an office would increase the employees risk of adverse health and well-being. In this sample, the
reverse was true: people in flex offices had a lower risk of ill health. Why this might be so is unclear from the data.
Summary
Overall, research into the effects of work environments on their occupants since the last major handbook chapter
(McCoy, 2002) has refined rather than revolutionized our understanding. There is a greater understanding of the
influence of the environment on attention processes in particular. Coupled with the increased evidence for the
merits of access to nature to promote restoration, we see the importance of understanding the mechanisms of
action, as these can lead to innovative or unexpected solutions. For example, if it is not possible to entirely remove
the sources of distraction, one might instead seek to provide opportunities for nature restoration.
Environmental Consequences of Workplace Behaviors

In commercial buildings the two largest electricity-consuming functions are lighting (38%) and heating, ventilation,
and air-conditioning (HVAC) (30%) (United States Energy Information Administration, 2009). Improvements in
technology could reduce the total energy consumed for these functions, but they are also targets for behavior
change. Research topics concern the usability of the new technologiesparticularly demonstrations that they
preserve suitable environmental conditions for workas well as verification of the intended energy savings.
Research into the factors influencing the adoption of the new technologies among organizations is at an early
stage.
Individual Resource Use

Despite the long history of environmental psychologists interest in using psychological principles to effect change
in environmentally relevant behaviors and in resource management (Geller, 1987; Stern & Oskamp, 1987),
comparatively little of this attention has focused on work settings. A few studies have examined values and norms
and their influence on energy-conserving behaviors in workplaces (Andersson & Bateman, 2000; Scherbaum,
Popovich, & Finlinson, 2008), but there is little guidance available for organizations to follow in promoting
environmentally responsible actions to employees.
The engineering approach to workplace energy use is technological. Automated lighting controls such as
occupancy sensors to turn off lights in unoccupied spaces and daylight harvesting to dim the electric lighting when
daylight is available are unquestioned energy savers (Galasiu & Newsham, 2009; Galasiu, Newsham, Suvagau, &
Sander, 2007; Jennings, Rubinstein, DiBartolomeo, & Blanc, 2000). It is less well known that individual control can
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also save energy; where individuals have the opportunity to control the level of their local lighting, on average the
lighting energy use is ~1015% lower than it would be under a fixed level (Galasiu et al., 2007; Jennings et al.,
2000; Veitch & Newsham, 2000a). Given the benefits of individual control associated with positive affect, this
makes individual control over lighting a benefit to individuals, organizations, and the environment. However, both
the size of the energy savings and the possibility for individuals to obtain their preferred conditions will depend on
the equipment and the control system parameters, such as the possible range of light levels (Boyce et al., 2006b;
Fotios, Logadttir, Cheal, & Christoffersen, 2011; Newsham, Arsenault, Veitch, Tosco, & Duval, 2005), which leaves
room for further research.
As noted above, there is a strong preference for windows in offices and benefits to a view of outside. However,
direct sun causes both thermal and visual discomfort, leading people to lower the blinds. When this occurs early in
the day the tendency is not to raise them again (Reinhart & Voss, 2003), (p. 267) which can lead to an increase
in electric lighting use. The technical solution to this could be to provide automatic blinds, but people dislike fully
automated systems, which take away choice (Galasiu & Veitch, 2006). Cultural factors also influence the response
to automated building controls (Cole & Brown, 2009). Building automation generally is an area in which
psychologists contributions seem an obvious, but unmet, need, as there appear to be no systematic investigations
of the effectiveness or acceptability of these systems for individual occupants or for building operators.
Thermal comfort also offers room for individual action that can reduce energy use, particularly if one adopts the
adaptive model. Few North American buildings provide local options to change the ventilation or temperature, so
most of the research on adaptive responses comes from other continents. With a push from the adoption of energy
codes mandating strict limits on building energy consumption, natural ventilation and passive cooling strategies
become more attractive. Such buildings can have wider variation in thermal conditions than occur in mechanically
ventilated buildings, to which occupants may respond with adaptive behaviors to maintain thermal comfort, such as
adding or removing a layer of clothing, or opening or closing a window (de Dear, 2004). Field surveys reveal that
these occupants can perceive these buildings favorably (Barlow & Fiala, 2007; Wagner et al., 2007), but more
systematic investigations with more robust measurement tools and statistical analysis would support stronger
inferences about the features that work best.
Organizations Behaviors
Environmental psychologists have paid scant attention to organizational decision-making and its influence on
global environmental conditions (Stern, 2011), although a few management and industrial-organizational
psychologists have explored these questions (e.g., Bansal & Roth, 2000). Just as individuals choose to ride a
bicycle or drive a car, switch lights off or on, or purchase an energy-efficient appliance, organizations also make
decisions about their operations, facilities, and policies that influence the state of the environment. The decisions
are not based solely on financial considerations of initial costs or simple payback; for example, those who make
decisions about lighting systems place a high value on employee satisfaction and want to avoid creating problems
that could lead to employee turnover or reduced work output (Light Right Consortium, 2002).
Thus, building practitioners need information about the effects of organizational technology choices on individual
employees to demonstrate that environmentally responsible work environment choices will not have unintended
consequences. For example, demand response describes systems in which large electrical users reduce their
electrical loads by allowing temperature to drift upward and by dimming the lighting, both in response to a request
from the utility company. The system allows utilities to manage the peak demand (particularly on hot summer
afternoons) to maintain the stability of the electrical grid. The electrical user receives an incentive from the utility to
reduce demand, but overall savings will result only if the resulting work environment conditions remain adequate
for the employees. Laboratory and field investigations of the limits of such systems show that, at least for short
periods, people can tolerate these changes provided the change is not too rapid (Akashi & Boyce, 2006; Newsham
et al., 2006; Newsham, Mancini, et al., 2009).
Just as for individuals, the provision of space is a substantial investment for an organization. In the architectural
and design communities, so-called green buildings are in fashion, with the emphasis being on the design and
construction of buildings to meet targets for energy and water use, waste management, and ecologically sound
practices. However, this way of building generally comes at an increased cost that the organization must justify.
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Various rating schemes exist, including Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED), Green Globes, and
BREEAM (Portalatin, Koepke, Roskoski, & Shouse, 2010). Although they differ in their details, each aims to reduce
energy and resource use while providing a better indoor environment for occupants. Heerwagen (2000) concluded
that done well, such buildings could result in better well-being for occupants as well as improved organizational
performance and reductions in energy and resource use.
Again, this is a domain in which environmental psychologists and their measurement expertise are needed to
validate the rating schemes and provide feedback on the elements intended to preserve or improve indoor
environmental quality. Evidence that green buildings save energy as intended is mixed (Newsham, Mancini, & Birt,
2009). The limited information available as yet concerning indoor conditions shows that each building has unique
features and context that make case study results difficult to generalize (Brown, Cole, Robinson, & Dowlatabadi,
2010), but environmental psychologists with expertise in post-occupancy evaluation have tools to address this.
One issue that has emerged is acoustical satisfaction, in that some of the design features favored in green
buildings (few interior partitions, to permit daylight penetration, and exposed concrete ceiling slabs, to reduce
material use) lead to higher noise levels and reduced acoustic privacy (Zhang & Altan, 2011).
Summary
Engineers and inventors have developed many technologies to improve building energy efficiency, but their
adoption has been slower than had been hoped (K. Kampschroer, personal communication, Oct. 26, 2010). A likely
reason for this has been the relative absence of psychologists from the development of the technologies and their
deployment. The psychological literature is largely silent concerning the barriers to the adoption and use of
advanced building technologies and the incentives that might motivate more widespread use. Such research
needs to go beyond the general attitude-behavior approach commonly taken in the study of environmentally
responsible behavior to focus on specific structural, informational, and practical barriers as experienced by
various actors in the decision-making system, from vice presidents responsible for facilities through building
engineers who maintain them.
Conclusion
Work environments clearly influence the comfort, satisfaction, mood, performance, and well-being of the people
who work in them. Multiple physiological and psychological processes occur simultaneously and interactively,
often moderated by other contextual and individual conditions, leading together to the behavior of the person in
the space. The march of technology, bringing with it the possibility of working away from the corporate office, does
not change fundamental human nature. Many of the physical conditions of an effective office are the same
regardless of where the work occurs.
Our understanding of the influences of the environment on people at work, and equally our understanding of the
environmental effects of workplace behaviors, is clearly increasing, but is hampered by two problems, one
methodological and one interpersonal. The interpersonal problem arises from the inherently interdisciplinary nature
of work environment research. Understanding work environments ought not to be a purely intellectual exercise, but
one that leads to the design, construction, operation, and occupation of good environments. This requires
psychologists to work together with their counterparts in such fields as engineering, architecture, and physics and
not only with anthropologists and sociologists (Veitch, 2008). Without this, it will be impossible to solve the other
problem, which is methodological.
Many reviewers have noted methodological problems in work environment research (e.g., Bringslimark et al., 2009;
Frontczak & Wargocki, 2011; Winkel, Saegert, & Evans, 2009). To the commonly reported issues (monomethod
bias, inadequate statistical controls, threats to internal validity, etc.), we can add the tendency to emphasize either
the environmental measurements or the behavioral outcomes, each to the detriment of the other. Psychologists
can bring the strength of their research methods and statistical training; building scientists with backgrounds in
engineering or physics tend to bring expertise in measuring physical quantities with great precision. Absent such a
combination, we cannot know exactly which conditions trigger effects or what exactly those effects might be.
Overcoming professional inertia to change our own behavior in this regard will not be easy, but psychologists have
Page 21 of 34
Work Environments
the tools for behavior change. Using them, we can reap the rewards of increased influence over the environments
we all inhabit (Veitch, 2008).
Future Directions
Key research directions for work environment psychology to address in the near term include:
What are the space and physical accommodation needs of the increasingly prevalent older office employee?
How do they differ from youth entering the workforcefor example, in the experience of and expectation for
privacy (cf. Smith, 2008)?
What are the prospects for an integrated theory of comfort, encompassing the broad variety of indoor
conditions and bringing together the work of psychologists, engineers, and ergonomists (cf. Bluyssen et al.,
2011; Reffat & Harkness, 2001; Vink & Hallbeck, 2011)?
What are the balancing points between competing processes? For example, when is the inter-workstation
distance sufficient for privacy, and when does isolation begin? When does background sound provide a
desirable mask for intrusive speech, and when does it become annoying? How much environmental control
enables individualized (p. 269) environments, and when does the abundance of choice become a stressor in
itself? Investigations of such questions demand precision about the ranges of the independent variables, and
technical knowledge appropriate to the domain.
What are the costs, and what are the benefits, to individuals and to organizations, of space management
policies that include telework, hoteling, and similar practices that eliminate individual territories at the corporate
office? What contextual factors contribute to their success, or their failure? - What beliefs, knowledge, attitudes,
or other factors have prevented organizationsor key individuals within organizationsfrom adopting novel
environmental technologies? What specific information do decision-makers need to justify the investment?
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Notes:
(1.) The quantity of light falling on a surface is the illuminance of the surface. The SI unit for illuminance is
lumens/m2 , abbreviated lx. The quantity of light emitted from a surface or a light source is its luminance. The SI unit
for luminance is the candela/m2 , abbreviated cd/m2 .
(2.) A few psychologists have bridged these communities. Most notably, Frederick Rohles, now an emeritus
professor at Kansas State University, has been awarded Fellow status in the American Psychological Association
(and its Divisions 21 and 34), the Human Factors and Ergonomics Society, and the American Society for Heating,
Refrigerating, and Air-Conditioning Engineersprobably the only person to have been so recognized by these
organizations.
Jennifer A. Veitch
Jennifer A. Veitch NRC Construction Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
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School Environments

School Environments
Henry Sanoff and Rotraut Walden
2012
Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology, School

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0015

Education reform has focused primarily on teaching methods and course content. As a result instructional materials
have been updated and instructional methods improved. However, what has received too little attention is the
physical environment in which education occurs. Highly qualified teachers do not want to work in outdated,
unattractive facilities. Parents are much more discerning about which school their child will attend, including the
physical appearance of the school and modern technology available. School systems have discovered that
schools with sick internal physical environments have an adverse effect on student learning and teacher
performance. There are a growing number of studies linking student outcomes whose physical environments
support the educational process.
Keywords: high-performance schools, post-occupancy evaluation, classroom design, green schools, building performance, health, learning,
teaching, social behavior, well-being, future directions
Introduction
A growing understanding of how our learning environments affect people suggests that a school building is an
important tool for learning and teaching, and, like any tool, can enhance or hinder the process. School facility
factors such as building age and condition, quality of maintenance, lighting, color, noise, temperature, and air
quality can affect student health, safety, sense of self, and psychological state (National Research Council, 2007).
Research has also shown that the quality of facilities influences citizen perceptions of schools and can serve as a
point of community pride and increased support for public education (Uline, Tschannen-Moran, & Wolsey, 2008).
The goal then is to create school facilities that reflect everything known today about providing the best possible
education for all students in the twenty-first century.
Historical Evolution of American School Buildings

The physical environment is one of the important components of an institutional system, such as schools (Wolfe &
Rivlin, 1987). Physical changes in school architecture have always been influenced by the social, political,
economical, and educational ideologies of the times. These changes shaped societys conceptions of childrens
development and attitudes toward the educational practices, as well as the types of educational facilities.
There have been major turning points in education from the Colonial period and the one-room schoolhouse to the
Common School movement starting in the 1840s, continuing with the progressive education movement in the late
19th century and the first half of the 20th century, later focusing on open education and compensatory education.
(p. 277) State-mandated public education did not exist prior to the 19th century (Wolfe & Rivlin, 1987). Education
Page 1 of 24
School Environments
was usually for the elite, through tutoring and one-room schoolhouses accommodating all ages of students with the
teacher presiding over instruction. The common school movement brought the idea of equal opportunity for
everybody to be educated regardless of economical, racial, or class background (Rothman, 1980). During this
progressive period American business and industry rapidly expanded and the school was viewed essentially as a
workplace (factory) and students learning was perceived in terms of productivity. Teachers were referred to as
the factory workers and students as the raw material to be turned into the product, which was to meet the needs of
the early 20th century. The common school movement, however, gave rise to the public education system and the
principle of free schooling (Pasalar, 2003).
During the first quarter of the 20th century, as school populations grew due to urbanization, the need for larger
district schools became clear. In the meantime, the idea of elementary and secondary schools appeared, which
later included middle schools as well. Buildings designed to specialize in the housing of junior high and high school
education programs were constructed, and many more types of auxiliary spaces were added. The junior high
school was created with the purpose of easing the transition from elementary school settings to the
departmentalized high school settings and solving the problem of general overcrowding (Rieselbach, 1992).
Reform Pedagogy (18901932)

During the late 19th century, a progressive movement emerged in Europe as well as in the United States as a
general critique of the public educational system. A central principle of the progressive movement was the concept
of child-centered education, in contrast to the teacher-centered methods where education was shaped according
to course content delivered by formal lectures.
This brief sketch of the history of school buildings would be incomplete without mentioning the reform movements,
which began around the turn of the 20th century. The term educational reform of this period actually refers to a
multitude of pedagogical ideas within an overall movement in the late 19th and early 20th centuries (18901932)
that began to take a stand against the predominant drill schools, with their remoteness from real life,
intellectualism, and authoritarianism (Oelkers, 1996, p. 39; cf. Borrelbach, 2009).The progressive movement is
traced primarily to educators such as Georg Kerschensteiner and Peter Petersen in Germany, Maria Montessori in
Italy (1988), and John Dewey (1916 /1967) in the United States.
The integration of work into the educational process was promoted primarily by Georg Kerschensteiner (1854
1932) in the work school (Arbeitsschule) movement he started. Between 1890 and 1933, the concept of work
school became a synonym for the entire reform pedagogy movement and was considered the essential new
school. Kerschensteiner saw the activity in the work school primarily as the combination of manual work and
intellectual scrutiny of that activity. He was a determined opponent of the traditional book learning and accused it
of being one-sided and remote from reality, in that it focused primarily on intellectual abilities, while the majority of
the students would have to pursue work involving manual activities in their later life (Scheibe, 1999, p. 180; cf.
Borrelbach, 2009).
Peter Petersen (18541952) sought to realize the union of individual and an educational community primarily
through a new organization of the school. He abandoned the principle of separation of grades and instead
introduced tribe groups of students teamed up according to subject interest or other aspects. They included two
or three age groups, so that students of very different ages were working together. With these organizational
changes and more differentiated instructional content, Petersen achieved a loosening of the rigid structures of the
old school, and a more flexible educational process. However, Petersen saw school reform not only as
organizational change, but also as a design challenge (Oelkers, 1996, p. 190). He felt that development of a new
school architecture was needed. For this, he proposed to redesign the classrooms as school living rooms.
Students were offered a variety of work materials, books, and objects, so as to turn these school living rooms into
the best possible, stimulating instructional environment (cf. Dreier et al., 1999, p. 35). According to Petersen, other
necessary spatial conditions for a positive community life were easily integrated outdoor areas, inviting
entrances, spacious break areas, and generously designed hallways and assembly areas. A good aesthetic
design would give the children opportunities for retreat and relaxation (Petersen, 1927, p. 7).
The Italian physician Maria Montessori (18701952) opened her first childrens homes (case dei bambini) in 1900.
She was motivated by her belief that schools of that time were designed for adults, (p. 278) with long hallways
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and bare, monotonous classrooms. Her educational philosophy was dominated by the principle of individual selfguided activity and her child-centered approach. Her ideas generated not only new didactic materials but also
valuable concepts for the design and organization of living spaces for children. She started from the belief that
from the moment of birth, every child has the ability to develop into an independent human being through active
exploration and learning processes (Dreier et al., 1999, p. 35; cf. Borrelbach, 2009).
John Dewey (18591952) suggested that education be based on a broader concept, making it an integral part of
the life process whereby students would learn by doing and interacting with one another (Alexander, 2000). Many
educators believed that programs needed to fit the child, but not that the child should fit the program.
Consequently, schooling in the United States dramatically changed. In the period between World War I and II, the
spatial layout characteristics of the school architecture evolved as a result of the pedagogic findings, the advent of
the modern movement in the architecture, and the measures taken by the hygienists for the prevention of disease.
In finger plan organizations, classrooms were connected to spaces for communal activities, and at the same time
aimed to provide appropriate ventilation, lighting, orientation, and immediate contact with external space. For the
first time classrooms were connected to the outdoors (courtyards, open playfields) introducing nature as part of
the learning experience in addition to classroom activities. However, the classrooms, which were often located
along the corridor in a linear development, were still a major component of the school.
The Progressive Movement

Throughout the industrialized era (19451960), in combination with the idea of mass production, prototype school
buildings were created conveying a minimalist approach toward educational spacestrict standards and
institutional and economic restrictions. The education system and the architectural trend, in general, involved the
factory approach based on the construction of fast and economical school buildings without questioning its
uniqueness and fit to the educational process (Taylor, 1975). Cultural, geographic, social, and ideological aspects
were not a priority compared to the interests of a universality that promotes more democratic and universal values
in the school architecture. Due to economic constraints in budgets for school constructions the attention and
interests focused on the infrastructure of the school with less interest in pedagogy, social organization, spatial
layout, and other physical features. During the same period the trend shifted toward creating more scaled, flexible,
and convertible spaces that can adopt continuously changing and developing pedagogy.
In 1959 J. Lloyd Trump prepared a report emphasizing the necessity of improving the quality of secondary
education and school environments for the future. Commissioned by the National Association of Secondary School
Principals, this plan influenced the development of many schools during that period. According to the report, the
secondary school of the future would not need to have standard classroom units of 25 to 35 students meeting five
days a week. In terms of student-teacher relationships, the secondary schools would provide closer relationships.
The teacher in this case would be a consultant rather than a taskmaster. Since students have different learning
styles, the plan suggested the pursuit of specialized studies. According to Trump, space within the building would
be planned for what would be taught, as well as how it should be taught. Spatial flexibility was one of the variables
to be considered. The Trump plan suggested that large rooms be flexible enough to be divided into smaller seminar
rooms for small-group discussions.
The 1960s and 1970s brought new developments in the education system and a thorough analysis of childrens
developmental needs. The idea of open design was introduced, offering changes in the organization and the
structure of the classrooms and overall school building (Barth, 1972; Silberman, 1973). The baby boom in the
1960s along with the suburban expansion and the development of new areas led to an increase in the construction
of school buildings. The schools constructed had architectural and programmatic variety. Open-space school and
informal education were part of that experimentation.
Open-space education originated from the need to find an answer to the problem of educating children of varying
performance levels in different groups. However, open-design schools were less a philosophic commitment than a
matter of cost and efficiency over buildings with partitions. The educational model offered child-centered learning,
which emphasized a flexible grouping of students, individualized instruction, open access to learning materials,
and the use of all available spaces such as rooms, corridors, and outdoor areas (Wolfe & Rivlin, 1987). The idea
provided spaces that encouraged mobility, communication, social (p. 279) interaction, cooperation, and group
projects among the students. They were the symbols of modern school design and were widely adopted.
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However, the idea of open-design school was not accompanied by informal or open teaching. There were even
attempts to implement informal or open education in settings where school buildings were traditionally designed
(Wolfe & Rivlin, 1987). Therefore, the idea later failed due to the disorder caused by the incompatible teaching
activities and school buildings. Problems, such as visual distraction and noise as well as territorial need for different
activity settings, were experienced as well (Taylor, 1975; Gump, 1991; Sanoff, 2002). Many of those schools
implementing the open-design idea have undergone changes returning to the traditional way of divided classroom
arrangements (Sanoff, 2002). There are continuing mismatches between the educational philosophies and
practices. Although the current schooling system in the United States is experimenting with a student-centered
education model in innovative small schools, emphasizing learning through continuous interaction among peers
and teachers, it is still possible to observe teachers control and dominance on student activities restricting
students use of different spaces (Cushman, 1999).
School Size
In the 1970s and 80s, the United States and other countries built very large schools in most of their cities. Reasons
for this were the expectation of economic advantages as well as the benefit of being able to offer students a wider
and more comprehensive curriculum. A trend of separating the large schools into smaller, more personal units
developed (Duke & Trautvetter, 2001). The goal was, among other things, that a greater significance would be
attributed to the personalization of schools. This was shown through decorations, involvement in school clubs,
break rooms, works of art, and the overall feeling that I would like to be here.
The small school literature began with large-scale quantitative studies of the late 1980s and early 1990s that firmly
established small schools as more productive and effective than large ones. These studies, involving large
numbers of students, schools, and school districts, found a strong relationship between higher academic
achievement and lower enrollment (Lee & Smith, 1995; Eckman & Howley, 1997). A study commissioned by the US
Department of Education noted that the value of small schools in increasing achievement, graduation rates, and
satisfaction, and in improving behavior has been confirmed with clarity and a high level of confidence (Raywid,
1999). Students make more rapid progress toward graduation (McMullan, Sipe, & Wolf, 1994). They are more
satisfied with small schools, fewer of them drop out than from larger schools (Pittman & Haoghwout, 1987), and
students behave better in smaller schools (Stockard & Mayberry, 1992).
According to Wasley et al. (2000), the advantages of smaller schools seem to outweigh those of bigger schools.
Isolation, which reveals itself through alienation, vandalism, theft, and violence, can be avoided in smaller schools
(cf. Linneweber, Mummendey, Bornewasser, & Lschper, 1984). Smaller schools enable children of minorities and
those from underprivileged backgrounds to progress rapidly and encourage teachers to invest their experiences
for the benefit of the students (Wasley et al., 2000, p. 2). Barker and Gump already demonstrated in their classic
1964 study (cf. Helmke & Weinert, 1997, p. 94) that students in smaller schools are more inclined to take part in
school activities, despite the fact that larger schools may have more opportunities to offer these kinds of activities
to students.
A report by Carnegie Corporations Council on Adolescent Development (1988) revealed that adolescents had
been experiencing massive, impersonal schools with unconnected curricula and high student population. The idea
of creating smaller learning environments was introduced in the 1990s and was implemented by educational
planners. Smaller learning environments were generated through the creation of academic houses (or classroom
clusters forming a separate unit) accommodating 200 to 300 students. In each academic unit, students and
teachers were organized into teams where there were interactive educational and social activities. Other plans
emerged to create schools within schools within new and existing schools, sometimes referred to as a
neighborhood plan or learning community (McAndrews & Anderson, 2002).
More recently the idea of smaller schools with more specialized curriculum and educational activities, such as
magnet or academic house schools, has started to be widespread within the United States, thus the school
environment attributed to the new views in educational process concerning the organization of flexible classroom
spaces and the number of laboratories or project rooms supporting students practices. In general, the school
environment aimed to offer more stimuli to students who operate in a framework of freedom in a more balanced
network (p. 280) of social relations. The goal was integrating youth into various social roles, allowing equal
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opportunity for each child, and promoting their psychological, social, and moral development and hence, their
personal fulfillment.
Educational research indicates that participation in school activities, student satisfaction, social connectedness,
and achievement are greater in small schools relative to large schools (Barker & Gump, 1964; Blundell Jones,
2007; Cotton, 1996; Sanoff, 2009), while disciplinary problems, incidents of vandalism, truancy, drug use, and
drop-out rates are lower (Fowler & Walberg, 1991).
Learning Environment
Learning is defined as a relatively long-lasting change in behavior that results from experience. Good teaching can
be found in poorly built schools, just as poor teaching can be found in well-built schools. However, it is widely
accepted that buildings can both promote as well as hinder learning (Weinstein, 1979).
In the results of the PISA study (Program for International Student Assessment; Lemke et al., 2001; OECD, 2004),
education ministers, supervisory school authorities, and planners deal with the effects of environment on the
performance as well as the social and emotional competence of students in kindergarten, grade schools, and
tertiary schools. The concept of the environment as the third teacher alongside the children and actual teachers
is the central issue within the question of how to optimize conditions for in-school learning (Edwards, Gandini, &
Forman, 1998). Loris Malaguzzi (19201994), one of the most important Reggio pedagogues, made the following
fundamental statement: in addition to the teacher and fellow students, the building acts as a third teacher (1984
).
Various studies have shown that schools need to be able to meet very diverse educational demands. Schools
need to be places of living and learning, and meeting points for social learning, which promotes conflict resolution
and encourages individuality and open exchange of ideas. A large volume of evidence shows a correlation
between environmental conditions in schools and academic performance (cf. Linneweber, 1996, p. 386; Gifford,
2007). The central focus of the dispute is also found in this chapter, in the analysis of the effects of the physical
environment. Well-planned school buildings can promote the development of successful, motivational learning
methods that contribute to a love of learning and generate a desire to achieve. Students are the ones responsible
for the future of the global market and the social utility of our economic system.
Gump (1978) determined that a person spends on average 14,000 hours in the learning environment from
kindergarten to the 12th grade. The results of the international PISA study became well known in numerous
countries, and since 2003, 7,200 of more than 40,000 schools in Germany were reconfigured to become full-time
schools, open all year, in the hope that this concept would help improve student performance. During this time, the
Federal Ministry of Education and Research invested four billion euros to help fund the shift to full-time schools.
There is a demand for todays schools to be more responsive (Sanoff, 2001), to be places where students and
teachers engage in learning and teaching inside and outside of the classroom. The goal is a school that responds
to the development needs of adults and teenagers. A multitude of learning methods and social forms should be
applied, such as small-group work, lectures, learning by doing, individual assignments, and study centers (Jacobs,
1999; Lackney, 2009). In addition to target-oriented learning, incidental learning also takes place. The areas in
which students spend their free time should also be included in the planning. The social realm should allow room
for eating, drinking, playing, and reflection. Also important is the flexibility to be used by various groups, children,
adults, and disabled people (cf. Lackney, 2000).
User Evaluation of School Buildings

Based on numerous studies, Ahrentzen, Jue, Skorpanich, and Evans (1982) developed a system of classification
for the study of stress in elementary school settings. In the 1970s, the avoidance of stress was a subject of major
interest, followed by the facilitation of academic performance and creativity. The system of classification (cf. Moos,
1979) is based on the fit of personal characteristics to environmental properties. According to Ahrentzen et al.,
students will exert more effort for the completion of a difficult task in settings that meet their expectations and their
needs.
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Barkers concept of behavior setting (Barker, 1968; Schoggen, 1989) influenced Gump (1991 ; see also
Schmittmann, 1985; Strhlein, 1998) in his definition of the main factors of his analysis as physical environment
(interior design and architecture), roles (e.g., teachers and learners), and behavior programs. Barker is concerned
with the synomorphic relationships between these components. Gifford (2007) referred to almost the same
relationships (p. 281) between personal characteristics of students, the physical features of the learning setting,
and the social-organizational climate.
There are other measuring tools that include the psycho-social school environment: for example, those from Moos
(1979); Anderson and Walberg (1974); Fisher and Fraser (1983); and Fraser, Anderson, and Walberg (1982). The
current contribution, however, is principally concerned with the effects of the physical environment on the
experience and behavior of students and teachers (see Gump, 1991, p. 723). Interviews, questionnaires, and roleplaying games have been developed in recent years, especially by Henry Sanoff (cf. Tanner, 1999) to measure
and evaluate features of the physical environment. Sanoff (2002) encouraged the local community, students,
parents, and teachers to participate in the design and building process. At the same time, he developed methods
for evaluating school buildings (2001a).
In 2001, the Federal Facilities Council (FFC, 2001) defined post-occupancy evaluation (POE) as a process of
systematically evaluating the performance of buildings [or places] after they have been built and occupied for
some time. POE differs from other evaluations of building performance in that it focuses on the requirements of
building occupants, including health, safety, security, functionality and efficiency, psychological comfort, aesthetic
quality, and satisfaction. (p. 1)
And also: As POEs have become broader in scope and purpose, POE has come to mean any activity that
originates out of an interest in learning how a building [or place] performs once it is built (if and how well it has met
expectations) and how satisfied building users are with the environment that has been created. POE has been seen
as one of a number of practices aimed at understanding design criteria, predicting the effectiveness of emerging
designs, reviewing completed designs, supporting building activation and facilities management, and linking user
response to the performance of buildings. POE is also evolving toward more process-oriented evaluations for
planning, programming, and capital asset management (FFC, 2001). Typical methods used in conducting POEs are
interviews, checklists, behavioral observations, and surveys. Each method reveals different insights into how
satisfactorily the building performs for its occupants.
School Condition
There is growing evidence of a correlation between the adequacy of a school facility and student behavior and
performance. Numerous studies conducted over the past three decades have found a statistically significant
relationship between the condition of a school or classroom and student achievement. In general, students
attending school in newer, better facilities score 5 to 17 points higher on standardized tests than those attending in
substandard buildings (Earthman, 1999; Earthman & Lemasters, 1996).
A study of working conditions in urban schools concluded that physical conditions do have direct positive and
negative effects on teacher morale, a sense of personal safety, feelings of effectiveness in the classroom, and on
the general learning environment. Building renovations in one district led teachers to feel a renewed sense of hope,
and of commitment, and a belief that district officials cared about what went on in that building. An improved
physical environment affected the social climate of the school, and that subsequently had a positive effect on
learning (Duke, 1988).
Two scholars have done comprehensive, non-overlapping compilations of research findings on the relationship of
school facility condition to student achievement and behavior. In 1979, Weinstein published a review of 141
published studies and 21 papers presented at professional conferences. Three years later, McGuffey (1982)
completed another review of the research, discussing 97 published studies. Following is a summary of research on
specific quality factors and their effect on educational outcomes.
In the mid-1990s, American industrial designer Ruth Lande Shuman initiated the Publicolor school design program
in New York. Jail-like school buildings with industrial, hostile appearances were brightened by lighter colors
and decorated with more variety. The results: lower dropout rates of students, fewer discipline issues, and marked
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increases in concentration during lessons. These studies in the psychology of color show, for example, that drab
colors or bad lighting can createeven if the effect is slighta depressive mood among students and teachers,
which, in turn, influences learning and learning environment (http://www.gnn.com/article/nonprofit-brightens-nycpublic-schools/971361). In elementary school classrooms, warm, bright colors complement the students
extroverted nature, while cool colors facilitate the ability for middle and high school students to relax and focus
concentration (Mahnke, 1996). Wohlfarth (1985) also showed that certain colors have measurable (p. 282) and
predictable effects on the autonomic nervous system of people. In numerous studies, he found that blood pressure,
pulse, and respiration rates increase most under yellow light, moderately under orange, and minimally under red,
while decreasing most under black, moderately under blue, and minimally under green.
Gifford (2007) explored whether the maintenance of a school has an influence on students. He proposes that
satisfied teachers (and therefore better teachers) more often work in attractive schools. It is clear in the results that
students who are taught in new or newly renovated schools are more satisfied.
It is important to point out that some of the scholarly research on school facilities and student performance has
reached a negative conclusion. Although most scholars who have studied the question concur that achievement
suffers in poor school environments, most are deeply skeptical about studies linking improved achievement with
top-notch buildings. They point out that much of the work establishing such a link has been done by graduate
students, and that many of the facility assessments were done by volunteers, or school officials, and may have
lacked rigorous checklists. Some studies failed to control for critical variables, such as teacher experience. Critics
also point to anomalies in findingscorrelations on math scores, but not reading scores or vice versa; three-year
studies that found linkage in two years, but not in the third; one study in which disciplinary incidents were more
common in a new school than in older ones; and the fact that some of the research has been commissioned or
sponsored by groups of architects or facility plannerspeople who have a vested interest in proving a link.
Visual Appearance
Buildings, settings, and environments are accorded symbolic value by those who use them. Physical entities come
to symbolize certain qualities, values, aspirations, and experiences for individuals. A school may symbolize
opportunity, hope, stability, and a safe haven in a world of insecurity and transience, or, to someone else, the
school structure may symbolize failure and oppressive authority.
A study from Rittelmeyer (1994 ; cf. 2004; Forster & Rittelmeyer, 2010) develops conclusions regarding the impact
of improvements to aesthetic form by means of renovation or reconstruction of schools. Approximately 600 youths
were asked about their preferences and dislikes with regard to certain structural forms, colors, and interior
decorations. According to this study, school buildings are perceived as emotional gestures (that is, they appear to
be lively, cheerful, sad, brutal, and so on); students see spatial features such as facades, color schemes, and
landscaping as interaction partners. The effect of the elements of structure and color produce a background mood
for the observers. Rittelmeyer (2004) named three quality-criteria for an existing or planned school to be
beautifully, appealingly, attractively, or pleasantly effective: (1) inspiring, (2) unrestricted, and (3) warm or soft to
reinforce the significance of buildings form, Rittelmeyer (2004) cited an American study, according to which higher
levels of performance were achieved in positively rated school buildings (Earthman, 1999, 2004), and a German
study (Klockhaus & Habermann-Morbey, 1986), which determined that less vandalism occurs in such buildings.
In The Psychology of Vandalism, Goldstein (1996) included a basic study by Pablant and Baxter (1975), which
confirms the correlation between wanton destruction and the aesthetic quality as well as the degree of
maintenance of school property. Schools with fewer instances of vandalism are characterized by excellent
maintenance of the building and surrounding playgrounds. The age of the school shows no correlation with the
frequency of vandalism. Schools with low rates of destruction are generally found in districts with a variety of
buildings (e.g., commercial buildings, churches) in the surrounding area. Of schools with high rates of destruction,
81% are found near unoccupied land, such as parks and sports fields. Schools with low rates of vandalism can
usually be seen by neighbors because they are better lit, which makes it easy to view the property.
Classroom Design
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One hundred fifty years ago, classrooms represented a common teaching method. Today teaching methods have
changed, but often the design of the classroom has remained static. An examination of current learning styles and
teaching methods suggests a new form of learning environment characterized by different activity settings and
small-group activities.
To experience healthy development, students require certain needs to be met. School-agers require diversity in
activities and in places where they are performed, which entails different opportunities for learning and different
relationships with a variety of people (Levin & Nolan, 2000). In a school that responds to its students need for
diversity, one would not find students all doing the same thing, at the same time, in similar rooms. One would not
(p. 283) expect to see students sitting in neat rows of desks, all facing teachers who are lecturing or reading from
textbooks. Instead, in responsive schools, students and teachers would be engaged in different learning activities
in and out of the classroom. A variety of teaching methods including small-group work, lectures, learning by doing,
individualized assignments, and learning centers would be used (Jacobs, 1999; Lackney, 2009).
Teachers are much more influenced by the physical environment than they realize. Malcolm Seabourne, a
historian of school buildings in England, suggests that the building made the teaching method (Robson, 1972). The
separate classroom was a sign that teachers were trusted to be independent and had greater privacy. The
classroom was designed and built to represent and shape a particular form of teaching behavior. The way a school
is designed to work reflects social ideas about institutions and the education these institutions are created to
further (Grosvenor et al., 1999). The shape of spaces, furniture arrangements, and signs are physical cues that
transmit silent messages, and both teachers and students will respond. These environmental messages stimulate
movement, call attention to some things but not others, encourage involvement, and invite students to hurry or
move calmly. This environmental influence is continuous, and how well it communicates with the users will depend
on how well the environment is planned. Classroom arrangement is not a mere technicality, or a part of the
teachers style. It reflects assumptions about the teaching-learning process and its outcomes.
Classroom Seating
The usual classroom seating arrangement of rows headed by a teacher at the front usually assumes that all
information comes from the teacher. This arrangement assumes a teacher-centered classroom where the learning
process depends upon the teachers direction. Considering the new thinking about how students learn, Halstead
(1992) envisioned the classroom of tomorrow where classrooms would be like studios where students would have
their own work space. In addition, there would be work spaces for cooperative learning by groups of different
sizes, quiet private areas for one-on-one sessions, and places where students could work independently.
Mobility and centeredness influence teachers movement patterns and how they interact with students in the
classroom. Student-centered classrooms are those where there is greater teacher movement and more interaction
with students. The most teacher-centered classrooms, for example, have a seating arrangement organized in a
circle (Horne, 2000).
Although transaction theories of student/teacher participatory interaction (STPI) have been discussed in the
educational literature for decades (Dewey, 1916; Friere, 1970; Krebs, 1982), more recently there has been
research describing a correlation between STPI and student motivation to participate (SMP) in the classroom
(Dormody & Sutphin, 1991; Skinner & Belmont, 1993). Similarly, if students experience the classroom as a
supportive place where there is a sense of belonging, they tend to participate more fully in the process of learning
(Brophy, 1987).
Research comparing the behavior of effective teachers with that of less effective teachers has clearly revealed the
importance of monitoring the class during seatwork periods. Such monitoring involves teachers moving around the
classroom, being aware of how well or poorly students are progressing with their assignments, and working with
students one-to-one as needed. The most effective teachers:
Have systematic procedures for supervising and encouraging students while they work
Initiate more interactions with students during seatwork periods, rather than waiting for students to ask for help
Have more substantive interactions with students during seatwork monitoring, stay task-oriented, and work
through problems with students (Brophy, 1979)
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Classroom Privacy
The complexity of the concept makes it difficult to come up with clear specifications regarding the optimal room
setup. Some basic information, though, should be outlined. Every student needs a certain amount of privacy
(Gifford, 2007), which varies from individual to individual. Many studies (cf. Gifford, 2007, p. 312) concur that a
high classroom density negatively affects students performance when they undertake complex assignments, work
in small groups, or accomplish tasks, when they need maneuverability, or when games or teaching materials are
sparse.
Just like classroom density, the location of a students seat can influence his or her performance, well-being, and
social behavior. Thus, places in the middle of the classroom toward the front offer an optimal position for higher
performance (Becker, Sommer, Bee, & Oxley, 1973; cf. Bell, Greene, Fisher, & Baum, 2001, p. 263). According to
the sources of McAndrew (1993), the area of the classroom toward the rear is associated with the freedom to
interact with classmates while at the same time being outside the control of the teacher. As a result, students
arrange themselves within the different rows (Hillmann, Brooks, & OBrien, 1991). A study by Marx, Fuhrer, and
Hartig (1999) researched the relationship between the location of the seat in the classroom and the number of
questions asked by fourth graders. The results showed that children seated in a semicircle asked more questions
than those seated in rows, and that social interaction was encouraged when individual students could make faceto-face contact. Therefore, seating arrangement can influence communication between students. Soft
classrooms have semicircular benches covered with pillows, adjustable lighting, a small rug, and a few pieces of
movable furniture. Student participation noticeably improves in a soft classroom (Sommer & Olsen, 1980).
The open-plan classroom, which developed in the 1970s in many American schools, can have a relatively
negative influence on the performance of the average student (Bell, Switzer, & Zipursky, 1974; Wright, 1975). It is
important that the type of classroom matches the teaching method and meets the students and teachers needs
for privacy and intellectual stimulus. Likewise, the type of classroom should agree with the kind of activity and the
length of time needed for it.
Glass et al. (1982) believed that when a class reaches 20 to 25 students, each additional student makes a
relatively small difference (cf. Schnabel, 2001, p. 482). They concluded that smaller classes of 15 or fewer
students result in better learning environments in almost every regard, including teacher and student attitudes,
interaction, and performance.
Information Technology Classroom

Since the early 1900s technology, beginning with film, then radio, television, and video, has been brought into the
learning environment; currently the computer, tablets, and SMART Boards have been introduced into instructional
settings. However, none of these past or current technologies are being fully integrated into educational programs,
as was anticipated (Weiss, 2007). One reason is that the design of the physical environment does not support the
integration of technology (Oliver & Lippman, 2007; Weiss, 2007). Learning environments should be programmed,
planned, and designed to support the intended learning activities.
There is a growing spirit of innovation in school design and planning worldwide. Information technology introduced
into schools promotes individual learning and a closer link with the community. More schools tend to introduce new
learning methods, such as interdisciplinary, hands-on, and self-learning. The establishment of networking between
school and community also depends on information technology (IT). Satellite schools, homeschooling, and offcampus learning at various sites are increasing in popularity. According to my current research, these trends are
seen not only in Japan but also in the United States and several European countries (Yanagisawa, 2009).
From the viewpoint of IT application and individual learning, there are necessary conditions for IT schools. To
additionally enhance these schools as innovative, the following elements should be considered:
Spaces for self-learning with IT facilities in all parts of the school
Accessible learning resource center as a core of the school
School furniture and workstations designed for information technology
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Development of educational software and curriculum

Promotion of human resources to support information technology, i.e., on-campus/off-campus training for
teachers, staff, librarians, and volunteers (Yanagisawa, 2009)
Outdoor Environment
Today, school activities involve more than simply listening or writing. Learning can take place in many different
kinds and qualities of space. In addition, students activities outdoors (e.g., playgrounds) have shown to be more
creative than in classrooms or traditional playgrounds (Lindholm, 1995), with positive effects on learning and
cognitive qualities (Fjortoft & Sageie, 1999; Fjortoft, 2004). Schools in which children take on an active role outside
of the classroom, and schools with an attractive exterior, seem to be ideal schools for children (cf. Gifford, 2007;
cf. Wasley et al., 2000). Louv (2008) helped connect the idea of using natural landscaping expressly to K12
schools. He described American childrens nature-deficit disorder, or how children are increasingly becoming
disconnected from nature. Louv attributed the trend to several causes: a more technological society, parents fear
of strangers, less access to natural settings, and so on. But the case he and other child and environmental
advocates (p. 285) have made for the benefits of exposing children to the natural world has given schools cause
to examine their own surroundings and opportunities for outdoor learning and play. Studies now show that
connecting students to the environment improves not only their physical well-being, but also their social and
educational aptitude. A 2006 Canadian study (Dyment, Bell, & Lucas, 2009), for instance, found that students who
interact on school grounds with diverse natural settings were more physically active, more creative, more aware of
nutrition, and more cooperative with one another.
Natural Materials, Niches, and Paths

According to McAndrew (1993 ; cf. Flade, 1998; Weinstein & Pinciotti, 1988; Lindholm, 1995; Forster & Rittelmeyer,
2010), schoolyards and playgrounds can be viewed as learning environments where children learn about social
skills and cognitive abilities. How does a playground need to look to provide students with the necessary
intellectual stimulation? It should contain various niches that stimulate all the senses and are connected by paths.
Additionally, schoolyards and playgrounds that are loosely structured, for example, adventure playgrounds with
mountains of tires, stimulate childrens creativity. Moore (1989) proposed integrating nature and natural materials.
An especially suitable material is wood with rounded edges and corners. Another possibility for improving
schoolyards and playgrounds is the introduction of safe entrances and exits to create a meeting place for children
and adults and thus creating possibilities for social contact. In this way, delinquency can be better controlled.
High-Performance Schools
One proposed solution to the problems facing school facilities is to design and construct high-performance
schools. The terms high performance, sustainable, and green are used to describe schools that minimize
environmental harm, maximize the performance of facilities, cost less over the life of the building, and create
educational environments that are optimal for learning (Gelfan & Freed, 2010). Although these terms do not
necessarily have the same meaning, practitioners often use them interchangeably and define them similarly. These
terms will also be used interchangeably in this paper to reflect the wording of the authors being cited.
School systems in the United States are struggling to build new schools and renovate aging ones to accommodate
increasing enrollments and new technologies. Given the high cost of new construction as well as the costs of
operating, maintaining, and retrofitting the current, declining building stock, many school systems are recognizing
the benefits of high-performance schools. High-performance schools, also called green or sustainable schools, are
designed, constructed, and maintained to be resource-efficient, healthy, comfortable, safe, secure, adaptable, and
easy to operate and maintain. They cost less to operate and create environments that enhance learning.
Additionally, high-performance schools reduce adverse impacts resulting from the construction and operation of
built facilities on the natural environment. For example, preserving natural vegetation reduces overall disturbance
to the site. And designing to reduce impervious surfaces mitigates storm-water runoff caused by construction and
protects the hydrologic functions of the site.
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Given the level of interaction between people and their environments and other confounding factors, establishing
cause-and-effect relationships between an attribute of a school building and its effect on students, teachers, and
staff is difficult. The effects of the built environment will necessarily appear to be small, given the number of
variables (Bosch, 2004). Empirical measures do not, however, necessarily capture all relevant considerations that
should be applied when evaluating research results. Qualitative aspects of the environment are also important.
However, there is value in attempting to identify design features and building processes and practices that may
lead to improvements in learning, health, and productivity for students, teachers, and other school staff, even if
empirical results are less than robust.
Design Guides
As school systems seek to improve the performance of their facilities and reduce costs, they are relying on (or
creating) a variety of guides to assist them with design, construction, and operation/maintenance. These
documents are often region-specific and reflect the priorities of the authoring agency, but they may also be
appropriate for other regions and used by school systems across the country. Intended to educate stakeholders
about the concepts of high-performance facilities, these documents are important vehicles for implementing
research in sustainability, school design, environment and behavior, and related fields. However, to date, there
have been no reviews of the guidance documents to examine their focus and content. (p. 286) Without a doubt,
those involved with the development of these guidance documents have reviewed similar documents when
developing their guides; however, this information has not been published. Also, these reviews were conducted for
the purpose of developing a guidance document, rather than for identifying additional opportunities for providing
information to stakeholders (Bosch, 2003).
A consortium of state and utility leaders in California launched an effort in 2001 to develop energy and
environmental standards specifically for schools. The Collaborative for High Performance Schools (CHPS, often
pronounced chips) aims to increase the energy efficiency of California schools by marketing information,
services, and incentive programs directly to school districts and designers. The CHPS website defines green
schools as having the following 13 attributes: healthy, comfortable, energy efficient, material efficient, water
efficient, easy to maintain and operate, commissioned, environmentally responsive site, a building that teaches,
safe and secure, community resource, stimulating architecture, and adaptable to changing needs (CHPS, 2005).
Green school objectives are to be achieved through guidelines that are similar to the Leadership in Energy and
Environmental Design (LEED) rating system but specifically geared to schools. Green school guidelines move well
beyond design and engineering criteria for the buildings themselves, addressing land use, processes for
construction and equipment installation, and operation and maintenance practices. They include design and
engineering techniques to meet specific objectives:
Locating schools near public transportation to reduce pollution and land development impacts
Placing a building on a site so as to minimize its environmental impact and make the most of available natural
light and solar gain
Designing irrigation systems and indoor plumbing systems to conserve water
Designing energy and lighting systems to conserve fossil fuels and maximize the use of renewable resources
Selecting materials that are nontoxic, biodegradable, and easily recycled and that minimize the impacts on
landfills and otherwise reduce waste
Creating an indoor environment that provides occupants with a comfortable temperature, and good air quality,
lighting, and acoustics
Green school guidelines also recommend construction techniques to meet objectives such as the appropriate
storage of materials on construction sites to avoid water damage, the reduction of waste materials and appropriate
disposal to reduce resource depletion, and the introduction of commissioning practices to ensure the performance
of building systems (US Green Building Council, 2007).
Effects of Green Schools on Health and Performance

There are no well-designed, evidence-based studies concerning the overall effects of green schools on the health
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or development of students and teachers, in part because the concept of green schools is quite new. There are,
however, studies that examine specific building features often emphasized in green school design and the effects
of these components on health and learning (National Research Council, 2007).
Evidence-based design is a field of study that emphasizes the importance of using credible data to influence the
design process. The approach has become popular in health-care architecture in an effort to improve patient and
staff well-being, patient healing process, stress reduction, and safety.
School districts do not typically pursue high-performance design merely to be good stewards of the natural
environment. There is convincing evidence of multiple benefits from using high-performance, green design, such
as an association between excess moisture, dampness, and mold in buildings and adverse health outcomes,
particularly asthma and respiratory symptoms, among children and adults (Lstiburek & Carmody, 1994). Sufficient
scientific evidence exists to conclude that there is an inverse association between excessive noise levels in
schools and student learning (National Research Council, 2007). The impacts of excessive noise vary according to
the age of students, because the ability to focus on speech sounds is a developmental skill that does not mature
until about the ages of 13 to 15. Thus, younger children require quieter and less reverberant conditions than do
adults who hear equally well. As adults, teachers may not appreciate the additional problems that excessive noise
creates for younger students (Picard & Bradley, 2001).
Human perception of the thermal environment depends on four parameters: air temperature, radiant temperature,
relative humidity, and air speed (Kwok, 2000). Perception is modified by personal metabolic rates and the insulation
value of clothing. Thermal comfort standards are essentially based on a set of air and radiant temperatures and
relative humidity levels that will satisfy at least 80% of the (p. 287) occupants at specified metabolic rates and
clothing values. There is a literature on the effects of temperature and humidity on occupant comfort and
productivity, primarily from studies in office buildings (Fanger, 2000; Seppnnen & Fisk, 2005; Wyon, 2004; Wang
et al., 2005). These studies show that productivity declines if temperatures go too high (Federspiel et al., 2004).
The temperature, airflow, and humidity of a classroom will affect the quality of work produced by students. It is
agreed among researchers that a classroom with a temperature above 80 degrees Fahrenheit is a very poor
environment for learning. When a classroom is too warm, it induces drowsiness and fatigue, increases respiration,
and creates conditions favorable to disease. When the human body is fighting to stay alert and is uncomfortable, it
is not concentrating on the academic work at hand. Students make greater gains in academic achievement in
climate controlled schools as opposed to those students in nonclimate controlled schools (Jago & Tanner, 1999,
2005). However, there is a paucity of studies investigating the relationship between room temperatures in schools
and occupant comfort or productivity (Mendell & Heath, 2004).
Between 1999 and 2003, the Heschong-Mahone Group conducted several studies investigating the effect of
daylighting on student performance (National Research Council, 2007). In the 1999 study, data were obtained from
three elementary school districts located in Orange County, California; Seattle, Washington; and Fort Collins,
Colorado (Heschong-Mahone, 1999). The study looked for a correlation between the amount of daylight provided
by each students classroom environment and test scores. Close examinations of the findings indicate a very small
effect and one that cannot be justified as reliable (Boyce, 2004). These results could not be replicated in a
subsequent study. Among the authors conclusions of more detailed statistical analysis were that sources of glare
negatively affect student learning; direct sun penetration into classrooms, especially through unshaded sun-facing
windows, is associated with negative student performance, likely causing both glare and thermal discomfort; blinds
or curtains allow teachers to control the intermittent sources of glare or visual distraction through their windows;
when teachers do not have control of their windows, student performance is negatively affected (HeschongMahone, 2003, p. ix). They summarized that
characteristics describing windows were generally quite stable in their association with better or worse
student performance. Variables describing a better view out of windows always entered the equations as
positive and highly significant, while variables describing glare, sun penetration, and lack of visual control
always entered the models as negative. (Heschong-Mahone, 2003, p. viii)
Classroom lighting and thermal comfort are commonly cited by teachers as determinants of their own morale and
the engagement of their students (Corcoran, Walker, & White, 1988; Jago & Tanner, 1999). Lemasters (1997)
identified 53 studies that linked design features to student achievement.
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School systems, like other public and private organizations, are becoming increasingly aware that design and
construction strategies that reduce harmful impacts on the natural environment also contribute to creating a more
productive and economically feasible facility. Case studies of schools provide evidence of these benefits. In this
day of increasing school enrollment and tight construction budgets, cost savings are often used to justify highperformance design. The Sustainable Building Industry Council estimates that school districts can achieve 3040%
savings on utilities if sustainable design and construction practices are utilized for new schools.
In addition to cost savings, high-performance strategies such as daylighting, improved thermal comfort, better
indoor air quality, and increased interaction with the natural environment are believed to enhance learning, provide
a valuable community resource, and minimize adverse impacts on the environment. Those who pursue highperformance design and construction have common goals, such as environmental protection, eco-education, and
superior building performance. Ecologically friendly is considered one of the top 10 design and planning
solutions for school facilities today (Kennedy, 2003). Principles of sustainable design are incorporated to teach
resource conservation, reduce resource use, and to enhance the learning environment.
School Trends
School facilities are powerful indicators of community values and aspirations. They not only support the academic
needs of students they serve, but can also address the social, educational, recreational, and personal needs of
the members of the broader community. It has been argued that successful schools strengthen a communitys
sense of identity and coherence.
Educational reform, however, has focused primarily on what is taught, and how it is taught. As (p. 288) a result,
curricula have been strengthened, instructional strategies improved, and instructional materials updated. However,
what has received too little attention is the physical environment in which education occurs. School systems find
that parents are much more discerning about which school their child will attend, including the physical
appearance of the school and the amount of modern technology available. In addition, school systems have
discovered that schools with sick internal physical environments are shunned by prospective teachers and
parents alike (Stevenson, 2006). Widespread misconceptions reinforce the view that the quality of school building
has no impact on academic performance. Consequently, a gap exists between the educators view of improving
quality and the process of planning schools.
It is also becoming more evident that students function best in different educational settings according to their
abilities; consequently, identical schools in terms of facilities do not equate with equal opportunity for students.
School systems in the United States are offering parents and children more choices about the school a child
attends. The one-size-fits-all approach is gradually disappearing and may give way to smaller and more diverse
learning environments that give parents and students more choices and options about what, where, and how they
learn. Therefore, the focus is shifting away from district-wide planning that provides equality of school facilities
toward plans that meet the unique program needs of each school (Stevenson, 2002). And as parents have more
choices about where to send their children, it follows that they demand schools that are personalized and fit their
needs.
Very different scenarios may affect what spaces will be included in future building designs (Butin, 2000). One view
of the future suggests that standard academic classrooms will disappear. In their place, specialized labs and
learning centers will become the norm (Lackney, 1999, 2009). Those with this vision maintain that separating
learning into academics, arts, vocational, and the like is a false dichotomy (Chan, 1996). Instead, they view
learning as holistic with, for example, art incorporated into language arts or math taught with specific job skills or
vocations in mind. In this scenario, classrooms must be multipurpose, allowing a blending of traditional instruction
with meaningful and diverse hands-on, lab-type experiences that may include anything from pottery making to
dramatic arts. This idea of personalized learning environments, which has generated immense interest in the
design of classroom clusters, house plans, and school-within-school settings, has magnified the role student
commons can play in a schools overall design, serving as a hub for an academic wing or providing a space for
alternative teaching strategies.
Another scenario sees the development of more shared school facilities. In this view, future schools will be created
or redesigned so that instructional and support spaces can also be used by social and community organizations or
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even businesses. Schools as community learning centers have been supported by research documenting the
importance of active parental involvement, the growing importance of lifelong learning, and recognition that
communities have many assets to offer that are themselves important learning tools. This awareness presents an
opportunity to reconsider what constitutes an appropriate learning environment and to identify those factors that
can enhance student achievement. Sharing instructional and support facilities is expected to be beneficial to both
the school and the community. In such settings, students have access to a wide array of community and business
expertise that can bring the curriculum to lifeand those who do not normally have access to school facilities find
that the facilities better justify the money spent upon them. In any of the scenarios, school facilities would be
different from what exists today. The key to successful planning is to provide the most flexible and adaptable
spaces possible in our schools.
The previous trends suggest how school facilities may be different in the future. Though the possibility may be
remote, another scenario exists: schools as we know them will disappear (Northwest Educational Technology
Consortium, 2002). If one thinks about the combination of the rapid development of technology and the increasing
lack of confidence parents have in public education, the disappearance of the brick-and-mortar structure called
school is possible. The child has access to lessons prepared by the most knowledgeable professionals in the world
and can interact electronically with teachers and students in other countries as part of language, geography, or
political studies instruction. Parents who homeschool increasingly use technology to access instructional materials.
Students in remote areas of Canada and Australia, hundreds of miles from a school building, attend school by
logging on to their computers. Technology allows a high school student in a rural location to take a course online
from a teacher in another town.
The question, perhaps, is not whether it is possible that schools will cease to exist, but how virtual (p. 289)
schools will grow and to what extent. No one knows, but it raises some interesting issues about how much to invest
in physical structures, what kind of life expectancy they should have, and whether the future emphasis needs to
be on schools as traditional learning environments or schools as production and broadcast centers. It also raises a
question about the fundamental purpose of schooling. If technology consumes much of the instructional delivery of
the future, who or what will assume responsibility for the socialization process that schools have traditionally been
held accountable for?
Another new element to consider in school design is the reality that there are more active participants who want a
voice in how new school facilities are designed. Community-based groups, municipal agencies, and universities
are just a few of the groups in the past decade that have voiced their ideas. This activism has led to a greater need
for authentic citizen engagement and growing acceptance of shared space and public-private partnerships. In the
coming decade educators and facility planners may increasingly be thinking about the needs of preschool children
and senior citizens. In this new era of lifelong learning, educators and architects will have to expand their vision of
who uses these facilities and be keenly aware of changing demographics. It may be necessary to move away from
the traditional emphasis of creating facilities for seniors only and consider approaches that let the generations
mingle to keep retirees active and current (Sullivan, 2002). Schools can achieve more innovative approaches to
learning by creating learning environments in nontraditional settings, such as museums and shopping malls, as well
as by encompassing community needs (Nathan & Thao, 2007).
Conclusion: Schools of the Future

In a qualitative study, which Walden and Borrelbach (2010) reported on, architects from six innovative schools
answered interview questions about schools of the future. Intelligently designed schools should offer their users
opportunities to make changes to the environment in response to their own degree of excitement, stress, and
fatigue, since the users are experts regarding their own needs (cf. Linneweber, 1993). Innovative school buildings
around the world were described in a work by Walden (2009). A team of authors from the United States, Japan, and
Germany evaluated 23 trend-setting school buildings from 11 countries and 5 continents and organized certain
characteristics of the schools into a model for evaluating school buildings.
The following should be avoided with regard to schools in the future (Walden, 2009):
Buildings that are too large and lead to anonymity
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A lack of protection against delinquency, accidents, and violence due to insufficient visibility for supervisory
staff and unsafe paths, stairs, and playground equipment
Buildings that are too small and allow little space for project groups because of a lack of specialty rooms
An overly narrow connection between the main entrance and the classrooms
Wasted energy due to drafty and poorly insulated buildings
Dark hallways and rooms that require artificial lighting
Low ceilings
Classrooms that are too small or have insufficient learning materials for students
Designing classrooms while considering only a few learning methods, such as presentations and testing
knowledge
Too few or low-quality public facilities for teachers and students (technical equipment, ergonomic furniture,
noise), too few rooms for administration, or rooms that are too small
Ineffective sound insulation
No wheelchair accessible facilities for people with disabilities (lacking elevators, ramps, handrails, electric
door openers, etc.)
Poor building maintenance, which leads to an increase in vandalism
General lack of cleanliness, due to materials that are difficult to clean, and insufficient waste collection
Numerous physical factors have contributed to student and teacher dissatisfaction with the school environment.
School appearance, whether the result of poor design or lack of proper maintenance, is a contributing factor to
student motivation and teacher performance.
Schools of the future should consider (Walden, 2009):
The right of all users to take part in decision-making
The importance of a clear orientation that begins at the entrance
(p. 290) The use of the building by community members outside of class time
The appropriateness of the space design for and the various teaching and learning methods, such as handson project-based learning, team teaching and learning, presentations, and small-group lessons, using common
designs, such as large classrooms and relaxation rooms
Division into reasonable units (schoolhouses) within the school complex, each grade with up to 160 students
and organized into small numbers of students per class
The introduction of learning studios, suites, and communities for as many as 150 to 160 students of different
age ranges; the encouragement of social and emotional learning (Lackney, 2009)
The use of modern information technology; LAN, WLAN Internet connections in all areas of the school along
with the promotion of face-to-face social contact and flexible, individual learning areas for self-guided learning,
(covered) outdoor classrooms
The use of environmentally friendly, sustainable, low-maintenance, and durable building materials
The opportunity to personally regulate environmental stress factors (lighting, darkness, glare, ventilation,
heat, sunshine, protection from rain, acoustics, noise, etc.) and to use sensorial technology
The importance of natural, glare-free lighting
The flexibility and multifunctional nature of rooms
A setup of classrooms and hallways that offers opportunities for privacy
The importance of providing privacy for teachers (separated and spacious teacher areas; group office rooms
especially for all-day lessons)
The importance of being able to have experiences with all senses (cf. Kkelhaus & zur Lippe, 1992)
In contrast to the one-size-fits-all approach to school design, schools of the future need to provide formal as well
as informal places for learning. Clearly not all learning occurs in the classroom. Opportunities for peer interaction
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constitute an important aspect of informal learning. Similarly, the design process needs to be more inclusive,
providing opportunities for the participation of students, teachers, and parents.
In the meantime, the building of schools is being addressed by various authors, who all establish a connection to
the process of learning to competently contribute to future innovation and sustainability in the interaction with the
built environment (Wstenrot-Stiftung, 2004; Buddensiek, 2001; Engel & Dahlmann, 2001; Kroner, 1994;
Rittelmeyer, 2009; Schavan, 2001; Watschinger & Khebacher, 2007; Wstenrot-Stiftung, 2004; cf. for the AngloAmerican room: Dudek, 2000, 2007; Gifford, 2007; Sanoff, 1994, 2002; Tanner & Lackney, 2006).
Future Directions
Decisions about school facilities tend to be made by a few people who are not themselves building users. Involving
a building committee does not by itself always solve the problem of gaining school-wide support. Future efforts
need to focus on methods of involving a full range of stakeholders in the design and planning process. Similarly,
school building performance from the occupants perspective continues to be a neglected ingredient in the building
process. The improvement of the research instruments used, specifically the system to assess the quality of school
buildings, remains a constant research challenge.
There are isolated examples of school designs that support personalized, self-directed learning, such as variableand flexible-size space, and individual work spaces, as well as spaces for collaboration. However, they do not
reflect the mainstream of school designs, which are guided by traditional specifications. The gap between how
children learn and the places that support this learning needs to be carefully examined, particularly since school
buildings today are constructed to support many future generations of children.
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Health Care Environments

Ferdinando Fornara and Cludia Campos Andrade
2012
Subject: Psychology, Personality and Social Psychology, Health

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0016

This chapter addresses the influence of design dimensions on users responses in health care environments. The
need of a user-centered design based on rigorous empirical evidence is outlined, so that health care services can
take full advantage of the environment as an important contributor for the therapeutic processes. Accordingly, we
advocate the shift to more humanized health care places by relying on evidence-based design. A theoretical
framework based on the multi-place approach is presented to provide a conceptual lens for better investigating the
multifaceted nature of hospitals, which include different spaces, physical features, functions, environmental roles
(patients, caregivers, visitors), behaviors, and representations. Current research trends witness a growing interest
toward this topic, though, despite the increased number of studies, there is yet need of rigorous and systematic
research proving the importance of health care design aspects on peoples well-being. Finally, future directions for
research are suggested.
Keywords: health care design, user-centered design, humanization, evidence-based design, multi-place, systemic view, patients, caregivers,
hospital visitors
Introduction
This chapter concerns the influence of the environmental dimensions of spatial-physical nature on the
psychological and behavioral responses expressed by the users of health care environments. We will often use
the words hospital or hospital units with reference to health care environments, in line with most literature on
the effects of health care design.
The importance of this topic is firstly witnessed by the fact that it has to do with the birth of environmental
psychology as a distinct field of study, when the research group of the City University of New York (including
William Ittelson and Harold Proshansky), financially supported by the United States National Institute of Mental
Health, started to study the role of the spatial and architectural setting of a psychiatric hospital in patients behavior
(Ittelson, 1960). In the same period, psychologists and psychiatrists in other countries were involved in similar
research projects. In particular, the work of Humphrey Osmond in Canada at the end of the 1950s led him to
propose a theory on the existence of sociofugal spatial settings, which may discourage social interaction, or
conversely, sociopetal settings, which may encourage social interaction (Osmond, 1957). Similarly, the studies of
Robert Sommer on geriatric wards promoted the formulation of the two important constructs of human territoriality
and personal space (Sommer, 1969), which found a remarkable following in psychology in general and
environmental psychology in particular, as well as in architectural design (Gifford, 2002). In Europe, Paul Silvadon
a French psychiatriststarted a research collaboration with architects and studied the effect of the psychiatric
hospital design upon patients (p. 296) healing. This study was then published in a monograph supported by the
World Health Organization (Baker, Davis, & Silvadon, 1960).
Page 1 of 24

This brief historical excursus shows clearly how this topic has marked the first steps of environmental psychology.
Now we will move to address the state of the art of this research line.
The chapter is organized in five sections. The first focuses on user-centered design, then introduces and
describes the concept of humanization, and finally puts in light the elements that characterize evidence-based
design. The second section presents a theoretical lens that conceives the health care environment as a multiplace system, where all the components are strictly interdependent. This framework relies on the place theory
(Canter, 1977), the behavioral setting construct (Barker, 1987), Bronfenbrenners (1979) ecological approach, and
the multi-place approach (Bonnes & Secchiaroli, 1995). The third section briefly illustrates the existing body of
publications on health care environment effects, and the fourth section shows the most recent research trends on
this topic, organized according to the different groups of (health care) place users. The last section presents a
summary of the chapter and tries to outline future directions for research.
This chapter does not pretend to be an exhaustive analysis of the literature on the topic. We made some choices
that guided our manuscript. For example, we decided to focus on the past three years as regards the presentation
of recent research, since we relied on the massive literature review carried out by Ulrich, Zimring, and their
colleagues published in 2008 (and, to a lesser degree, on the review published in the same year by Rashid and
Zimring). As well, we did not address some aspects that could have been inserted in this chapter, for example, the
healing effect of gardens and nature in general, since they would have overlapped with other chapters in this
handbook. As regards design requirements for special populations, such as psychiatric and Alzheimers patients,
we refer to the review carried out by Devlin and Arneill (2003). Finally, we will focus on psychological and
behavioral responses to health care design, substantially leaving out the effects of environmental features on
hard responses (such as infection rates, hand-washing patterns, etc.).
Humanizing the Health Care Environment
User-Centered Design
During the past decades there has been an increased attention in the design domain to the satisfaction of users
needs, desires, and goals. This awareness is mirrored in an approach called social design (Sommer, 1983) or
user-centered design (Gifford, 2002), which aims at planning and designing spaces by taking into account the
point of view of current and potential users. Thus, the underlying worldview expressed in this design approach
focuses on the main social actor for whom a given built space is intendedits user. This point is in contrast with
the rapid technological progress, which has encouraged the development of a wide range of design solutions
based on (i) new formal design principles, (ii) increased communication between professionals at the international
level, and (iii) use of innovative and more sophisticated building materials (Gifford, 2002, p. 472). This development
has generated a great deal of attention for the satisfaction of the technical requirements that a formal built space
should possess to be considered well done, but on the other side the satisfaction of its occupants has been
substantially neglected.
The contrast between formal satisfaction of technical requirements and users satisfaction is rooted in the
differences of opinion between designers and users, that is, between experts, whose judgment is influenced
mostly by their professional background, and laypeople, whose representations and images are socially and
culturally built up through the processes of knowledge and goal-directed action, which build on the systems of
practices that characterize the specific place (Bonnes & Secchiaroli, 1995).
An empirical proof of this dichotomy is provided by the research carried out by Duffy and colleagues (Duffy,
Bailey, Beck, & Barker, 1986) on the renewal of a health care residence, where directors and designers preferred a
project that fostered social interaction (assuming that this was the need for residents), whereas the residents
preferred a plan that would increase their level of privacy. Another study focusing on 10 hypothetical residential
projects showed a very weak relationship between the preferences expressed by a group of designers and those
of the neighborhood users (Stamps, 1991). Moreover, other studies showed that architects generally prefer
residential buildings with unusual forms, whereas non-architects prefer buildings that are recognizable in terms of
their residential function (Purcell & Nasar, 1992).
Page 2 of 24

Besides the difference of preference, it seems that design experts generally do not know what the preferences of
users are, as shown by their substantial failure in predicting users wishes when this was explicitly required (Brown
& Gifford, 2001). The (p. 297) crucial point is that the key elements influencing the experts assessment concern
the technical characteristics of the building, thereby promoting the arrangement of built spaces that fully satisfy the
expert criteria shared by the professional community, thus failing to meet the needs and preferences of users. In
other words, a built space has a different meaning for users versus designers and architects (Devlin, 1990).
The fact is that the training approach characterizing most of the architectural schools and faculties has focused on
the development of qualities such as creativity and sense of aesthetics; thus, many architects and designers still
conceive a building as a piece of art, rather than as a suitable place promoting users goals (Sommer, 1983). To
this point, Sommer (1983 , p. 4) quotes the words of a famous architect, Philip Johnson, according to whom the
work of an architect consists only in creating beautiful buildings, but unfortunately the implicit assumption of the
congruence between the aesthetic preferences of designers and users is far from obvious.
Actually, the field of environmental psychology emerged as a distinct scientific area in response to requests
coming from the domains of design and architecture in the 1960s, when the importance of psychological advice
was stressed in the light of a more user-centered design. This perspective marks the transition from a kind of
design that Bonnes and Secchiaroli (1995, p. 19) termed self-centered, which is intended primarily to meet the
aesthetic needs and self-assertion of the designer, to a kind of design centered on the needs and aspirations of
users. Following this shift of focus, health care planners should have available (and use) both the information about
the purposes of each specific setting, and the knowledge about needs of the different occupants. In other words,
each health care design project should be completed with specific information about preferences and expectations
of the various social actors who will use the setting (e.g., patients, visitors, and caregivers).
The Spatial-Physical Humanization of Health Care Places

The Inhuman Image of Hospitals
It is widely acknowledged that places can affect peoples health both by producing well-being or distress feelings
and by conveying positive or negative information for peoples self-esteem, security, and identity (Evans & McCoy,
1998). The claim of designing and arranging spaces based on the needs and expectations of current and potential
users is even more important in the case of health care settings, where the design features may play a role in the
health promotion and recovery of persons typically living in a state of physical and/or mental fragility. As many
studies have supported, an appropriate physical structure of the environment can accelerate the restoration of
health and decrease the time of hospitalization (e.g., Ulrich, 1984; Lemprecht, 1996). In contrast, unfamiliar health
care settings can produce psychological stress that can negatively affect healing and wellness (Ulrich, 1991).
Historically, the first example of user-centered health care design dates from the mid-19th century, and then it
became a reference that was followed throughout the world for building new hospitals until the first half of the 20th
century. Curiously, it was neither an architect nor a physician to propose this model, but actually an English nurse,
Florence Nightingale, who was the first to highlight that it may seem a strange principle to enunciate, as the very
first requirement in a hospital, that it should do the sick no harm (Nightingale, 1859, our emphasis). Relying on her
experience in the hospitals of Scutari, Albania, she found that providing a better physical environment could
reduce the mortality rate of patients. A higher degree of sunlight penetration, increased circulation of fresh air, a
more appropriate temperature in the rooms, high ceilings, and wide spaces around the beds were the main
suggestions that she made for improving the health of patients. In addition, Nightingale advocated a decentralized
configuration of departments and functions to improve the service and enhance the overall quality of patients
experience.
Since then the development of building technology aiming at increasing workers productivity has dramatically
changed the physical conditions of the workplace, since features such as artificial lighting, mechanical ventilation,
and electrical systems of heating and cooling have allowed people to stay in artificial environments for many hours
a day, and such options were implemented in health care environments as well, contrary to Nightingales
suggestions. Moreover, the growing technological modernization that has massively characterized the medical
disciplines from the beginning of the past century led to a continuous increase of expensive medical equipment,
which favored a return to centralization of departments and functions to optimize the work of laboratories and
Page 3 of 24

professionals (laboratory technicians, radiologists, etc.) specializing in the use of complex equipment. As reported
by Nagasawa (2000), the functional centralization in a (p. 298) hospital implies an articulated flow of movement of
both people and materials, since staff is forced to move through various departments, inpatients need to travel for
long distances from their units to do analysis or therapy, and outpatients must go through diagnostic or therapeutic
units that are often far apart. In contrast, decentralization, especially within separate building types, should provide
the chance to create a less forbidding image for the architecture of health care (Verderber & Fine, 2000).
Despite the unquestionable positive benefits of hospital modernization, the prevailing approach in the design and
organization of health care settings, and thus the allocation of human and financial resources, has typically
focused on the efficiency of medical technology. The development and the presence of increasingly complex and
specialized technologies for diagnosis and care, though useful for analysis, prevention, and treatment, contributed
to the growing neglect of the environment in light of users needs and preferences. The lack of attention toward this
dimension has undoubtedly resulted in a widespread negative and inhuman image of the health care setting in
the eyes of users. As a result, according to Veitch and Arkkelin (1995), the word hospital evokes thoughts of
long sterile hallways, stainless steel utensils, banks of life-monitoring equipment, people in white uniforms rushing to
and from specialized rooms for specialized functions, wheelchairs lined up at elevators, and the smell of rubbing
alcohol and disinfectant (pp. 291292). Moreover, Nightingales claim about what the hospital should not do (i.e.,
not be harmful for patients) is unfortunately appropriate also in our times, since the risk of hospital-acquired
infections is yet a leading cause of death (Ulrich et al., 2008).
The Dimensions of Architectural Humanization

In recent years, even for the design of health care environments (as well as for the design of other kinds of
environments), the need has emerged for a design that is more focused on people (patient-centered or, more
generally, user-centered) rather than on architectural and medical technology. As stated by Arneill and Devlin
(2002, p. 345), The premise that a health care facility be designed as a curing machine for medical conditions,
rather than as an environment to promote wellness for the individual, is being challenged. Nesmith (1995) stated
that after decades of emphasis on technological growth, the need for a more welcoming environment for the
patient is becoming increasingly important in health care design. This option relies on the broader concept of
hospital humanization, which refers to an array of facets (organizational, social, relational, functional, and
spatial-physical) that characterize a healing place. According to this view, organizational and management issues
play a significant role for both improving the service and rendering the users experience less traumatic and more
comfortable. This point stresses the importance of the physical environment both as a context of human relations
and behaviors, and as a key factor influencing how the hospital experience is perceived (see Figure 16.1).
In the design field, the target of more humane hospital environments (Nagasawa, 2000) refers to spatial,
physical, and functional design attributes that health care environments should possess for both: (i) reducing the
stress level, which can be very high for both patients and caregivers, given their daily contact with disease, pain,
and (in some cases) death, and (ii) promoting and increasing the well-being and the quality of life of hospital users.
As suggested by many scholars (e.g., Devlin & Arneill, 2003; Evans & McCoy, 1998; Pressly & Heesacker, 2001;
Fornara, Bonaiuto, & Bonnes, 2006), a set of design attributes should be provided to satisfy fundamental users
needs, such as spatial and sensorial comfort (in visual terms, i.e., adequate lighting and panoramic views; auditory
terms, i.e., avoidance of annoying noises; and climatic terms, i.e., adequacy of temperature and humidity),
orientation, sense of welcome, privacy, social interaction, perceptual consistency, control over space, clear
affordance, and restorativeness. To this regard, design attributes to care for that are worth of attention include
layout and spatial configuration; colors and materials of furniture, walls, and floors; artwork; type, quantity, and
focalization of natural and artificial light; kind of views inside and outside; size of windows; cleanliness; and
climate.
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Figure 16.1 Environmental Humanization as Interplay Between Users and Spatial-Physical Setting
Source: Bonnes, Bonaiuto, Fornara, & Bilotta, 2009
The adequacy of a given combination of these attributes depends on which user, which hospital unit, and which
functional area within the unit are involved. For example, a given combination of lights, colors, and materials can
be satisfying for patients but dysfunctional for staff. Similarly, what is appropriate in a cardiology unit may not be so
in an intensive care unit. And what is suitable for an inpatient area may not be the case in an outpatient area within
the same hospital unit. Moreover, it is crucial to take into account individual differences mediated by various
sociocultural memberships, (p. 299) such as gender, age, socioeconomic status, nationality, and so on.
In sum, promoting a higher level of spatial-physical humanization of a health care setting means to take into
account its architectural configuration to on the one hand facilitate the relationship between patients, staff, and
visitors, and on the other hand increase the degree of welcome and comfort. Unfortunately, the prototypical view
of hospitals is actually characterized by poor materials and furniture, difficult wayfinding, poor lighting, unpleasant
views, lack of upkeep, and poor user control over the environment. This negative appearance overlaps with the
distress, anxiety, helplessness, and dependence that often characterize the users (in particular inpatients)
hospital experience, whereas a humanized environment implies primarily a more familiar place, which refers to a
home-like or hotel-like conception of the health care setting (Verderber & Fine, 2000). Examples include the
possibility for inpatients to personalize their bedrooms, the reception similar to the hall of a hotel (with plants,
pictures, or other ornaments), the reduction of the number of beds per room (single or double room), the use of
warm materials such as wood (instead of the cold and aseptic iron), the presence of comfortable furniture and
appropriate colors, and the presence of pleasant views (possibly onto green spaces).
These suggestions derive from the research literature on the influence of health care environments on users wellbeing. Nevertheless, many scholars (e.g., Evans & McCoy, 1998; Nagasawa, 2000; Reizenstein, 1982; Verderber
& Fine, 2000) have underlined the need for more empirical research on this topic, since it is more common to find
in literature descriptive analyses of idiographic nature, guidelines supporting health design that are based on
taxonomies of spatial-physical attributes that seem to play a role in users health, and finally post-occupancy
evaluation (POE) studies that have dealt mainly with technological medical issues but have not taken the issues
of users well-being and quality of life sufficiently into account (Zimring, 2002). Furthermore, spatial-physical
features have not typically been included in assessment surveys on patients satisfaction (Devlin & Arneill, 2003),
despite the fact that patients mention the importance of aspects such as cleanliness, comfort, and privacy when
asked about their rooms (e.g., Bruster et al., 1994; Harris, McBride, Ross, & Curtis, 2002).
Nevertheless, some studies have supported that people do not ignore health care environments and that they
actually react to different levels of spatial-physical humanization. Comparative investigations among hospitals with
a different degree of spatial-physical humanization are provided by the studies of Davidson (1994), Devlin (1995),
and Fornara and colleagues (2006). Davidson (1994) showed that patients assessed a recently renewed oncology
unit more positively than an oldernot renewedoncology unit. Similarly, in the comparison between (p. 300)
two renewed wards and a not-renewed ward carried out by Devlin (1995), all the three main categories of hospital
users (i.e., patients, staff, and visitors) express higher satisfaction for the first as regards communication level,
relationship between patients and staff, comfort, and the surrounding environment. Fornara and colleagues (2006)
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developed a set of scales to measure both the subjective (i.e., users perceived hospital environmental quality
indicatorsPHEQIs) and the objective (by means of an expert grid to be filled in by design professionals) degree
of architectural humanization in different hospitals. On the whole, more humanized units received a higher score
than less humanized units in PHEQI dimensions (i.e., upkeep and care, building aesthetics, green spaces, spatialphysical comfort, views and lighting, orientation, quietness, care for relationships and organization, and privacy).
Such difference was usually wider and clearer in patients and visitors, whereas staff members appeared less
sensitive to quality differences of places, which may reflect a psychological mechanism of adaptation to the
environment (Gifford, 2002).
Health care environments affect not only users evaluations of humanization and their general well-being, but also
patients satisfaction with the service and the staff (e.g., Swan, Richardson, & Hutton, 2003; Harris et al., 2002).
These kinds of assessment have been assuming an increasing importance since quality of service and related
issues have joined clinical quality as guiding principles for the quality of overall health care delivery, as witnessed
by the fact that patient satisfaction measures have become a means by which health managers monitor the quality
of care delivery (Sitzia & Wood, 1997).
Promoting Evidence-Based Design for Health Care Environments

Recently some health care organizations, mainly located in the United States (e.g., the Center for Health Design
and the Institute for Healthcare Improvement), have promoted a design approach that is evidence-based (Ulrich
et al., 2008; Becker et al., 2010). Evidence-based design (EBD) is defined as a deliberate attempt to base
design decisions on the best available research findings (Hamilton, 2003, p. 19), thus the underlying concept that
is the basis of this approach: the more empirical research evidence used to guide design, the better the outcomes
in terms of health care safety and quality (Becker et al., 2010). Thus, just as medicine has moved toward evidencebased medicine, where clinical choices are informed by research, health care design should be oriented by
research linking hospitals physical environments to health care outcomes (Ulrich et al., 2008, p. 2). Another view
of healthcare EBD, given by Ulrich and colleagues (2004), describes it as the process for creating healthcare
buildings, informed by the best available evidence, with the goal of improving outcomes and of continuing to
monitor the success of designs for subsequent decision-making. In sum, EBD consists in the application of the
research evidence to actual health care design and construction; thus, this approach is by definition usercentered because it is based not only on designers technical knowledge and requirements, but also on the
information available about what is better for users. This means that research on health care environments has an
enormous potential to guide design in the production of environments that contribute to health processes and
users quality of life, and that this opportunity should not be missed.
Among the projects founded on EBD, it is worth mentioning the Planetree hospital model (see Schweitzer, Gilpin,
& Frampton, 2004)developed in the United Stateswhich is based on a philosophy fostering patients access to
information, positive staff-patient interaction, and involvement of both patients themselves and their families in the
healing process. The Planetree guidelines for more humanized health care environments are informed and
continuously updated by the collection of ongoing survey data from patients and staff, a modus operandi that is
also typical of other similar US health-care-design-focused projects (e.g., the Pebble Project: see Marberry, 2005;
the Press Ganey surveys on patient satisfaction: see Press, 2002).
On the basis of the review of the empirical evidence (e.g., Schweitzer et al., 2004; Ulrich et al., 2004, 2008), a set
of design guidelines was formulated to inform EBD programs (such as the ones promoted by the Center for Health
Design). Such guidelines include replacing multiple-occupancy rooms with private rooms, designing facilities that
are staff friendly, increasing access to natural light, and reducing noise (Nelson, 2006). The replacement of
multiple-occupancy rooms with private rooms is expected to reduce the rate of nosocomial infections, to increase
patients privacy, to reduce the number of transfers needed, to reduce noise and allow patients to sleep better,
and to lessen stress on inpatients and their visitors. A staff-friendly design is based on a decentralized plan,
consisting of several organized and well-lit nursing stations close to patient rooms, both to lessen distractions and
(p. 301) interruptions and to respond more quickly to calls for assistance, and thus increasing the time spent on
patient care. The access to natural light should improve health outcomes, since poor lighting also contributes to
medication errors. About noise, it has often been reported as a primary source of stress for both patients and staff.
In situations where a noise reduction policy was implemented, patients have reported greater satisfaction with their
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care, better sleep, and lower blood pressure while caregivers have reported higher levels of job satisfaction and
sleep quality (Nelson, 2006, p. 26).
Despite the importance of promoting EBD for health care environments, what constitutes credible evidence and
how to translate research findings in design guidelines can be problematic, bearing in mind that EBDs ultimate
goal is not research for researchs sake, but research to make a difference by influencing practice (Becker et al.,
2010). To this regard, a research report from the British organization HaCIRIC (Health and Care Infrastructure
Research and Innovation Centre, Codinhoto et al., 2008) not only complains of the lack of scientific evidence to
support decisions within the design process, but also strongly recommends that, besides the literature reviews,
more systematic, detailed, and transparent ways of gathering information (and transferring it to decision makers)
about the existing empirical research should be developed. This report explains the complexity of building an
evidence-base knowledge that can be used by designers with arguments such as (i) the enormous number of
levels of analysis, variables, and variants related to a hospital in combination with variables related to patients and
outcomes, which provides a considerable number of research scenarios; and (ii) the lack of clarity in relation to
cause-effect relationships, and of connection with theory identified in most of the studies.
The need of empirical proofs for justifying design choices (what Becker et al., 2010, called research for
justification) is exemplified by Hignett and Lu (2010), who found that the recommendations for bed space in the
United Kingdom have increased from the second half of the 19th century to our time, but with rather scarce
implementation, and argued that the very little supporting empirical evidence may have contributed to that.
The implementation of appropriate EBD guidelines should necessarily consider the articulated and multifaceted
nature of the hospital environment, which can be better focalized by means of a systemic lens, as will be illustrated
in the following paragraph.
The Health Care Environment as a Multi-Place System

A Systemic View of the Hospital Place When thinking about a health care environment, one should take into
account that it consists of several interrelated and interdependent subplaces, this through the relationships that
their occupants or users establish with them. This conception relies on one of the most cited theories of the
environmental psychology domain, the place theory outlined by Canter (1977), which considers the place as the
result of the relationship between the settings physical attributes, the behaviors that typically occur or are
expected to occur in such a setting, and finally the descriptions or conceptions people hold of that behavior in
that setting (Canter, 1977, p. 159). The various subplaces we can find in a hospital thus include specific physicalspatial structures, specific systems and operating assets (which in turn depend on both the institutional functions
and the social actors and the roles they play), and finally, specific needs, expectations, and objectives of the
different place users involved. For example, the factors that characterize an inpatient area differ from the ones of
an outpatient area in terms of function, social actors, staff tasks, typical behaviors, layout, physical features, level
and nature of patients anxiety, and so on.
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Figure 16.2 Bronfenbrenners Systemic View Applied to the Hospital Environment.
This line of reasoning recalls from one side Barkers (1987) construct of behavioral setting, and from the other
side Bronfenbrenners (1979) ecological approach. A behavioral setting is conceived as a molar unit of analysis
that includes specific persons, behaviors, and spatial-physical and temporal features that represent
interdependent components organized according to a specific setting program (Barker, 1987). Thus, each hospital
subplace can be seen as a specific behavioral setting, and the interdependence among components appears both
intra- and inter-settings. Bronfenbrenners (1979) systemic view conceives the ecological environment as a
series of concentric structures, including the one in the other (see Figure 16.2). Such structures are (i) the
microsystem, the interactions between individuals and their immediate environment (e.g., patients or caregivers
staying in an inpatient area), (ii) the mesosystem, the relationships and connections among different microsystems
to which the individual takes part (e.g., the connections of a diagnosis unit and an inpatient unit with reference to
patients or caregivers behavior), (iii) the exosystem, that system where phenomena occur that can affect
individuals, even if they have no direct contact with that system (e.g., changes in the (p. 302) hospital
management or events in caregivers private life that could influence patients well-being), and finally (iv) the
macrosystem, the broader system including societal norms and systems of beliefs that characterize a cultural
context (e.g., the systems of norms and beliefs that characterize the health care issues in a given nation).
Place theory, the behavioral setting construct, and the ecological approach all have in common the conception of
the environment as interconnection and interplay between social and spatial-physical features. Following this
theoretical framework, Bonnes and Secchiaroli (1995) developed the multi-place perspective, where each place
can be seen as a system of subplaces whose relationship is expressed by the main criteria of inclusion versus
exclusion and nearness versus farness. From this perspective, the different subplaces appear as more or less
connected with reference to users goals, activities, representations, and opportunities. Thus, applying this view to
health care environments, a specific hospital unit (i) includes different areas (such as in- and outpatient areas, or
areas mainly for staff and areas mainly for patients/visitors, etc.), (ii) is in a relationship of nearness or farness with
another unit of the same hospital, (iii) is included in the hospital to which it belongs, and (iv) is excluded from
another hospital. In other words, single places should not be seen as separated, since each place is part of a
broader place system, that is, within a complex of other places that are connected with it in users representation
and behaviors. Thus, the individuals place experience will be organized in a multi-place sense, that is, integrating
the various levels of the different place systems implicated through the action in the socio-physical environment
(Bonnes & Secchiaroli, 1995, p. 194).
The Specific Nature of the Hospital Spaces and Roles

With reference to the hospital environment, we can distinguish a vast array of spaces, each potentially having
multiple zones that vary in their need for space, access, environmental control, and technology (Rashid & Zimring,
2008). Thus, we need to take into account that the hospital place includes specific subplaces, such as the
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hospitals external spaces, the different care units, the inpatient and outpatient areas, diagnostic areas, waiting
areas, and so on. (Fornara et al., 2006). Therefore, the (p. 303) characteristics of subplaces should be analyzed
with reference to the different functional goals of the various hospital units. In other words, it is likely that different
ingredients are needed for humanizing a geriatric unit rather than a pediatric unit, or a cardiology unit rather than
an oncology unit. In fact, each patient group may have different environmental needs, which is an issue that has
received very little attention in environmental design research (Rashid & Zimring, 2008).
The hospital multi-place system includes different spaces, as well as different behaviors and representations,
which are expressed by different social actors. Actually, these behaviors and representations are connected to
users different environmental roles (see Canter, 1977, 1983), which refer to that aspect of a persons role
which is related to his dealing with his physical environment (Canter, 1977, p. 128) and are shaped by peculiar
functions, goals, motivations, meanings, expectancies, behaviors, and uses of place.
The complex nature of interventions of architectural design and transformation is related to the difficulty of
combining the sometimes competing needs of the two main types of hospital users, that is, patients and care
providers, which differ for their interaction with the environment along the following dimensions (Shumaker &
Pequegnat, 1989): (i) familiarity with the context, since patients often feel disoriented, whereas for care providers
the hospital experience is familiar and known, and unlikely to be disorienting; (ii) role, since patients typically play
a passive and dependent role, whereas care providers typically play an active role as care-providers, which
implies a series of responsibilities; and finally (iii) time patterns, since patients typically experience a hospital for a
relatively short time, whereas care providers typically experience a certain hospital for a long time on a daily basis.
Differences in these dimensions may justify the patients response to the health care environment, which is strictly
connected to the sense of depersonalization, the lack of control over the place, and the reliance on health care
professionals that characterize their experience, making them more vulnerable to stress (Rashid & Zimring, 2008).
In this regard, a distinction should be made between inpatients and outpatients, since their hospital experience is
definitively different, though their transaction modalities with the place are similar.
In the next paragraphs the distinction of health care roles and spaces will be roughly followed in the presentation of
research findings about the influence of health care design on users health and well-being.
General Remarks on the Influence of Health Care Design on Users

Many scholars (e.g., Evans & McCoy, 1998; Nagasawa, 2000; Reizenstein, 1982; Shumaker & Pequegnat, 1989)
have been claiming the need for empirical evidence that clearly shows the influence of design attributes on
hospital users well-being. This need is justified by the fact that it is easier to find published papers reporting either
purely descriptive and idiographic analyses, or taxonomies of physical elements that may play a role in relation to
the users health, rather than empirical outcomes. The idiographic contributions typically describe the positive
effects of environmental changes (in the physical space) related to a specific health care environment (i.e., a
specific hospital unit or area), but evidence of such effects is just proven by the anecdotal observations of the
contributor(s), whereas assessments or considerations of the recipients of such environmental modifications are
generally lacking. On the contrary, evidence-based design has been advocated to improve the quality of care and
the health care experience for all users (patients, caregivers, visitors, etc.) (Ulrich et al., 2008) by using the best
available research findings (Hamilton, 2003).
Different research methods (e.g., experiments and quasi-experiments, case studies, epidemiological studies) as
well as different tools for data collection (e.g., surveys, interviews, observations, institutional data mining) have
been used for providing empirical evidence on the influence of spatial-physical features on health care users
(Becker et al., 2010).
The most recent literature reviews on the impact of the health care environment were both published in 2008, by
Ulrich and colleagues and by Rashid and Zimring. Ulrich et al. (2008), who included papers concerning the
relationship between hospital design and health outcomes, stated the presence of a growing number of studies, in
particular regarding hospital-acquired infections, compared to patient and staff outcomes. Nevertheless, most of
the studies found are not well controlled, often neglecting the impact of confounding variables. The
recommendation of the authors is that future research be carefully designed and controlled, so that the
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independent role of specific environmental changes or interventions can be better understood.
On the other hand, Rashid and Zimring (2008), who focused on the impact of both health care and office workplace
design dimensions (such as air (p. 304) quality, temperature, noise, and lighting) on stress outcomes, concluded
that there is more empirical evidence on the effects of workplace design, but they also suggested that some
research findings on the office settings can be useful for health care design. More specifically, the two authors
identified the gaps in health care research with regards to specific features of the indoor environment. According
to them, more research is needed on the psychosocial and cognitive effects of noise (most of the research is
focused on physiological outcomes); on the effects of lighting on more diverse patient populations (most of the
findings are related to older people with or without Alzheimers disease); and on the psychological, cognitive,
behavioral, psychosocial, and social effects of ambient temperature and air quality.
In sum, the body of published research gives evidence to the role that health care physical environment can have
on people using health care settings, but a lot of conclusive evidence is still missing. Besides, it seems that the
existing evidence is not vigorous enough to promote the desirable impact on practice. Devlin and Arneill (2003)
listed a number of problems that explain why empirical research on the effect of health care design has been slow
to accumulate. Such problems are connected to the fact that architecture lacks a tradition of research, medicine
has overlooked the role of the physical environment in patient well-being, and the research process in health care
settings is extremely difficult.
In the editors introduction to the special issue about EBD, Zimring and Bosch (2008) recognized that health care
environment research is still in its infancy and that there is a need for a larger body of valid information that can be
useful to decision makers. To this regard, Becker and colleagues (2010) made a distinction among three kinds of
health care EBD research: (i) research for innovation, which emphasizes discovery and relies mainly on
qualitative, ethnographic, and observational data; (ii) research for incremental change, which focuses on
identifying problems (rather than in understanding what is causing them) and typically uses surveys to assess
users satisfaction (and to make comparisons among different users); and (iii) research for justification, which is
rooted in hypothesis testing, relies on sophisticated experimental or quasi-experimental designs and inferential
statistical techniques, and serves to convince hospital administrators and/or caregivers of the importance to make
evidence-based design modifications and renewals. According to the authors, research for justification has been
the most typical form of EBD research.
All these remarks should challenge researchers to find ways to integrate the existing scientific evidence and to find
a way to make it visible, comprehensible, and applicable to design decisions, as well as to continue filling the
existing gaps with rigorous studies. In the next section we will provide a brief review about the most recent
research in the topic.
Recent Trends on Health Care Design Research

For our review of the recent research trends on the issue, we decided to focus particularly on the studies
published in the past three years, which were not covered by the massive literature review published in 2008 by
Ulrich et al. (2008). Thus, to shed some light on the research that has been done in the past three years, we
searched for papers published between 2008 and 2010 that alluded or referred to the physical environment of
health care buildings and patient and staff outcomes. The review was conducted using PsychINFO and PubMED
electronic databases. First, we identified potentially relevant papers using combinations of keywords, such as
hospital environment, hospital building, health care design, and health care facility. Then we selected only
empirically based papers that examine the influence of health care environment characteristics on patients, family,
other visitors, or staff members, and excluded papers about the impact of built environment on infection control, or
those whose focus was on patients or health professionals in psychiatry wards. In other words, we reported those
studies that are of interest for the environmental psychology domain. The main aim of this review is thus to provide
an idea about the current trend of research in this area.
Differently from both Ulrich et al. (2008), who organized their review by health outcomes that are affected by
health care environment, and Rashid and Zimring (2008), who described which and how specific characteristics of
the health care environment affect stress, in our review of recent literature we organized the material according to
the target user group that participated in the research (or to which the research is addressed). Of course, this
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categorization choice has the same kind of limitations that can be attributed to categorizations based on health
outcomes or health care (indoor) environment characteristics. Health care environment characteristics have
several variants, can be analyzed at different levels of detail, and can produce different outcomes, (p. 305)
isolated or in combination with others. Similarly, health outcomes have different degrees and different levels of
relevance, and can be influenced by different health care environment characteristics or groups of characteristics.
For these reasons, in both cases generalization is often limited. Users of health care environments also vary in
characteristics, objectives, role, needs and preferences, previous experiences, and standards, which may affect
the way they perceive (and react to) the environment. However, as we reported before in this chapter, the
distinction among users makes sense since the different social actors have a specific and peculiar transaction with
the place, which is linked to their different environmental roles (Canter, 1983). Further, the effects of design
dimensions seem to have a different impact on the different users, as they have different needs.
The conceptual framework proposed by Rashid and Zimring (2008) emphasizes the individual needs as a crucial
and central variable in the process of physical environment leading to stress. According to these authors, the
physical environment may induce stress by the ways in which it affects individual needs and, subsequently, affects
some immediate outcome variables. Thus, environmental features need to thwart individual needs to ultimately
cause stress. Besides, motives, attitudes, and demographic factors may have moderating effects on how
deprivation of individual needs affect the resulting immediate outcomes, and individual coping skills, and time may
influence each persons reactions. Rashid and Zimring conceived a useful framework to illustrate that the potential
negative effect of an environmental stressor is not linear or automatic, as it depends also on factors such as
individual coping skills and time. More important, these authors emphasized individual differences with respect to
the relationship with the environment.
With this reasoning in mind, we present the most recent research literature partitioned for groups of health care
place users: generic patients, particular age groups of patients (i.e., children, and elderly), caregivers, and
visitors. This way of organizing research evidence can provide suggestions that can more easily inform design
interventions.
Generic Patients
Most of the studies found do not relate to any special group of patients. Thus, we organized such studies on
generic patients in terms of health care environment characteristics.
As Dijkstra, Pieterse, and Pruyn (2008a) did, we used the classification of the physical environmental stimuli of
Harris et al. (2002). These authors distinguished three relevant dimensions of the physical environment:
architectural features, interior design features, and ambient features. Architectural features are relatively
permanent characteristics, such as the spatial layout of a hospital, room size, and window placement. Interior
design features are defined as less permanent elements, such as furnishings, colors, and artwork. Ambient
features comprise lighting, noise levels, odors, and temperature.
Effects of Single Environmental Features

Some recent studies provide evidence of the effects of specific environmental features.
Architectural Features
The well-known study of Ulrich (1984) is a good example of a study on the effect of an architectural feature. Ulrich
focused on the effect of the view from a window that patients recovering from surgery could have. Patients with a
view of nature had shorter postoperative hospital stays, received fewer negative evaluative comments in nurses
notes, and took fewer potent analgesic doses than patients in similar rooms with a view of a brick wall.
Also concerned with architectural issues, the studies on the effects of single and multiple rooms tend to support
that single rooms are advantageous with respect to improvements in patient care, reduction in the risk of crossinfection, reduction in patient stress, improvement in patient privacy and control, and greater flexibility in operation
(Chaudhury, Mahmood, & Valente, 2005).
Two recent studies investigated the impact of architectural features.
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Hall, Kyriacou, Handler, and Adams (2008) evaluated the effect of particular characteristics of the built
environment of an emergency department on the time taken for an initial physician assessment of chest-pain
patients. They found that patients with chest pain who were located in treatment rooms with a solid door or were
located farther from clinician work areas were more likely to have times greater than 10 min for their initial
physician assessment.
Pines and Hollander (2008) conducted another study to explain the delays in treatment in an emergency
department that somehow can be indirectly related to the architectural features. They found that increasing levels
of emergency department crowding measures were significantly associated with failure to treat or delayed
treatment.
(p. 306) Interior Design Features
One example of studies regarding interior design features is that of Ulrich and Simons (1986, in Ulrich, 1991), who
studied the effects of a television placed in a waiting room where blood donors typically spent 10 to 15 minutes
before the phlebotomy phase. The television was turned off on randomly selected days and was playing
continuously during other days. Data indicated that on days when the television was on, donor stress was higher
than days when the television was off, indicated by higher heart rate and systolic blood pressure. Similarly, Pruyn
and Smidts (1998) studied the effect of the presence of a television in the waiting room on the waiting-time
perception of patients and found that it does not change the waiting experience when compared to a waiting room
without television. Both studies seem to show that other distractions, such as paintings, aquariums, plants, or
reading material, should be studied (and used) to produce more positive effects, in both outpatient and inpatient
areas (Arneill & Devlin, 2002; Leather, Beale, Santos, Watts, & Lee, 2003).
Five recent studies investigated the impact of interior design features.
Ohta and colleagues (2008) compared a hospital isolation room that was redecorated with wood paneling and
Japanese paper and another that was unchanged (with concrete walls) during the cold season. In the redecorated
room patients felt more thermally comfortable and had lower levels of stress (measured by cortisol secretion).
Dijkstra et al. (2008a) conducted two experiments to test the effects of environmental coloring (green and orange,
both contrasted with white as a control condition) in a health care setting on stress, arousal, and cognitive
appraisals of the room. Besides, they focused on individual differences regarding stimulus screening ability, as a
measure of environmental sensitivity (high-screeners vs. low-screeners). Results suggest that (compared to white)
the color orange has a greater impact on feelings of arousal than the color green has on reducing feelings of
stress, since orange yielded a marginally significant effect, whereas green did not. Most significant, stress-reducing
effects of green and arousal-inducing effects of orange were both more pronounced for people scoring low on
stimulus screening ability than for those who are able to effectively reduce the complexity of an environment (highscreeners), which demonstrated the importance of individual differences in effects of environmental coloring.
Dijkstra et al. (2008b) also investigated the mechanism of stress-reducing effects of indoor plants in the built health
care environment. After being presented with a scenario describing hospitalization with a possible legionella
diagnosis, participants were exposed to a photo of a hospital room with either indoor plants or a painting of an
urban environment on the wall. The researchers found that participants exposed to a photo of a hospital room with
indoor plants reported less stress than those in the control condition. In addition, the results also demonstrate that
these stress-reducing effects are mediated by the perceived attractiveness of the hospital room.
Park and Matson (2009) conducted a similar study in the field. Patients recovering from a hemorrhoidectomy were
randomly assigned to either control or plant rooms. In comparison with the control, the patients exposed to plants
during recovery had significantly enhanced physiologic responses evidenced by lower systolic blood pressure,
lower ratings of pain, anxiety, and fatigue, and more positive feelings and higher satisfaction about their hospital
room.
Nanda, Eisen, and Baladandayuthapani (2008) investigated inpatients art preferences. Images were rated on
emotional response (how does this picture make you feel?) and selection (would you put this picture in your
room?). Findings indicated that patients consistently preferred images of realistic art with nature content
(landscapes with verdant foliage, flowers, and water) over stylized or abstract images by masters such as Chagall
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and Van Gogh. The most positively rated painting depicted a gentle waterfall with vegetation. Certain differences in
preference were also found across males and females, since sepia-toned images of nature were preferred by
males, whereas certain stylized figurative florals were preferred by females.
Ambient Features
Noise is one of the most often examined ambient features in health care environment research, and consequent
difficulty to sleep is one of the studied outcomes.
Topf, Bookman, and Arand (1996) examined the effects of noise on the subjective quality of sleep. Volunteers,
attempting to sleep overnight in a laboratory, were randomly assigned to hear audiotapes of an actual critical care
unit or quiet. Participants in the noise condition took longer to fall asleep, spent less time sleeping, and awakened
more often. Hagerman and colleagues (2005) focused on the (p. 307) effects of room acoustics on patients with
coronary artery disease. They compared patients who were in the unit with sound-reflecting ceiling tiles (bad
acoustics) with patients who were there after the replacement with sound-absorbing tiles of similar appearance
(good acoustics). Patients with acute myocardial infarction and unstable angina showed lower pulse amplitude
during the night in the good acoustics period. In addition to these physiological effects, patients of the good
acoustics group considered the staff attitude to be much better and had a lower incidence of rehospitalization than
patients treated during the bad acoustics period.
Two recent studies investigated the impact of ambient features, focusing, however, not on noise, but on music.
Short and colleagues (2010) examined the effects of listening to music via headphones and an MP3 player on
reducing noise stress. Participants were randomly assigned to the control or the music intervention group. Results
regarding individual comments suggested participants enjoyment, distraction, and escape from the
environment; however, there were no significant differences between groups in terms of perceived stress, positive
affect, and negative affect.
Nilsson (2009) evaluated the effect of bed rest with music on relaxation for patients who had undergone heart
surgery, on postoperative day one. Patients undergoing open coronary artery bypass grafting and/or aortic valve
replacement surgery were randomly allocated to either music listening during bed rest (distributed through a music
pillow) or bed rest only. Results showed that in the music group, levels of oxytocin increased significantly in
contrast to the control group, and that subjective relaxations levels were higher in the music group. Since the
oxytocin system operates in parallel with the stress response systems (Evans, 1997, in Nilsson, 2009), Nilsson
concluded that music during bed rest after open-heart surgery affects the relaxation system.
Effects of Multiple Environmental Features

The following studies give further support to the effect that physical health care environment has on peoples wellbeing. However, because several physical environmental features are analyzed, cause-and-effect relationships
are not clear.
One example is the study by Leather et al. (2003). They found that a renewed waiting area was associated with
more positive environmental appraisals, improved mood, altered physiological state, and greater reported
satisfaction than a traditional waiting area before relocation. With the same holistic approach, but using
photographs, Arneill and Devlin (2002) showed that perceived quality of care was greater for waiting rooms that
were nicely furnished, well-lighted, contained artwork, and were warm in appearance, versus waiting rooms that
had outdated furnishings, were dark, contained no artwork or poor quality reproductions, and were cold in
appearance.
Similarly, Swan et al. (2003) found that appealing rooms result in more positive patient evaluations of physicians
and nurses, as well as more favorable patient judgments of the service than in typical rooms in the same hospital.
Three recent studies analyze the effect of multiple physical environment features on patient outcomes.
Devlin and colleagues (2009) investigated the judgments of therapists qualities based on displayed credentials
and family photographs in their offices. Participants viewed a projected digital image of a therapists office with or
without family pictures and with a different number of credentials (zero, two, four, or nine). Results indicated that in
Page 13 of 24

general, the greater the number of credentials, the more positive the judgment of the therapists qualifications and
energy, and that the presence of family pictures had no significant impact on judgments. The participants
comments regarding the rationale for their judgments suggested that the range of aesthetic factors may also have
influenced their judgments, comparable to what Devlin had found in her and Arneills previous study on waiting
rooms (Arneill & Devlin, 2002). In addition to the wall certificates, participants tended to highlight the furnishings
(e.g., chair, desk, and lamp, and their location) and decoration, personalization, and neatness.
Devlin (2008) examined as well the relationship between the appearance of medical building exteriors and
judgments of the perceived care that would be delivered in and the expected comfort level that would be felt in
those facilities. After viewing photographic slides of the exterior of medical facilities, participants made judgments
about the quality of care they would receive and how comfortable they would be in that facility. Respondents rated
facilities of the large medical type to be highest in both quality of care and expected comfort. However, building
exteriors labeled as traditional house types also produced a positive impression, being described as homey,
friendly-looking, white, clean, and neat.
(p. 308) Rowlands and Noble (2008) conducted a qualitative study to explore the views of hospitalized patients
with advanced cancer on the effect the ward environment has on their overall well-being. Four main themes
emerged from the interviews: staff behaviors, the immediate environment, single versus multi-bed rooms, and
contact with the outside environment. Even if it was explained that the purpose of the study was to assist the
redesign of the ward, the first response was related to staff, especially nurses. Subthemes related with the
immediate environment were cleanliness, a view of the outside, light and airy environment, and being supportive of
interaction, all of which were perceived to have an impact on mood. Regarding the single versus multi-bed rooms
issue, although the current policy recommends the use of single-bed rooms (e.g., Chaudhury et al., 2005), in this
study patients spontaneously identified the need to have a choice of multi-bed wards and single cubicles. They
reported that when they or other patients were very ill they would want a cubicle, but when they were able to
interact they preferred to be in the company of others; the majority of the patients expressed a strong preference
for a multi-bed room when they were well enough to interact, and a single cubicle when they were very ill or dying.
Specific Age Groups of Patients: Children and Elderly

Very few studies investigated the influence of health care physical environment on childrens outcomes, and very
scarce references emerge in Ulrich et al.s (2008) review.
Two recent studies addressed childrens perception of health care environment by using innovative data collection
techniques. Both are qualitative studies, one focusing on the perceptions of the pediatric hospital atrium, the other
on design preferences. The first study, carried out by Adams and colleagues (2010), aimed to assess how the
pediatric hospital atrium, designed to provide comfort, socialization, interface, wayfinding, contact with nature and
diurnal rhythms, and respite from adjacent medicalized spaces, contributes to the well-being of young patients.
Childrens and youths evaluations, perceptions, and uses of the space were elicited through observations,
focused interviews, and textual and photographic documentation. The following themes emerged: (a) architectural
scale; (b) connectivity and surveillance; (c) wayfinding, access, and navigation; (d) architectural associations;
and (e) consumption and distraction. Authors conclude that child-friendly techniques enabled a diverse group of
children and adolescents to articulate their perceptions of and experiences in this type of space in terms of the
domains they considered relevant, and that architects should involve children in the design consultation.
The second study, led by Coad and Coad (2008), explored the views of children and young people regarding their
preference of thematic design and color for their hospital environment in a new childrens unit. The authors used
child-friendly interviews and questionnaires developed with the assistance of an advisory group of children and
young people who also contributed to verify findings. The most notable findings included strong preferences for
color, with blue-green colors being the most popular, and the use of water, nature, the beach, and the sea as the
preferred thematic design.
About the older patients, some studies have focused on elders needs and preferences (e.g., Wakamura & Tokura,
2001; Kearney & Winterbottom, 2005).
For example, Arneill and Devlin (2002) used pictures of physicians waiting rooms to compare perceptions of the
Page 14 of 24

quality of care and of the environment of seniors and students. Students and the elderly did not differ that much in
terms of their judgments about the quality of care, but differed in terms of what kinds of environments made them
feel comfortable (e.g., elderly reported feeling more comfortable in waiting rooms that look like Victorian parlors or
sitting rooms, as well as in dark or sparse rooms). More interesting, another finding from written and verbal
comments was that seniors differed from students in some of the criteria they used to rate the waiting rooms. In
general, seniors were more concerned with the functional nature (e.g., accessibility of the coatrack) rather than
the structural nature or physical appearance of the waiting rooms. More concretely, Wilmott (1986) conducted in a
study in which 58 elderly hospital patients walked along a 10-m length of carpeted corridor and a 10-m length of
vinyl-tiled corridor. On the carpeted surface elders showed significantly greater speed and step length, and higher
perceived safety, than on the vinyl surface. These two examples make sense if we consider that when people get
older, they may have movement or sensory challenges and get more sensitive to environments that present
problems in these areas.
Two recent studies investigated the influence of multiple features of the health care physical environment on older
patients outcomes. Both studies examined the impact of refurbishing residential care (p. 309) facilities, with
positive and negative results. They are included here because in residential care facilities, similar to other health
care environments where people stay temporarily (e.g., hospital), people need (at least) some care, and the setting
is not strictly personal.
Weenig and Staats (2010) investigated the impact of a refurbishment of two communal spaces of a care home
lobby and recreation roomon residents subjective well-being. The refurbishments aimed to improve the aesthetic
appearance of both spaces and to offer residents more gradation of space, and thus, more control over their social
interactions. Results showed that nearly all respondents had noticed at least some alterations in both communal
spaces and that a large majority considered the refurbishments an improvement on all aspects measured, that is,
residential quality, aesthetic quality, and possibility of controlled interaction. Moreover, residents subjective wellbeing increased significantly, which appeared to have a quite strong positive relationship to experiencing the
residential quality of the spaces refurbished.
Contradictory results were found by Falk, Wijk, and Persson (2009), who followed and examined the effects of a
routine refurbishment in two residential care facilities, performed in real life by facility administrators with limited
insight in evidence-based knowledge. The purpose of the refurbishment was to enhance the general aesthetic
impression and to create a more supportive physical environment in all shared spaces (i.e., entrance, hallways,
kitchen, and living room), thus promoting the orientation, mobility, and social interaction of the residents. Falk et al.
evaluated the effects on residents quality of life, well-being, and perceived care climate, but the research team
had no influence on the refurbishment plan and execution. A third facility had no intervention and functioned as a
reference. Interviews with the high-functioning residents revealed that the new and refurbished physical
environment was generally appreciated in terms of improvements of the overall aesthetic impression but did not
contribute to an added sense of community among the residents, nor did it affect their self-reported sense of wellbeing. Quantitative results indicated a worsening of the residents quality of life and well-being, and no significant
changes were found for perceived patient centeredness, patient mood (strength, satisfaction, and security), and
general behavior (confidence and accessibility).
Caregivers
Ulrich and colleagues (2008), in their literature review, observed different aspects in the built environment that can
affect staff outcomes, such as injuries, stress, work effectiveness, and satisfaction. Chaudhury et al. (2009)
proposed a conceptual approach in which factors such as stress, fatigue, distractions, and satisfaction might be
viewed as mediating factors in the relationship between both management decisions and organizational processes
and physical environment aspects, and nursing medication errors. For instance, Blomkvist, Eriksen, Theorell, Ulrich,
and Rasmanis (2005) found that lower noise levels were linked with reduced perceived work demands, less
pressure and strain, and better speech intelligibility. These results seem to indicate that improved acoustic
conditions in the health care environment may increase capacity to care for the patients and reduce risks of
conflicts and errors (Blomkvist et al., 2005; Chaudhury et al., 2009).
In fact, like patients, staff are not immune to effects of the health care physical environment. Fornara, Bonnes, and
Bonaiuto (2006) verified that staff members were less sensitive than patients and visitors to differences in design
Page 15 of 24

quality, measured by environmental quality perception indicators. Alternatively, due to their particular needs, role,
and objectives in the hospital setting, staff may be affected in different degrees by the same aspects of the
environment, but with an impact in different outcomes.
Six recent studies investigated the influence of health care physical environment on staff outcomes, most of them
focusing on architectural features. Additionally, two recent studies compare caregivers and patients responses to
health care physical environment.
Virtanen and colleagues (2008) assessed bed occupancy rate in a hospital ward each month over a five-year
period and collected from national registers daily data on employees antidepressant purchases. They found that
ward overcrowding was associated with new antidepressant treatment among hospital nurses and physicians.
Medication preparation and administration are critical activities that require nurses undivided attention. Conrad
and colleagues (2009) evaluated a project whose goal was to enhance medication administration safety and
efficiency by improving the physical design and organizational layout of the medication room. The room changes
improved the medication administration process, decreased reported medication errors, and enhanced nursing
satisfaction.
Seo, Choi, and Zimring (2010) investigated the impact of unit size on nurses walking distance to (p. 310) get
medication, extra stops, and interaction. They compared a smaller intensive care unit (ICU) with a larger ICU
designed for patient-centered care, both with only one medication room. The differences in the design of the two
units were mainly size and visibility, since in the ICU designed based on a patient-centered care concept, every
patient room had a family area and additional substations for direct observation. Seo et al. found that the nurses
did not walk more in the larger unit than they did in the smaller one, and that nurses made extra stops and
interacted significantly more in the smaller unit, possibly because of a better visibility to what is happening in the
unit. The authors concluded that walking distance and stops are more affected by unit design than unit size.
Smith, Schoenbeck, and Clayton (2009) did a pre-post survey study aimed at examining the impact on staff
perceptions and performance of transforming a neonatal ICU (NICU) with an open-bay design to one with private
rooms. As a result, rankings of overall physical environment, patient care, job, technology, and off-the-job quality
significantly improved, but rankings of patient care team interaction quality significantly declined. The authors
associated this negative finding to the ineffective modifications in NICU operational management. Such a physical
redesign initiative would have benefited from an approach that looked at other elements in the work system, not
just the physical environment.
Similarly, Shepley, Harris, and White (2008) compared a NICU with single-family rooms with a NICU with open-bay
arrangements in terms of caregiver experience. Survey results showed that staff members in the single-family room
units were more satisfied with the physical environment and had higher job satisfaction and lower stress than those
in the open-bay unit.
ICU nurses experience a variety of performance obstacles in their work environment on a daily basis, which might
contribute to nursing workload, poor patient safety, and poor nursing quality of life. Gurses and Carayon (2009)
conducted semi-structured interviews to identify the performance obstacles perceived by ICU nurses. The
obstacles related to physical work environment, family relations, supplies, equipment, information transfer and
communication, help from others, and intra-hospital transport. With respect to physical work environment in
particular, this research identified the amount of space, crowdedness, and noise as major obstacles.
Two more studies were found that compare caregivers and patients responses: one was carried out by
Hashiguchia, Hirakawaa, Tochiharaa, Kajib, & Karakic (2008), focusing on an ambient feature of the environment
(humidity), and the other by Fornara, Bonaiuto, and Bonnes (2010), focusing on the affective response of multiple
features of the environment.
Hashiguchia and colleagues (2008) studied the effects of setting up humidifiers in a hospital during winter. Before
setting up the humidifiers, the existence of a low-humidity environment (which is known to promote the spread of
influenza viruses) in the hospital was verified. Humidifiers were introduced into about half of the rooms under study,
resulting in an increase of the relative humidity in sickrooms from 32.8% to 43.9% on average. Additionally, that
was effective in improving the thermal comfort only for staff members, though not among the patients. Hashiguchia
Page 16 of 24

and colleagues (2008) argued that one reason for the lack of effect of the installed humidifiers on the patients
subjective symptoms might be sensitivity of elderly people to changes in air humidity and air temperature declines.
Fornara et al. (2010) carried out surveys in various hospitals, focusing on the perceived affective qualities of
places. Results confirmed differences in the interaction that caregivers and patients have with the hospital
environment, since caregivers expressed an overall active modality of interaction with the hospital environment,
in both positive (i.e., judging it as more exciting and stimulating) and negative (i.e., judging it as more distressing)
terms, whereas patients (and also visitors) revealed a more passive modality of interaction, in both positive (i.e.,
judging it as more relaxing) and negative (i.e., judging it as more gloomy and sleepy) terms. Staff members also
judged the places as less unpleasant than patients, thus confirming previous findings emerged with different tools
(i.e., the PHEQIs; see Fornara et al., 2006; Andrade, Lima, Fornara, & Bonaiuto, 2012).
Visitors
Another important category of users is represented by visitors, that is, patients relatives and friends who are using
the place for visiting patients. Visitors needs have been generally neglected by designers (Zimring, Reizenstein, &
Michelson, 1987), since they represent the last considered category in the typical hierarchy of needs in the
hospital, where the first are the caregivers, the second (p. 311) are the inpatients, and the third are the
outpatients (Leather et al., 2003). This scarce attention to visitors is witnessed by the fact that those who go to a
hospital to find a relative or a friend often have to cope with a stressful experience, since they may have difficulty
in finding their way around, or may have to stay in an unfriendly, frightening, chaotic, and aseptic environment.
Empirical studies that compared the responses of visitors with the ones of patients and staff show that visitors
assessment is generally closer to patients than to caregivers evaluation (Fornara, 2005; Fornara et al., 2006);
however, a recent research indicated that visitors are the least satisfied group, and rate the places as more
unpleasant and gloomy than patients and staff (Fornara et al., 2010).
Previous studies have found that social support from families reduces patient stress (e.g., Koivula et al., 2002), and
that family members have several cognitive, emotional, social, and practical needs (Verhaeghe et al., 2005), which
indicates that design should be more supportive of this group of users.
A recent study by Meert, Briller, Schim, and Thurston (2008) explored parents environmental needs during their
childs hospitalization and death in the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU). Through semi-structured in-depth
interviews with parents who had experienced the death of their child two years before, the environmental themes
identified included privacy, proximity, adequate space, control of sensory stimuli, cleanliness, safety, facilities to
care for self and others, access to their children, and the physical presence of people who provide professional
and personal support. They concluded that parents clearly remembered specific features of the PICU and that the
environmental attributes that have been found to benefit patients seem to support families as well.
Conclusion
This chapter has addressed the relationship between health care design features and users psychological and
behavioral responses. It showed the shift from a kind of design more affected by technological progress to a more
user-centered design, which tends to environmental humanization, thus recovering the lesson that Florence
Nightingale left us in the 19th century. Then it delineated the recent push toward an evidence-based design
concerning health care environments, which is evidenced by the interest of important associations (such as the
Center for Health Design and the Institute for Healthcare Improvement in the United States, and the Health and Care
Infrastructure Research and Innovation Centre in the United Kingdom) and the implementation of massive programs
(such as the Planetree model and the Pebble Project) at a national level.
A theoretical framework was then outlined to provide a conceptual lens that can be useful for the study of
psychological patterns occurring in the health care environment. Such a lens is composed of what we learned from
Canters (1977) place theory, Barkers (1987) behavioral setting, Bronfenbrenners (1979) ecological approach,
and the multi-place approach proposed by Bonnes and Secchiaroli (1995). The view of hospitals as multi-place
systems takes into account the presence of different categories of place users who differ in their environmental
roles (Canter, 1977, 1983) and thus, often show different responses to the settings spatial-physical dimensions
and express different design needs.
Page 17 of 24
Consistently, the recent research literature on the issue was organized according to the different target groups of
health care place users, that is, generic patients, specific patients in terms of age groups (children and elderly),
caregivers, and finally visitors (i.e., patients relatives and friends).
Studies that focus on generic patients show new and important evidence of the impact of architecture features on
the delivery of care. As previous studies have shown (e.g., Ulrich et al., 1991; Ulrich & Gilpin, 2003), recent
findings confirm the positive effects of the presence of plants on stress and hospital room appraisal, and also that
inpatients prefer realistic nature paintings over abstract (even if best-selling) art. Redecoration of rooms with wood
paneling and Japanese paper has a positive influence in thermal comfort and decreasing stress levels, and room
colors seem to have different impact on stress and arousal, depending on screening ability differences. The recent
results on the study of music effects on well-being are contradictory, which might indicate that music can be
effective only under certain circumstances (see also Evans, 2002), and that in some situations a quiet environment
can be more beneficial. Overall, recent studies on multiple environmental features reinforce that people can make
judgments about care, comfort, and therapist qualities only by looking at some prompts in the health care physical
environment. Additionally, results of Rowlands and Noble (2008) warn researchers and decision makers that single
rooms are not preferred by all users.
Recent studies focusing on children are based on interviews and other child/adolescent-friendly (p. 312)
techniques. The authors claimed that those approaches can be useful to inform architects and designers about
young peoples preferences; however, further studies evaluating the effects of health care environment and
childrens/adolescents behavioral, cognitive, and psychosocial outcomes are important to strengthen such
results.
Concerning studies about elderly people, contradictory results were found with respect to the effects of residential
care refurbishment. These studies seem to indicate that different sensibilities of elders to environmental change
need to be investigated, and that refurbishments should therefore be planned carefully, taking such differences
into account. Moreover, since the older population is increasing, so should the studies about how health care and
residential environments should benefit this group of users.
About studies that analyzed the impact of the health care environment on staff outcomes, positive effects of single
rooms were found, but effective modifications in operational management of the whole service seem to be crucial
for caregivers who experience the change from open bays to single rooms. Nonetheless, these effects, as well as
the effect of crowding on antidepressant treatments, need stronger evidence since they may be explained by
other confounding variables. Unit design affects also nurses walking distance and stops, and improving the
physical design and organizational layout of the medication room seems to have positive results. Some of these
aspects emerged on the qualitative study carried out by Gurses and Carayon (2009). Finally, about visitors
experience of the health care environment, it seems that their environmental needs are similar to those of patients
but that their response to spatial-physical setting is more negative, which may be justified by the fact the hospital
designers usually ignore visitors needs. Anyway, research about the availability and conditions of proper space
for visitors and the impact on relevant visitors and patient outcomes is lacking.
Future Directions
The review of the most recent studies about the effects of health care environment on users shows that this field is
growing, thus confirming the opinion of Ulrich et al. (2008), which was based on their extensive literature review on
health care evidence-based design. It also confirmed the complexity of this area of research, given the high
number of environmental variables implied and the various methods that have been used to analyze their
relationship. Because of that, some effects can still be considered inconsistent or unclear. Given this scenario, we
have to agree with other scholars that there is still a lack of more rigorous and controlled studies (Ulrich et al.,
2008; Dijkstra et al., 2006) to obtain more credible and reliable evidence that can be applied to the design of health
care settings. Thus, the field needs more studies that can disentangle the independent effect of different
environmental features, measure relevant health outcomes, account for the processes that lead environment to
affect outcomes, as well as of the possible implicated mediators and moderators, and that can consider users
characteristics and needs. The fact is that the difficulty of controlling variables represents a dangerous risk for the
usefulness of evidence-based design, and as stated by Malkin (1991), for many design questions, there is no
Page 18 of 24

sound research yet available to inform the designers personal intuition, sensitivity, and experience (p. 28).
Connected to this point, there is the yet unsolved problem, in common with the more general architectural design
domain, that concerns the difficulty practitioners have with understanding research that appears in academic
journals. Nevertheless, researchers increasingly recognize the need to make their findings available in
nonacademic journals (Arneill & Devlin, 2003). Future research should take into account this communication mode
more deeply.
An important aspect to address for informing future research concerns the way in which the health care
environment is conceived. Hospitals are very complex settings, with multiple subplaces that have different
functions, characterized by multiple features, and where different activities are performed by different groups of
users. Staff, patients, and visitors have different functions, roles, needs, expectations, and characteristics.
Moreover, different kinds of patients may have different preferences (Rashid & Zimring, 2008), and different
functional units represent different behavioral settings (Barker, 1987). Finally, it needs to be considered which uses
and behaviors a target subplace facilitates or hinders, in other words, which affordances are provided (Gibson,
1979).
It seems obvious that the impact of health care environments on people cannot be reduced to a simple formula.
However, to provide valuable information to decision makers involved in the design of health care buildings about
how to promote the best conditions for a positive relationship between environment and people, research has to be
specific, but without ignoring this complexity.
(p. 313) Following the multi-place approach, Becker and colleagues (2010) provided a thoughtful example of the
interdependence of different components of a setting as complex as the hospital. They stated that changes in the
design of the microsystem (for example, a nursing unit) may make a difference in the microsystem itself (for
example, increasing face-to-face interaction between nurses and doctors on a medical unit by designs that
improve visual sight lines). This, in turn, may lead to improvements at the mesosystem level by fostering changes
in different but related microsystems (e.g., the hospital administration and its commitment to creating a culture of
teamwork). The suggestion of considering the health care environment as a multi-place system is not necessarily
in contrast with the auspices of more rigorous and controlled research, since the former can be seen as a
theoretical driver that should be used as a foundation for whatever kind of studies (i.e., ethnographic,
observational, survey, experiment, etc.).
In sum, future research should (i) increase the internal validity of the studies, (ii) verify multifaceted models that
reflect the complexity of the unit of analysis, (iii) enhance the transferability of findings to designers and decision
makers, and (iv) consider the health care environment as a multi-place system made up of interdependent
components including people, behaviors, images, and physical features.
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Ferdinando Fornara
Ferdinando Fornara Department of Psychology University of Cagliari CIRPA (Centre for Inter-University Research on Environmental
Psychology) Cagliari, Italy
Cludia Campos Andrade

Cludia Campos Andrade Instituto Universitrio de Lisboa (ISCTE-IUL) Centro de Investigao e Interveno Social (CIS-IUL)
Lisbon, Portugal
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Correctional Environments

Richard E. Wener
2012

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0017

Correctional environments are unique as settings in which people are confined involuntarily, possibly for very long
periods of time, and not for their own welfare. As such they can be very difficult places to endure. Moreover,
inmates and staff are exposed to multiple environmental stressors whose effects may be magnified by the time of
exposure and the difficulty in avoiding them. Inmates commonly need to cope with lack of privacy, high levels of
crowding, isolation from needed human contact, constant high levels of noise, poor lighting conditions (too little in
the daytime and too much at night), and little access to nature or nature views. New models of correctional design,
with increased direct contact between inmates and staff, and greater control over environmental conditions, have
had success in reducing violent behavior in recent decades. A model of environmental determinants of violence is
presented that attempts to explain this success.
Keywords: corrections, jails, prisons, stress, control, violence
Introduction
Cavernous spaces with dull gray surfaces of concrete and steel, rooms with solid metal doors or bars, floors that
can be washed down with a hose, a loud din that blends voices, alarms, TVs, loudspeakers and banging doors,
and a constant acrid smell (a mixture of sweat, food, urine, and disinfectant). Some men in colored pajamas mill
about or stare at a TV; others in uniforms watch from the other side of bars or in glass booths. Anyone who has
watched action films or prime-time video would recognize this as a prison. Actual places vary considerablysome
have cells with one or two beds while others have dormitories with stacks of bunks. Many have surfaces that are
hard, fixed, and inflexible, as above, while some use more comfortable and moveable furniture, brighter colors, and
windows to courtyards. In some, officers and inmates speak with military-like discipline, while in others interactions
are more informal and casual. Nevertheless, whether the furniture consists of concrete benches or upholstered
chairs, single rooms or large dorms, speaking through intercoms or face-to-face, a correctional setting is a place of
its own kind, not easily mistaken for any other.
What makes correctional environments so unusual is their very reason for being. There are other circumstances in
which people are detained involuntarily, though usually for brief periods or for their own health or improvement.
Prisons are unique in being settings where people are held against their will, for what may be very long periods of
time (often months or years, occasionally decades), and for purposes typically not intended for their own
betterment.
Because these environments afford extraordinarily little control to their occupants, the potential psychological and
behavioral impact of the physical environment is likely to be magnified. If crowding on a subway is bad, how much
worse in a cell; if (p. 317) isolation in a college dorm room is distressing, what about prison solitary confinement?
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Noise can be louder and more discordant as well as impossible to avoid. Many stressors may impinge at the same
time, leading to strong psychological and psychophysiological responses both for inmates and members of the
staff.
This chapter reviews issues relating to privacy, personal space and territoriality, the impact of crowding and
isolation, and ambient conditions such as noise, lighting, and view. It also discusses architectural design and layout
as it affects critical behaviors, such as violence. These are difficult settings into which to gain access for research.
Further study is needed on the nature and impact of crowding, and a thorough empirical assessment on the impact
of isolation is particularly lacking, especially in its most extreme forms.
Correctional institutions, such as prisons (institutions for sentenced individuals, often involving long-term stays)
and jails (pretrial or short-term detention), are, in Goffmans (1961) terms, total institutionsplaces that apply more
restraint and control over the life and behavior of the occupant than any other in society. As such there are
several indisputable truths. One is that the context of living in or even working in such an institution colors all
perceptions, actions, and social and power relationships. Imprisonment causes a reduction in the level of control
one has over all aspects of life, so that any environmental feature that can afford control, even something as small
as a light switch, takes on new meaning.
Another is that because of the above truth, particularly the lack of control available to occupants, the impacts of
environmental stressors are magnified in these settings (Evans & Strecker, 2004; Ruback, Carr, & Hopper, 1986).
In addition, the degree and time of exposure to environmental stressors can be greater in a prison than other
settings. Both crowding and isolation can exist to a greater degree and for longer periods of time than almost
anywhere else in society. Noise from people and equipment must be endured 24 hours a day. People can be
significantly shut off from daylight, high-intensity electric light, and access to or even view of nature. Social
intrusion may be omnipresent and fear and boredom are common.
This chapter will address environmental issues in prisons or jails as they can be understood from the perspective
of environmental psychology. It will look at the nature of specific environmental features and stressors in terms of
what is known about them and their observed or likely impact in a correctional setting. It will also address broader
issues of architectural design and corresponding management approaches as they affect behavior. In almost all
cases environmental conditions should be discussed in terms of how they affect both inmates, who have basic
human rights to humane and safe conditions, as well as members of the staff, who have the right to work in a safe
and healthful environment.
HistoryTrying to Change Behavior with Force

The history of jails and prisons is far too long and complex to address in detail here (see, e.g., Johnston, 2000;
Morris & Rothman, 1995). Prior to the Age of Enlightenment there was very little attention paid to the impact of these
environments on the life or psyche of their inhabitants, or to their potential use for reform or rehabilitation. The first
example of broad movements to eliminate abuses and make use of prisons to change behavior for the benefit of
both the inmate and society occurred in the late 18th and early 19th century, with John Howards (1777) expos of
conditions in English jails, and the development of the first penitentiaries in the United States (Johnston, 2000). The
Eastern State Penitentiary (Johnston, 2004) used extreme isolation as a way to promote penitence among inmates
through reflection and remorse. This institution was widely visited and written about as a grand social experiment in
trying to improve society. Dozens of penitentiaries in the United States and in Europe were built copying this
approach.
Eastern State Penitentiary was extraordinary in both its good intentions to change criminal behavior, and the
intensity of its oppressive environment. Prisoners could spend years in complete isolation, and contemporaneous
accounts describe the damage to inmates from this almost total isolation (Toch, 2003). This experiment also
reinforced the notion that society had a right to impose systems that attempt to alter criminal conduct upon those
convicted of crimes. In the intervening decades, many different kinds of approaches to criminal rehabilitation have
been attempted, though they have often been corrupted by overcrowding or political interference, leading to
repeated cycles of exposs, reports, proposals, then more exposs (Rotman, 1995, p. 169).
One late 20th-century model has explicitly attempted to use the physical setting to promote positive behavior
Page 2 of 21
change. This approach, which has become known as direct supervision (Nelson, 1988b; (p. 318) Wener, 2005),
proposed to bring the officer into direct and constant contact with inmates, by removing the separation of bars and
locked control stations. It used normalized design to reduce the institutional feel of the setting. Direct supervision
correctional design has been much discussed and studied, and it has had significant reported success (Wener,
2006).
Environment-Behavior Issues in Correctional Settings

This section addresses the role of the physical environment in the correctional setting, including privacy, personal
space and territoriality, research on crowding and isolation, noise, light, window, and view. This section will also
look at broader issues of the impact of environmental design on behavior through the lens of direct supervision,
and conclude with an overview of a model for understanding the role of the environment in affecting the likelihood
and incidence of violent behavior.
Proxemics
The social ecology of a place may be viewed in terms of considerations of privacy, personal space, and
territoriality that are experienced in the context of interpersonal relations. These are central to the way the
correctional space is seen and felt.
Privacy
Altman (1975) defined privacy as a dynamic and dialectic process in which the individual struggles to match
access to self and the desired amount of contact with others with the level of contact and access allowed by the
setting. As such, privacy is a matter of regulation and control for an individual who tries to alter his or her setting to
meet changing needs. While there is great cultural variation in how this is achieved, Altman suggested that the
need for control is universal. Personal space and territoriality serve as spatial mechanisms for boundary control,
while crowding and isolation are conditions that arise when boundary control fails. Boundary control, of course, is
precisely and intentionally what inmates are missing in prisons and jails, as Foucault (1979) pointed out. For
Foucault, prisons and jails are the antithesis of privacy, and institutional design exists, in part, to remind inmates of
their diminished circumstances.
Westin (1967) described privacys functionsto promote the development of personal autonomy, provide
opportunities for emotional release, support attempts at self-evaluation, and limit and protect communication and
the various forms or levels of privacy: solitude, intimacy, anonymity, and reserve. These have obvious implications
for correctional settings. Solitude (being alone by choice), for instance, is difficult to achieve in situations where
forced contact with others or involuntary isolation are common. Inmates often desire to be alone, for sleeping,
reading, studying, thinking, or personal hygiene, but cannot, or they may be cut off from others when company is
wanted, as in early penitentiaries and modern administrative control units or maximum-security facilities.
Privacy may be necessary for emotional development by providing an opportunity for emotional release in
response to important, difficult, or troubling personal news (Altman, 1975; Pederson, 1999; Westin, 1967). When
people have to confront such intense feelings, they may seek the comfort of others in spaces that are away from
the gaze of strangers, which is an option that is generally unavailable in correctional settings. Prisoners are often
faced with bad news about a job, relationship, or court proceeding and there are few good places they can go for
an emotional outlet. The lack of such privacy options in a correctional setting may hinder an inmates ability to
accept, understand, and maturely deal with bad news.
Privacy supports thoughtful self-evaluation as part of integrating experience into meaningful patterns (Margulis,
2003, p. 412). We may need to get off the public stage to reflect and make sense of what is going on. Educational
or therapeutic programs often encourage reflection and self-evaluation in prisoners, but the lack of privacy may
inhibit their success. Opportunities for solitude in prisons or jails are uncommon and becoming even rarer as fewer
and fewer institutions provide single-bed cells.
Anonymity in a crowd can serve some of the same privacy functions (Westin, 1967), but correctional managers
typically discourage anonymity. Staff members are expected to know who and where inmates are at all times for
Page 3 of 21
accountability and security. Another privacy strategy is reservewithdrawing into oneself to create a mental
distance from others. It is often the only option remaining available to an inmate as a way to limit access and
contact. For reserve to be useful, however, that desire to maintain a distance has to be understood and respected
by others (Margulis, 2003), which may not always be the case in correctional culture.
The loss of privacy in correctional settings is especially salient around issues of personal hygiene, (p. 319)
particularly toilet and shower use. Cells that serve as both sleeping and toilet spaces have doors with open bars or
small windows. Being on view is uncomfortable and often stressful, and may be emblematic of loss of social and
spatial control (Kira, 1976). Also lost is the ability to exploit bathroom privacy norms for other activities, such as
uninterrupted reading time. There is no place to be off-stage, off-camera, and away from scrutiny. Moore (1980)
found that cell blocks with the least levels of visual privacy had greater levels of health care utilization than did
those with more visual privacy.
The ecology of a spatial behavior changes greatly when a second person moves into a cell. Normally solitary
behaviors (sitting, reading) shift from bedrooms to public places when a single room becomes a double, in jails
(Wener & Olson, 1980) as in other kinds of institutions (Wolfe & Golan, 1976; Zimring, Weitzer, & Knight, 1982).
Single cells provide options for solitary behaviors that are lost in multiple cells.
Personal Space
Personal space violations may be connected to aggressive incidents. Interpersonal distances are larger for violent
or aggressive persons (Curran, Blatchley, & Hanlon, 1978; Hildreth, Derogatis, & McCusker, 1971; Kinzel, 1970;
Roger & Schalekamp, 1976), and minimal required interpersonal distances may be a good predictor of which
inmates will engage in fighting (Walkey & Gilmour, 1984).
Studies in several kinds of settings have shown connections between personal space invasions and aggressive
behaviorin young children (ONeal, Caldwell, & Gallup, 1977), cognitively impaired nursing home residents
(Ryden, Bossenmaier, & McLachlan, 1991), dementia patients in an Alzheimer unit (Bridges-Parlet, Knopman, &
Thompson, 1994), and psychiatric inpatients (Fagan-Pryor et al., 2003). Increasing the amount of space available
on a unit for the profoundly retarded was shown to reduce aggressive incidents (Rago, Parker, & Cleland, 1978)
Territoriality
Territorial markings, as real barriers or symbolic ones, have often been related to defensive and aggressive
behavior (Ardrey, 1967; Brown, 1987), perhaps most clearly in total institutions where any possibility to exert
control takes on special meaning (Paluck & Esser; 1971). Formal or informal boundary marking can reduce
confusion and clarify rights for use and reduce the likelihood of accidental spatial intrusions that can lead to
conflict, such as described for youth correctional boot camps (Bobbitt, 1995) and non-correctional residential
settings (Abu-Ghazzeh, 2000; Brown & Altman, 1983; Zeisel et al., 2003). Adding opportunities for territorial control
can result in a significant improvement in the environment. When dormitories in a federal prison added a low
partition around otherwise open bunks, inmate scores on some measures of crowding and stress were as low as
those of inmates in single cells (Schaeffer, Baum, Paulus, & Gaes, 1988).
Institutional residents show territorial behavior that is often related to power hierarchies (Austin & Bates, 1974;
Cooley, Jewitt, & Oren, 1973; Roth, 1971; Wener & Olsen, 1980). Those high in the social hierarchy have more
success in claiming desired space and objects and intruding in others spaces (Deutsch, Esser, & Sossin, 1978;
Paluck & Esser, 1971; Paslawskyj & Ivinskis, 1980; Sundstrom & Altman, 1974). There were correlations between
turnover, dominance hierarchies, aggression, and territoriality among boys in a juvenile detention cottage
(Sundstrom & Altman, 1974). Dominance hierarchies were clear and territoriality was high with stable populations
but deteriorated with an increase in aggression when there was a great deal of population turnover.
Social Conditions
Crowding
Crowding is a perennial problem in correctional settings both in the United States and in other countries (Buckley,
2001; Cabral, 1991; Cabral & Stangenhaus, 1992; Chui, 2007; Commentary: The H. M. Northward Prison Report
Page 4 of 21
The Reception of Inmates, 2001; Hill, 2001; Shabangu, 2006; Specter, 2010; Steiner & Wooldredge, 2008)hence
the considerable amount of research that has focused on this issue.
Variations among correctional institutions and within settings over time provide natural laboratories for studying
crowding in ways that are impossible to replicate in an academic setting because of the level of density, the
pervasiveness of the experience, the time of exposure, and the involuntary nature of incarceration. Paulus (1988)
used these variations to address the impact of crowding on individual inmates. He reported that the number of
inmates per room, more than space per person, is related to measures of perceived environmental quality,
crowding, control, and stress, as well as psychophysiological measures of stress. Density was also related to use
of health services, the number of inmates seeking or getting medical services, and (p. 320) the level of reported
incidents. Ratings for dormitories improved when the spaces were larger, had single beds (vs. double bunk beds),
and included partitions. Having more inmates in a room has also been related to increased escapes (Bruehl,
Horvat, & George, 1979, cited in Paulus, 1988) and recidivism (Farrington & Nuttall, 1985).
Longitudinal studies have found that blood pressure increased when inmates moved from single rooms to
dormitories, and fell again when they moved back (DAtri, 1975). In a juvenile detention facility, blood pressure
correlated highly with density (Ray, Wandersman, Ellisor, & Huntington, 1982). Students who were leaders and
doing the best in school were the most adversely affected by density increases. Density increases were also
related to an increase in illness complaints, greater levels of hostility and expression of anger, more disruption of
treatment programs, and an increased sense of social disorganization, as measured by Mooss Social Climate
Scale.
In a metropolitan jail with relatively small changes in population, perceived crowding and sick call rates increased
as populations levels increased and fell as populations fell (Wener & Keys, 1988). Inmates in this study also
responded to the experience of change in density. Even though density levels in two living units were equal after
population was increased in one unit and lowered in the other, inmates in the unit that had seen density levels
increase showed higher sick call rates and lower environmental ratings than the other, which had seen density
levels fall. As density levels rise in correctional settings, detainees feel less safe (Roush, 1989) and view others as
more hostile (Lawrence & Andrews, 2004).
Increased institutional density has been related to increased aggressive behavior (Gaes, 1985; Nacci, Teitelbaum,
& Prather, 1977), most significantly for young inmates (Jan, 1980; Clayton & Carr, 1987; Franklin et al., 2006;
Ruback et al., 1986; Nacci et al., 1977) in studies that for the most part have used system-wide surveys of inmates.
Older inmates may be more likely to develop health problems (Toch, 1985) or withdraw under crowding pressure.
The proportion of the population that resides in dormitories may also predict assault rates (Gaes & McGuire, 1985).
Crowding also can hinder the success of supportive programs. In a study of four institutions (Jan, 1980), increased
population density was related to decreases in class attendance, graduation from school, use of programs, and the
likelihood of achieving parole, in addition to an increase in disruptive behavior.
Negative crowding effects have not always resulted from increases in prison density (Innes, 1986; Pelissier, 1991;
Porporpino & Dudley, 1984), and some have suggested that aggression may be a function of the design of the
institution and nature of the population more than of crowding per se (Ekland-Olson, 1986). In some cases
crowding may even lead to reduced misconduct, because of organizational adjustments made to deal with
conditions (Franklin et al., 2006). Suicide rates showed increases with higher density in some research (Huey &
McNulty, 2005), and the opposite in others (Wooldredge & Winfree, 1992). There is some question as to whether
inmates adapt to crowding over time. There does seem to be some adaptation, as shown in lessening of illness
complaints and clinic use (Paulus, 1988; Ostfeld, Kasl, DAtri, & Fitzgerald, 1987) and blood pressure (DAtri, 1981),
but not for measures of perceived crowding and stress (Paulus, 1988).
In a reexamination of this research, Gaes (1994) suggested that the connection between crowding and health is
difficult to determine because of the complex set of circumstances that determine outcome measures such as
illness reports, and the potential significant impacts of management responses to crowding.
Isolation
To be imprisoned means to be isolated from society, community, family, and job. In most cases, however, the
Page 5 of 21
inmate becomes part of an internal social system, an alternate community that can be socially supportive (Toch,
1992). Isolation as used here, however, refers to situations in which even that level of social contact and support is
lost in highly restrictive settings where inmates have little or no contact with others.
Recent attention has centered on the growth of so-called Supermax prisons, intended to house the most
dangerous inmates, usually in extreme levels of isolation. Researchers have had little access to study these kinds
of institutions (Pizarro & Stenius, 2004), even though it has been suggested that extreme isolation creates a kind of
social pathology that reduces inmates ability to function normally when returned to the prison population or to
society outside of prison walls (Haney, 2003). Symptoms that have been attributed to extreme isolation include
sleep disturbance, anxiety, panic, rage, loss of control, paranoia, hallucinations, anger, ruminations and (p. 321)
confused thoughts, and self-mutilationdubbed special housing unit syndrome (Haney, 2003) or Gansers
syndrome (Andersen, Sestoft, & Lillebaek, 2001; Grassian & Friedman, 1986). Distress and symptomatology seem
to increase as level of restriction gets more severe (Miller, 1994).
Inmates with mental illness are more likely to end up in isolation and may be most vulnerable to it. Inmates in
isolation have lower self-esteem (Blatier, 2000) and a range of other significant psychiatric symptoms (Benjamin &
Lux, 1975; Korn, 1988; Kupers, 2008), including self-mutilation (Jones, 1986). Shutting off these inmates from social
contact can have devastating effects (Benjamin & Lux, 1975; Cohen, 1998; Toch, 1992), as seen in the high
incidence of mental illness in isolation units (Hodgins & Cote, 1991; Nurse, Woodcock, & Ormsby, 2003). Risk of
psychiatric hospitalization increases with time in isolation (Sestoft, Andersen, & Lilleboek, 1998) and psychological
functioning can improve when transferred to normal housing (Andersen et al., 2003). Approximately one-third of all
inmate suicides in Finland took place in isolation rooms (Joukamaa, 1997). Isolated inmates use prison health care
services more than other inmates (Moore, 1980).
Not all studies found negative effects of isolation on cognitive tests (Weinberg, 1967) or mental health (Gendreau &
Bonta, 1984; Zinger, Wichmann, & Andrews, 2001), especially when the impacts of isolation are differentiated from
the harsh treatment that sometimes accompany it. Suedfeld, in particular, has advocated for the potentially
beneficial effects of isolation through restricted environmental stimulation therapy (REST) (Suedfeld, Ramirez,
Deaton, & Baker-Brown, 1982). He has argued that serious side effects are relatively rare and that most inmates
develop coping mechanisms, while many develop a more positive attitude and increased participation in programs.
In spite of Suedfelds arguments, prison isolation is most commonly considered a negative and even harmful
experience, although the conceptual explanations are not as obvious as they may seem at first glance. Some have
related prison isolation to early laboratory research on sensory deprivation (Grassian & Friedman, 1986; Haney,
2003), though conditions even in the most strict prison isolation do not bear much resemblance to the complete
elimination of sensory inputs in laboratories (Suedfeld et al., 1982). Moreover, the original sensory deprivation
studies themselves had serious methodological flaws (Orne, 1962).
These environments are, at the very least, monotonous and boring, particularly as inmates in isolation have
reduced access to programs and services, and lose whatever benefits these may provide. Boredom has been
linked to depression and hostility (Vodanovich, 2003), and the level to which inmates volunteer to be subjects in
research programs (Moser et al., 2004). Another explanation refers to the loss of privacy experienced in isolation,
where it is often the case that inmates are under constant observation by people and technology. Severe loss of
privacy itself may be a significant source of stress (Altman, 1975; Margulis, 2003; Westin, 1967).
Ultimately, though, it may be social deprivationthe inability to establish or maintain interactions and relationships
with other peoplethat is the most obvious and most damaging consequence of prison isolation. Haney (2003) has
suggested that isolated inmates suffer because they are removed from the rhythms of life. Isolated individuals are
unable to make contacts with other inmates as well as other aspects of the natural world, including access to
natural light and exterior views (discussed further below).
Social connections made within the prison environment have been cited as important mechanisms for coping with
the hardships of incarceration (Toch, 1992), and deprivation of these relationships may lead to a diminished ability
to establish normal social relations (Haney, 2003). Without social interaction inmates also lose opportunities for
reality testing, as described by social comparison theory, which suggests that we define and understand ourselves
significantly by our interactions with others (Suls, 1977) and that the meaning of ones behavior is in the response
to it by others (Burke, 1996, p. 143). Solitary confinement removes our ability to use others for that purpose,
Page 6 of 21
making reality less clear, which is a particular problem for many assigned to isolation cells whose hold on reality
may already be fragile (Arrigo & Bullock, 2008).
Physical Conditions
Noise
Research in the laboratory and other settings has demonstrated that noise can be a significant environmental
stressor (see Stansfeld, this volume). It is, therefore, deserving of attention within the prison context especially
because prison design and the many sources of sound in correctional settings make them inherently difficult
spaces for acoustics, because many of these sources are present 24 hours (p. 322) a day, and because
acoustics has not received significant attention from correctional planners.
There are several factors that make typical prison and jail settings very poor acoustically. First, the interior spaces
of living units for 50, 60, or more inmates are often very large with cavernous dayrooms. Building materials are
usually very hard and reflective of sound, with very little carpeting, wall hangings, or upholstered furniture for
sound absorption. Reverberation times longer than two seconds are common, creating uncomfortable echoing
(Rostad & Christoff, 2006). As reverberation time increases, holding decibel levels constant, sound intelligibility
drops precipitously (Anhert & Tennhardt, 2002).
There are many generators and sources of sound. The sound that comes from dozens of voices, occupying a
large open space at the same time and engaged in tasks or casual activity, can be considerable. Mechanical and
manual doors constantly open and bang closed, and intercoms, public address speakers, televisions, and radios
are ever present. On top of that, these settings have a number of mechanical sources of sound, such as fans from
heating, cooling, and ventilation systems, which can add a significant constant background hum to the space.
There are very few studies of the psychological and behavioral impacts of noise in correctional institutions, so
most of the relevant research comes from other settings. One of the most obvious of noise impacts is in the
disturbance of normal nighttime sleep (Griefahn, 2000; Tarnopolski, 1977), when there is less habituation to noise
levels than there is during the day (Tarnopolski, 1977). Repeated exposure to 50 dBA or more of noise can cause
increased heart rate and blood pressure during sleep (Stansfeld & Matheson, 2003). Noise that impairs sleep can
impact cognitive functioning, mood (Pilcher & Huffcutt; 1996), stress, and staff burnout (Topf & Dillon, 1988; Topf,
Bookman, & Arand, 1996; Topf, 2000; Topf & Thompson, 2001). In a correctional setting, partial sleep deprivation
may make aggression more likely (Ireland & Culpin, 2006).
The stressful properties of noise are related less to its loudness than to predictability and controllability (Cohen,
1980; Evans & Stecker, 2004; Glass & Singer, 1972). These findings have implications for prisons and jails, where
many of the sources of noise are, to a large extent, intermittent, unpredictable, and beyond control of inmates and
often even of staff members. Impacts of exposure to unpredictable and uncontrollable noise include reduced
motivation and frustration tolerance, interpreted by Glass and Singer (1972) as effects of learned helplessness
(Seligman, 1975), with significant behavioral, emotional, and mental health consequences. Prolonged exposure to
noise levels similar to those commonly found in prisons and jails elevates blood pressure and may affect stress
hormones, such as cortisol (Babisch, Fromme, Beyer, & Ising, 2001; Babisch, Fromme, Beyer, & Ising, 2003; Evans
& Johnson, 2000; Ising & Kruppa, 2004; Stansfeld & Matheson, 2003).
The presence of noise may also reduce the likelihood of people engaging in positive social behaviors, such as
helping, possibly because they are less likely to pay attention to their context and notice the person in need
(Jones, Chapman, & Auburn, 1981; Mathews & Canon, 1975).
High noise levels can also change the social ecology of spatial behavior (Stansfeld & Matheson, 2003). In
institutions, such as prisons and jails, people often are unable to escape from the noise, for example, by going into
another space and closing a door (Daffern, 2004), which may increase stress levels and the chances of
aggressive responses (Wener & Olsen, 1980). Stress resulting from exposure to uncontrollable noise may even be
higher in populations such as those often found in prisons, with low levels of perceived self-efficacy (Kuno,
Yazawa, & Ohira, 2003), or those who have experienced the helplessness that comes from chronic long-term
unemployment (Weiss, 1997).
Page 7 of 21
Visual Aspects of the Setting
Although windows and lighting are addressed in the standards used by American prisons and jails to assess
conditions of confinement (American Correctional Association, 2004), they are often viewed more as amenities
than critical environmental conditions. Views, including those of nature, and color are largely ignored in standards.
Lighting
Since these are 24-hour settings, the quality of electric lighting is critical for visual tasks, such as inspection and
surveillance, reading, viewing video screens, and paperwork. Natural and electrical lighting can also have
important effects on the general ambient environment, the periodicity of biological cycles (circadian rhythms), and
mood (Aris, Veitch, & Newsham, 2010; Espiritu et al., 1994; Pechacek, Andersen, & Lockley, 2008).
There is very little research on the psychological effects of lighting specifically in correctional facilities, so
extrapolation from research and other settings is necessary, as discussed in detail by a number of (p. 323)
authors (Cawthorne, 1991; Gifford, 1994; Lockley, 2009; Illuminating Engineering Society of North America, 2009;
Veitch, van den Beld, Brainard, & Roberts, 2004).
The biological impact of light depends largely on the intensity, quality, and timing of exposure (Veitch, 2002)all of
which may be issues in correctional institutions. Many prisons and jails, for example, provide very little daylight into
living areas. As organisms that evolved in daylight, we may be sensitive to its variations, including the much
greater intensity of daylight as well as qualitative differences (broader spectra, polarization, and variation by time
of day and season). People have shown a preference for daylight over electrical lights, although that may be
related to daylights higher levels of illuminance (Galasiu & Veitch, 2006, Markus, 1967).
Levels and quality of lighting in jails and prisons may also affect sleeping. Adequate sleep seems related not just to
having enough light during the day but also to enough dark at night (Burgess, Sharkey, & Eastman, 2002). Sleep
deprivation and abnormal sleep patterns may be pervasive issues for inmates, who often live in settings with
inadequate lighting during the day and too much light at night.
In addition, light exposure is important in settings where staff members must constantly rotate work shifts, as is the
case in prisons and jails. Light intensity and time of exposure may affect the likelihood of experiencing sleep
disorders with impacts on job performance, mood, and social stress (Barger, Lockley, Rajaratnam, & Landrigan,
2009).
Windows
Windows may be psychologically important design features in confined settings. In such situations windows can
provide diversion and psychological distance from others (Haines, 1988) as well as reduce perceived crowding, in
part by increasing perceived spaciousness (Desor, 1972; Schiffenbauer et al., 1977). Windows add stimulation to
stimulus-deprived situations, provide information about weather, time of day, and season, and potentially allow for
nature views.
In most settings people have a preference for being in spaces with access to window views (Stone, 1998). Inmates
have been observed to go to great lengths to spend time looking through windows with views of panoramic urban
vistas (Wener & Olsen, 1980). They enjoy views of nature and animals (West, 1986) particularly as an alternative
to the internal view and reality of the institution (Heerwagen, 1990).
Nature Views
Exposure to nature and nature views has been shown to have important effects in reducing levels of stress and
providing restoration from mental fatigue (Ulrich, 1993; Kaplan, 1995). It may also positively affect inmate health as
indicated in several studies that found significantly reduced levels of illness reports (Moore, 1981; West, 1986) and
blood pressure (Moore, 1981) for inmates who had views of nature, compared to similar inmates without such
views. West (1986) found that the positive effect of nature views was strongest where inmate turnover (which can
increase stress in an institutional situation (Sundstrom & Altman, 1974)) was highest. Use of prison gardens has
also been proposed as a way to reduce prison stress (Lindemuth, 2007).
Nature views do not have to be of real environments to have a positive impact. Simulated views (such as slides or
Page 8 of 21
murals of nature scenes) have positive effects on stress reduction and mental restoration (Heerwagen, 1990;
Ulrich, 1999). In a recent intervention by Farbstein, Farling, and Wener (2009), data were collected from
corrections officers in a busy jail intake area before and after a large nature mural was introduced on the waiting
room wall. In the post-mural period, cognitive performance (digit span backward) was significantly better and there
was improved recovery from the stress of work shifts, as measured by change in heart rate variability.
Color
There has not been a great deal of attention to the use of color in correctional settings, and where color has been
addressed as a design issue, its use has not necessarily been based on research findings. Typically colors have
been used in the hope that a particular scheme or hue might lead to a calmer or more relaxing response. For
instance, colors have been suggested for use in Canadian correctional institutions to reduce tension (Krames &
Flett, 2000), though there is not any published information on effectiveness.
At one point many detention centers, juvenile facilities, and other residential institutions in the United States were
experimenting with the use of a shade known as Baker-Miller pink to calm highly aroused residents. Schauss (1979)
had proposed that short-term exposure to this color could quickly and significantly reduce aggressive behavior,
and was supported by anecdotal reports (Johnston, 1981) and quasi-experimental studies (Caudill, 1981; Pellegrini,
Schauss, & Miller, 1981). More recent studies with (p. 324) better control have shown mixed or negative effects
(Elliot et al., 2007; Gilliam & Unruh, 1988; Gilliam, 1991; Profusek & Rainey, 1987), and some have suggested that
something like the Hawthorne effect may be an explanation for positive results (Pellegrini et al., 1981).
Broader Architectural Issues

The history of prisons and jails is replete with examples of innovators who have developed novel programs for the
treatment of inmates, and often created physical environments to support those programs. One of the most daring
and innovative recent changes in the physical setting emerged in the 1970s when the US Bureau of Prisons (BOP)
opened three new jails for federal detainees, called Metropolitan Correctional Centers. These facilities emerged
from a long process of planning and development that was intended to change expectations for both inmates and
staff members, and radically alter the nature of officer-inmate interaction, in part by creating settings that were
more residential than institutional in appearance (Wener, 2005).
The direct supervision model involved several key alterations of standard operating procedures, all of which were
intimately linked to elements in the design of the physical environment. The key elements were (1) changing the
role of the officer to one that involves much more communication and even counseling; (2) taking officers out of
locked control rooms, separated from inmates, and placing them in living areas where they would interact directly
with inmates; (3) implementing decentralized, small living units where inmates could gain access to many
resources and officers could stay in constant contact with the inmates, which also allowed some measure of
unescorted inmate movement through the setting to reduce regimentation and the sense of confinement; and (4)
promoting the use of non-institutional, normalized environments, including the use of carpeting, residential
materials, bright colors, and soft materials.
Architects were asked by the BOP to design these jails to be secure, safe, and humane. These were pretrial
facilities in which inmates had the legal presumption of innocence, and a goal was to reduce the trauma of
incarceration with small living units that provided some measure of privacy (single cells with doors rather than
bars). These jails were located in city centers to ease movement to court, encourage family visiting, and allow for
work-release programs.
When these federal jails were opened in 1976, they were so different from most other jail designs that some
correctional professionals thought the model could not be applied to state, county, or city inmates. A few predicted
that it would be impossible to maintain control in such settings, which would result in widespread vandalisms and
assault (Anderson, 1983). Post-occupancy evaluations of these first prototypes, however, indicated that the plans
worked very well indeedbetter than expected by most correctional officials (Wener & Olsen, 1980). Both inmates
and staff reported that stress levels were lower than usual. There was very little damage to property, and even
fragile fixtures, such as residential-grade lamps and bulbs, were rarely broken. There was no visible graffiti. Serious
assaults, including sexual assaults, by inmates on other inmates or against staff members, were nonexistent during
Page 9 of 21
the first year after opening, and remained very rare afterward. The only areas within the jails that suffered any
amounts of significant vandalism at all were those few spaces (the intake holding areas where new inmates waited
for processing) that used designs much more like traditional jails.
These case studies concluded that the success of these new and innovative jails was related to the constant
casual level of communication between staff members and inmates, as supported by the architecture; the positive
behavioral expectations promoted by the quality of the design; the level of privacy afforded by the space; and the
level of control over exposure to social and environmental stressors available to inmates. Evaluations were also
conducted at the first local jails to adopt this model and they also noted low tension levels and very safe living
conditions (Frazier, 1985; Schneiger, 1985; Sigurdson, 1985; Wener, 1985; Zimring, 1989).
In the past three decades hundreds of new correctional institutions have made use of this model of design and
management (National Institute of Corrections Information Center, 2006), mostly in the United States but with some
diffusion to other countries (Hellmayer, 2005). Over three dozen case studies, longitudinal studies, and crosssectional comparisons have addressed the level and cause of the success of direct supervision design and
management (Wener, 2006). The most consistent finding has been that direct supervision correctional institutions
were perceived as safer and less stressful and had fewer incidents of violence and other serious kinds of
misconduct. This was accomplished while costing the same or less to build and operate than traditional jails
(Nelson, 1988a; Farbstein & Wener, 1989). In none of these studies did the traditional facilities perform better, and
only a few showed differences that were small or negligible.
(p. 325) An Environmental and Contextual Model of Violence

Direct supervision is both a management style and an approach to environmental design. Any impact on inmate
behavior is likely related to both, especially since behaviors in natural settings rarely have single direct
deterministic causes. A model that describes the causes of violence should be relevant to both direct supervision
and more traditional institutions. It needs to address the broad context of the setting as well as the elements that
can mediate and moderate effects (Baron & Kenny, 1986; Evans & Lepore, 1997).
The model, presented in Figure 17.1, suggests that the environment of the institution can influence the level of
violent behavior in several ways. Violent behavior is affected, in the first instance, by the institutional context,
which is made up by the physical environment (including spatial organization, ambient conditions, provisions for
privacy, and visibility), the nature of the organization (policies, procedures, oversight, and more), and the social
conditions (such as the number, qualities, and background of the staff members and inmates). The model suggests
that these have an impact in the degree to which inmates perceive themselves to be at risk of assault, the level at
which resources are viewed as scarce commodities, and the amount of stress and mental fatigue inmates and staff
members experience.
These responses to the environment result in a number of adaptive (often maladaptive) responses by inmates,
which can lead to increases or decreases in the level of violence. Inmates who see themselves in danger of
assault, for example, are likely to respond by finding some way of protecting themselves. They might seek to obtain
or make a weapon for self-protection. The more weapons that exist in the institution, the more other inmates, as
well as staff members, will be concerned and anxious. Inmates may respond in other ways, such as acting tough,
macho, or crazy, to scare off potential attackers or affiliating with a group or gang for self-protection. All of
these increase tension and the likelihood that some event will trigger a violent response.
In addition, aspects of institutional contextdesign, policy, and populationaffect the level of critical resources
available to inmates. Increases in perceived scarcity lead to competition, such as for food, cigarettes,2 the best
chair, television channel, or telephone, which creates the kind of friction that could also generate violent
responses. Environmental factors (such as crowding, noise and view) can also induce stress and mental fatigue,
which can make people irritable and reduce tolerance for frustration, also making conflict more likely.
An important moderator of violent behavior can be the apparent consequences of behaviors. That is, conditions
that increase the chances that assault or vandalism will be seen or otherwise attributed to the perpetrator, such as
high visibility and close contact between the officers and inmates, may inhibit the behavior.
Page 10 of 21

Figure 17.1 Environmental ModelInstitutional Violence.
The direct supervision model of correctional design and operations reduces violence by intervening in all of these
conditions. The close presence of officers increases the likelihood that staff members will be able to protect
inmates (reduce fear) by (p. 326) intervening in a conflict before it gets out of hand. They are more likely to
identify who caused a problem (consequences). Similarly, the ability of inmates to retreat to their room to avoid
conflict helps make inmates feel less at risk and less likely to resort to the kinds of response (weapons, etc.) that
increase tension throughout the living area (reduced stress). The fact that few weapons are typically found in
direct supervision jails, for instance, is probably due more to a reduced sense of need for self-protection than any
better ability to screen them out.
Further, there is greater freedom of movement and increased access to facilities within the direct supervision living
unit, and the responsiveness of staff members to inmate needs (reducing perceived scarcity) lessens the likelihood
of conflict caused by competition from resources. Living areas with a greater number of telephones and televisions
for inmates have less likelihood of conflict over their use.
Conclusion
Correctional environments exert powerful effects on inmate and staff members, but research on the degree and
causes of these impacts on psychological, behavioral, and psychophysiological variables is comparatively scant.
Moreover, some critical and potentially damaging spaces and issues are among the least studied. The inability to
conduct careful research in the high-security institutions that have the most extreme levels of isolation leaves us
speculating about the kind and degree of impact these settings have on their involuntary guests. It seems to be
more and more difficult to gain access to many institutions to collect psychological, behavioral, or
psychophysiological data. Most of the recent studies on crowding are cross-sectional studies that use broad,
system-wide data, from surveys and archival sources, rather than prospective data collection of the kind used by
Paulus (1988) and his colleagues.
Conditions in institutions can affect the individual, the group, and the organization. Crowding can lead to social
withdrawal and reduced cooperative behavior, cause stress-related effects on physical and mental health, and
lead to increased aggressiveness that can overwhelm services and programs and that can affect almost every
aspect of institutional functioning. The impact of crowding can be moderated by both physical design and
management strategies. On the other end of the spectrum, isolation can, at the very least, produce or exacerbate
social and psychological disturbances, reduce the ability of individuals to function well once they return to the
general population (and possibly to society), and increase the chances of self-harm.
Lack of privacy makes it hard for those inmates who have an interest in changing their behavior to engage in
reflection and self-evaluation. Exposure to uncontrollable noise results in reduced tolerance for frustration,
increased irritability and argumentativeness, and greater likelihood of responding aggressively to provocations.
Lack of access to nature can increase stress and irritability and decrease ability to recover from attentional
fatigue, all of which can make aggressive behavior more likely. Reduced exposure to daylight can affect mood and
health, and reduce sleep quality.
Sleep is an issue that is little discussed or studied in correctional contexts, even though it can have significant
behavioral and health effects. Sleep deprivation harms physical and mental health, mood, and behavior. There
Page 11 of 21
may be a negative relationship between the amount of sleep and aggressive behavior. Sleep can be affected by
many of the conditions we have discussed in these chaptersprivacy, crowding, lighting (and darkening), and
noise. Trying to get a good nights sleep in a crowded space when regularly exposed to others, in an environment
that is too bright and noisy, would be challenging to most people.
Physical, organizational, and social conditions that increase the likelihood that inmates will be fearful for their own
safety can trigger maladaptive responses that increase both perceived and objective risk. Approaches that use
both design and organizational innovations to reduce risk and fear have led to safer, less assaultive, and less
vandalized settings.
Future Directions
1. Further research on the impact of correctional settings on behavior is needed. The problem for
researchers is in getting into prisons to conduct studies. This is especially true for the most extreme settings,
such as Supermax institutions, where the impacts are likely to be the strongest but where gaining access for
research is most difficult.
2. With increasing numbers of inmates being placed in long-term isolation, controlled longitudinal studies are
needed to determine the level of stress, impacts on behavior and psychopathology, and long-term effects on
social adjustment within and outside the institution.
3. Research is needed about the effects of daylight and electric lighting, and views of nature on variables
such as quality of sleep, mood, cognitive performance, and aggressive behavior. (p. 327) Attention to these
environmental qualities in design offers important potential benefits for inmates and staff members.
4. Although correctional staff recognize noise levels as important, relatively little attention has been paid to
the impacts of noise or the benefits that can come from improved acoustic design in prisons and jails.
5. There has been little attention to the potential effects of design on the critical long-term outcome of
recidivism, other than one study that suggested that even brief exposure to direct supervision living units
could have positive effects (Applegate, Surette, & McCarthy, 1999).
6. The limits and robustness of direct supervision as a design and management system need further
exploration. What are the critical design and management parameters and how far can they be stretched
before the quality of the environment and staff and inmate safety suffer?
7. Violent behavior remains the defining concern for correctional managers. There is a need to better
understand how the context affects the risk of assault, such as through tests of the violence model offered
here.
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Notes:
(1.) Much of the information in this chapter is adapted from Wener, R. (2012). The environmental psychology of
prisons and jails: Creating human spaces environments in secure settings. New York: Cambridge University Press.
(2.) Though most American prisons and jails are now smoke-free.
Richard E. Wener
Richard E. Wener Department of Humanities and Social Sciences Polytechnic Institute of New York University New York, NY
Page 21 of 21
Natural Landscapes

Natural Landscapes
Massimiliano Scopelliti, Giuseppe Carrus, and Mirilia Bonnes
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0018

This chapter presents an overview of theories and empirical research on human relations to natural landscapes.
The first part reviews evolutionary models and related research on preference for natural landscapes. The role of
several environmental properties in promoting individual adaptive response to natural settings is examined. Then
the response to natural landscapes is discussed through the analysis of the relationships between preference and
either actual or perceived opportunity for psychological restoration. The role of cognitive and affective mediators
in the search for adaptation to the environment is also outlined. In the second part, moving from an evolutionary
and cognitive to a social psychological frame of reference, the role of worldviews, values, and attitudesand their
sociocultural correlatesin the transaction with natural landscapes and resources is analyzed, and the
possibilities for both positive and negative human responses to natural landscapes are illustrated. Finally,
directions for future research are identified.
Keywords: natural landscapes, evolutionary models, psychological restoration, sociocultural models, worldviews, values, attitudes, social dilemmas,
health
Introduction
What are the bases of human relations with natural landscapes? What are the psychological processes implied in
these relations? Natural landscapes can be defined as environmental scenes, totally or predominantly untouched
by human activity, of smaller or larger extent, that can be seen in one view from one place. By assuming this
perspective, the psychological literature on natural landscape has traditionally focused on the visual properties of
the environment, and on human responses to these properties.
Beyond the expert and experiential approaches, the former based on professionals judgments and the latter
on subjective meanings and impressions of particular persons (Zube, Sell, & Taylor, 1982), environmental
psychology has mostly analyzed individual responses to natural landscapes on a more scientific ground according
to two main perspectives. The psychophysical approach has considered human responses to natural landscapes
as a way to gain information about the properties of the landscapes that contribute to its quality; this implies a
focus on the physical properties of the landscape. A positive response by people is supposed to be associated
with the quality of the environment. This perspective is thus aimed at understanding the physical characteristics of
the environment that are more likely to elicit positive responses. The idea behind the psychophysical approach is
that a quantitative relation between the level of physical properties of the environment and the amount of human
responses can be identified. As a result, human responses can be translated into objective and reliable indexes of
quality (Daniel, 1990).
The relation between physical and subjective measures is usually investigated by recruiting (p. 333) adequate
samples of respondents who are asked to give their evaluation of several landscapes, differing in the levels of
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physical features. Among the physical properties of the environment, degree of wilderness, level of biodiversity,
plant coverage rate, grass and shrubs rate, and amount of water have often been considered as potential features
promoting positive responses by people; among the measures of positive human response, subjective judgments
of aesthetic or visual quality and scenic beauty (Feimer, Smardon, & Craik, 1981; Daniel & Vining, 1983; Daniel,
1990) or preference (e.g., Schroeder, 1987) have been most frequently used. The Scenic Beauty Estimation (SBE)
is a traditional method developed in this respect (Daniel & Boster, 1976). Through appropriate statistical
procedures, including multiple regression analyses, SBE, considered as a subjective response, can be derived in a
prediction model as a function of various physical features of the environment, each contributing to a different
extent to overall SBE. Once this relation has been established, natural landscape quality can be objectively
assessed through the measurement of relevant physical features, and evaluations of selected observers are no
longer needed (Daniel & Vining, 1983). For example, in a study on agricultural landscapes in Spain, Arriaza,
Caas-Ortega, Caas-Madueo, and Ruiz-Aviles (2004) found that the degree of wilderness, the presence of wellpreserved man-made elements, the percentage of plant cover, the amount of water, the presence of mountains,
and the color contrast were all factors contributing to overall visual quality.
On the other hand, the psychological approach has considered human responses to natural landscapes as a way
to analyze the cognitive, affective, and behavioral processes implied in people-environment transactions. Human
responses to natural landscapes are still considered a way to gain information about the quality of the
environment, as feelings, perceptions, and behaviors may range from positive, to neutral, to negative. Differently
from the psychophysical approach, however, human responses to perceived (not objective) properties of the
landscape are analyzed. The psychological approach is thus aimed at understanding whether and how specific
perceived properties of the environment are associated with positive or negative emotional, cognitive, and
behavioral human responses. Aesthetic response (Berlyne, 1971) or preference (Herzog, 1985; Herzog & Bosley,
1992; Kaplan, 1985), approach/exploration or contemplation (Ulrich, 1993; Heerwagen & Orians, 1993), stress
reduction (Ulrich, 1983), and recovery of attentional capacities (Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989) have been mostly
analyzed as relevant positive human responses toand outcomes ofnature experience, in the cognitive,
affective, and behavioral domains.
Studies in this field have identified many perceived properties of natural landscapes influencing human responses,
such as:
visual depth or openness, which refers to the amount of unobstructed space that it is possible to see in the
landscape (Kaplan, Kaplan, & Brown, 1989; Ulrich, 1983)
the degree to which the landscape contains a focal point, which refers to the presence of one or more
dominant elements in the scene that attract the observers attention (Kaplan, 1992; Ulrich, 1983)
the smoothness of the ground surface, which suggests ease of movement (Herzog, 1985; Kaplan et al., 1989;
Ulrich, 1977)
the degree of coherence (the extent to which the elements of the environment combine to one another),
complexity (the richness and variety of elements in the environment), legibility (the ease of comprehending the
environment and of finding ones way), and mystery (the promise of new and relevant information going deeper
in the environment), the informational variables that give the observer knowledge about how the environment
is organized, what is going on, and how to manage it effectively (Kaplan, 1987)
the natural character of the landscape itself, often contrasted to predominantly man-made sceneries (Purcell,
Lamb, Mainardi, Peron, & Falchero, 1994; Ulrich, 1986).
Perceived Environmental Properties of Natural Landscapes and Preference

Some traditional research areas can be identified in environmental psychology, with reference to the psychological
responses to natural landscapes, and to the way these responses are related to the perceived properties
mentioned before. The study of environmental aesthetics is undoubtedly one of the most extensively addressed,
and stems from Berlynes model of aesthetic responses to stimuli. According to Berlyne (1971), all stimuli have the
potential to arouse an observer. The level of arousal is determined by a comparison between the present stimulus
and those experienced in the past, and the resulting discrepancy. The amount of discrepancy emerging from this
comparison is associated with the level of collative variables of the (p. 334) stimulus, namely incongruity,
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complexity, novelty, and surprise. Berlynes theory suggests that aesthetic responses of pleasure for any stimuli
follow an inverted U-shape, as a function of the stimuluss arousal potential, which is determined by its collative
variables. Intermediate levels of incongruity, complexity, novelty, and surprise are thus associated with most
positive responses. Wohlwill (1976) proposed an application of Berlynes theory to the field of environmental
perception. Environmental research has thus applied this theory to the study of natural landscapes, trying to verify
whether moderate levels of collative variables were associated with preference. Results of empirical research on
natural landscapes have often been inconsistent with Berlynes (1971) model. Complexity was the collative
variable that received the most attention at the beginning. Kaplan, Kaplan, and Wendt (1972) found a positive
linear relationship between complexity and preference for natural environments, even though no environments
with extreme (very low or very high) levels of complexity were included in their study. Herzog (1987) developed an
analysis of preference for natural landscapes with reference to different categories of environment, namely,
mountains, canyons, and deserts. Among other variables, the role of complexity in predicting preference emerged,
although with specific differences among categories, and the trend of the relationship was still linear. With
reference to the other collative variables, coherence (which recalls incongruity) has consistently shown a positive
linear relationship with preference in forest landscapes (Herzog, 1984; Herzog & Kropscott, 2004), waterscapes
(Herzog, 1985), and agrarian landscapes (Strumse, 1994). Specific studies on the relationships between novelty,
surprise, and preference for natural landscapes are mostly missing. However, Wohlwill (1976) suggested that the
limited evidence supporting the inverted U-shaped relationship between levels of collative variables and
preference might depend on the choice of the natural landscapes to be evaluated in the studies, usually lacking
extreme examples of complexity, coherence, novelty, and surprise, and on other methodological shortcomings in
the manipulation of the variables.
The role of discrepancy in producing arousal, and its relations with preference for natural landscapes, was
considered from a different perspective by Purcell (1992). In his view, the experience of a landscape is not simply
related to its physical properties, but stems from past experience with similar exemplars, which contributed to the
development of general knowledge structures. Knowledge structures are cognitive representations of categories of
objects (and landscapes in this case) that share regularities. Regularities can exist at both abstract (or higher) and
specific (or lower) level. At the abstract level, natural landscapes are characterized by physical attributes such as
the scale of the scene, the degree of naturalness, distinct topographic features (e.g., landform and soil color), and
amount of water. These attributes make a natural landscape more or less typical, as the general representation of
nature includes these features. The less these attributes are present, the more atypical the landscape is in the
category of natural landscapes, and the more it becomes typical in other categories, such as residential or
industrial scenes.
At the specific level, natural landscapes are characterized by physical attributes such as tree species, branch
structure, shrub shape, and color of vegetation. These attributes make a natural landscape more or less familiar,
as people in a given geographical location are more used to experiencing specific tree species, branch structures,
shrub shapes, and colors of vegetation. According to Purcell (1992), it is the discrepancy between the specific
landscape under vision and the general knowledge structure that induces arousal, and again, moderate levels of
discrepancy are supposed to be associated with higher preference. But to express preference, at what level of
abstraction do we need to experience the discrepancy from the knowledge structure? Through a comparison
between home and outside natural landscapes, Purcell (1992) has shown that discrepancy associated with
preference is experienced at the specific level. Home and outside natural landscapes do not differ at the
abstract level, as both have examples covering the full range of typicality (i.e., from low to high level of scale,
naturalness, topography, and water). Conversely, they differ at the specific level, as home natural landscapes
have been repeatedly experienced, and are thus more familiar, while outside have not been experienced, and
are thus less familiar, in terms of tree species, branch structure, shrub shape, and color of vegetation. Indeed,
these findings showed that the less familiar outside natural landscapes were preferred, and this is consistent with
the view that preference can be related to attributes of knowledge structures at the specific level.
Within a cognitive framework, Kaplan (1987) proposed a different model of environmental preference. In his theory,
preference is guided by an information-processing mechanism, through which (p. 335) people try to make sense
of the organization of the environment. Understanding and exploration are thus major goals of people-environment
transactions, and environments supporting both processes are likely to be preferred. Understanding and
exploration can be promoted by both immediate or inferred information. Environments showing high levels of the
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informational variables supporting understanding (i.e., coherence, immediate, and legibility, inferred) and
exploration (i.e., complexity, immediate, and mystery, inferred) are associated with higher preference. Empirical
research on natural landscapes has supported this model. Beyond coherence and complexity, discussed above,
also legibility and mystery emerged as relevant predictors of preference for natural landscapes. For example,
Herzog and Leverick (2003) and Herzog and Kropscott (2004) found that legibility is a relevant predictor of
preference in forest landscapes, and visual access plays a central role in making this setting category highly
legible. With reference to mystery, empirical research was more extensive, but more controversial, at the same
time. Mystery was found to be both positively and negatively associated with preference, depending on the
context: in urban settings, mystery is often associated with perceived danger, and thus preference decreases; in
fields and forest landscapes, mystery is positively associated with preference (Herzog & Smith, 1988; Herzog &
Miller, 1998). In natural environments, van den Berg and ter Heijne (2005) have identified close encounters with
potentially dangerous animals, forceful natural situations (windstorms, thunder, rushing rivers, etc.), overwhelming
situations (e.g., the size of a forest), and loss of orientation as factors that may turn the positive aspects of mystery
into fear. Several studies have shown that mystery is negatively correlated with preference in forest and field
settings, but when it is associated with visual access and ease of penetration and movement in the environment,
this relationship becomes positive (Herzog & Kirk, 2005; Herzog & Kropscott, 2004; Herzog & Kutzli, 2002).
Herzog and Bryce (2007) have proposed that inconsistent findings could have two explanations. First, no clear
distinction in the level of visual access in forest landscape categories was made. With very low visual access
landscapes, mystery is confused with surprise, because low visibility impedes continuity of information with what is
already available, which is a fundamental aspect of mystery. This environmental condition makes surprise possible,
but not mystery. Forest landscapes with very low levels of visual access should thus be distinguished from forest
landscapes with greater visual access as a separate category. Second, no clear distinction between mystery and
surprise was made in the definitions of mystery used by previous studies. An improved definition in this regard
should hence be used. By considering the specific distinction in forest landscape categories, as well as an
improved definition of mystery, the authors argue for a positive relation between mystery and preference for forest
landscapes in both low- and high-visual access settings, and found empirical support for their argument. Stamps
(2007) has also recently identified several environmental features playing a role in shaping the levels of
environmental mystery, such as light, visual occlusion, and, partially, visual depth.
In a meta-analysis on the role of the four informational variables in predicting preference for both natural and built
landscapes, Stamps (2004) found huge differences across the studies in the direction and power of the
relationships. The author emphasized that results have not been reproducible given the heterogeneity in the
procedures (choice of environments, materials of presentation, definitions of the variables, sampling methods,
etc.). Together with informational variables, other perceived environmental factors were found to affect preference
for natural landscapes: among the others, the role of visual depth, spaciousness (the extent to which it is possible
to wander in the setting), and smoothness (uniformity of the ground) was ascertained (Herzog, 1985, 1987; Herzog
& Kutzli, 2002; Kaplan et al., 1989).
Responses to Natural Landscapes: Evolutionary Models

Instead of considering preference within a perspective of pure aesthetics, some authors have suggested that such
a response, often expressed easily, rapidly, and without full awareness, can be considered as an automatic guide
to adaptive behaviors. As a consequence, preference for specific environmental features of natural landscapes
may hide an evolutionary bias, leading the individual away from potentially harmful situations and toward favorable
ones. In this vein, Appleton (1975) pointed out that environmental features such as visual depth, spaciousness,
and smoothness of the ground might be preferred because they provide a wide view of what is going on in the
environment, including the potential presence of threats and resources for survival. Using the authors own words,
they provide prospect. In addition, from an evolutionary perspective, also having a safe hiding place from which
(p. 336) it is possible to see what is going on in the environment without being seen would confer an adaptive
advantage to the individual. Using the authors own words, preference should encompass also refuge. The
prospect and refuge model was assumed as a theoretical framework in many studies on preference for natural
landscapes (Hagerhall, 2000; Hammitt & Ruddell, 1987; Nasar, Julian, Buchman, Humphreys, & Mrohaly, 1983;
Woodcock, 1984). For example, Nasar et al. (1983) conducted a field study in which students were accompanied
to one of four sites, resulting in a combination of prospect and refuge (open view and protected observation point,
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open view and unprotected observation point, closed view and protected observation point, closed view and
unprotected observation point). Judgments of preference, arousal, and safety were collected. Although the
landscapes with open view were considered as safer, the effect of refuge on preference was not always
significant; males, for example, expressed more liking toward the setting with less refuge. In a study on Swedish
landscapes, Hagerhall (2000) applied a cluster analysis to study the relationships between different environmental
attributes (including prospect and refuge) and preference. It was found that perceived safety (which also
encompasses some aspects of refuge) clustered with preference, while overview (which was used to communicate
prospect) formed a different cluster. With reference to the absence of relations between overview (prospect) and
preference, the author suggested that the term used could have been misleading, as the respondents attention
would have probably been drawn to the richness, shape, and distribution of trees and bushes instead of the
openness of the view.
From a different perspective, Ulrich (1983) suggested that although all the perceived environmental variables
considered by the literature can affect preference, it is the natural character of landscapes in itself that evokes a
positive response by the observer. His perspective stems from an evolutionary model of human response to
natural environments, called the biophilia hypothesis (Kellert & Wilson, 1993; Wilson, 1984). According to the
biophilia hypothesis, human beings, who have evolved in natural environments, have developed an innate
tendency to positively respond to nature as a consequence of an adaptation process. In line with the biophilia
hypothesis, Ulrich (1983) suggested that a positive affective response to nature, as expressed in terms of liking or
preference, can have several advantages to human survival, and thus it is likely that evolution has supported such
a response. For example, preference is likely to promote approach and exploration of nature, and this brings to
knowledge of the environments, namely where it was possible to find resources for survival (e.g., food, water,
hiding places) and threats to be avoided (e.g., wild animals, ravines). In addition, Ulrich (1983) proposed that liking
and preference can promote also other activities that may have adaptive outcomes as well, for example, sustained
contemplation and nonvigilant attention. Contemplation of a likeable environment can induce positive feelings and
thoughts, and thus offer a respite from stress. Within this framework, Ulrich (1983) has put forward his stress
reduction theory (SRT) with reference to human response to natural landscapes.
The stress reduction effect of people-nature relation consistently emerged in many experimental studies, in which
psychophysical (e.g., cortical activity, heart rate, blood pressure, skin conductance) and psychological (e.g.,
affective states, such as expressed fear, anger, sadness) measures of stress were considered (Ulrich, 1979, 1981;
Ulrich et al., 1991; Hartig, Mang, & Evans 1991; Laumann, Grling, & Stormark, 2003; Hartig et al., 2003). The
general methodology of these studies, employing a pre-post design, was based on a comparison of stress
reduction for respondents in different experimental conditions, namely the (direct or simulated) exposure to natural
versus urban landscapes. Results have consistently shown that the experience of natural (vs. urban) landscapes
promotes stress reduction. For example, Ulrich et al. (1991) first showed 120 subjects a stressful movie and then
randomly assigned them to viewing a recovery video in one out of three experimental conditions (natural
landscape, urban setting with traffic, urban setting with pedestrians). The authors registered both physiological
(i.e., heart rate, muscle tension, skin conductance, and blood pressure) and psychological (i.e., self-reported
positive and negative affect) measures of stress. Physiological measures were registered throughout the
experiment, while psychological measures were collected before and after the stressful movie, and after the
recovery video. Findings from the physiological and psychological measures converged to indicate that stress
recovery was faster and more complete when subjects were exposed to the natural landscape compared to the
urban environments.
Within an evolutionary framework, Kaplan and Kaplan (1989) have put forward a different model explaining the
positive response to natural (p. 337) landscapes. Instead of considering human response to natural landscapes
with respect to stress reduction, they emphasized the adaptive outcomes of people-nature relation in terms of
effective cognitive functioning. A key concept of their attention restoration theory (ART) is directed attention.
Directed attention is a fundamental mechanism in everyday human behavior, as it allows people to focus on stimuli
that may be uninteresting in themselves, but nonetheless important to attend to. Just think about a boring text you
have to study to go through an exam. In a classical and comprehensive work, James (1892) has argued that
directed attention is voluntary and requires effort, as uninteresting stimuli can be adequately taken into account
only when potential distractions are warded off. Moving a step further, Kaplan and Kaplan (1989) have suggested
that such an inhibitory mechanism, necessary to avoid distractions, is susceptible to fatigue from repeated use. In
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addition, the ultimate state of being mentally fatigued can be reached also when our activities are pleasant, but
require a prolonged cognitive effort.
Kaplan (1995) has discussed the negative outcomes of losing an effective cognitive functioning, in terms of inability
to select relevant information for the task at hand, difficulties to think and plan solutions for occurring problems,
and increased tendency to impulsive, not reflected, and then potentially inappropriate behaviors. To allow this
inhibitory mechanism to recover, it must go unused for some time. People then have to be exposed to stimuli that
are capable to catch their interest automatically and without mental effort, so that the use of directed attention
becomes temporarily unnecessary. These stimuli can be experienced through the use of a different mechanism,
called involuntary attention. What can be these stimuli? According to Kaplan and Kaplan (1989), stimuli that have to
do with human evolution are interesting in themselves, and thus likely to draw peoples attention through
involuntary attention. Natural landscapes are an example of those stimuli. ART hence postulates that the relation
with natural landscapes can allow people to recover an effective cognitive functioning.
Evidence of the restorative effect of nature on cognitive functioning is largely provided in the literature (Berto,
2005; Hartig et al., 1991, 2003; Laumann et al., 2003; Tennessen & Cimprich, 1995). For example, Hartig et al.
(1991) have compared the recovery of directed attention, as well as physiological restoration, in natural versus
non-natural settings, through a quasi-experimental and a true experimental field study. Wilderness backpackers,
non-wilderness vacationists, and people engaged in everyday routines were compared in the first study. Subjects
who had been cognitively fatigued and then randomly assigned to a natural walk, urban walk, or passive relaxation
in a comfortable room were compared in the second study. Baseline and pre-post treatment measures of
physiological stress and cognitive performance were administered. Taken together, the results of the two studies
showed higher stress reduction and recovery of directed attention in participants exposed to natural environments.
Tennessen and Cimprich (1995) have studied the cognitive restoration promoted by natural landscapes in a
different setting, namely dormitories for university students. Views from dormitory windows afforded different kinds
of landscape, which were categorized into four groups ranging from all natural to all built. Cognitive restoration of
university students was analyzed through both neurocognitive and subjective measures of directed attention. The
view of natural landscapes was associated with better performance on the different measures of directed attention.
Although stress recovery and attention restoration are distinct processes occurring in natural environments, they
are far from being independent. Kaplan (1995) has argued how even stress and mental fatigue can concur or the
former be the cause, or the consequence, of the latter. For example, a stressful event can lead to mobilization of
cognitive resources to deal with the harmful situation, and this can lead to exhaustion and mental fatigue.
Alternatively, the effort required by the task at hand can exhaust cognitive resources, and this can lead to both a
negative performance and a stress response. Likewise, the experience of natural landscapes can allow stress
recovery and attention restoration to mutually reinforce each other. Laumann et al. (2003) found that mentally
fatigued individuals have a better performance on a cognitive task after viewing a video of a natural landscape, as
compared to individuals who had viewed an urban video. During the video presentation, the nature group showed
a significant decrease in an autonomic stress measure (i.e., heart rate). The authors claimed that reduced stress
associated with viewing the natural landscape engendered an improvement of cognitive resources in the nature
group compared to the urban group.
In a field study, Hartig et al. (2003) studied stress recovery and cognitive restoration in two groups of subjects,
randomly assigned to a natural or an urban condition. Stress recovery was analyzed through physiological (i.e.,
blood pressure) and psychological (p. 338) (i.e., self-reported positive and negative affect) measures. Cognitive
restoration was analyzed through the performance on an attentional test. The experimental conditions included
both viewing and walking into a natural versus non-natural environment. To manipulate participants need for
restoration, half of the subjects for each experimental condition were mentally fatigued before the treatment.
Baseline, ongoing, and final measures of stress and cognitive resources levels were recorded. Physiological stress
reduction was higher in the natural versus non-natural group during both the vision and the walking phase, but
improvements rapidly dissipated after the walk. With reference to self-reported measures, positive affect increased
and negative affect decreased in the natural group at the end of the walk; the opposite pattern emerged in the
non-natural group. Both self-reported measures of stress reduction were better for the nature group in the not
fatigued condition. Performance on the attentional test improved a little in the natural group from the baseline to the
midpoint of the walk, while it declined in the non-natural group. This performance gap persisted at the end of the
walk. Overall, the authors claimed that stress reduction and cognitive restoration processes may complement one
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another, manifesting in different positive physiological and psychological outcomes that emerge at different rates,
and persist over time to a different extent.
Can we think of natural landscapes as undifferentiated beneficial environments? If not, what kind of natural
landscapes are more likely to elicit a positive response? If an evolutionary explanation lies behind the positive
response to nature, natural environments in which human beings evolved should promote the best responses. This
perspective was exposed in the savanna hypothesis by Orians (1986). The savanna hypothesis predicts a
preference for the savanna-type landscape, in which the first steps of human evolution were likely taken. The
savanna environment provided the essential for human survival: food, trees for protection from predators, and
open views from which it was possible to see both predator and prey (prospect and refuge, in Appletons view
mentioned before). Besides open views and refuge spots, other environmental features reminiscent of savanna
habitats should be generally preferred. Acacia trees existed in the African savanna and were associated with
favorable habitats for survival (Orians, 1986). Tree form recalling acacia trees has thus been considered as a
potentially relevant factor in explaining preference for natural landscapes in several studies. Research showed
that trees with acacia-like characteristics, such as spreading canopies, rounded forms, and short trunks, are
generally preferred over other tree forms (Sommer & Summit, 1995; Summit & Sommer, 1999). In addition, the
savanna hypothesis predicts that individuals prefer trees with spreading forms because of unaware and longestablished positive associations with the habitats in which they evolved. If this hypothesis is correct, then people
from different cultures are expected to show a preference for trees with acacia-like characteristics. Cross-cultural
studies have empirically supported this hypothesis (Orians, 1986; Orians & Heerwagen, 1992; Sommer, 1997).
Results suggesting an overall preference for savanna over other biomes were indeed reported in several other
studies (Balling & Falk, 1982; Falk & Balling, 2010).
Sociocultural Models of Preference for Natural Landscapes

Human beings are not only biological entities, equipped by evolution to achieve a perfect adaptation with their
physical surroundings. They are also social individuals, inserted in environments that are filled with cultural
meanings, providing knowledge tools for an effective sociocultural adaptation. In this view, the evolutionary-based
positive responses toward natural landscapes are likely to represent a starting point on which socialization and
learning processes contribute to build up more complex people-nature transactions. Falk and Balling (2010) have
thus proposed a more comprehensive model of landscape preference, starting from an evolutionary and biological
interpretation of human response to nature, and then in accordance with a sociocultural conception of human
development. The authors pointed out that human landscape preferences can be best understood as a
continuous progression of aesthetic ideals, tempered by social convention, passed on from one generation to the
next through human culture (p. 487). Along with this perspective, all human behaviors, and landscape
preferences as well, should be considered as the product of our culture and history. The authors clearly refer to a
view of the individual as a sociocultural entity that has a long-established tradition in social sciences, and
particularly in psychological disciplines through earlier works of L. S. Vygotsky (1978) and, more recently, U.
Bronfenbrenner (1979).
The model proposed by Falk and Balling (2010) comes to summarize a wide empirical analysis of the role of
sociocultural influences on preference for natural landscapes. In a seminal study, Balling and Falk (1982) found
that American respondents, regardless of age and educational and socioeconomic background, prefer savanna
landscapes at least as much as more familiar natural settings, namely deciduous and coniferous forests. However,
younger subjects demonstrated a significant preference for savannas over all other environments. Savanna and
the familiar environments were also significantly preferred by all age groups over two other biomes, namely desert
and tropical rainforest. The authors argued that the evolutionary bias in favor of savanna is initially expressed by
children, and then modified by experience with other biomes. The data supported the savanna hypothesis, as
savanna was never significantly less preferred than the more familiar environments for any participant. However,
the role of some cultural bias over this innate tendency clearly emerged. Zube, Pitt, and Evans (1983) found strong
differences between children, adults, and elderly groups in preference judgments for several categories of natural
landscapes. Lyons (1983) showed that not only age, but also gender and residential experience (urban vs. rural)
can influence preference judgments for different natural landscapes, with familiarity playing a major role in
judgments. Strumse (1996) analyzed evaluations toward different landscape categories in Norway and found both
similarities and differences among respondents in their preference for natural versus human-influenced
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landscapes. Preference for natural landscapes was consistently higher, supporting evolutionary models of
preference. However, evident group differences emerged with respect to several demographic factors, above all
gender, membership in environmental groups, expertise with natural landscapes (e.g., comparing students of
landscape-related disciplines vs. psychology), and density of residential areas. Van den Berg, Vlek, and Coeterier
(1998) found that aesthetic evaluation of different natural landscapes is influenced by the different user
background as well, namely being residents, farmers, visitors, or experts. Educational level more than familiarity
emerged as a relevant factor in explaining the different user background.
Sociocultural influences on preference for natural landscapes were also analyzed through cross-cultural studies.
Kaplan and Herbert (1987) compared preference judgments for Australian forest and open-area landscapes in
three groups, namely American students, Australian students, and members of the wildflower society of Western
Australia. This allowed them to perform both a cross-cultural and a subcultural comparison. Correlations between
groups were very high, showing strong similarities between the two cultures. However, interesting differences also
emerged. Both Australian groups showed higher mean preference ratings, which can be explained through a
familiarity effect. Subcultural differences also emerged, with wildflower society members showing a higher
preference for native eucalyptus tree landscapes than imported pinewood landscapes. This difference did not
emerge for students. Herzog, Herbert, Kaplan, and Crooks (2000) included a broader sample of settings, namely
human-influenced natural landscapes, open coarse and open smooth landscapes (both with little vegetation),
agrarian landscapes, vegetation landscapes, and rivers landscapes, and examined several subcultural groupings.
American students were compared to several Australian sub-cultural groups, namely students, who were further
divided by age, and adults, who were further divided into four professional groups. The strong correlations
between preference judgments of American and Australian participants can be interpreted with reference to both
evolution and cross-cultural affinities. Similarities in expressed judgments included the lowest level of preference
for the human-influenced and the two open landscape categories. In addition, vegetation and agrarian landscapes
were significantly more preferred, and similar in preference judgments to each other. The most preferred category,
significantly above all others, was rivers for both cultural groups. Small differences also emerged, with the greatest
divergence coming from the four professional groups of Australian adults. Clear age differences were also outlined,
and age trends were very similar in the American and Australian cultures. Adults showed greater internal variability
in preference judgments across landscape categories compared to the other age groups, while correlations
reported among younger respondents were much higher. The authors interpreted this trend as the result of a
developmental sequence, in which cultural influences are presumably stronger with increasing age maturity; this,
in turn, might explain the distinctive patterns in preferences.
Cross-cultural comparisons of preference for natural landscape were also developed between very different
cultural groups. Yang and Brown (1992) compared preference for natural landscape in Western (European and
American) and Eastern participants (Korean). Beyond commonand presumably evolution-basedpositive
responses for water, dense vegetation, and rounded forms, both Western and Eastern groups showed a
preference (p. 340) for landscape styles not matching their own cultural experience. This shows the influence of
enculturation on preference judgments, but the direction of preference judgments is more in accordance with the
role of the unfamiliar experience suggested by Purcell (1992).
Falk and Balling (2010) have recently found further empirical support to their sociocultural model of landscape
preference. They compared preferences for natural landscapes representing five biomes, namely tropical rain
forest, temperate deciduous forest, temperate coniferous forest, tropical savanna, and mid-latitude desert in three
different populations in Nigeria. Results are consistent with earlier findings, showing that individuals have an innate
preference for savanna-like settings, but this preference is then modified through experience and enculturation.
What can be the social and cultural factors involved in the formation of individual responses to natural
landscapes? Socialization within specific social and cultural environments is likely to shape evolutionary bias, and
thus the role of acquired knowledge and preferences, as expressed through psychological constructs such as
values and attitudes, should manifest beyond cross-cultural regularities. These factors will be discussed more
thoroughly in the next paragraphs.
Worldviews, Values, and Behaviors Toward Nature and Natural Environments

In the past four decades, a great deal of research in environmental psychology has been devoted to investigating
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the social and cultural processes at the basis of peoples awareness of, beliefs on, and concern for nature and
natural environments. Typically, these studies tried to identify the main public opinions about nature and natural
resources, and the attitudes and beliefs shared across different social groups in industrialized countries (Dunlap &
Van Liere, 1978; Weigel & Weigel, 1978). Dunlap and Van Liere (1978) defined these belief systems as
worldviews or primitive belief systems, and argued that, since the mid-1970s, a new environmental paradigm
(NEP) has gradually replaced the former traditional and anti-ecological dominant social paradigm (DSP). This has
also been labeled as human exception paradigm (HEP), based on the idea that human beings, unlike other living
beings, are exempt from the constraints of nature. As these authors proposed later on, We [humans] are in the
midst of a fundamental re-evaluation of the underlying world view that has guided our relationship to the physical
environment. In particular suggestions that a more ecologically sound world view is emerging have gained
credibility in the past decades (Dunlap, Van Liere, Merting, & Jones, 2000, p. 426). The NEP Scale, which is a
specific psychometric instrument proposed by these authors originally in 1978 to measure such a new worldview,
became very popular in the ensuing years, and was used by many scholars in different countries. Its updated
version (Dunlap et al., 2000) includes the most recent orientations of the sustainable development perspective. In
the NEP Scale, this ecologically sound worldview seems mostly based on the new awareness of the following
aspects: (a) the existence of limits in the availability and use of natural resources by humans; (b) the fragility of the
so-called natural balances; and (c) the need for human activities to value natural resources for their own sake
rather than exclusively dominate on them for exclusive human purposes.
During the 1990s, other studies were also aimed at investigating the different values or ethical principles forming
the basis for pro-environmental attitudes and behaviors. For example, the importance of universal and altruistic
values, compared to individual and egoistic ones, has often been shown (e.g., Schwartz, 1994; Stern & Dietz,
1994), as well as the importance of the so-called post-materialist values (Inglehart, 1997). Other studies also
emphasized the ethical implications connected with environmental values (Katz, 1997).
A further possible distinction about human ideological positions toward nature that was proposed in this field of
research refers to the ecocentrism vs. anthropocentrism (Thompson & Barton, 1994), or biocentrism vs.
anthropocentrism (McFarlane & Boxall, 2000) dichotomies. Ecocentric or biocentric individuals should be more
willing to conserve nature for its own sake, across different contexts and situations, compared to anthropocentric
individuals, who, in contrast, should be more willing to conserve nature only when linked to any specific advantage
for human beings. Starting from the NEP-HEP and ecocentrism-anthropocentrism distinctions, Corral-Verdugo,
Carrus, Bonnes, Moser, and Sinha (2008) have recently proposed an updated conceptual framework, and a related
measuring instrument, which should more explicitly encompass the sustainable development concept put forward
by the United Nations since the publication of the so-called Brundtland Report (WCED, 1987). In particular, based
also on results of previous studies (e.g., Bechtel, Corral-Verdugo, & Pinheiro, 1999; (p. 341) Bechtel, CorralVerdugo, Asai, & Gonzlez, 2006), Corral-Verdugo et al. (2008) suggested that the elements of this dichotomy
might not necessarily be conceived as contradictory and pertaining to incompatible belief systems, at least in some
specific cultures. For example, it was found that these two belief systems were independent among US people, but
positively correlated among Brazilian, Japanese, and Mexican people (Bechtel et al., 1999, 2006; Corral-Verdugo &
Armendriz, 2000). Therefore, Corral-Verdugo et al. (2008) proposed a new measuring instrument, labeled as new
human interdependence paradigm or NHIP Scale, tapping this possible alternative worldview to the idea of
ecocentrism and anthropocentrism as incompatible positions. This new worldview, and its related measuring
instrument, should fit more closely to the main pillars of the sustainable development concept envisaged by the UN
(i.e., the functional interdependence between human development and nature conservation, on the one hand; the
temporal interdependence between well-being of current and future generations, and the quality of natural
resources, on the other hand). Indeed, Corral-Verdugo et al. (2008) empirically showed that the NHIP scale is a
better predictor of self-reported water conservation behavior, compared to the traditional NEP-HEP scale.
Attitudes Toward Urban Green Areas and Natural Landscapes in the City
Moving forward from this corpus of research on general worldviews and values toward nature and natural
environments, some studies have also tried to investigate the more specific attitudes toward the presence of green
spaces in the urban residential context. Generally speaking, one could argue that the environmental value system
endorsed by an individual could be linked to the appreciation of nature within and nearby the residential setting. In
psychological theories, values and worldviews are assumed to guide individual evaluations and choices in a broad
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range of life domains: hence, they should be somehow related also to how residents evaluate urban and periurban green areas and landscapes; namely, to their attitudes.
But how are attitudes toward green spaces and natural landscapes in urban settings shaped in residents
experience? Despite the generalized preference for natural over built environments, highlighted by the literature
on landscape preference and psychological restoration reviewed so far, some authors have also argued that
peoples relationship with urban natural landscapes could be characterized by a certain degree of ambivalence.
Individuals asked to describe their relationship to urban green spaces often mention contrasting arguments (e.g.,
Burgess, Harrison, & Limb, 1988; Henwood & Pidgeon, 2001; Bonnes, Aiello, & Bonaiuto, 1999). Positive
experiences within urban green areas are most often reported, based on the possibility of a closer sensorial
contact with nature and positive social interactions afforded by urban green spaces. Urban green areas are
appreciated because of the possibility of touching, smelling, viewing, and hearing the basic elements of nature,
and enjoying the view of the recurring seasonal changes, as well as walking and performing physical exercise
surrounded by these elements (e.g., Burgess et al., 1988). Since urban green areas also represent a recurrent
source of variation in an otherwise predominantly built-up (and uniform) cityscape, they could also be perceived
as a pleasant scenery change within the static features of a typical urban skyline. Other motives for positive
evaluations of urban green spaces are linked to the opportunities for outdoor social interaction provided to people
of all ages, to the possibility of engaging in leisure and sport activities, and meeting friends. As already discussed
above, they can also serve as an escape and refuge from stressful demands of everyday life, so that a high
restorative power is usually ascribed to green areas by city dwellers (e.g., Hartig, 2004; Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989;
Korpela, Kytta, & Hartig, 2002; Lafortezza, Carrus, Sanesi, & Davies, 2009; Scopelliti & Giuliani, 2004).
At the same time, urban residents also report negative experiences in relation to nature in the city, albeit less
frequently. A condition for urban green spaces to be appreciated by residents is their upkeep and proper
maintenance (e.g., grass cut and trees pruned) by the local administrations. Urban green areas are considered
well maintained when they are clean, open, and accessible, well equipped with furniture for children playing
activities, and running or walking trails and benches for users in general. In these cases, green spaces can more
easily provide opportunities for social interaction, leisure, and physical activities, which, in turn, are linked to
positive evaluations (see Bonaiuto, Aiello, Perugini, Bonnes, & Ercolani, 1999; Bonnes, Aiello, & Bonaiuto, 1999;
Burgess et al., 1988). If one or several of these features are missing, residents might express dissatisfaction and
negative attitudes toward urban green areas (e.g., Bonnes, Uzzell, Carrus, & Kelay, 2007). In particular, reasons
for these negative evaluations are to be found in concerns for personal safety and fear of crime (p. 342) (e.g.,
Michael & Hull, 1994; Nasar & Fisher, 1993; Talbot & Kaplan, 1984).
A study by Bonnes et al. (1999) seems indeed to suggest that positive and negative attitudes toward urban green
areas can coexist in peoples perceptions. In this study, participants answers in terms of agreement/disagreement
with about 100 statements concerning urban green areas were factor analyzed. Findings showed that rather than
collapsing in a unique bipolar dimension, responses to statements expressing positive and negative aspects of
urban green loaded on two distinct factors, respectively. These findings were corroborated in a further study by
Carrus, Passafaro, and Bonnes (2004), where the bidimensional structure of attitudes toward urban green spaces
was tested through confirmatory factor analyses. Findings in this case showed that positive and negative attitudes
toward urban green correlate only moderately with each other, and correlate differently with demographic and
individual difference factors (e.g., ethnocentrism and authoritarianism).
More generally, all these findings suggest the possibility of a certain degree of ambivalence in attitudes toward
natural landscapes in urban residential settings. If this is true, ambivalence toward urban green areas should be
reflected in lower correlations with some of the variables mentioned before, such as ecocentric versus
anthropocentric worldviews, or with behavioral tendencies toward urban natural landscapes (e.g., the frequency of
use of urban and peri-urban green areas). In fact, it is likely that those individuals with a more ecocentric view of
the natural world, or endorsing more biospheric values (i.e., those who appreciate nature for its own sake), will
show a more clear and unambiguous appreciation of nature in the city. Conversely, it is likely that those with a
more anthropocentric view of nature (i.e., appreciating nature only for its contribution to the quality of human life)
and those endorsing more egoistic and conservative values (see also Stern, Dietz, & Guagnano, 1998) will
perceive also the discomforts or problems (and not only the advantages) connected to the presence of nature in
the city. Therefore, a greater ambivalence in attitudes toward urban green areas (as well as a less frequent use of
them) should characterize the latter, compared to the former. A recent work by Bonnes, Passafaro, and Carrus
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(2011) found support for these arguments.
In sum, findings of research on environmental worldviews, values, and attitudes suggest that more general
orientations toward nature could be reflected in the subjective appreciation (or devaluation) of urban natural
landscapes. At the same time, a subjective appreciation (or devaluation) may be influenced by the capacity of
urban green spaces to fulfill specific residential needs, in addition to the overall system of worldviews and values
endorsed by the individual. These might account for the fact that a general appreciation for the presence of green
in the city is frequent among the majority of people, either because of the values endorsed or because of the
functional importance of these areas for the residents life, or both.
Attitudes Toward Natural Landscapes, Natural Resources, and Social Dilemmas

A further line of research in the field of human relations to natural settings has been devoted to understand how
worldviews, values, and attitudes toward the natural world can be linked to the performance of environmentally
friendly actions. In general, the collective characteristics of natural landscapes and resources suggest the
importance of considering also the group and community implications of these processes (e.g., Hardin, 1968; see
also Olson, 1965, for a more general discussion on human collective action). Therefore, a different look at the
relationship between human beings and the natural environment can be found within theories and research on
human decision-making in social dilemmas situations involving the use of common resources (considering,
therefore, not only natural landscapes, but also the specific natural resources therein).
Social dilemmas are usually defined as situations that contain a conflict of interest between the private interests of
individuals and the broader public interest of society at large (Van Vugt, Biel, Snyder, & Tyler, 2000, p. 3), where
each individual always receives a higher payoff for defecting than for co-operating, but all are better off if all cooperate than if all defect (Dawes & Messick, 2000). This paradigm allows to frame many pro- or anti-environmental
actions as a choice between the pursuit of personal advantages in spite of its potential collective damages versus
a limitation of personal benefits in view of a collective gain.
How can we apply this theoretical perspective to the study of human relations to natural landscapes? Some works
on public acceptance of the designation of natural protected areas could offer examples for reflection (Bonaiuto,
Carrus, Martorella, & Bonnes, 2002; Carrus, Bonaiuto, & Bonnes, 2005; Stoll-Kleemann, 2001). The designation of
natural protected areas is often problematic since it frequently encounters the opposition of local residents and
communities, especially in densely populated (p. 343) zones. Local residents could conceive a protected area as
an economic damage, and/or as a loss of freedom (West & Brechin, 1991). The status and regulations of a
protected area typically ask local residents to change traditional or habitual ways of economic exploitation of land
in a more sustainable direction. In turn, deciding whether (or to what extent) to comply with these proenvironmental regulations can put local communities into a social dilemma situation. In fact, if they choose to
comply, residents make more likely the continuity over time of the resources to be protected, but they might
apparently go against their immediate interest as single harvesters. Following this line of reasoning, one might
expect that local residents, and particularly those more directly interested in traditional (and usually less
sustainable) exploitation activities of the natural resources within a protected area, would be less likely to support
its designation. An important role in the public reaction to the designations of natural protected areas is then played
by the direct economic interest of individuals, groups, and communities: those who are more engaged in direct
resources exploitation activities are more likely to oppose a protected area, if they do not envisage a potential
benefit from it, at least in the long run. However, an important role is also played by the degree to which people feel
themselves attached to, and identified with, their own territory (see Bonaiuto et al., 2002; Carrus et al., 2005; see
also Stoll-Kleemann, 2001). In fact, a strong place-identity and place attachment could either drive local support or
opposition to the protected areas, depending on the procedures followed in the designation process by public
authorities, as well as on their local versus centralized status. More inclusive or bottom-up (vs. top-down)
procedures, as well as local (vs. centralized) authorities are more likely to provoke positive reactions in the local
communities, and also to channel local identity and attachment into a positive and supportive direction; that is, the
higher local identification and attachment, the higher the support for protected areas. Vice versa, when local
communities feel or think that something has been imposed on their territory from a too-centralized authority, a
strong local attachment and identity might form the basis for negative opposition and protest (Bonaiuto et al., 2002;
Carrus et al., 2005). Earlier laboratory studies on the role of social identification in social dilemmas situations have
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also found results that are compatible with these more recent field studies (see Brewer & Schneider, 1990).
Conclusions
In this chapter we have reviewed the methodological, theoretical, and empirical literature on the relationships
between people and natural landscapes. We first discussed the different perspectives developed in environmental
psychology and related disciplines to study human responses to natural landscapes, and then focused on a more
psychological approach to this research theme. Environmental psychology has studied human responses to
natural landscapes mainly in terms of preference and positive reactions to perceived environmental properties of
nature. Different theoretical models, such as prospect and refuge, stress reduction theory, attention restoration
theory, and the savanna hypothesis, have discussed these responses within an evolutionary perspective.
Empirical studies have consistently supported these models. Finally, human responses to natural landscapes have
been considered within a more comprehensive framework, in which evolution and sociocultural processes combine
with each other. What evolution disposes is shaped by peoples experience of their sociocultural context, resulting
in distinctive environmental worldviews, values, and attitudes toward specific everyday natural landscapes. Recent
studies on attitudes toward natural landscapes have thus shown that they can include both positive and negative
dimensions. A further relevant aspect influencing attitudes and related behaviors toward natural landscapes has to
do with group and community inclusion, as shown in the studies on the use of natural resources within the
theoretical framework of social dilemmas.
Future Directions
The study of peoples relations with natural landscapes has been developed along different directions, but a
number of relevant issues are still to be adequately addressed.
First, beyond a general positive response to natural landscapes, the ways people perceive, evaluate, and develop
transactions with different categories of natural landscapes is far from being completely understood. The studies
on preferences for various natural settings (e.g., Falk & Balling, 2010; Herzog, 1984, 1987) have started
addressing this question, but several issues still remain unresolved. Just to give an example, the role of natural
elements of the landscape at the microlevel of analysis has been addressed only to some extent. Findings on
preference for trees with spreading canopies, rounded shapes, and short trunks (Sommer & Summit, 1995; Summit
& Sommer, 1999), reminiscent of (p. 344) the natural landscapes of human evolution, presumably tackle only one
aspect of this problem. What can be the role of other natural elements in shaping the overall response to a natural
landscape? An interesting analysis in this regard has been recently proposed by Nordh, Hartig, Hagerhall, and Fry
(2009), who considered the effect of grass, ground vegetation, flowering plants, shrubs, and water in natural
landscapes on psychological restoration. Further research in this direction is undoubtedly needed.
Second, human responses to seasonal changes of natural landscapes have not been empirically studied yet.
Within an evolutionary perspective, one may hypothesize a better response to natural landscapes when
environmental conditions recall to the mind positive elements for survival (e.g., the presence of a flourishing nature
in spring and summer vs. the absence of foliage in fall and winter). What can be the role of sociocultural processes
in this respect? And what can be the interplay between cross-cultural regularities and cultural peculiarities?
Third, exposure to green areas and natural landscapes can also affect health (de Vries, Verheij, Groenewegen, &
Spreeuwenberg, 2003; Maas, Verheij, Groenewegen, de Vries, & Spreeuwenberg, 2006; Maller, Townsend, Pryor,
Brown, & Leger, 2006; Mitchell & Popham, 2008). Among the psychological mechanism implied, the literature has
identified the role of perceived social safety (Maas et al., 2009), social contact (Maas, Van Dillen, Verheij, &
Groenewegen, 2009) and physical activity (Bedimo-Rung, Mowen, & Cohen, 2005; Cohen et al., 2007). What can
be the role of different activities in natural environments in promoting health and well-being? In an exploratory
study, Scopelliti et al. (2012) provided preliminary results in this regard, showing that the more the activities
promote personal involvement in the natural environment, the better are the outcomes in terms of individual wellbeing. Future research should be addressed to confirm these findings.
A more comprehensive understanding of theseand presumably also otherissues would be highly relevant also
for practical implications, as the design and management of natural landscapes could be better oriented toward the
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promotion of peoples health and well-being.
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Massimiliano Scopelliti
Massimiliano Scopelliti LUMSA University Centre for Inter-University Research in Environmental Psychology Rome, Italy
Giuseppe Carrus
Giuseppe Carrus Department of Cultural and Educational Studies, University of Roma Tre Centre for Inter-University Research in
Environmental Psychology Rome, Italy
Mirilia Bonnes
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Mirilia Bonnes Department of Social and Developmental Psychology Sapienza University of Rome Centre for Inter-University
Research in Environmental Psychology Rome, Italy
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Extreme and Unusual Environments: Challenges and Responses

Peter Suedfeld
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0019

Extreme environments pose serious danger to human well-being and even survival, an effect that can be
exacerbated if the environment is novel (unusual) either to the individual or compared with normal environments.
In many cases, such environments are deliberately sought out; in others, the individual chooses to encounter
situations that have a probability of turning dangerous; in yet others, the extreme environment is entered
accidentally or as the result of natural or anthropogenic disaster. For well over a century, the psychological
literature has focused on the adverse characteristics and effects of such experiences, but in recent decades
observers and researchers have come to be more appreciative of human resilience and coping, and of the
positive aspects and consequences of extreme environments.
Keywords: environmental challenge, trauma, resilience, coping, salutogenesis, PTSD, post-traumatic growth
Introduction
Shortly after a severe storm damaged his ship, and with illness and depression striking him and his crew, the
French Antarctic explorer Jean-Baptiste Charcot wrote, I re-read my diary on Le Fran ais, written during a period
quite as agonizing as this. I light on a passage where I assert that, if ever I return to France, I will embark no more
on such adventures. A few weeks after my return, I was thinking of nothing but the organization of a new
Expedition, and three years later, I started off again! (Charcot, 1911; quoted in Rosove, 2000, p. 171).
There have been hundreds of books, articles, films, and TV shows describing the horrors experienced by survivors
of genocide, only implicitly recognizing their eventual ability to recover from psychological as well as physical
trauma. A widely read book symbolizes a growing counterpoint to this negativity: Against All Odds: Holocaust
Survivors and the Successful Lives They Made in America (Helmreich, 1992). It presents interviews and histories
of people who built healthy, happy, and productive lives after surviving the 20th centurysand in some ways
historysworst episode of persecution and genocide.
Aron Lee Ralston, an American mountain climber, had his arm trapped under a boulder in May 2003. To free
himself, he eventually broke the bone in his forearm and amputated the lower arm with a small knife. He then had to
rappel down a 65-foot cliff and hike eight miles to his truck. He continues to engage in mountain climbing and other
demanding outdoor sports. The public fascination with his courage and toughness has led to a book, a full-length
movie project, and a new career as a public speaker (see Ralston, 2004).
In August 2010, 33 miners were trapped 2,300 feet underground in a Chilean cave-in. When their survival was
discovered, about two weeks later, their families, politicians, and international media (p. 349) converged on the
site. Chilean and international equipment and experts bored a hole, first to send supplies down to the refuge and,
69 days later, to hoist the miners, one at a time, to the surface. A deluge of newspaper and television stories
Page 1 of 27

followed the progress of the rescue and interviewed mining engineers and psychologists (including experts sent
from NASA). The groups ability to come through the ordeal psychologically intact was discussed over and over;
by one estimate, a billion people watched at least part of the process on TV. The public was again awed when one
of the men ran, walked, and hobbled his way to the finish line of the New York City Marathon a few weeks after his
rescue.
The Approach of This Chapter

These chronologically ordered anecdotes demonstrate a number of the points I wish to make in the chapter, aside
from the fact that stories of individuals in extreme and unusual environments (hereafter, EUEs) fascinate many
people. One is the wide variety of environments we may justly consider to be extreme; another is the equally wide
variety of ways in which individuals can find themselves in such environments. Then we come to issues related to
how those individuals respond to the challenges, affordances, and shortcomings of their particular EUE
environment: do they cope adaptively or not; do they suffer psychological damage, and if they do, what kind and
how long does it last; and what can outside observers know or understand about the perceptions and reactions of
those who have actually walked the walk? The last of these points also shines a light on how fashions in literature
and science change our understanding even though the facts have not changed.
Because EUEs differ so widely in impactsome are uncomfortable, others are deadly; some affect only a few
people, others disrupt the lives of great populations; some are even enjoyableit is difficult to generalize about
their psychological effects. The dangers and horrors of extreme environments such as natural and anthropogenic
disasters cannot be overstated. Millions have suffered and died as a result of such disasters, and many of the
survivors have had long-lastingeven lifelongphysical and psychological disabilities. For these reasons, and
because the behavioral sciences embrace clinical practice (the helping professions), not only dispassionate
research, the psychological literature has concentrated on the salient disability-producing (pathogenic) aspects
of EUEs. There has been much less attention to the ways in which people have coped with the environments
themselves as well as with their aftermath. Coping, resilience, and possible benefits of the experiencehealthconferring salutogenic effectsif they are discussed at all in the scientific/professional literature, are dealt with
summarily and almost as an afterthought, and those who seek out risky EUE experiences are often considered to
be maladjusted (with a few exceptions, such as astronauts).
In this chapter, I shall consider the positive aspects of how people deal with environmental challenge on the same
level of importance as the negative ones. The terms salutogenic and pathogenic (Antonovsky, 1987) refer to
the positive and negative aspects of stress, and cover both psychological and physiological health. This is not a
new outlook; some theorists and researchers have for some time focused on successful coping with extreme
environments and stressful experiences, drawing on more general studies of stress (e.g., Lazarus & Folkman,
1984; Selye, 1956).
But one of the most important developments in psychology has occurred since the publication of the counterpart of
this chapter in the first Handbook of Environmental Psychology (Suedfeld, 1987): the tremendous increase of
attention to positive aspects of personality and behavior. Although such an orientation has a long history, it
became much more salient and fruitful for one intriguing reason: an accurate, unifying, and catchy name. Positive
psychology (Peterson & Seligman, 2004; Snyder & Lopez, 2002) became a banner under which a diverse and
burgeoning movement gained a solid identity. A positive approach of this sort includes, but goes beyond, the mere
ability to cope; Selye himself in a later book (1974) recognized that there is such a thing as stress that has positive
characteristics (eustress) as well as his original focus, stress with negative ones (distress). The positive
outlook in psychology encompasses the possibility, envisioned by Antonovsky, among others (e.g., Frankl, 1959;
Tedeschi & Calhoun, 1995), that going through such experiences may actually result in a psychological benefit.
The fact that this point seems simplistic, unrealistic, or counterproductive to many psychologists and psychiatrists
(Azar, 2011) reflects another important issue. Experiences, including experiences in EUEs, often look different from
the outside and the inside. That is, observers of life on an offshore oil rig or other unusual environment may not
understand how the people who actually live there experience it. Perhaps because of their professional (p. 350)
training and focus, mental health professionals emphasize the hardships, stressors, and problems, overlooking
what the inhabitants perceive as the satisfaction of challenges faced and overcome, the pleasures of camaraderie,
Page 2 of 27

the excitement of a novel set of life circumstances, and so on. Thus, a broader focus requires the researcher to
consider not merely the environment, but peoples actual experiences within that environment (Suedfeld, 1991).
Much of the popular literature emerging from EUEs reflects this. For example, Maurice Herzog (1953), a famous
French climber and member of the first team to summit a mountain over 8,000 meters high, wrote, I nearly burst
with happiness. The rapture I had felt on the summit, which might have seemed a purely, personal, egotistical
emotion, had been transformedinto a complete and perfect joy with no shadow upon it. This victory was not
just one mans achievement, a matter for personal pride; noit was a victory for us all, a victory for mankind itself
(pp. 213214). But perhaps tragedies are more interesting to the public than stories of successful survival, and
may have more impact on the survivors themselves. Many survivors feel the need to purge the strong emotions
aroused by the death or serious injury of close others, and for that reason emphasize those parts of the entire
experience. For example, books about mountaineering typically focus on dangers, difficulties, and disasters rather
than on success and exultation (e.g., Krakauer, 1998; Kodas, 2008).
Extreme and Unusual Environments: A General Definition

As has been suggested before (Suedfeld, 1987), extreme environments can be defined by their level of
survivability. By this definition, an extreme environment is one in which human beings cannot survive without
special training, supplies, and equipment (specialized shelter, clothing, and transportation, food, and perhaps
water brought in from elsewhere), and in some cases high-tech apparatus such as totally encapsulated shelters,
air scrubbers, air tanks, recyclers, human-robot interfaces, and so on.
Extremeness is to a great extent a function of the physical parameters of the environment. Some environments are
hazardous, temporarily or all the time. Yet, many EUEs pose relatively few problems for professionals and devoted
amateurs under normal conditions. They are usually properly trained and equipped, they choose to be in the
environment, and they understand its dangers. The exception is when those experts find themselves in an
accident, equipment failure, or hostile action. Although their experience and training still increase their chances
beyond those of novices, the physical dangerousness of the environment may become insuperable. The history of
Mt. Everest ascents gives dramatic evidence of this: of the over 200 deaths recorded, almost one-third were of
sherpas, who are professional mountaineers, and many of the other victims were experienced professional
expedition leaders.
Unusualness is more variable, depending on the individual. A climb in the Himalayas is extreme and unusual for a
tourist from Australia, but not unusual for her sherpa, while he would likely find it both unusual and extreme to join
her on a scuba vacation on the Great Barrier Reef. Because making a plethora of individual definitions of
unusualness is impractical, the term is frequently used to characterize environments that are very different from
the common experiences of those who live in modern, technologically advanced, largely urban societies.
What we are calling EUEs have had a number of other labels in the psychological literature. Among these are
exotic environments, dangerous environments, and traumatic environments. None of these quite fits the bill.
Exotic evokes palm trees and soft tropical nights, not exactly the phenomenon we are dealing with; dangerous
comes closer, but it also describes an urban intersection at rush hour. As we shall see later, traumatic is
appropriate to some EUEs, but sailing aboard a submarine, flying in space, or spelunking in a deep cave are not
traumatic unless something goes drastically wrong. Furthermore, although some EUEs are considered to be
traumatic for people in general, most such environments may traumatize some individuals but be shrugged off by
others.
One frequently seen term is isolated, confined environments (ICEs). Generally, isolated refers to remoteness
from ones accustomed home and separation from much (not necessarily all) human contact; confined means
being prevented from leaving a circumscribed area either by natural conditions outside it or by human force. ICE is
a reasonably accurate label for a range of situations, but it is not synonymous with extreme and unusual. Many
ICEs are not extreme: for example, protective custody units in modern penitentiaries and at least some campsites
in government-run parks. By the same token, many extreme environments are neither isolatedthink of cities
under aerial bombardment, for examplenor are the people necessarily (p. 351) confined, as on mountaintops or
in trekking across a desert.
Page 3 of 27

Natural and Human-Made EUEs
We can distinguish between two kinds of EUEs, those fashioned by nature and those that are created or at least
made dangerous through human action or neglect.
Naturally occurring EUEs tend to have several relatively unchanging characteristics that endanger human life.
These include extreme temperatures, lack of oxygen, unaccustomed levels of air pressure, excessively high or
low humidity, solar radiation, scarcity of food and water, and unstable terrain features (for an excellent summary of
the physical dangers of such EUEs, see Kamler, 2004). Other natural factors, often related to the weather or terrain
features, that lead to extremeness are episodic or temporary disruptions, such as storms and earthquakes. Such
disruptions may be termed natural disasters if they have a serious impact on a wide area and/or a large number of
people.
Normally inaccessible environmentsouter space, the deep oceanlack everything needed for human survival.
Their extremeness is total and permanent, and survival for more than a few seconds or minutes depends entirely
on technologically advanced life-support equipment. Dangers remain even in short-term anthropogenic EUEs
entered into voluntarily and after training. Take, for example, environments characterized by excessively low or
excessively high ambient air pressure, such as scuba diving and high-altitude flight. In both, the major physical
dangers are rapid pressure changes and changes in the composition of the breathed atmosphere. Both rapture of
the deep and high-altitude euphoria are well known (Cousteau & Dumas, 1953).
The deep divers syndrome, more formally called nitrogen narcosis, leads to a decline in cognitive efficiency and
complex psychomotor performance, some mild euphoria, and impaired judgment (especially overconfidence), and
if the diver goes below about 90 meters (300 feet), can result in disorientation, hallucinations, loss of
consciousness, and death (see, e.g., Petri, 2003; Smith, 1987). Diving poses other dangers as well, but most do not
have psychological symptoms.
The aviation counterpart was discovered when aircraft first began to reach heights where the atmosphere was
deficient in oxygen. Even after oxygen masks were installed, some pilots refused to wear them because early
models were uncomfortable or interfered with movement and vision. The gradual onset of hypoxia is so subtle as to
be virtually unnoticeable, and euphoria makes it even more so, but the non-benign symptoms include cognitive
deterioration, loss of perceptual-motor coordination, unconsciousness, and death. Hypoxia is not the only problem:
some high-altitude pilots become so engrossed in the flight that they neglect to check their instruments or their
orientation vis--vis the ground, while others manifest the break-off phenomenon, a sense of unreality and loss
of psychological contact with the earth (Clark & Graybiel, 1957).
Artificial environments nested in dangerous natural ones often take the form of a live-in capsule. The most common
examples are capsules that make human survival possible in the polar regions, deep under the ocean, and in outer
space. These are hybrids of natural and man-made EUEs. Each of these is physically dangerous to some extent,
and all tend to be physically uncomfortable. Their negative social and psychological features include remoteness
from ones customary social and physical environment, dependence on life-support equipment that may fail,
confinement plus the need for bulky clothing when it is possible to go outside the capsule at all, overcrowding and
lack of privacy inside the capsule, possible interpersonal friction, and the unavailability of help from outside. They
also tend to be monotonous, both physically and socially: the interior of the capsules is often impervious to human
aesthetics and the need for stimulation, and personnel changes during the mission are difficult or impossible.
I classify polar stations as natural EUEs, because the capsule does not require unusual technology for supporting
lifeit needs heat, light, provisions for food and water, proper outdoor clothing, and so on, but nothing out of the
ordinary; the outside environment, while harsh and often dangerous, is frequently (primarily in summer) accessible
to people without sophisticated high-tech protection. In contrast, space stations and oceangoing submarines and
submersibles do require constant, sophisticated life support equipment both within and outside the capsule, without
which death is absolutely certain.
Generally, the number of people living in a given capsule environment at any one time is small, in the tens or
hundreds rather than thousands or millionsas may be the case in EUEs classified as natural or anthropogenic
disasters (see below)and the duration of any one stay in a capsule is usually short, seldom more than a year or
two and often as little as a few days.
Page 4 of 27

(p. 352) Some terrestrial EUEs are extremethat is, dangerousonly temporarily; eventually, the natural
environment reverts to its normal, nonthreatening condition. Some actions causing the original change are
inadvertent: industrial accidents (or industrial disasters, depending upon their impact) releasing into the soil, water,
or air toxic agents such as acids, poisonous elements and gases, or nuclear radiation. Othersfires, explosions,
and engineering mistakeslead to the destruction or collapse of buildings, bridges, roads, dams, and aircraft. The
event is time-limited, and the destroyed or damaged constructions can be rebuilt.
Still other human-created EUEs, often having an adverse effect on many people, are brought about through
deliberate action in the course of ethnopolitical conflict: war, violence, terrorism, or persecution (complex
disasters). The long list of the dangers these pose includes lethal and sublethal forms of violence, deprivation of
necessities, and exposure to many of the sources of danger listed previously. In these situations, many victims
could survive given adequate food, water, medical care, and shelter, but these are unavailable or inaccessible, or
are purposely withheld.
Different paths to the EUE are important factors in coping with the experience (Suedfeld, 1987). Some groups, such
as Bedouins, Australian aborigines, sherpas, and Inuit, are both culturally and individually native to an extreme
environment and learn from infancy the methods that maximize safety. Other people, for whom the EUE is a
recreational or occupational sitemountaineers, spelunkers, deep-sea divers, astronauts, sailors, soldiersare
trained and equipped to survive and even to enjoy the experience.
On the other hand, many of those trapped in natural, industrial, or complex disasters are unprepared for coping
with such circumstances, especially if their life until then had consisted of the routine circle of conditions and
activities that characterize the daily experiences of people in urbanized, technologically advanced societies. For
them, the experience is more likely to be fatal, or if not, at the very least frightening and perhaps traumatic.
Even for well-trained individuals voluntarily pursuing a recreational or professional activity, unwanted and
unforeseen traumatic experiences may occur when the situation changes unexpectedly: for the crew of the space
station Mir when a fire broke out, for Alan Ralston when a recreational climb turned into the potentially fatal
entrapment of his arm, for 33 Chilean miners when a cave-in occurred in 2010, trapping them underground with (at
first) uncertainty of eventual rescue. Ordinarythat is, non-extremeenvironments can change in the same way:
for example, for civilians who find themselves living in a city under aerial bombardment, or air passengers who
survive a crash in an adverse natural setting.
Complex disasters frequently have the most severe psychological effects (e.g., Jacobs & Kulkarni, 1999), because
the victims attribute their plight to the vicious power of others, against whom they themselves are helpless. Thus,
perceived lack of control and consequent feelings of humiliation exacerbate the suffering. Industrial disasters in
turn are likely to have longer-lasting and more widespread negative effects than natural disasters (Baum, Fleming,
& Davidson, 1983), perhaps because they tend to be interpreted as the results of human error, stupidity,
ignorance, or neglect on the part of others. Natural disasters strike where they will. Fault may be laid at the door of
authorities who should have given more advance warning or done more to ameliorate their impact, but as a rule
the supremacy of natures power over human efforts is recognized (Kumagai, Edwards, & Carroll, 2006). In these
cases, the negative outcomes are less stressful because they are not attributable to ones own shortcomings.
Many disaster environments involve the severe experience of living in chaosthat is, the disruption of normal
order, also referred to as the world turned upside down or, in Janoff-Bulmans (1992) evocative phrase, the
shattering of the assumptive world. In such situations, the customary links between behavior and outcome are
severed, so that actions that would normally enhance ones safety now may still do so, but may unpredictably
have the opposite effect. Taking shelter during an earthquake can save you from debris outside, but can also bring
the building down on your head; staying in your house during a tornado can protect you from flying objects but
may also trap you inside (or waft you to Oz); volunteering to help in a work project may mean an extra food ration
but may also become a death march; jumping into a shell hole can protect you from flying bullets but the next
mortar round can land in the same place as the one before; friends and neighbors may hide you or betray you.
The consequences of ones own actions, hitherto reliably predictable, suddenly become unforeseeable
characteristics often found in natural, industrial, and deliberate disasters, and in ethnopolitical violence, war,
revolution, and genocide.
Page 5 of 27

(p. 353) Physical and Psychological Characteristics of Selected EUEs
In this section, I shall examine in more detail some examples of the different types of EUEs mentioned earlier,
looking briefly at their physical parameters and concentrating on their psychological effects and aftereffects, both
positive and negative. Table 19.1 shows the environments to be discussed and their taxonomic category.
I shall discuss one example from five of the six categories, looking first at natural and then at human-made EUEs
within each type of EUE entry (recreational, occupational, and traumatic).
Recreational, human-made EUEs are omitted. Such environments might include, for example, racing highperformance automobiles, skydiving, or scuba diving. The duration of each of these is too brief for significant
psychological effects (beyond the EUE itself) to emerge, although, as we have seen, some physiological
consequences may have direct psychological consequences. One reliable pattern among those who repeatedly
engage in these environments is that at first, anticipatory anxiety is high, followed by immediate post-EUE relief
(happiness, self-confidence). Both emotions fade as the individual gains more experience, and many thrill-seekers
then try to recapture the highs by engaging in more difficult and more risky versions of the sport (e.g., Price &
Bundesen, 2005).
A longer-lasting EUE in this category is solo sailing around the world; here, the sample size is tiny, the participants
are clearly unrepresentative, and psychological studies are rare, with the exception of dramatic and often tragic
episodes (see Heaton, 1976; Suedfeld, 1982). Perhaps the most interesting aspect of their experiences is the
occasional sensation that someone else is there with them and is helping them through the ordeal. This sensation
also occurs in other EUEs (Geiger, 2009), especially although not solely when the individual is in serious danger
and in bad shape from cold, hunger, and exhaustion.
Table 19.1 A Sampling of Extreme, Unusual Environments
Natural
Human-Made
Recreational
Mountaineering
Solo circumnavigation
Occupational
Antarctic stations
Space stations
Traumatic
Natural disasters
Ethnopolitical violence
A Natural, Recreational EUE: Mountains

Background
One natural EUE is found in high, mountainous terrain. Recreational and professional mountain climbers have been
active all over the world, including in Antarctica; in fact, climbing the highest peak on each of the seven continents
is one of the claims to elite status. The Andes, the Alaska Range, the Alps, and other mountain ranges have
attracted (and killed) climbers. But the highest mountains are the 14 so-called eight-thousanders, at least 8,000
meters high, all of them in the Himalayas or Karakorum ranges (having summited all 14 is another major source of
high status). Among them is Mt. Everest, the highest on Earth and an icon of mountaineering. For those reasons, it
shall be referred to as the prototype of its kind, even though there are others with worse records as far as human
fatalities are concerned.
Some of the most common dangers of high-altitude mountaineering are cold temperature that may lead to frostbite,
high winds, sudden changes in weather conditions, falls, dehydration, and ultraviolet radiation that can cause snow
blindness and severe sunburn. Another is oxygen deficiency, which begins to cause symptoms at 2,500 meters
and above (to set the context, Mt. Everest is close to 9,000 meters high).
This syndrome is known as acute mountain sickness (AMS), altitude sickness, or soroche. It is not restricted to
mountain climbers: although inhabitants of communities that are above the critical altitude are adapted and do not
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suffer from the syndrome, visitors may do so.
AMS can be prevented or alleviated by ascending to the goal altitude slowly enough and with enough stops on the
way to allow the body to become acclimatized, or, more recently, by climbing somewhat higher each day but
returning to lower levels at night. It is also important to keep as warm as possible and to maintain hydration.
Medication can be helpful, and alcohol is to be avoided. Under circumstances less dramatic than mountaineering, I
have seen a colleague faint after a few swallows of a cocktail at a conference reception in Bogot (altitude 2,640
meters). Interestingly, alcohol intake, even to excess, is not unknown among climbers acclimatizing to altitude at
the Mt. Everest Base Camp in Nepal, at over 5,500 meters (Kodas, 2008).
Most, but not all, climbers going above 8,000 meters use oxygen bottles to counteract the low oxygen content of
the air. Amazingly, however, some do not, either from a desire for purity in their climb (p. 354) or because they
decide that the drawbacks of carrying heavy, cumbersome oxygen bottles to high elevations outweigh the
advantages of the extra oxygen. Statistics show that high climbs without supplementary oxygen double, or more
than double, the chance of dying en route.
When appropriate precautions are not taken, AMS causes headaches, dizziness and nausea, fatigue, shortness of
breath, swelling of the hands and feet, and symptoms of depression. If the true cause of the effects is not
recognized, and they are attributed to inadequate rest, food, or clothing, acute high-altitude sickness may develop
into pulmonary or cerebral edema, both of which are fatal if not treated. On the other hand, if the patient is taken
down below the critical altitude in time, recovery is likely.
Sunburn and snow blindness, caused by the increased level of solar radiation in the thin air of high altitudes, play
an important part in the timing of the expedition. Climbers usually hole up in some sheltered place during the
height of day to avoid the brightest level of sunshine. Still, although painful and perhaps incapacitating for a while,
both symptoms heal with time. Other dangers can have lasting effects: hypothermia impairs both physical and
mental functioning, and eventually causes death if it affects the internal organs; frostbite can lead to the loss of
inadequately protected fingers, toes, noses, and ears, and may permanently affect blood circulation.
In the past two decades, there has been a significant drop in the percentage of deaths among climbers in the
Himalayas and elsewhere, despite the growing number of attempts by people who try to reach summits for which
they have insufficient experience or preparation: for example, up to 1990 the ratio of Everest deaths to successful
summits was 37%; from 1990 to 2003 it was under 5%. The other eight-thousanders show similar temporal
patterns, as do mountains such as Mt. McKinley (Denali) in Alaska (McIntosh et al., 2008). Newly developed
climbing equipment, the general use of bottled oxygen, training given in base camps, and improvements in both
search-and-rescue and medical procedures are probably responsible for most of this change.
Psychological Effects
The challenge of the high mountains is both physical and psychological. A reasonable level of physical fitness is
necessary for the arduous climb and descent with packs of equipment, spare clothing, oxygen bottles, and so on
(although fitness is no protection against AMS). In recent years, there has been an explosion of less fit and less
experienced climbers attempting the highest (and highest profile) mountains, such as Everest, many essentially
being carried by their sherpa porters (Kodas, 2008).
Psychologically, two contradictory tendencies affect success or failure on the mountain. On the one hand, the
motivation and positive experiences of the expedition urge the climber on. Achievement motivation is satisfied by
the pride of reaching the summit, perhaps a personal best or being the first to pioneer on a new mountain or a
new route. Meeting the challenge of foreseeing, planning for, and successfully overcoming difficulty and danger is
an opportunity to exercise coping self-efficacy. Thrill-seeking is fulfilled by the beauty of the mountain scenery and
the fascination of carrying out the project in an exotic culture, a novel place, and with new people. Those who
relish positive social interaction have the pleasure of sharing the experience with a group of cooperative,
competent teammates and with other, friendly teams (although, cf. Kodas, 2008). The process of doing all this, and
doing it successfully, provides enjoyment of both process and goal (telic and paratelic, Apter, 2007) and may
generate both flow and peak experiences (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990). Afterward, the satisfaction of having done it
can provide a life-long positive memory (Wickens, Keller, & Shaw, 2012). Maurice Herzog (1953), who was so
frostbitten on Annapurna that he had to be carried off the mountain and lost several fingers and toes (as did other
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members of his team), wrote of the wonderful adventure which linked us to these mountains (p. 294).
Psychological problems include cognitive decrements that lead to errors of planning and execution based on
insufficient knowledge, overconfidence, haste, and the need to process several kinds of information at once (e.g.,
snow conditions, the weather, the time of day, the climbers fatigue, the team as a whole, the condition of
equipment and supplies). All of these decisions may have to be reached and carried out under time pressure.
Haste, stress, and fatigue all interfere severely with complex decision-making and parallel processing (multitasking)
(Svenson & Maule, 1993). As time on the mountain increases, so do fatigue, the impact of hypoxia and the other
adverse physical conditions, andespecially once the summit has been reachedthe eagerness to finish. Deaths
occur more frequently on the way down than up. Wickens et al.s (2012) information processing theory provides a
thorough analysis of how cold, wind, hypoxia, (p. 355) hard physical effort, and in some cases the painful and
debilitating symptoms described previously can lead to serious deterioration of information processing and
decision-making.
A Natural, Occupational EUE: Antarctic Stations

Background
The Antarctic environment is generally thought of as among the most difficult for human beings to tolerate.
Antarctica is the highest, coldest, driest, and windiest continent, 98% of which is covered by thick ice and the
remaining 2% by bare rock. It is the only continent with no history of indigenous human inhabitants or of land
mammals. Some coastal areas offer the diverting sights of different species of penguins, seals, and sea lions, as
well as leopard seals and elephant seals (a veritable seal zoo), and a variety of birds, whales, and fish. But in the
interior of the continent, only an occasional stray skua breaks the monotony.
The natural environment is accessible during most of the summer and occasionally during the winter, although
hazards persist. There are patches of thin sea ice (especially in summer), and deep crevasses covered with a thin
layer of ice and snow, which can crack under the weight of vehicles or even individuals. Sudden blizzards and
white-outs make wayfinding difficult; people have been known to die of hypothermia a few yards from a shelter that
they could not see. Areas of the continent lie at imperceptibly high altitudes that reach levels equivalent to
mountains. Scott-Amundsen South Pole Station, for example, is about 2,800 meters above sea level, well within the
zone for oxygen bottles and other safety precautions. Unmedicated visitors sometimes faint as soon as they step
out of the plane that brought them there, and a favorite T-shirt reads, Ski South Pole1/4 inch of powder, 3 miles
of base.
Antarctic stations differ from each other in size, design, location, and whether they operate only in the summer or
all year. Although all are open to scientists of any nationality, each has its own cultural aura. They also have their
own culturally derived supplies: the many thirsty trekkers from the US McMurdo Station to the nearby, much smaller
New Zealand Scott Base have sometimes depleted the latters store of superior beer, forcing the temporary
suspension of such visits. Station sizes range from fewer than 10 people to more than 1,000 (McMurdo in some
summers), and location makes a big difference. Stations on the Antarctic Peninsula are relatively accessible by
ship or plane, and may be visited by tourist ships when the summer weather is good. However, isolated stations on
the continent may be barely reachable during the winter (mostly by plane, or a combination of plane and overland
traverse) and only for duty-related flights at other times.
Members of the early expeditions suffered from storms and ice that immobilized and sometimes crushed their ships,
and from scurvy, food poisoning, starvation, frostbite, and accidents that disabled them physically as well as
affecting them psychologically. Many died. But even under the most harrowing circumstances, explorers described
the beauty and grandeur of the environment, periods of stimulation and relaxation, increased sensitivity, and
feelings of personal growth and self-insightas did their Arctic counterparts (Mocellin & Suedfeld, 1991).
Most of the early expeditionary crews included at least one person who exhibited serious psychological
maladjustment during the trip. Explorers were among the first to record the symptoms of what would later be
labeled as winter-over syndrome: spells of anxiety, occasional symptoms of depression, reduced motivation, sleep
disturbance, and decline in hygiene (almost inescapable, given the circumstances). Many also mentioned
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interpersonal conflict, often with the commander, and disobedience that sometimes rose to the level of mutiny
(Woodman, 2005).
The early explorers made their ships homelike with handmade decorations and memorabilia, and staved off
boredom with elaborate programs of theatrical and musical performances, athletic contests, demonstrations of
seamanship, poetry recitals, handicrafts and arts, lectures on a variety of topics, the publication of shipboard
newspapers, and the like (Johnson & Suedfeld, 1996). These activities were both enjoyable and prophylactic
against psychological and physical deterioration. The point is not that EUEs of this severe level dont have
negative psychological impact; its that their impact is not only, or even primarily, negative.
For present-day Antarctic (and Arctic) adventurers as opposed to station crews, the experience is a form of
recreation. They purposely make it difficult for themselves by devising various limitationsno airdrops of supplies,
no caches along the way, no mechanical aids to travel (it is now prohibited to import animals such as dogs). A High
Arctic expedition organizer once joked in an interview that the only remaining unusual trek to the Pole would (p.
356) be on elephant-backand he soon got an offer of sponsorship if he would organize one.
Life on present-day Antarctic stations is far different from the harrowing experiences of the iconic early polar
explorers (Brandt, 2004; Rasky, 1976) and of todays adventurous expeditioners (Leon, 1991). Todays worker in
Antarctica has a relatively easy time. With a few exceptions, large 12-month stations are reasonably comfortable.
They are equipped with modern heating, lighting, and plumbing; there is no scarcity of food or drinking water
(water for showers is limited), appropriate clothing, and equipment. Medical treatment, communication with the
outside by satellite telephone and e-mail, and decent recreational facilities are available. Smaller stations and
camps, inhabited during the summer season, have fewer amenities, but the sojourn there is relatively short, and
occasional breaks in the larger outposts can be arranged. An interesting difference between early explorers and
present-day stationers is that the former frequently mentioned dreaming about elaborate meals they had eaten; the
latter, about their loved ones leaving them. Presumably, 19th- and early 20th-century men on expeditions had
fewer concerns about their wives fidelity; their successors, on the other hand, were not worried about the quantity
or quality of their food (Mocellin & Suedfeld, 1991).
In most 12-month Antarctic stations, summer seasons are much more crowded, with scientists, technicians, and a
greatly increased number of support staff, who have undergone little if any selection and training for survival in the
environment. The major problem is the long winter. One of its consequences, with minor differences across station
details, is that monotony becomes a major stressor and boredom becomes one of its major consequences. During
the winter, the physical and social worlds are both relatively unvarying. To begin with, it is constantly dark outside
for six months a year, and mostly so for another two. During the other four, it is never completely dark. Even then,
the stretches of ice, sea, and sky are mostly devoid of color, and inland on the continent, of movement and life.
Inside, the shelter is built according to engineering considerations of load weight and cost, so that building interiors
tend toward the stark and invariant. The inhabitants liven it up as much as they can, but the options are limited.
Food is one of the major, and most appreciated, sources of variety, individual choice, and pleasureif it is tasty
and interesting. Otherwise, the cook becomes a target of serious disapproval and anger.
There is work, but for many support workers it becomes unexciting, unvarying, and unfulfilling. Many of the support
staff go to The Ice for novelty, challenge, and adventure (of course, the high pay and limited things to spend it
on are also attractive); they then find themselves mostly restricted to the station, to their workplace, and to a
limited and ultimately repetitive range of amusements and other people. It might be better to recruit staff who are
not thrill seekers but pursue their work to the exclusion of other interests, as many polar scientists do (Blair, 1986),
but this recommendation is no remedy for the long stretches of time when weather conditions prevent them from
pursuing their planned researchsometimes for an entire season.
In winter, the station can be lonely as the complement shrinks drastically to the same few faces seen every day.
Station opening, when the summer workers and next years winter-overs start arriving, relieves the social
monotony. But the station becomes crowded with people who dont know the ropes and standard operating
procedures. They jam the queues in the dining room, the bar, the gym, and other facilities. In some stations,
privacy is lost as rooms now need to be shared.
It sounds bleak. But human beings are creative, and can help themselves in bleak situations. Just as did the crews
of high-latitude whaling and exploring ships in past centuries (Johnson & Suedfeld, 1996), present-day Antarcticans
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make their rooms as much like home as possible. They import posters, photos, artwork (their own and others),
memorabilia, music, video and audio tapes and discs, books, and magazines. They attend lectures on a wide
variety of topics, including the science projects they are helping to support. They form clubs and musical groups
(musical ability is highly prized) and organize competitions, costume parties, dances, and concerts. They
celebrate personal, national, and religious holidays, and devise their own: the successful completion of half of the
winter, the first reappearance of the sun, and so on.
Early empirical studies identified the winter-over syndrome described previously, whose symptoms overlap with
those of the more recently discovered seasonal affective disorder, a mild form of depression, social withdrawal,
and cognitive slowing that some people suffer during the short and sunless days of temperate-zone winters. There
have been well-publicized episodes of sexual rivalry and jealousy (a predictable consequence of mixed-sex
crews). Irritability certainly increases over the winter, as what appeared at first to be someones innocuous (p.
357) habits become irksome and eventually loathsome (see Stuster, 1996, pp. 171175). A number of assaults
have occurred on station, and there has been at least one rumored murder. In addition, polar station residents
have noted the idiosyncratically named Big Eye (chronic insomnia) and Long Eye (a fugue statethe 20-foot stare
in the 10-foot room, which renders the individual essentially unaware of what is going on in the vicinity, unless it is
a very strong stimulus indeed).
All of these symptoms tend to increase as the winter wears on, and may reach a peak in the period after the
halfway point of any mission (the third quarter phenomenon, Bechtel & Berning, 1991). But they typically
disappear before, or shortly after, the return from Antarctica. Estimates of the prevalence of cases serious enough
to warrant a psychiatric diagnosis range only up to 5%, and cluster at 13%, of winterers. Even of this small
number, the great majority require no more than brief counseling or a short-term prescription of medication
(Stuster, 1996).
Some of the problems may be due to inadequate selection. Summer workers, scientists, and their university-based
assistants undergo no assessment of their personal fitness for working in Antarctica; winter-over support personnel
do. However, the assessment methods differ widely from country to country, with a variable mix of interviews,
projective tests, standard personality scales, and scrutiny of biographical data. The ideal recruit, according to an
early analysis that has stood the test of time (Gunderson, 1966), has high levels of three abilities: emotional
stability, sociability, and task ability. People who are emotionally volatile can upset everyone else; the optimal
interpersonal orientation is sociable introversionthat is, enjoying company but not being dependent on itand
someone who is not competent on the job makes life more difficult, and possibly more dangerous, for the group as
a whole.
Negative effects are certainly distressing to the individual, and often to friends and coworkers. But from the start
there have been findings of beneficial aspects, as has already been noted, and psychologists have been urged to
pay more attention to that evidence (Suedfeld, 2001). Data are increasingly being collected that validate such calls
(e.g., Norris, Paton, & Ayton, 2010; Palinkas & Suedfeld, 2008). Aside from anecdotal self-reports that recount
many pleasant and salutogenic experiences, there is also more rigorous research evidence. Data from 104
Australian winterers (four stations, two winter seasons, thus reducing possible bias in the results) showed that
although the list of complaints was long, most appeared rarely; by contrast, fewer positive reactions were noted,
but they were cited much more often (Wood et al., 2000). A very recent Australian literature review (Norris et al.,
2010) concluded that the majority of winterers experience positive outcomes, and that the process of Antarctic
adjustment facilitates resilience and personal growth.
In an American study, the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI) showed significant reductions in
dependency and paranoia, and the Personal Orientation Inventory showed significant increases in selfactualization (motivation and capacity for intimate contact, and ability to react flexibly to situations) (Butcher et al.,
1989). Of 29 winterers in a small station who participated in the study, 27 rated it either good or one of the best
experiences of their life (10 and 17, respectively); one each called it bad and one of the worst (Oliver, 1991).
Carrre, Evans, and Stokols (1991) noted that the Antarctic should be viewed as a dynamic environment whose
effects on the individual are comprised of both chronic characteristics and acute events. All members of their small
group of winter-over scientists and support personnel concluded that the positive aspects of the experience
outweighed the negative. As a last example, Palinkas (1986) reported a longitudinal study of US naval personnel
who had volunteered for and completed duty in Antarctica, compared to personnel who had also volunteered and
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were found to be qualified, but for some reason had not been assigned there. The men with Antarctic experience
subsequently had better careers (e.g., more promotions) and better health (e.g., 20% fewer first hospital
admissions) than the control group. We can leave it at that.
A Human-Made Occupational EUE: Space Stations

Background
Although there have been hundreds of human spaceflights, beginning with Yuri Gagarins orbital flight in 1961,
long-duration flightsmonths, rather than days or a couple of weekshave been restricted to space stations. The
maximum size of long-duration space crews has been six, although most have numbered only two or three. For this
reason, building up a reasonable sample size for psychological studies is a slow process, and limitations of time,
load weight, and room for equipment, and priorities make psychological research on space vehicles difficult.
Accordingly, much of (p. 358) the psychological investigation of the effects of prolonged spaceflight has been
done in simulators and analogue environments. Among the favorite analogues of space vehicles and orbiting
stations have been Antarctic stations. Although they obviously do not replicate all of the characteristics of living in
spacethey have normal gravity, for one important differencethe two environments have much in common:
isolation, confinement, danger, a harsh outside milieu, remoteness from normal surroundings and social circles,
monotony, and unusual light-dark cycles.
Another important similarity space habitats also share with the circumpolar sailing vessels of previous centuries
and with present-day polar expeditions is the importance of good leadership (Dinges, 2011). Although the best
leaders can take full charge in emergencies, they also consult with specialists and with the entire crew on
appropriate issues. When there is a trade-off between acting as efficient taskmasters versus builders of morale and
esprit de corps, they emphasize the latter (Brcic, 2011; Kanas & Manzey, 2003; Leon, 1991; Suedfeld, 2010).
Each of the original space stations was run by one agency: the Salyut program (19711982) and Mir (19862001)
by the Soviet/Russian space organization, and Skylab (19731974) by NASA. When astronauts from other
countries flew in these stations, they were frustrated at being treated like guests rather than fully integrated
colleagues (Suedfeld, Wilk, & Cassel, 2011). This problem may be avoided in the most recent (and currently
operational) version, the International Space Station (ISS). The ISS began as an American plan but eventually
developed into a multinational one. Its on-orbit construction began in 1998 and is scheduled to be completed in
2012. The full crew complement is six astronauts, who are drawn from around the world and train together in a
number of countries before launching for a six-month deployment. Short-term visitors arrive from time to time to
carry out specific tasks.
Over long periods, the stressors overlap with those of Antarctica. These include monotony, lack of privacy and
interpersonal space, insomnia, fatigue after periods of intense work and sleep deprivation, lack of control over the
environment and ones own activities, difficulty in keeping ones body, clothes, and capsule environment clean
(exacerbated in space by debris and worse floating around), and a lack of meaningful activity when there is no
important work to be done. Getting used to microgravity is another problem at first; once learned, practicing the
skills involved can be a source of entertainment.
In addition, astronauts are aware of the dangers of bone demineralization, skeletal and cardiac muscle
deterioration, increased intraocular pressure that may affect their eyesight (a recently documented symptom),
radiation, solar flares, random space debris hitting the capsule, constant loud noise, mechanical failure of some
important life-support system, and so on. They are also awareand not happy aboutconstant scrutiny from
ground control and, if anything goes seriously or even noticeably wrong, from the media and the public at large.
Early in the space age, NASA officials and astronauts scoffed at the possibility that any psychological issue could
possibly bother people who had the Right Stuff; even today, one can hear the opinion that astronauts, being
mature and competent individuals, would not let something like interpersonal conflict affect their job performance.
In fact, the history of spaceflight, like that of Antarctic station life, shows only a few dramatic incidents related to
psychological problems. But missions have had to be cut short because of psychological or psychosomatic
symptoms among the crew, or barely staved off that outcome. Symptoms similar to Antarctic winter-over
syndrome have appeared, including the space stupidstemporary cognitive deterioration (Kanas & Manzey,
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2003). Several astronauts have experienced periods of anxiety or deep depression, a few times because of bad
news from home. Some crew members disliked each other from the beginning of a flight to the end; others
developed a high level of hostility toward each other as the mission wore on. There have been cases where two
men spent much of the mission without even speaking to each other.
Many astronauts grow to dislike their mission controllers and agency administrators on the ground, either
individually or en masse. To some extent this may be a psychological defense mechanism (Kanas et al., 1991); in
others, it is realistic resentment. Participants in both short and long missions have complained about the relentless,
overpacked work schedules imposed by mission control, and in several cases (the Skylab 3 crews spontaneous
weekend rest period being perhaps the best known) have themselves changed those schedules to make them less
onerous. This countermeasure is now being studied by NASA under the label of autonomy (Kanas, 2011). Time
and effort spent on trivial and pointless tasks have also (p. 359) come in for criticism (Stuster, 2010). On the other
hand, many crew members became fast friends with each other and even with mission control; in journals written
aloft, several mentioned plans to thank and reward ground crews for their helpfulness when they returned (Stuster,
2010).
Nevertheless, psychological issues have loomed large in the concerns of major space agencies. The Soviet Union,
whose cosmonauts were the first to spend six months or more in space, selected compatible crews for those
missions, using a variety of situational tests to assess their ability to withstand isolation, to function cognitively
under stress, and to tolerate crowding. If one member of the primary crew had to be replaced, an entire backup
crew was substituted. NASA, on the other hand, relied more on personality tests and interviews, and replaced
individual crew members when necessary. As a result, there were missions on which teammates did not know each
other as well and were not as used to working together. Both organizations being large bureaucracies dependent
on government funding and political connections, the best-suited candidate for a mission was sometimes put aside
in favor of someone who was either better liked by space administrators or preferred by political leaders (Santy,
1994).
With the recent prospect of much longer space missions, such as a two- to three-year exploration of Mars,
psychological concerns have risen in the hierarchy of potential problems (Ball & Evans, 2001). The Mars voyage,
or an alternative trip to some near-Earth object (NEO) such as an asteroid, will undoubtedly involve an international
crew. Prolonged journeys to and from the objective, with some period (in the case of Mars, most likely measured in
months) of surface exploration, will be required. Each of these three phases will have its own discomforts and
dangers.
Training in cross-cultural sensitivity as well as in anticipating and understanding the effects of crowding, isolation,
lack of privacy, and so on has been intensified (NASA, 2011). Consider just two examples of the novel problems
faced by the Mars expeditioners. In previous missions, the crew has been kept quite busy with various work
assignments, including conducting experiments designed by scientists on Earth. When they did have spare time,
as much as 40% of it was spent in viewing and photographing Earth. On a long trip, the astronauts are likely to run
out of meaningful things to do, and as the spaceship approaches and then remains on Mars, Earth will shrink in
view until it is only a point of light, almost certainly increasing the crews sense of isolation.
Countermeasures have been and are being devised, ranging from changing the illumination within the ISS, to
installing partitions with varied and perhaps changeable colors and configurations, to installing a greenhouse
where astronauts can relax in a quasi-natural setting and grow the fresh vegetables they will enjoy eating (as at
McMurdo Station, Antarctica). Plans are being made to test the installation of virtual windows showing different
scenes from Earth. Other improvements in environmental design, such as more private space (especially for
sleeping and personal hygiene) and locating the food preparation and dining area away from the toilet, are being
implemented.
Like maritime and terrestrial explorers of earlier centuries, and like contemporary polar crews, astronauts also
devise their own ways to overcome the boredom and monotony of long-duration confinement. In three space
station programs (Skylab, Shuttle/Mir, ISS) much of the astronauts spare time was spent looking at Earth,
identifying places of personal interest or relevance, and taking photosactivities that failed to engage a few crew
members, one of whom said, After a couple of weeks, you look, say, Oh, yeah. Been there. Seen that (N.
Thagard, quoted in Johnson, 2010, p. 563). Some turned this rather passive recreation into something more active:
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for example, an astronaut interested in the history of exploration traced the routes of famous explorers that the
station flew over. Crew members also took full advantage of recreational materials brought into the station, such as
books, games, puzzles, drawing materials, music CDs, musical instruments, and movie videos. Using computers for
sending and reading e-mail and for keeping up with the news, and chatting with people on Earth by telephone,
were also popular.
Part of health maintenance on the station is a prescribed program of exercise to counteract bone demineralization
and muscle atrophy. Working out is also a form of recreation, and some astronauts make even more of it by
conducting races and competitions. At the time of the Boston Marathon, Suni Williams ran the equivalent distance
on the ISS treadmill. Her time was 4 hours, 23 minutes, and 46 seconds; on the other hand, she circled the entire
Earth three times during that period, making her by far the fastest long-distance runner in history.
As in Antarctica, both pleasure and displeasure with food were mentioned often by the ISS astronauts, who
appreciated the periodic resupply (p. 360) rockets bringing fresh fruit and vegetables, plus special favorites
packed by their families. When these did not arrive, or when someone else ate a disproportionate share of
preferred items, the disappointment was intense (Johnson, 2010; Stuster, 2010).
The ISS crews also instituted celebrations, such as change of command and other ceremonies derived from US
naval tradition, and welcoming ceremonies offering the traditional Russian bread and salt to newly arriving crew
members. Other special occasions include national and religious holidays, birthdays and anniversaries of the crew
and their family, as well as major space-related events (anniversaries of important firsts, crew achievements such
as a successful spacewalk or a record number of days in space).
Among memorable boredom and stress relievers are the practical jokes that astronauts have played on each other
and on people on the ground (and vice versa). Johnson (2010) describes several; my favorite is a prerecorded
tape by the wife of one of the crew, which was then played during a communication with mission control as though
she were actually aboard Skylab, claiming that she had just gone up there to cook a hot meal for the boys.
Control personnel pretended to be mystified as to how this was done, until her husband explained it 25 years later.
In view of the importance of minimizing the impact of adverse psychological factors, it is understandable that space
agencies dont worry about positive effects, but they are mistaken in ignoring them. They should, as Australian
researchers in the Antarctic have already done, recognize that Identification of the salient predictors of resilience
and articulation of the mechanisms linking them to adaptive outcomes will enable proactive prevention and
intervention strategies to focus on enhancing this capacityfrom pre-departure through reunion and reintegration
(Norris et al., 2010, p. 337).
There is a growing impetus for recognizing and studying salutogenesis and post-mission growth among astronauts
when they return from flights. Anecdotal and oral history evidence gave rise to that widening perspective
(Suedfeld, 2001), which has been buttressed by systematic content analysis and by self-report instruments.
Content analysis of archived accounts of astronauts after returning (debriefs, oral histories, memoirs, media
interviews) showed very frequent references to positive experiences vis--vis crewmates, family on the ground,
the space agency and its staff, the capsule, the wonders of space and of Earth as seen both through a window and
during extra-vehicular activities (EVAs), as well as satisfaction with having accomplished tasks and developed
courage and resilience that the astronaut had not been aware of before. Quantified content analysis of the same
materials demonstrated salutogenesis. For example, a pre- to post-flight comparison of astronauts hierarchy of
basic values changed in the direction of more concern with values oriented toward the collective good:
universalism, spirituality, and power (social recognition), and many have used their increased visibility to pursue
social and environmental goals (Suedfeld, Legkaia, & Brcic., 2011).
Ihle, Ritsher, and Kanas (2006) used an adaptation of Tedeschi and Calhouns (1996) Post-Traumatic Growth
Inventory (PTGS), which they named the Positive Effects of Being in Space Questionnaire (PEBS), to measure
positive outcomes. The PEBS was filled out by 39 former and current space voyagers. Every one reported a
positive reaction to being in space. The most strongly endorsed items dealt with appreciating Earths beauty,
appreciating Earths fragility, treasuring the Earth, a sense of wonder about the universe, and perceiving new
opportunities. A similar questionnaire administered to 17 retired Russian cosmonauts reported higher scores on the
dimensions of personal strength and new possibilities when compared to other sample norms on the PTGS.
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Cosmonauts who had spent more than a year in space, and who flew on both Mir and ISS, were most likely to
report increased appreciation of life (Suedfeld, Brcic, Johnson, & Gushin, 2012).
Once again: as in the other sections, the point is that neither negative nor positive aspects of the EUE should be
overemphasized or neglected. Both have profound impact on the people in the environment, during and after the
mission. Agencies with the responsibility for such missions and for the people in them need to appreciate and make
provisions for both (Suedfeld, 2005).
Introduction to Traumatic Environments

The three environments discussed until now are restricted in how many people have entered them. As of 2003,
fewer than 9,500 people had seen the summit of any of the 8,000-meter peaks (Eight-thousander summiters, 2006);
the number by now is likely to be over 10,000, but probably not as high as 15,000. The winter population of
Antarctic stations totals under 1,000 annually. Since Gagarins flight in 1961, about 550 human beings have been
(p. 361) in space, accelerating in recent years (List of space travelers, 2011). By contrast, although many
disasters affect only a few people in a relatively circumscribed area, others have affected most of the world and
have killed, maimed, uprooted, and impoverished millions.
Another crucial difference between the recreational and occupational categories on the one hand and the
traumatic on the other is that the first two are entered into voluntarily, while the other is imposed by an outside
agency, whether human or natural (for example, geological or meteorological). People are in a recreational or
occupational EUE because they expect to gain something: enjoyment, excitement, challenge, pride, fame, money,
security, or some combination of these. Some of them have described what may well be peak or flow experiences
(Csikszentmihalyi, 1990). Victims caught in disasters, whether large- or small-scale, at most hope to survive them
without injury or loss; the prospect of gain is rarely discernible. Thus, one could reasonably expect more negative
and fewer positive outcomes of the experience in such cases. In the last two types of EUEs covered in this
chapter, we shall see to what extent any positive effect can be found.
A final word about the next two sections. The literature review covers only the effects of the EUE on victim
survivors. Studies of first responders and other rescue and recovery personnel in natural disasters, and
perpetrators, bystanders, and so on in genocides, are not included. Also, the review uses generally accepted
concepts and definitions. It will not cover controversies over such issues as whether the diagnostic category of
post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) should be abandoned as an example of Western-centric, medical overreach
(van Ommeren, Saxena, & Saraceno, 2005), and how accurate the death rate ascribed to any particular genocide
is or is not.
A Natural, Traumatic EUE: Natural Disasters

Background
Natural disasters usually afflict people who are unprepared and unsuspecting. Their geographic impact and
temporal duration are usually clearly defined. There is no agreed-upon definition of how severe an event has to be
to qualify as a disaster, and how severity should be assessed (Walker, 1998): by number of deaths, number of
people displaced, monetary loss, or damage to life-sustaining factors, such as farmland? There is also a
controversy concerning what is to be considered natural. For example, if the excessive cutting of timber induces
instability in the soil and a landslide results, or people build houses on the slope of a volcano and a catastrophic
eruption occurs, how should these disasters be classified? Such issues make it difficult to ascertain the toll of
natural disasters per se. One estimate is 3.5 million deaths in the 20th century, not including deaths from drought
and famine (Munich Re, 1999). Compared to an estimated 260 million victims of deliberate human action during the
same period (Rummel, 1997/2002), natural disasters are considered to cause far less human damage.
The sources and types of natural disasters are highly varied, as are their outcomes. Large-scale disasters may be
caused by windstorms (hurricanes, cyclones, tornadoes, typhoons); dangerous water conditions such as rogue
waves, tsunamis, monsoon rains, floods, and droughts; geological disruptions (earthquakes, mudslides, rockslides,
avalanches, and cave-ins); and dangers from fire, for example, volcanic eruptions and wildfires. Casualties range
from under 10 to hundreds of thousands. In addition, some definitions include famines and epidemics under the
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heading of natural disasters, in which case deaths in the millions can be added to the toll. If famines are included at
all, one must delete those that are actually caused or exacerbated by deliberate human action, such as the
starvation of at least three million Ukrainians under the Stalin regime (e.g., Snyder, 2010) and of somewhere around
30 million Chinese who starved as a result of Maos drive to industrialize the country and collectivize its agriculture
a period (19581961) that until recently the Chinese government, presumably with no sense of irony, called
Three Years of Natural Disasters (Banister, 1984).
Most of the relevant literature focuses on symptoms of traumatic and post-traumatic stress. It is roughly divided
between large-scale statistical analyses of the frequency, nature, and severity of symptoms often subdivided by
demographic and geographic categories, and clinical studies of what kind of psychological support and counseling
should be provided to the survivors. There has been insufficient psychological research on individual survivors to
identify the extent to which reactions to disaster are uniform across different types of disasters (e.g., floods,
earthquakes) and levels of exposure to the trauma (e.g., number of casualties, area of impact, personal
experiences of injury or loss). Briere and Elliott (2000) reported that exposure severityespecially physical injury,
fear of death, and loss of (p. 362) propertywere better predictors of trauma symptoms in the aftermath of
disaster than the type of disaster.
Other relevant variables are the level, type, timing, and duration of support that individuals and groups receive
from each other, from charitable organizations, and from governments. Whether the individual is relocated after the
disaster or is able to return home has an effect, with relocation apparently leading to more depression and general
symptoms of stress (e.g., Najarian et al., 2001).
Frequently noted symptoms cover the whole range of stress and trauma syndromes, including PTSD, but the
prevalence of specific symptoms varies widely. The so-called disaster syndrome has four phases: behavior during
the disaster, optimism as recovery begins, disappointment and resentment about losses and the recovery process,
and reconstruction of normal life. The syndrome is related to PTSD, generalized anxiety, and clinical depression
(Shore et al., 1986).
In general, it seems that the level of serious psychiatric impairment is not very high, although there are
contradictory reports. The same is true of the course of recovery. One reviewer concluded that diagnosable
pathology is the exception rather than the rule, and rarely affects more than 25% of the survivors by just one
year after the event (Green, 1995, p. 309). Another study found that most symptoms decrease in less than two
years after the disaster (Solomon & Green, 1992). Ohta et al. (2003) reported that during 44 post-evacuation
months after a volcanic eruption in Japan, the course of recovery was uneven across symptoms. Although selfrated anxiety, tension, insomnia, lack of energy, and social dysfunction decreased significantly, depression was
only beginning to lessen at 44 months and interpersonal dysfunction had not abated.
Most studies in this literature are post hoc, because pre-disaster measures are rarely available on the individual
level. One exception is an interview study of psychological symptoms among residents of Iowa. In 1993, a year
after the data collection, the area suffered a massive flood. The residents were re-interviewed one to three months
after the flood had abated (Ginexi et al., 2000). Only a small rise in depressive symptoms was found.
Another major topic is the analysis of risk factors (McFarlane, 1989). Green (1995) and many other authors
identified exposure to danger as one of the most reliable predictors of post-disaster symptoms. The closer the
person was to the event geographically or psychologically (e.g., proximity to the focus of the disaster, being
injured, losing close relatives or friends, witnessing deaths or injuries, losing economic resources such as a house,
etc.), the higher the risk of trauma symptoms.
Demographic factors also play a role, although that role is not always clear and may interact with risk and type of
disaster. There are mixed results for gender, but in Greens as in other studies, there is some evidence that women
and girls are more likely to experience symptoms after surviving a natural disaster.
People across the entire life span are at risk of psychological symptoms to some extent, but their reactions differ by
age and interactive variables. For example, childrens PTSD is affected by the social support they receive during
and after the event. In one study of children in an early-morning 6.9 magnitude earthquake, 30% reported that they
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had not felt surprised and some slept through it. Those under seven years of age experienced less fear during the
event. Parents reacted by holding or touching the children until the quake was over (Negayama, 2010), an
example of another common finding: that childrens symptoms are affected by whether they have a close and
protective family.
The elderly regard the loss of economic resources as more important than do younger people, but report less
severe mental or physical aftereffects of disasters (Kilijanek & Drabek, 1979). Kato et al. (1996) found that three
weeks after a Japanese earthquake, elderly subjects (60 years or older) showed significant decreases in 8 of 10
PTSD symptoms compared to rates immediately after the earthquake, whereas symptom levels had not gone down
among those under 60. On the other hand, Ohta et al. (2003) reported that middle-aged and older evacuees tested
44 months after the volcanic eruption had more difficulty with recovery than their younger counterparts.
Preexisting psychiatric problems are reliably and positively correlated with the severity of post-disaster trauma
symptoms (e.g., Green, 1995). Whether specific diagnostic categories pose particular risk factors remains to be
established.
Socioeconomic status has a multifactorial impact. Poor people and racial minorities may live in housing that is more
crowded and less resistant to earthquakes, floods, and fire, so that their community suffers more damage and
personal injury. They are less likely to have insurance. These factors, together with their lower income and
savings, mean that they are less able to afford the loss of economic (p. 363) resources. Loss of resources, in
turn, is an important magnifier of stress. Additionally, people in disadvantaged circumstances may have less
access to vehicles (cars, boats) needed to escape the disaster area, and at least in some cases, their
neighborhood may not receive as much attention from emergency response organizations. All of these factors
increase their level of stress and consequently their risk of trauma and post-trauma symptoms.
The effects of socioeconomic class interact with other demographic characteristics, such as age, gender, and
race. Older men with low occupational status were at greatest risk for psychological, but not physical, symptoms
after a flood in Kentucky (Phifer, 1990). Both black and low-income residents of New Orleans suffered from
Hurricane Katrina more than white, higher-income townspeople, but those who were black and poor were most in
need of assistance (Elliott & Pais, 2006). Their disadvantage continued after evacuation: Settles and Lindsey
(2011) reported that media and the public in Houston, Texas, blamed the mostly African-American post-Katrina
refugees for what statistics showed to be a nonexistent crime wave.
Despite the primarily pathogenic emphasis of the literature, many authors at least mentioned that resilience exists,
and some examined its possible determinants. For example, Benight et al. (1999) measured a set of variables
including social support and loss of personal resources, both of which the literature generally considers crucial
predictors of adverse reactions to disaster trauma. As it turned out, the best actual predictor of both general and
trauma-related distress was coping self-efficacy. This is not to say that the other variables had no role; lost
resources affected the levels of both coping self-efficacy and optimism.
In an interesting cross-cultural comparison, Fernando and Hebert (2011) conducted post-disaster interviews with
seven women in Sri Lanka who had survived the Asian tsunami and seven female survivors of Hurricane Katrina in
Louisiana. Both groups referred to their Christian faith as sources of support during and after their disaster. Both felt
fearful of future natural disasters. The Sri Lankans tried to be optimistic, and referred to internal strength and
motivation. The Americans described more symptoms of PTSD, and all of them requested counseling to help them
recover. Both groups considered the support they received from friends, family, their community, and their church
to be instrumental in helping them cope with their problems. Despite the differences in culture and in the nature of
the disaster they had endured, their reactions seemed amazingly similar.
Previous experience with EUEs can be a help. Park, Miller, and Van (2010) remarked on the resilience of
Vietnamese refugees (Boat People) who had settled in a Biloxi, Mississippi, neighborhood (Little Saigon) that
was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. Like many survivors of actual genocide, the Katrina survivors compared their
latest stressors with earlier travailsin their case, during the Vietnam War, the perilous voyage from Vietnam, and
life in refugee camps. If you endured hardship in Vietnam, nothing in the U.S. is hard (Park et al., pp. 9091).
Members of the community helped each other both materially and psychologically, although young, educated,
English-speaking individuals were getting on with their lives and trying to look towards the future (p. 96).
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Natural disasters can evoke positive behavior on the part of outsiders and survivors. Governments, religious and
charitable organizations, and private citizensincluding many from the international communityrally to find
survivors and help with money, food, medical aid, shelter, potable water, and so on. They also provide places
where displaced survivors can gather, find friends and relatives, meet with representatives of relief organizations
and with members of the local community, and share stories, meals, and company (Park et al., 2010).
Survivors themselves may share this prosocial pattern. Fernando and Hebert (2011) describe how women who had
survived the devastating Asian tsunami of 2005 felt a sense of purpose amid their grieving when they shared their
resources with their extended family members and helped neighbors with shopping and similar chores. Rao et al.
(2011) conducted studies after the 2008 Wenchuan earthquake (magnitude 8.0; 89,000 dead, 375,000 injured,
1.15 million people deprived of their livelihood because of devastated farmlands and forests). They found that living
in the devastated area was positively correlated with altruistic responses in two experimental scenarios. These
were administered 1 to 2 months, and again 6 and 12 months, after the quake. The researchers found the same
results among residents of an area that had been hit by a major earthquake (655,000 dead) more than 30 years
earlier. Actual prosocial behavior, in the form of donations and personal help from survivors of the 1976
earthquake to victims of the 2008 earthquake, showed the same relationship between having experienced a
natural disaster and behaving altruistically.
(p. 364) Another group of researchers, also studying the aftermath of the Wenchuan quake, found that with social
support as a moderating variable, adolescents showed signs of post-traumatic growth (Yang, Lin, & Qian, 2010). In
another study, Roxberg et al. (2010) analyzed televised interviews with 39 survivors of the 2004 Pacific Ocean
tsunami. The survivors were citizens of Sweden, Thailand, or Sri Lanka and were between 12 and 70 years old. All
but 10 of the interviewees had lost at least one close relative in the tsunami, which occurred one year before the
interviews. Both post-traumatic stress and post-traumatic growth appeared. Some prominent themes in the
interviews were a profound sense of loneliness, loss, and grief, anger at the injustice of the loss, and hopelessness
because of the uncertainty of the future and the lack of sufficient aid to recovery. Sleep disturbances, loss of
appetite, inability to concentrate, nightmares, generalized anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and other post-traumatic
stress symptoms were mentioned.
But that was only part of the story. Surviving family members and friends were important sources of support to the
interviewees. They also found it comforting to memorialize the dead, visiting graves or memorials and participating
in mourning rituals. Although one symptom of PTSD is the avoidance of stimuli that reactivate the memory of the
trauma, respondents found solace in being near the ocean that had swept away a loved one. A survivor said,
When I step into the water she hugs me. I just feel it is wonderful to swim here [in Thailand] because then I know
that I am with her (Roxberg et al., p. 712).
Going beyond coping with the loss to post-traumatic growth, some of the interviewees spoke of finding new
meaning in their life, new awareness of life as a gift to be enjoyed, and becoming more attentive to friends and
family. One participant summed up this salutogenic outcome as follows: I now try to build a new life. I do not know
at all what the substance of this life will be except that it will include human warmth, love and good things
(Roxberg et al., p. 712).
Ursano, Fullerton, and McCaughey (1994) quoted a survivor of the 1992 Oakland, California, fires: I value my
family so much now. Its amazing how the little things [in life] matter. The fire taught me that and I owe it a debt of
gratitude for teaching this lesson. The authors continued, The effects of traumatic events are not always bad.
Although many survivors of the 1974 tornado in Xenia, Ohio, experienced psychological distress, the majority
described positive outcomes: learning that they could handle crises effectively, feeling that they were better off for
having met this type of challenge. Trauma may also bring a community closer together or reorient an individual
to new priorities, goals or values (Ursano et al., 1994, p. 8).
As in the other EUEs we have examined so far, the major focus of researchers has been on the adverse aspects of
the experience. This outlook persists, but a growing number of scholars are paying more attention to stress
resistance and coping. Carp (2010) has argued that the clinical approach may be counterproductive: the
professional who views the survivors as weak and helpless victims may overlook the flexibility and resilience of
both the individuals and the social systems whose normal functioning has been disrupted.
We shall next turn to the pattern in the worst kinds of disaster, those that human beings visit upon each other.
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A Human-Made Traumatic EUE: Genocide
Background
Genocide is defined as the deliberate and systematic destruction, in whole or in part, of an ethnic, racial, religious,
or national group (United Nations, 1948), vague enough for considerable argument about whether it covers such
offshoots as the killing of people based on their economic status (classicide) or political adherence (politicide), or
the attempt to destroy a peoples culture (cultural genocide). There is also legal controversy as to how close to
success a genocidal attempt has to comethat is, how large a part of an ethnic, racial, religious, or national
group must actually have been destroyedto qualify. A catch-all term to cover all of these is democide
(Rummel, 1997), covering genocide, politicide, massacres, extrajudicial executions, and other forms of mass
murder by state and quasi-state regimes, and nonstate groups. It does not include military deaths in combat.
According to Rummels statistics, updated in 2002, democides killed upward of 260 million people in the 20th
century.
No genocidal campaign in recent history has succeeded in completely annihilating groups fitting under the
definition, and only one has attempted to do so. Atrocities and massacres were perpetrated by Imperial Germany
against the Hereros, by Ottoman Turkey against the Armenians, by the Khmer Rouge against class, cultural, and
ethnic outsiders, and by Rwandan Hutus against Tutsis, to name only a few examples. But the Nazis were alone in
formulating the goal of eventually killing every single member of a religious-ethnic group, the Jews, wherever they
(p. 365) could be reached in the whole world. The Holocaust (referred to as the Shoah in Hebrew) caused the
death of over half of the Jews of Europe, including over 90% of their children, some six million people altogether.
The Holocaust is unique among genocides. The persecution of the Jews and the mass murders lasted 12 and 6
years, respectively, longer than any other such campaigns. The Nazis followed systematic procedures and kept
extensive records. Many of the victims were literate and educated, and produced correspondence and diaries that
survived the war; after the war, survivors who were scattered around the world recorded their histories.
In consequence, the literature of the Holocaust is unique among genocides. Thousands of autobiographies,
memoirs, diaries, scientific papers, historical and philosophical treatises, and most recently videotaped oral
histories have been amassed in Holocaust documentation. Many of these were created several decades after the
end of the war, when survivors, rescuers, perpetrators, and bystanders had had time to gain insight about the
long-term role of the genocide in their lives. Psychological research has addressed the personality and motives of
all of these groups (see, e.g., Suedfeld, 2000), but here I shall deal only with studies of survivorsa sizeable
enough literature, with studies of concentration camp survivors alone numbering almost 2,500 publications before
the end of the past century (Krell & Sherman, 1997).
There is not much point in rehearsing the well-known details of the horrible circumstances in which so many died
(e.g., Friedlnder, 2007; The Holocaust Chronicle, 2000). Civilians in most of Europe faced the dangers of war
invasion and brutal occupation, aerial bombardment, collapsing buildings, shells, mines, and bullets, as well as food
shortages, power failures, and so on. But in addition, Jews first lost their civil rights and then were dehumanized
and degraded, starved, beaten, and forced to live in crowded ghettoes or concentration camps. There, they were
denied warm clothing, sanitary facilities, and medical care, and subjected to torture and medical experimentation.
Many were worked to death; others were brutally murdered if they showed resistance or if they belonged to the
wrong demographic group (if they were too young, too old, too weak, or too sick to work, and in the camps, if
they were mothers with small children). Any of these was sufficient, none was necessary: Jews could be killed at
the whim of their persecutors, who were sometimes their former friends and neighbors. Many who survived all this
were taken on death marches and killed as the Allied armies approached. In the many episodes of Jewish
resistance, revolution, escape, and guerrilla warfare, few participants survived.
Of those who hid, many were dependent on the Gentiles who sheltered them (and who sometimes exploited or
betrayed them). Some concealed themselves in hidden rooms, cellars, sewers, or underground hideouts in the
wilderness, or moved about such places to avoid detection. They were hunted, hungry, cold, afraid, and tired.
Others, mostly children, were hidden by Gentile families or institutions (orphanages, convents, and churches),
sometimes with false documents and sometimes only with a cover story, which they had to memorize and
remember, always on the alert so as not to give away their true name, identity, and family origin. For men and
boys, being circumcised was proof of being Jewish, so that concealing it was crucial; some Jewish parents dressed
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their sons in girls clothing to reduce the probability that they might be examined by authorities.
This history, and photos and films of the liberation of the camps, shocked the world. The psychiatrists and clinical
psychologists who produced the earliest wave of behavioral science writing about the victims of the Shoah were
influenced by their own traumatized reactions when the facts of the genocide became public, exacerbated and
made more vivid by the patients accounts. Soon, a set of general symptoms affecting survivors was labeled as
concentration camp syndrome (or KZ syndrome, from the German abbreviation of Konzentrationslager),
survivor syndrome, or persecution syndrome. The symptoms were the precursors of what we now know as
PTSD: episodes of generalized anxiety and anger, depression, psychosomatic and sexual dysfunction, anhedonia,
insomnia and nightmares, memory flashbacks, hypervigilance, intrusive ideation, and emotional withdrawal, plus
survivor guilt, deriving from having survived when so many others had died (Krystal, 1968).
Most psychologists and psychiatrists were convinced that the trauma of the Holocaust experience, particularly that
of concentration camp survivors (there was much less attention to hidden adults and children), had irretrievably
damaged them. They would never be able to enjoy life, to pursue successful careers, or establish warm
interpersonal bonds (see, e.g., Garland, 1993). Professionals who examined the few children who survived the
camps were appalled: a homogeneous mass, with no hair, (p. 366) faces swollen from hunger and uniform
clothes; a group with an apathetic, unconcerned and indifferent attitude, with no laughter or even a smile, and a
marked aggressiveness towards the personnel; mistrust and suspicion (Hemmendinger, 1981). The prognosis was
dismal.
This focus on pathogenesis carried over into later writings about the second generation, the survivors children,
who were often described as suffering from intergenerational transmission of trauma (e.g., Williams-Keeler et al.,
1998). Survivor parents supposedly transmitted their own traumas to their children, making them averse to doing
anything to disappoint or oppose their parents. The younger generation learned to feel the parents grief at the
murder of family membersespecially of members of a dead first family, who were sometimes presented as
idealized role models. Members of the second generation felt anxious and guilty when they failed to live up to the
parents expectations, or when they complained about anything, because all their problems were trivial compared
to what their parents had gone through. Many were haunted by the horrors they imagined their parents to have
experienced, which were sometimes worse than the actual histories of parents who (like many survivors) shied
away from talking about the Holocaust. Some observers (e.g., Garland, 1993) have asserted that the trauma is
transmitted even to the grandchildren; one wonders how many generations it might take to disappear.
The dire predictions certainly came true for some survivors, across all age ranges. But although the literature was
for decades dominated by descriptions of the personal and familial damage done to, and unwittingly by, the
survivors, some discordant observations began to emerge, an early warning to the doomsayers being sounded by
Weinfeld, Sigal, and Eaton (1981). A major cause was the incorporation of community-based samples in the
research, instead of limiting the subject population to clinical patients and counselees. With more representative
groups, therapists and interviewers realized that the long-term effects of the Holocaust were variable, and that in
general survivors and their children managed to overcome their trauma (Sigal & Weinfeld, 1989). Even among
survivors who presented with symptoms, these were often mild and stimulated by recent acts of anti-Semitism
(Eaton, Sigal, & Weinfeld, 1982). In an influential book, Helmreich (1992) reported interviews with several hundred
survivors living in the United States. He found that they were very resilient, had succeeded in building happy and
successful personal and professional lives, and had passed their positive traits down to their children.
Similar findings emerged from a series of studies that began in 1994, using quantitative content analyses of
interviews and self-report instruments with Holocaust survivors participating in oral history projects and survivor
gatherings (summarized in Suedfeld, 2002). The results showed a range of mostly positive outcomes. The
interviews were scored for a variety of factors; the scores were then compared by age, gender, and Holocaust
experiences as well as across the parts of the narrative dealing with the period before, during, or after the
Holocaust.
The coping strategies described in the survivors reminiscences showed predominantly active attempts at solving
or escaping from problems rather than emotion-oriented amelioration. Integrative complexity scores (a measure of
flexible, open-minded decision-making) were high, with a decline when the Nazi program first affected thema
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universal pattern under stressbut rebounding after liberation to among the highest levels found for any group in
past research. Eriksons psychosocial crises were resolved successfully, except for a prevalence of mistrust over
trust. The survivors occupational status in their new homelands was mostly middle to upper middle class (child
survivors educational level was higher than the US national average), and they valued interesting and socially
useful work above salary and hours. They had close, affectionate bonds with family and friends; they believed that
the world and other people were mostly benevolent, and acknowledged that help from others, including non-Jews,
had aided their survival; and they were content with their life and with what they had accomplished.
Responding to questionnaires handed out at a survivors gathering, they reported very few symptoms of PTSD:
only sleep disturbances were marked as occurring more than seldom, with a mean between seldom and
occasionally (Cassel & Suedfeld, 2006). Incidentally, sleep disturbances were also highest among stress
symptoms reported by the native-born US Jewish comparison group. The survivors had high scores on
Antonovskys (1987) measure of salutogenesis and on a measure of self-esteem. Differences between camp and
hidden survivors were relatively small. Thus, it is clear that for survivors in unselected community samples,
predictions of permanently ruined lives were far off the mark.
As to the transgenerational transmission of Holocaust trauma, survivors offspring report (p. 367) themselves to
be susceptible to minor ailments, but to be task-oriented, active copers. They also express favorable attitudes
toward their parents, seeing them as dependable, responsible, industrious, and intelligent, and their mothers
specifically as caring (Leventhal & Ontell, 1989). Another researcher concluded that living with their traumatized
parents built strength and stamina in some second-generation members, made them identify with and help the
disadvantaged, and guided many of them into the helping professions (Wardi, 1992). Magids (1998) found that
the children of hidden child survivors showed no significant personality differences from those of native-born
American Jewish parents who had not suffered trauma. Kaplan (undated), after reviewing the pathogenic literature
on the second generation, reported that these results lend support to more recent sociological research claims
that the traumas of the Holocaust may not have had pathological effects on all survivors. Kaplan concluded that
positive traits may develop as a result of trauma, and that these are worth investigating.
In an essay emphasizing the traumas of Holocaust survivors, Jucovy (1998) pithily summarized the positive view:
Many survivors have shown an unusual depth of psychic strength and resilience, and have adapted to their
renewed lives with great vitality. Many have achieved remarkable success and, due to their commitment to
continuity and life-affirming attitudes, have inspired their children to be dedicated to a life of responsibility and
service (p. 32). The group of concentration camp children whose prognosis at first was so hopeless grew up to
include at least one Nobel laureate and a chief rabbi of Israel, among many less famous but successful and happy
members. The eminent historian Sir Martin Gilbert (1997) referred to them as exemplars of what human beings
could achieve despite experiencing horrors early in life.
Because the Holocaust is unique among democides along the dimensions discussed earlier, it would be
enlightening to have records and data from other mass murder projects to identify which findings can be
generalized across such tragedies. Some that occurred from just before, during, and shortly after World War II
were perpetrated in the Soviet Union and others in the Peoples Republic of China, whose files on such matters are
classified. Research on the psychology of survivors would be very useful but is unavailable. The later Khmer
Rouge massacres in Cambodia, the Rwandan genocide, the mutual persecutions and mass murders in the former
Yugoslavia, the widespread atrocities in Ethiopia, Zimbabwe, the Central African Republic, the Democratic Republic
of the Congo, Darfur, and the like have attracted the attention of therapists. There is a growing pathogenic
literature on the treatment of survivors, both those who have emigrated or are still in refugee camps and those who
stayed or returned home.
Among the accounts of PTSD and other problems, there are some signs of hope: Nou (2007), after citing
troublesome findings about Cambodians resettled in the American Midwest, wrote, Our respondents had
remarkable intuitive psychological buoyancy toward their current life circumstances in spite of overwhelming
adjustment/adaptation challenges (p. 185).
Again, as in the cases of other EUEs, to argue for recognizing positive outcomes is not to deny negative ones, nor
to ignore the fact that the two kinds frequently coexist in the same person. Psychologists must give due attention to
both if we want to understand and be ready to respond appropriately to human reactions during and after such
Page 20 of 27

experiences. It is to be hoped that the behavioral and social sciences, now having recognized salutogenesis and
post-traumatic growth among Holocaust survivors, will not be blind to such effects in the future.
Conclusion and Future Directions

EUEs differ along many dimensions, only a subset of which was discussed in this chapter. Some are more important
than others, and importance varies across specific EUEs. Clearly, the subjective experiences of the individual also
vary widely, from the excitement of challenges one chooses to face and strives to overcome, to facing forces
much greater than oneself and hostile to life, and striving to survive and recover.
It is equally clear that the range of reactions encompasses self-destructive ones that may have a deleterious
impact on the subsequent life of EUE dwellers and everyone in close contact with them. Potential physical damage
spans the gamut from the trivial to the inescapably lethal, and from the momentary to the permanent. Posttraumatic stress symptoms and other adverse psychological reactions may make life miserable for a while, or
forever. They may even have a deleterious effect on offspring who were not even born when their parent went
through the EUE.
But it is also undeniable that EUE experiences cannot be considered only from a negative point of view. Some are
chosen because they are seen as offering a chance of a positive payoff, often psychological (p. 368) but
sometimes both psychological and material. Others are not chosen, but cannot be avoided. Resilience, strength,
optimism, hope, support from others, and the exercise of ones own intellectual and physical abilities can lead to
survival and success. Human beings as a species and as individuals can be indomitable in overcoming challenges,
and professionals and scientists should intensify their attempts to understand, explain, and foster that trait
(Suedfeld, 1997, 2012).
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Peter Suedfeld
Peter Suedfeld Department of Psychology University of British Columbia Vancouver, BC, Canada
Page 27 of 27
Noise

Noise
Stephen A. Stansfeld, Charlotte Clark, and Rosanna Crombie
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0020

Noise exposure from air, road and rail transport, construction, and industry is a pervasive environmental pollutant.
Noise causes annoyance and sleep disturbance and may interfere with cognitive performance in both children and
adults. Generally the stress hypothesis is believed to underlie noise effects on health. Evidence for effects of noise
on mental health is mixed. Noise exposure is associated with increased report of psychological symptoms,
especially anxiety symptoms, increased prescription of minor tranquilizers and hypnotics, and impairment of wellbeing in both adults and children. On the other hand, community studies have generally not found increased rates
of common mental disorders related to noise exposure. There is a need for methodologically stronger longitudinal
studies to definitively address whether noise has more serious mental health effects.
Keywords: noise, aircraft, traffic, mental health, depression, anxiety, medication, annoyance, sleep
Introduction
Environmental noise is increasingly pervasive. This is largely noise from transport, industrial construction, and
leisure activities. Although the sound level of overflights from individual aircraft has diminished in recent years,
there are more aircraft and the same might be said for cars. Thus, although the sound intensity of many common
noise sources has diminished, there is still disturbance from noise that may occupy more of the 24-hour period.
One of the most telling changes has been that although in the United Kingdom there was a diminution of daytime
ambient noise levels during the 1990s, the nighttime quiet period has decreased, with noise levels rising earlier in
the day and continuing later into the night (Ling, Skinner, Grimwood, & Raw, 2002). Traditionally quiet rural areas
are also more under threat from noise and population growth, and industrialization in many areas of the world is
accompanied by higher noise levels.
Thus it is an important public health question to ask: Does noise exposure affect health and especially mental
health? This chapter will deal with the effects of environmental noise on various indices of mental health, sleep
disturbance, cognitive performance, and more general emotional responses such as annoyance.
Definition of Noise
Noise is generally defined as unwanted sound. It is often thought of as a nuisance interfering in activities and
disrupting communication. It can be classed as a type of environmental stressor. The concept of noise involves
both a significant psychological component (unwanted) as well as a physical component (perceived by the ear
and then transmitted by the auditory nerve to the temporal lobe in the brain) (Bell, Greene, Fisher, & Baum, 1996). It
is possible for sound to be harmful for health without subjective perception of the sound (for instance, (p. 376)
sound exposure during sleep), although usually most of its adverse effects are mediated through the perceived
unpleasant quality of the sound. Recurrent or persistent exposure to ambient noise is likely to be more damaging
Page 1 of 19
Noise
for health than single noise events because of the development of chronic stress responses that may represent a
failure of adaptation (Bell et al., 1996).
Physically, sound is perceived by rapidly changing air pressure at the eardrum. The description of sound is
typically characterized by intensity or sound pressure level (measured in decibels, or dB), frequency (pitch),
periodicity (continuous or intermittent), and duration (acute or chronic). Other characteristics, which are not
related to its physical components, are also important in determining the interpretation of perceived sound. These
include the predictability of noise; episodes (random or fixed interval); attitudes to the noise source; the meaning
of the noise; and the degree of personal control over it. There has been less research examining the effects of
sound frequency on health than examining the effects of sound intensity on health. Intermittent, higher-frequency,
short-duration, intense sounds create greater disturbance and probably have greater effects on health than do
continuous, low-frequency, long-duration, and low-intensity sounds (Baker & Holding, 1993). It is difficult to isolate
the effect of particular sound frequencies on health because most noises are a mixture of frequencies, but special
attention has turned to the effects of persistent low-frequency noise that may elicit feelings of annoyance and
helplessness (Berglund, Hassmen, & Job, 1996).
Noise and Other Physical Environmental Stressors

One pertinent question is How does the impact of noise differ from other environmental stressors? Excessive
heat has been related to increased levels of aggression and hostility in an inverted U-shaped relationship (Bell &
Fusco, 1989). Air pollution has many associations with physical ill health, such as the triggering of asthma attacks
and cardiovascular and respiratory diseases. Interestingly, some associations have been found between level of
air pollutants and mental health. Small positive associations have been found between daily levels of pollutants and
the number of psychiatric emergencies on those days. The strongest effects were for carbon monoxide and ozone
(Halpern, 1995). Unless air pollutants are accompanied by an unpleasant odor, there is unlikely to be a subjective
response to air pollution. Odor is related to annoyance in a dose-response association but pleasantnessunpleasantness is a stronger determinant of annoyance than intensity, unlike noise, where intensity is more
important (Sucker et al., 2009). Also it has been found that odor annoyance may mediate the association of odor
exposure with reporting common symptoms (Sucker et al., 2009), which is not the case with noise. In this way
noise exposure, within the limits of human hearing, is very different from air pollution in being perceived
subjectively. Perhaps the major differences for noise are that it is readily perceived and that the source is often
identifiable, and associated with that, there may be particular attitudes related to the source of the noise.
Effects of Noise on Health and Behavior

Noise exposure can have a wide range of effects on health and behavior. Aircraft and road traffic noise as well as
industrial noise and noise from neighbors have been linked to both annoyance and sleep disturbance. There is
evidence for exposure-effect relationships between aircraft and road traffic noise and annoyance and sleep
(Schultz, 1978; Miedema et al., 2003). There is also increasing evidence in recent studies for raised high blood
pressure and hypertension in relation to both aircraft noise and road traffic noise (Jarup et al., 2008; van Kempen
et al., 2002; Babisch, 2006) and even a small contribution to the risk of myocardial infarction (Babisch et al., 2005).
Noise as a stressor has been implicated in raised levels of cortisol in field studies (Babisch et al., 2001; Selander et
al., 2009). Moreover, there is also evidence that aircraft noise and, perhaps to a lesser extent, road traffic noise
have effects on childrens reading and episodic memory (Stansfeld et al., 2005; Clark et al., 2006; Hygge et al.,
2002). Overall this suggests that environmental noise has a wide spectrum of effects across different areas of
human activity. In this chapter we will largely focus on the effects on mental health.
Noise Exposure and Symptoms

Many early studies related noise exposure in industrial settings to reports of physical and psychological symptoms.
Exposure to noise in industries such as weaving mills and factories meant exposure to very high levels of industrial
noise giving rise to nausea, headaches, argumentativeness, changes in mood, anxiety, post-work irritability, and
sexual impotence (Melamed et al., 1988). High levels of illness-related absenteeism (Cameron, Zaks, & Robertson,
1972), social conflicts at work and (p. 377) home (Jansen, 1961), and documented absenteeism (Cohen, 1976)
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have been found to be more frequent in noisy rather than quiet industries. However, the findings from these
industrial studies are difficult to interpret because noisy industries very often have other physical and psychosocial
problems that may be additional causes for illness and absenteeism. An important issue in studies of noise and
health is that of selection into and out of noisy environments. Jobs in noisy areas may be less desirable and more
difficult to fill, and hence may be selectively filled with individuals who have higher rates of health problems that
have prevented them from attaining better jobs and who thus may report more symptoms irrespective of noise in
the workplace. On the other hand, selection of personnel for jobs in highnoise exposure areas that are also
dangerous, demanding toughness and resilience, may preferentially select for people who are not bothered by
noise. An example of this is the few symptoms that were found among men working on aircraft carriers in highnoise conditions (Davis, 1958). Additionally, some studies have shown that the increase in symptoms with noise
level was found only for those who were highly annoyed (Melamed, Luz, & Green, 1992).
In very many of these symptom studies, it is possible that there is a bias toward overreporting symptoms when the
question asks explicitly does noise cause the specific symptom. Barker & Tarnopolsky (1978) have shown that
questions that contain an explicit link between a noise and symptoms result in higher rates of symptom reporting
than when the same question is asked without it being linked to noise exposure. Community surveys using the
former type of question found high percentages of people reported headaches, restless nights, and being
tense and edgy in high-noise areas (Kokokusha, 1973; Finke et al., 1974; hrstrm, 1989). However, a study
around three Swiss airports (Grandjean et al., 1973) that did not mention that it was related to aircraft noise did not
find any association between the level of exposure to this noise and symptoms.
In the West London survey, tinnitus, burns, cuts, and minor accidents, ear problems, and skin troubles
were all more common in areas of high noise exposure (Tarnopolsky, Watkins, & Hand, 1980). However, apart from
ear problems and tinnitus, 20 out of 23 chronic symptoms were more common in low-noise environments. It
may be that lownoise exposure environments in this study, in deprived inner-city areas in London, were also
areas with poorer health, irrespective of noise exposure. This raises the difficult issue of adjusting for other
environmental exposures and social disadvantage that may be related to noise where they may to act as a
confounding factor in studies of noise and health. At the same time, it seems plausible that people with existing
illness might not move into highly noise-exposed areas or be less tolerant of noise and try to move out of such
areas. However, the evidence on mobility related to noise exposure is thin and it may be that these objections are
more theoretical than actual.
Noise Exposure and Mental Hospital Admission Rates

The earliest studies of environmental noise exposure, usually aircraft noise exposure, and mental health
concerned admissions to psychiatric hospitals from noise-exposed areas compared to quiet areas. Early studies
found associations between the level of aircraft noise and psychiatric hospital admissions, both in London (AbeyWickrama, ABrook, Gattoni, & Herridge, 1969) and in Los Angeles (Meecham & Smith, 1977). These early studies
were not methodologically sophisticated and were criticized in relation to the definition of noise areas, population
denominators, and adjustment for confounding factors (Chowns, 1970; Frerichs, Beeman, & Coulson, 1980). A
replication study by Gattoni & Tarnopolsky (1973) of the original study by Abey-Wickrama et al. (1969) failed to
confirm the findings. These studies were followed by a large London-based study that found that agedstandardized admission rates to the same London psychiatric hospital used in earlier studies over a longer followup of four years were lower in higher aircraft noise exposure areas. Noise levels were measured by the composite
noise and number index (NNI) including both noise levels and number of overflights and the perceived noise
measured in decibels taken from government supplied contours. The maximum or high-noise area was defined
as NNI of 55 or above or perceived noise of 100 or more (Jenkins et al., 1979). At the same time lower noise areas
were also central urban districts where traditionally high admission rates would be expected (Jenkins, Tarnopolsky,
Hand, & Barker, 1979). A further study of three hospitals (Jenkins, Tarnopolsky, & Hand, 1981) found that high
aircraft noise was associated with higher admission rates in two hospitals but not the third. This study was
comprehensive, covering admissions from a population of about one million, largely in inner (p. 378) and outer
London but also including less urban areas in Berkshire, Surrey, and Buckinghamshire. There was a wide range of
aircraft noise exposure across these areas. In this study non-noise factors seemed to be more important in
determining admission rates and the effect of noise was felt to have a moderating rather than directly causal
association with admissions. Kryter (1990) carried out a reanalysis of this data and found a more consistently
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positive relation between level of exposure to aircraft noise and admission rates. Hospital admission is likely to be
determined by many other factors more potent than noise. This is particularly the case now when acute psychiatric
hospital beds have been reduced in number and, at least in the United Kingdom, are almost confined to those with
severe psychosis in which noise is very unlikely to be a causal factor.
Noise Exposure and Health Services and Medication Use

The prescription of medication and use of health services has also been taken as an indirect indicator of the
relationship between noise and psychiatric disorder. Grandjean et al. (1973) reported that a higher proportion of
the Swiss population took medication in highaircraft noise areas than low-noise areas, while Knipschild &
Oudshoorn (1977) found that the purchase of sleeping pills, antacids, sedatives, and antihypertensive drugs all
increased in a village newly exposed to aircraft noise, but not in a control village where the noise level remained
unchanged. Both studies also found an association between the rate of contact with general practitioners and level
of noise exposure. In the Heathrow study (Watkins, Tarnopolsky, & Jenkins, 1981), no association was found
between levels of aircraft noise and a range of health care indicatorsuse of psychiatric or selfprescribed
medication, visits to the general practitioner, attendance at the hospital, and contact with community health
services. Recent studies, however, show a different pattern of results. Areas with high levels of aircraft noise
exposure were associated with higher use of non-prescribed sedatives, but not prescribed sedatives, than in
quieter areas in the Health Impact Assessment around Schiphol Airport (Franssen, van Wiechen, Nagelkerke, &
Lebret, 2004). Results from the Hypertension and Exposure to Noise near Airports (HYENA) Study of the effects of
aircraft noise in populations living around seven airports in six European countries found an association between
aircraft noise exposure (measured both by LAeq,16h the energy averaged measure of noise level over 16 hours
and Lnightthe energy averaged measure of noise level over the night period from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m.) and the odds
of prescription of anxiolytic medication (odds ratio [OR] = 1.28 95%CI 1.041.57 for daytime noise exposure and
OR = 1.27 95%CI 1.011.59 for nighttime exposure) (Floud et al., 2011). A statistically significantly increased risk is
indicated by an odds ratio greater than one with 95% confidence limits that do not span one. Reported annoyance
due to aircraft noise measured by questionnaire was also associated with prescription of anxiolytic and
antidepressant medication. Further analysis did not support a moderating effect of annoyance on medication
prescription related to aircraft noise exposure, although the study may have been underpowered statistically to
test this.
Similarly, road traffic noise, at levels above 55 dB(A) was associated with increased risk of taking hypnotics for
sleeping difficulties (OR = 2.22 [95%CI 1.134.38]) and overall prescriptions (OR = 3.65 [95%CI 2.136.26]),
relative to road traffic noise exposure less than 55 dB(A) in a study of five rural Austrian communities (Lercher,
1996). This study suggests that effects were present at fairly low noise levels. It may be the case in this study,
especially because there were raised levels of hypnotic prescriptions, that mental ill health is secondary to sleep
disturbance, which occurs at lower nocturnal noise levels than mental health symptoms resulting from daytime
noise exposure. Studies of medication prescription in relation to transport noise tend to find higher rates of
medication prescription for anxiety, sleep disturbance, and in some recent studies, drugs for hypertension in
noisier areas.
Noise Exposure and Psychiatric Morbidity in the Community

In the West London survey, aircraft noise exposure measured by the noise and number index was linked to
psychiatric disorder in the community measured by the General Health Questionnaire (GHQ; Goldberg, 1972). In
the pilot study Tarnopolsky, Barker, Wiggins, & McLean (1978) found no association between aircraft noise
exposure and either GHQ scores (Goldberg, 1972), or estimated psychiatric cases based on GHQ threshold scores
for defining clinical caseness based on a validation study involving clinical interviews carried out by a psychiatrist
(Goldberg et al., 1970). However, significant associations were found in three subgroups: persons ages 1544 of
high education, women ages 1544, and those in professional or managerial occupations. The authors thought
(p. 379) that noise might have an effect in causing morbidity within certain vulnerable subgroups, but clearly
these results need replication in further studies.
In the full West London Survey of Psychiatric Morbidity (Tarnopolsky & Morton-Williams, 1980), 5,885 adults were
randomly selected from within four aircraft noise zones. No overall relationship was found between aircraft noise
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and the prevalence of psychiatric morbidity either for GHQ scores or for estimated numbers of psychiatric cases
using various indices of noise exposure. However, as in the pilot study there was an association between noise
and psychiatric morbidity in two subgroups: those who finished full-time education at age 19 years + and
professionals. These two categories, which had a strong association with each other, were combined and then
showed a significant association between noise and psychiatric morbidity measured by the GHQ. Their overall
conclusion was that their results show so far that noise per se in the community at large, does not seem to be a
frequent, severe, pathogenic factor in causing mental illness but that it is associated with symptomatic response in
selected subgroups of the population (Tarnopolsky & Morton-Williams, 1980, p. 73). It seems possible that these
subgroups may represent people whose non-manual work or leisure activities involve complex cognitive tasks
such as reading and writing or involve extended concentration that might be interfered with by noise, but this is
speculation.
There have been criticisms of this cross-sectional study as being a study of noise survivors where members of
the population who are most susceptible to noise effects have either moved away or avoided living in the area.
In a further study the association between noise and psychiatric disorder was examined in a population unlikely to
have been selected by noise exposure. The Caerphilly Collaborative Heart Disease Study looked at the association
between road traffic noise exposure and psychological distress in people from the small town of Caerphilly, South
Wales (Stansfeld, Sharp, Gallacher, & Babisch 1993). In the cross-sectional results, the initial level of road traffic
noise based on traffic noise maps was not associated with minor psychological distress, again measured by the
GHQ with adjustment for socio-demographic factors (Stansfeld et al., 1993). In further longitudinal analyses, road
traffic noise was not associated with psychological distress after adjustment for socio-demographic factors and
baseline psychological distress, although there was a small nonlinear association of noise with increased anxiety
scores (Stansfeld et al., 1996). A more recent Sardinian study compared subjects living close to an airport with
control subjects living in other areas matched by sex, age, and employment status. This showed that exposed
subjects had a higher frequency of diagnosis for generalized anxiety disorder and anxiety disorder not
otherwise specified. This is one of the first studies finding an association between aircraft noise exposure and
psychiatric diagnoses as opposed to psychiatric symptoms (Hardoy et al., 2005). The disadvantage of this study is
that it did not measure noise levels but used distance from the airport as a proxy measure of noise exposure, but it
is interesting and needs replication.
Causal associations are supported by evidence of dose-response or exposure-effect associations, where
increases in the exposure are matched with increases in the outcome. For example, the degree of mental health
disturbance might increase with the intensity and duration of noise exposure. Exposure to higher levels of military
aircraft noise around the busy Kadena military airport in Japan was related in an exposure-effect association to
depressiveness and nervousness measured by questionnaire, using the Todai Health Index, based on the
Cornell Medical Index (Ito et al., 1994; Hiramatsu et al., 1997). Clear exposure effect relationships were not found
between scale scores and noise exposure, as expressed in five-unit steps. However, a significant difference was
evident between the highest noise-exposure group and lower exposure groups, indicating a threshold effect rather
than a linear relationship. A further Japanese study of 5,963 inhabitants around two air bases in Okinawa also found
that those exposed to noise levels of 70 dB(A) Ldn or above had higher rates of mental instability and
depressiveness (Hiramatsu et al., 2000). A similar survey, on 6,486 respondents, found exposure-effect
associations between aircraft noise exposure, nervousness, and mental health (Miyakita et al., 1998). These are
important studies because of the opportunity to examine the effect of high noise exposure levels and the
probability that out-migration of vulnerable persons from noisy areas biasing the sample was small. However, these
studies have been criticized because noise measurements were assessed about 18 years before the health
measurements and thus may not accurately represent noise exposure at the time the health outcomes were
measured.
Secondary analysis of a large British road traffic noise study found that the noise level in dB(A) exceeded for 10%
of the time (a measure of peak (p. 380) noise level) was weakly associated with a five-item mental health
symptoms scale adjusting for age, gender, income, and length of residence (Halpern, 1995). The results would be
more convincing of mental health effects if the scale items were all related to mental health but they also included
items on asthma, undue irritability, and sleeplessness. Noise is only one aspect of traffic stress and it may be
difficult to separate the effects of noise from other hazardous aspects of road traffic. Traffic stress, comprising
traffic, auto maintenance, and accidents, was cross-sectionally associated with depressive symptoms in a
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Chinese-American sample in Los Angeles, adjusting for individual social class and neighborhood poverty (Gee &
Takeuchi, 2004). The effects of traffic noise on depression were worse in areas with more vehicle use.
The Japanese military aircraft studies mentioned above suggest more mental health effects at high levels of noise
exposure. This was similar to the results of a community study of 366 Japanese women that found that road traffic
noise has effects on depression, fatigue, and irritability only above a threshold of 70 dB(A) (Yoshida et al., 1997).
However, it is difficult to be confident of the results of these analyses, as they were not adjusted for age or social
deprivation. A road traffic noise study in Belgrade also showed mental health effects at high noise levels: 253
residents exposed to road traffic noise levels of > 65dB(A) experienced significantly more fatigue, depression,
nervousness, and headaches, compared with residents exposed to < 55dB(A) (Belojevic & Jakovljevic, 1997).
There was good matching between high- and low-noise exposure areas for age, gender, employment, and
subjective noise sensitivity in this study. Overall, environmental noise seems to be linked to the report of
psychological symptoms, rather than to clinical psychiatric disorder. However, there may be a link to psychiatric
disorder at much higher noise levels and there is a need for further studies using standardized interview measures
of psychiatric disorder.
Noise Exposure and Mental Health in Children

It may be that children are especially vulnerable to noise effects on health and cognition because they have less
capacity than adults to anticipate or cope with stressors. Environmental noise exposure may also have greater
effects in children because this is a time of rapid growth and learning that environmental stressors could disrupt.
Poustka, Eckermann, and Schmeck (1992) studied the psychiatric and psychosomatic health of 1,636 children
ages 4 through 16 in two geographical regions that differed according to the noise made by jet fighters frequently
exercising at low altitude. Associations with noise exposure were demonstrated for subclinical depression and
anxiety, although there was no adjustment for the differing socioeconomic status of the areas. In a study that did
adjust for socioeconomic factors, the Schools Health & Environment Study around Heathrow airport (Haines et al.,
2001a), chronic aircraft noise exposure was not associated with anxiety and depression (measured with the Child
Depression Inventory and the Taylor Manifest Anxiety Scale), after adjustment for socioeconomic factors.
In a larger study of childrens health around Heathrow airportthe West London Schools Study (Haines et al.,
2001b)an association was found between aircraft noise exposure level and increased hyperactivity scores
measured by the Strengths and Difficulties Questionnaire (SDQ; Goodman, 1997). These findings were replicated in
the Road Traffic and Aircraft Noise Exposure and Childrens Cognition and Health (RANCH) study of 2,844 children
ages 9 and 10 living around Schiphol airport in the Netherlands, Barajas Airport near Madrid, and Heathrow airport
in the United Kingdom. There were no overall effects of aircraft noise or road traffic noise on childrens mental
health, measured by the SDQ. However, an association was found between higher levels of aircraft noise and
increased scores on the hyperactivity subscale of the SDQ (Stansfeld, Haines, Berry & Burr, 2009). There was also
an inverse association between exposure to road traffic noise and the conduct problems subscale. The
hyperactivity findings in the RANCH Study replicated the earlier findings from the West London Schools Study, and
suggest that this is not due to chance. In addition, the analyses were adjusted for a wide range of sociodemographic, environmental, and parental factors, suggesting that this result is not indicative of confounding.
Nevertheless, this finding was unexpected. Children with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) are
distractible, with a short attention span, and it might be expected that external stimuli, such as aircraft noise, could
specifically interfere with their attention. Children with ADHD exhibit reduced ability to process auditory information
when required to divide and focus their attention for a sustained period of time (Riccio, Cohen, Hynd, & Keith,
1996). They show problems with signal recognition, as well as poorer auditory discrimination and poorer speech
discrimination in (p. 381) noisy situations (Pillsbury et al., 1995; Corbett & Stanczak, 1999). It is a common
complaint that these children are distracted by background noise (Gray, Breier, Foorman, & Fletcher, 2002), and it
seems likely that aircraft noise exposure may exacerbate these childrens difficulties. Certainly, it does not seem
likely that aircraft noise is causing hyperactivity; more likely it is making an existing tendency toward hyperactivity
worse.
Studies have also shown effects of noise exposure on milder indicators of mental health. For example, in the
Munich Study, children living in areas exposed to high aircraft noise had lower levels of psychological well-being
than children living in quieter environments (Evans, Hygge, & Bullinger, 1995). In subsequent longitudinal analyses
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from around Munich, after the inauguration of the new airport, the newly noise-exposed communities demonstrated
a significant decline in self-reported quality of life, measured on the Kindl scale, after being exposed to the
increased aircraft noise for 18 months, compared with a control sample (Evans, Bullinger, & Hygge, 1998).
It is possible that the effects of noise exposure on mental health outcomes are moderated by other factors. For
example, in a more recent study, child self-reported mental health on a standard scale and teacher ratings of
classroom adjustment in response to motorway, road, and rail noise were studied in a large sample of 8- to 11year-old Austrian primary-school children. Noise exposure was significantly associated with classroom adjustment
scores but, intriguingly, child self-reported mental ill health was impaired in noisy settings only for children who
were postulated to be biologically vulnerable because of low birth weight and preterm birth (Lercher, Evans, Meis,
& Kofler, 2002). In a similar vein, it could be that noise exposure creates additional problems for children already
experiencing mental health difficulties. For example, Nurmi and von Wright (1983) found that noise during learning
impaired the subsequent recall performance of children with high neuroticism scores and with a high score on
state-anxiety.
Overall the evidence that environmental noise affects childrens mental health is weak and inconsistent, although
the evidence is stronger for milder conditions such as impairment of well-being. The studies presented suggest that
noise does not lead to psychiatric disorder in children but it may affect their sense of well-being.
Noise Exposure and Quality of Life

As environmental noise predicts annoyance and psychological symptoms, but does not seem to be associated with
more severe psychiatric disorder, it might be that noise exposure is associated with milder conditions, such as
those measured by scales of well-being, as was found in children in the Munich Study. Psychosocial well-being has
been shown to be reduced in areas exposed to high traffic noise, but the results have not been especially
consistent. Decline in well-being may be mediated through disruptive effects on sleep, which has been associated
with aftereffects on mood, reaction time and cognitive performance (hrstrm, 1989, 1993). An inverse association
between road traffic noise annoyance and quality of life, including the general mental health scale of the SF-36,
has been found in a large Swiss cohort study (Dratva et al., 2010). Further evidence to support this comes from the
finding of a nonlinear association between aircraft noise exposure, but a significant association between aircraft
noise annoyance, and the SF-12 general mental health scale in residents living around Frankfurt airport
(Schreckenberg et al., 2010). Lower scores on the general mental health scale of the SF-36 were associated with
aircraft noise exposure in a study of residents around Sydney airport (Black, Black, Issarayangyun, & Samuels,
2007). These results do seem to suggest associations between well-being and noise annoyance and possibly
noise exposurebut it is difficult to be certain in these studies whether confounding has been entirely accounted
for.
Health functioning and well-being were also examined at the first stage of an intervention study on the effect of
introducing a bypass to relieve traffic congestion in a small town in North Wales (Stansfeld et al., 2009). Health
functioning was measured by the SF-36 General Health Survey (Ware & Sherbourne, 1992). There was no
evidence that respondents exposed to higher levels of road traffic noise had worse health functioning than those
exposed to lower levels, adjusting for levels of deprivation. In addition, the introduction of the bypass did not lead
to an improvement in levels of psychological distress, although the reduction in noise levels was modest. Noise has
also been reported to affect well-being in office workers, with stronger effects reported than for many other
nuisances (Klitzman & Stellman, 1989). However, in such cross-sectional studies, it is difficult to be certain of the
direction of causation and the contribution of other stressors.
Noise Exposure and Sleep Disturbance

Exposure to nighttime noise can potentially interfere with the ability to fall asleep, shorten sleep (p. 382) duration,
cause awakenings, and reduce the perceived quality of sleep (Michaud et al., 2007). Noise effects on sleep could
impact health in several ways. First, it could have an effect on biological responses, such as increasing heart rate,
blood pressure, finger pulse amplitude, body movements, awakenings, and sleep quality, as the individual
responds to stimuli in the environment (Health Council of the Netherlands [HCN], 2004; Muzet & Eberhardt, 1980).
There is evidence that these physiological responses to sound do not habituate with repeated noise exposure, and
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activation of these biological responses could have long-term effects on health, although some scientists argue
that these physiological changes in response to noise are within the normal range of such responses to
environmental triggers and simply indicate the usual physiological responses to external stimuli. Second, sleep
disturbance can impact well-being, causing low mood, annoyance, irritation, fatigue, and impaired task
performance (HCN, 2004; hrstrm, 1982). Third, noise exposure at night predicts insomnia (Kageyama et al.,
1997), which in turn may be a precipitant of psychiatric disorder (Ohayon & Roth, 2003), including depression
(Riemann, Berger, & Voderholzer, 2001; Roberts, Roberts, & Chen, 2002).
Generally, the degree of sleep disturbance experienced is proportional to the amount of noise experienced, in
terms of an increased rate of changes in sleep stages and in the number of awakenings. The probability of
awakening increases with the number of noise stimuli in the night up to a threshold beyond which further exposure
does not increase the likelihood of waking. The maximum sound level of individual noises at night may be more
important for awakening than the energy-averaged sound level over the night, though they are both quite highly
correlated. It has been suggested that continuous noise exposure is likely to interrupt REM sleep, while intermittent
noise is likely to interfere with slow wave sleep (Passchier-Vermeer et al., 2002). Studies on noise abatement show
that by reducing the indoor noise level, the amount of both REM and slow-wave sleep can be increased (Vallet,
Gagneux, & Clairet, 1983).
Evidence for an effect of noise exposure on sleep disturbance is generally stronger from laboratory studies than
from field studies. However, comparison between the findings of laboratory and field studies can be limited, as
laboratory studies tend to involve individuals who are not chronically exposed to noise, whereas individuals who
are chronically exposed to noise may exhibit habituation. Habituation to environmental noise occurs with an
increased number of sound exposures, both per night and across nights. A noteworthy recent laboratory study
tried to simulate the effect of aircraft noise exposure on sleep for 128 subjects over a 13-night period (Basner &
Samel, 2005). Prior to the experiment, the subjects spent a noise-free adaptation night in the laboratory, as sleep is
initially affected by the laboratory setting. The experiment showed a prominent first-night exposure effect of noise
on sleep disturbance, which wore off by the second night, which was interpreted as indicating habituation to noise
exposure. On the subsequent nights no significant change in sleep structure was observed if the number of noise
events and maximum sound pressure level did not exceed 4*80dB, 8*70dB, 16*60dB, 32*55dB, and 64*45dB.
While this is methodologically one of the strongest studies of aircraft noise effects on sleep to date, this study is still
limited by having examined short-term exposure to aircraft noise, and conclusions cannot be drawn from this study
about the long-term effects of exposure to aircraft noise on sleep structure (Basner & Samel, 2005).
A majority of community studies of noise exposure, examining individuals in their homes exposed to their usual
noise exposures at night, have found evidence for a direct effect of noise on sleep disturbance. However, recent
reviews, assessing the strength of the evidence, came to different conclusions. A synthesis of field studies
concluded that there was satisfactory evidence that nighttime noise exposure was causing direct biological
responses, at approximately 40dB SEL (sound exposure level), as well as affecting well-being and quality of sleep
(HCN, 2004). This report found that evidence was weaker for an effect of nighttime noise on social interaction, task
performance, specific disease symptoms, or fatal accidents at work. Similarly, a meta-analysis of 24 field studies,
including data from almost 23,000 individuals exposed to nighttime noise levels ranging from 45 to 65dBA, found
that aircraft noise was associated with greater self-reported sleep disturbance than road traffic, and road traffic
noise with greater disturbance than railway noise (Miedema & Vos, 2007).
In contrast, a recent review focusing on aircraft noise exposure concluded that the evidence for noise-induced
sleep disturbance differs considerably (Michaud et al., 2007). This review of five studies found little evidence for an
effect of outdoor noise on sleep disturbance, while it did find that indoor noise was associated more closely with
(p. 383) sleep outcomes. However, there was evidence from several of the studies reviewed that a greater
number of awakenings occur that are either spontaneous or attributable to other noise in the home, than are
attributable to aircraft noise (Michaud et al., 2007).
The equivocal conclusions of these reviews may be because they are comparing studies that examine a range of
outcomes, from more objective measures of sleep disturbance, such as polysomnography (PGS) and wristactimetry, which measures sleep disturbance based on body movements, to subjective measures, such as selfreported sleep disturbance. Evidence of noise effects may be stronger for subjectively assessed sleep disturbance
than for objectively assessed sleep disturbance. For example, an earlier UK study around Gatwick and Heathrow
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airports found that the relative proportion of total sleep disturbance attributable to noise, but not the level of total
sleep disturbance, was increased in noisy areas. This was suggestive of a symptom reporting or attribution effect,
rather than a real noise effect. The measurement of sleep disturbance is challenging for this research field, as no
one physical or psychological measure is accurate or reliable. The equivocal conclusion may also reflect different
exposure assessments: some studies use external noise exposure, while others measure noise exposure in the
bedroom (Miedema & Vos, 2007).
In conclusion, there is evidence that night noise can disturb sleep and affect well-being. However, the field still
lacks longitudinal evidence, which would enable the causal association between nighttime noise exposure and the
long-term health implications of biological responses and impaired well-being to be examined.
Noise Exposure and Annoyance

The most widespread subjective response to noise is annoyance, which may include fear and mild anger, related
to a belief that one is being avoidably harmed (Cohen & Weinstein, 1981). An important component of annoyance
is the perception of intrusion into personal privacy. Additionally, the associations or personal meaning of sounds
may determine whether that person will be annoyed by them (for instance, crying babies or the sounds of other
people enjoying a party when you are not) (Gunn, 1987). The interference that noise causes in everyday activities
is often associated with annoyance and these disruptions by noise probably precede and lead to annoyance
(Taylor, 1984; Hall, Taylor, & Birnie, 1985). In both traffic and aircraft noise studies, noise levels have been found
to be associated with annoyance in a doseresponse relationship (Griffiths & Langdon, 1968; Schultz, 1978;
Miedema & Vos, 1998). Annoyance is also dependent on the context in which the noise is heard. Overall, it seems
that conversation, watching television, or listening to the radio (all involving speech communication) are the
activities most disturbed by aircraft noise (Hall et al., 1985), while traffic noise, if present at night, is most disturbing
for sleep.
Levels of annoyance from aircraft noise may be influenced by major aircraft-related events, such as air crashes.
The air disaster of October 1992 in southeast Amsterdam increased levels of annoyance in the local area, which
was maximal shortly after flights were resumed at Schiphol airport. At the same time there was no evidence of an
increase in psychological distress measured by the General Health Questionnaire (Reijneveld, 1994). Annoyance
is generally transient and is not a very severe psychological symptom. However, in the context of noise causing
arousal, the question arises as to whether prolonged annoyance could be an intervening step between noise and
psychiatric disorder or noise and a potentially psychosomatic illness such as hypertension.
Noise annoyance is associated not only with noise level, but also with reported symptoms and psychiatric disorder
(Tarnopolsky & Morton-Williams, 1980). In the West London survey of 6,000 residents living in areas of differing
aircraft noise exposure around Heathrow airport, although there was a strong link between noise and annoyance,
and those who were highly annoyed showed the greatest number of symptoms, symptoms were not more common
in high- rather than low-noise areas (Tarnopolsky et al., 1980). This paradox has been explained by the
vulnerability hypothesis (Tarnopolsky et al., 1980). According to this explanation, noise is not directly
pathogenic, but rather sorts individuals into annoyance categories according to their vulnerability to stress.
Tarnopolsky et al. (1978) found that noise and minor psychiatric disorder were the strongest predictors of
annoyance and that psychiatric morbidity led to annoyance, rather than vice versa. The mediating hypothesis of
noise annoyance being an intermediate step between noise exposure and ill health is not well supported by
evidence; at any particular level of exposure, there is wide individual variation in the degree of annoyance that is
expressed. Noise sensitivity and attitudes to the source of the noise explain a large amount of the individual
variance in annoyance, irrespective of noise level (Evans & Tafalla, 1987; (p. 384) Job, 1988). Several studies
have found that people with existing psychiatric morbidity or long-term physical illness may be more disturbed and
annoyed by noise and potentially more sensitive to any noise-related effects.
Noise Sensitivity and Vulnerability to Psychiatric Disorder

Noise sensitivity, based on attitudes toward noise in general (Anderson, 1971; Stansfeld, 1992), is an intervening
variable that explains much of the variance between noise exposure and individual annoyance responses (Griffiths
& Langdon, 1968; Weinstein, 1978; Fields, 1984). Individuals who are noise-sensitive are also likely to be sensitive
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Noise
to other aspects of the environment (Broadbent, 1972; Weinstein, 1978; Thomas & Jones, 1982; Stansfeld, Clark,
Jenkins, & Tarnopolsky, 1985). This raises the question as to whether noise-sensitive individuals are simply those
who complain more about their environment. There is an association between noise sensitivity and neuroticism
(Thomas & Jones, 1982; hrstrm, Bjorkman, & Rylander, 1988; Jelinkova, 1998; Belojevic & Jakovljevic, 1997;
Smith, 2003), although it has not been found in all studies (Broadbent, 1972). Weinstein (1980) hypothesized that
noise sensitivity is part of a criticaluncritical dimension, showing the same association as noise sensitivity to
measures of noise, privacy, air pollution, and neighborhood reactions. In his view the most critical subjects are not
uniformly negative about their environment, but more discriminating than the uncritical group, who comment
uniformly on their environment.
Noise sensitivity has also been related to current psychiatric disorder (Bennett, 1945; Tarnopolsky & MortonWilliams, 1980; Iwata, 1984). Stansfeld et al. (1985) found that high noise sensitivity was associated with phobic
disorders and neurotic depression, measured by the Present State Examination (Wing, Cooper, & Sartorius, 1974).
Similar to this association with phobic symptoms, noise sensitivity has also been linked to a coping style based on
avoidance, which may have adverse health consequences (Pulles, Biesiot, & Stewart, 1990) and a tendency to
report health complaints rather than take a more active coping approach to noise (Lercher & Kofler, 1996). Noise
sensitivity may be partly secondary to psychiatric disorder: depressed patients followed up over four months
became less noise-sensitive as they recovered (Stansfeld, 1992). Objective psychophysiological laboratory
investigation of reactions to noise in a subsample of depressed patients found that noise-sensitive people tended
to have higher levels of tonic physiological arousal, more phobic and defense/startle responses, and slower
habituation to noise (Stansfeld, 1992). Thus, noise-sensitive people attend more to noises, discriminate more
between noises, find noises more threatening and out of their control, and adapt to noises more slowly than people
who are less sensitive. Noise sensitivity may be an indicator of vulnerability to minor psychiatric disorder, although
not necessarily psychiatric disorder caused by noise (Stansfeld, 1992).
In the analysis of a subset of noise-sensitive women, compared with less noise-sensitive women in the West
London survey, aircraft noise exposure did not predict psychiatric disorder in the sensitive women (Stansfeld et al.,
1985). In the Caerphilly study, noise sensitivity predicted psychological distress at follow-up after adjusting for
baseline psychological distress, but did not interact with the noise level, suggesting that noise sensitivity does not
specifically moderate the effect of noise on psychological distress (Stansfeld et al., 1993). However, in further
analyses, a statistically significant association between road traffic noise exposure and psychological distress,
measured by the General Health Questionnaire, was found in noise-sensitive men but not in men of low noise
sensitivity (Stansfeld, Matsui, Gallacher, & Babisch, 2002). In the original analyses, after adjusting for trait anxiety
at baseline, the effect of noise sensitivity was no longer statistically significant, suggesting that much of the
association between noise sensitivity and psychological distress may be accounted for by the confounding
association with trait anxiety. Constitutionally anxious people may be both more aware of threatening aspects of
their environment and more prone to future psychiatric disorder.
In a UK community study, associations were examined between noise exposure, noise sensitivity, subjective
symptoms, and sleep disturbance in a random sample of 543 adults (Smith, Hayward, & Rich, 2000). Perceived
noise exposure was related to subjective health, but this association became nonsignificant after adjustment for
negative affectivity. In a similar way, adjustment for negative affectivity eliminated the association between noise
sensitivity and subjective health. Negative affectivity is strongly associated with neuroticism and it is likely they are
both tapping the same underlying trait. Thus, it was suggested that noise sensitivity was merely a proxy measure of
negative affectivity or neuroticism.
(p. 385) Potential Mechanisms of Noise Effects

There is no universally agreed mechanism for the effects of noise on mental health. One research area where
there is a sound underlying theory is the effects of noise on cognitive performance, where the laboratory evidence
of effects is fairly robust (Smith & Broadbent, 1992). Noise exposure impairs aspects of human functioning, such as
performance and sleep (Loeb, 1986) that are important in maintaining normal functioning. In general, it seems that
noise exposure increases arousal and decreases attention through distraction (Broadbent, 1953), increases the
need for focusing, or avoiding attention to irrelevant stimuli (Cohen & Spacapan, 1978), as well as altering choice
of task strategy (Smith & Broadbent, 1981). The mechanism for the effects of noise on health is generally
Page 10 of 19
Noise
conceptualized as fitting the stress-diathesis model, in which noise exposure increases arousal, and chronic
exposure leads to chronic physiological change and subsequent health effects (McEwen, 1998). It is not clear,
though, whether this model is a complete explanation for mental health effects.
Individuals perception of their degree of control over noise may also influence whether it impairs memory (Willner
& Neiva, 1986), while perception of lack of control over environmental conditions may be an important mediator of
health effects. Further, active coping with noise may be sufficient to mitigate any ill effects (Van Kamp, 1990).
Perception of control is also related to better health in other domains, such as the workplace. A more sophisticated
model of the effects of noise on health (Biesiot, Pulles, & Stewart, 1989; Passchier-Vermeer, 1993) incorporates the
interaction between the person and their environment. In this model, the person readjusts his or her behavior in
noisy conditions to reduce exposure. An important addition is the inclusion of both the appraisal of noise (in terms
of danger, loss of quality, meaning of the noise, challenges for environmental control, etc.) and coping (the ability
to alter behavior to deal with the stressor). This model emphasizes that dealing with noise is an active, not a
passive process. It is possible that adaptation to noise is achieved only with a cost to health. For example, Evans et
al. (2000) found that maintaining task performance in noisy offices was associated with additional physiological
effort and hormonal response.
Neuroimaging studies may also provide information on the mechanisms of the effects of noise on mental health
because they are increasingly revealing the localization of brain responses to environmental stimuli. This is
complicated in studies of sound because MRI scanners are traditionally very noisy and this may bias the response
to specific stimuli. However, there is considerable scope for a better understanding of the mechanisms of noise
effects on psychiatric disorder through understanding which brain areas are involved in perceptions of adverse
sound. Studies of acute noise exposure (100110dB, wide band frequency for 30 minutes) in rhesus monkeys
showed impaired performance of a spatial memory task dependent on the prefrontal cortex (Arnsten & GoldmanRakic, 1998). No deficits were found in noise-exposed monkeys for a visual pattern discrimination task, which might
be expected if this effect was due to decreased motivation or motor performance. The authors concluded that
acute mild noise stress produces deficits resembling prefrontal cortex lesions, and that this implied a reversion in
stressful situations to more instinctual behavior regulated by subcortical rather than higher structures. This may
have survival value, but may be maladaptive in human society where higher functions are necessary for
behavioral regulation. Treatment with clonidine and naloxone, which decrease stress-induced dopamine release,
reduced these noise-induced effects on the prefrontal cortex in the rhesus monkeys, suggesting that noise stress
elicits excessive dopamine release, which may be responsible for these deficits.
Another mechanism through which noise may influence mental health is through its effects on social behavior. This
has not been extensively researched but there are interesting experimental case studies indicating that people are
less helpful to people exhibiting disabled behavior in the street if they are also simultaneously exposed to noise
(Page, 1977). Noise may affect social performance: (1) as a stressor causing unwanted aversive changes in
affective state; (2) by masking speech and impairing communication; and (3) by distracting attention from relevant
cues in the immediate social environment (Jones, Chapman, & Auburn, 1981). It may be that people whose
performance strategies are already limited for other reasons (e.g., through high anxiety) and who are faced with
multiple tasks may be more vulnerable to the masking and distracting effects of noise.
Conclusions
The evidence for the effects of environmental noise on health is strongest for annoyance, sleep, hypertension, and
performance with effects on cognitive performance in children (Stansfeld, Haines, & Brown, 2000; Babisch, 2006).
The effects of noise are strongest for those outcomes that can be classified under well-being or quality of life
rather than illness. What they lack in severity is made up for in numbers of people affected, as these responses are
very widespread. Current evidence does seem to suggest that environmental noise exposure, especially at higher
levels, is related to mental health symptoms and possibly raised anxiety and consumption of sedative medication,
but there is little evidence that it has more serious effects although this may partly be due to a lack of sufficiently
methodologically robust studies to test this possibility. Existing studies may be confounded either by prior selection
of subjects out of (or into) noisy areas as a result of noise exposure, or by confounding between noise exposure,
socioeconomic deprivation, and psychiatric disorder. It is also possible that people underestimate or minimize the
effects of noise on health through optimism bias (Hatfield & Job, 1998) and that this may be particularly protective
Page 11 of 19
Noise
for mental health.
It is also difficult to identify the pathways through which noise exposure affects mental health. Part of the problem is
that the interaction between people, noise, and ill health is a complex one. Humans are not usually passive
recipients of noise exposure and can develop coping strategies to reduce its impact. Perception of control over the
noise source may reduce the perceived threat of noise and the belief that it can be harmful. It may also be that
noise is more harmful to health in situations where several stressors interact.
Future Directions
Undoubtedly, there is a need for further research, including better measurement of noise exposure and health
outcomes. Ideally, there should be longitudinal studies investigating the association between environmental noise
and psychiatric disorder. Careful assessment of socioeconomic differences between areas of high and low
exposure is also needed. In many studies, it is not clear whether noise effects on health are a component part of
the effects of social disadvantage on health or whether the effects of noise on health are confounded by social
disadvantage, in which case noise exposure is merely an indicator of social disadvantage, and is not on the causal
pathway.
Field studies suggest that the effects of multiple stressors have greater combined effects than simply summing
individual stressors (Rutter, 1979). It might be the case that noise will show more effects on health in individuals
already exposed to other stressors. These might include other physical stressors (e.g., air pollution, poor housing
conditions), psychosocial stressors (e.g., crowding, social isolation, fear of crime, lack of control over the
environment), and adverse material conditions (low income, unemployment). There may be either additive or
multiplicative interactions with noise exposure. So far, few studies have attempted to examine the effects of
multiple environmental stressors (Cohen, Evans, Stokols, & Kranz, 1976). This needs to be combined with
measurement of the appraisal of noise sources and evaluation of coping mechanisms (Lercher & Kofler, 1996). It
would also be interesting to combine mental health measures and hormonal measures to assess psychological and
physiological responses to stress concurrently. Ultimately, evidence of the mental health effects of noise exposure
will be more persuasive if accompanied by measurable physiological changes.
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Stephen A. Stansfeld
Stephen A. Stansfeld Centre for Psychiatry Wolfson Institute of Preventive Medicine Barts and the London School of Medicine and
Dentistry London, UK
Charlotte Clark
Charlotte Clark Centre for Psychiatry Wolfson Institute of Preventive Medicine Barts and the London School of Medicine and
Rosanna Crombie
Rosanna Crombie Centre for Psychiatry Wolfson Institute of Preventive Medicine Barts and the London School of Medicine and
Page 19 of 19
Response to Environmental Disasters

Michael K. Lindell
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0021

Popular accounts of peoples responses to disasters routinely report panic and psychological disorientation among
disaster victims, but these reactions are quite rare. Instead, most people respond to crises by making the best
decisions they can to protect persons and property, given their limited knowledge about the hazards they face and
the situation that is unfolding, and their limited resources of time, money, and protective facilities and equipment.
Current research is beginning to examine the timing and sequence of disaster response actions and the
characteristics of warnings, environmental cues, and social cues that influence peoples perceptions of the threat,
stakeholders, and alternative protective actions and, ultimately, their responses to a disaster. In addition, research
on long-term hazard adjustments has generally found significant effects of three types of core perceptions
(environmental threats, stakeholders, and alternative protective actions). This research also suggests the effects
of hazard proximity, hazard experience, and hazard education programs on hazard adjustment adoption are
mediated by the core perceptions.
Keywords: disaster myths, disaster response, hazard adjustment, response time distributions, evacuation logistics, risk perception, stakeholder
characteristics, hazard adjustment attributes
Introduction
According to widespread belief, disaster victims typically act irrationally by fleeing in panic when disasters threaten
(Drabek, 1999; Tierney, Lindell, & Perry, 2001). Following impact, they are thought to be incapable of protecting
themselves or others, so a few exceptional individuals must step forward to lead the masses of frightened and
passive victims to safety (Wenger, James, & Faupel, 1980). This rather bleak view of human nature is propagated
by the mass mediasometimes in movies, other times in (second- or third-hand) hearsay passed on by reporters,
and occasionally by disaster victims themselves (Fischer, 2008). These disaster myths are not just erroneous; they
can hamper the effectiveness of emergency planning by misdirecting the allocation of resources and the
dissemination of information (Tierney et al., 2001). For example, expectations of panic often become authorities
justification for giving the public incomplete information about an environmental threat or withholding all information.
Such attempts at information management are particularly troubling because people are more reluctant to comply
with recommended protective actions when they are provided with inadequate warning messages. To manage
emergencies effectively, public authorities, the news media, and the public need accurate information about how
people respond during disasters.
This chapter addresses that need by focusing on peoples behavioral responses to rapid onset environmental
threats. The focus on behavioral response means problem-focused coping (Lazarus & Folkman, 1984), rather than
psychological impacts (p. 392) (see Norris et al., 2002; Norris, Friedman, & Watson, 2002). The focus on rapid
onset (seconds to weeks) excludes phenomena such as drought, desertification, and global climate change that
evolve over years to centuries. The emphasis on environmental threats focuses on geophysical, meteorological,
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and hydrological hazards and excludes food and pharmaceutical contamination and contagious diseases because
these have significantly different exposure paths. It also excludes broader issues in emergency management
(Lindell, Prater, & Perry, 2006) and disaster research (Lindell, 2011)
An individuals probability of surviving a disaster depends upon the characteristics of the event, person, and
situational context. Event characteristics include a hazards speed of onset, intensity, and scope and duration of
impact (CDRSS, 2006). Personal characteristics are defined most directly by peoples hazard-relevant
knowledge/beliefs as well as their physical (e.g., strength), psychomotor (e.g., vision and hearing), and cognitive
(e.g., verbal, quantitative, and spatial) abilities, and personality characteristics. The situational context in which a
person responds to a threatening event has physical, technological, social, economic, political, and temporal
components. The physical context is defined by peoples proximity to hazard sources and safe locations, whereas
the technological context is defined by the quality of systems for hazard detection and warning dissemination as
well as the availability of vehicles for evacuation and accessibility of protective structures, such as storm shelters.
The social context is defined by peoples demographic characteristics (e.g., gender, age, ethnicity) as well as
those of their peers (friends, relatives, neighbors, and coworkers). The economic context includes peoples
financial assets (money, stocks, bonds, and other instruments) as well as the value of their property (e.g., homes
and vehicles). The political context is defined broadly by governmental structure and more specifically by the
hazard mitigation, disaster preparedness, emergency response, and disaster recovery programs that have been
implemented (Lindell et al., 2006). Finally, the temporal context is defined by the variation of peoples exposure to
hazards and their access to resources at different times of day, days of the week, and months of the year.
Ultimately, however, peoples survival depends upon the effectiveness of the protective actions they choose from
among the feasible alternatives that are available to them when a disaster strikes. The process by which people
take protective actions is summarized by the Protective Action Decision Model (PADM; Lindell & Perry, 2004, 2012),
which provides a framework for organizing the presentation of research results. The PADM is based upon the
findings of more than five decades of hazards and disasters research (Barton, 1969; Drabek, 1986; Dynes, 1970;
Fritz, 1961; Janis & Mann, 1977; Lindell & Perry, 1992; Mileti, Drabek, & Haas, 1975; Perry, Lindell, & Greene, 1981;
Tierney et al., 2001) but contains elements of psychological models such as the classic six component
communication model of source-channel-message-receiver-effect-feedback (Lasswell, 1948; McGuire, 1969, 1985;
OKeefe, 2002; Petty & Wegener, 1999) and models of attitude-behavior relationships (Fishbein & Ajzen, 2010).
According to the PADM (Figure 21.1), people act on their perceptions of (a) environmental cues, such as sights or
sounds that indicate the onset of a threat, (b) social cues, such as observations of others responding in a way that
indicates there is a threat, and (c) information received from social sources about hazards and protective actions.
To act on environmental cues, social cues, or social information, people must be exposed to, heed, and properly
interpret the environmental or social cues or receive, heed, and understand social warnings. Information extracted
from these sources leads to three core perceptionsperceptions of stakeholders (sources of information and
assistance), environmental threats, and alternative protective actions. Disasters are unfamiliar situations, so
confusing and conflicting information usually prevents people from relying on habitual responses (Wood & Neal,
2007). Instead, they try to integrate situational information with their preexisting mental models (which are based on
personal experience and pre-impact risk communication) to decide how and when to respond. Peoples primary
responses are to seek additional information, take protective response, and engage in emotion-focused coping.
Depending on the effects of situational facilitators and impediments, peoples behavioral intentions will result in
specific behavioral responses that successfully protect them from the hazard.
Figure 21.1 The Protective Action Decision Model.

Source: Adapted from Lindell & Perry (2012).
The next section addresses immediate disaster response, beginning with events having instantaneous onset
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(earthquakes), then turning to events with rapid onset (tornadoes), and finally addressing events with slower onset
(hurricanes). These are not the only hazards that have been studied, but they are the most extensively studied
and provide a representative sample of the issues that have been studied. The second section addresses preimpact actionshazard mitigation (actions taken to (p. 393) provide passive protection when a disaster strikes),
emergency response preparedness (actions taken to support active response when a disaster strikes), and
disaster recovery preparedness (hazard insurance purchase). The third section addresses needs for future
research.
Immediate Disaster Response Actions
Earthquakes
There is no technology available that provides forewarning of local earthquakes, so ambiguous environmental
cues such as rumbling noise or ground shaking are typically the only indications of the need for initiating protective
action. The sudden onset of ambiguous environmental cues is a central theme in Alexanders (1990) report of his
own experience in the November 23, 1980, Naples earthquake and oral histories of 18 students from a local
technical institute. Most of the students had no previous experience with earthquakes, so they relied on older
relatives and companions to interpret the shaking for them. Many of those who were indoors tried to escape as
soon as the shaking subsided. One student reported a stampede for the exits from a theater and Alexander himself
observed people engaged in apparently aimless running from place to place in a major piazza. Others left their
homes to search for friends and relatives and many sought safety in the homes of relatives outside the impact
area.
Arnold, Durkin, Eisner, and Whitaker (1982) reported a high level of adaptive response by occupants of an office
building during the 1979 Imperial Valley, California earthquake. Most peoples first reaction to the shaking was to
get under a desk (36%) or stand in a doorway (15%), but many others stayed where they were (37%) and a few
went to the main corridor (3%) or left the building immediately (2%). When the shaking stopped, 56% left the
building immediately and, although there was crowding at the stairwells, there was no stampede. Most respondents
attributed their decision to evacuate to their own assessment of the situation (50%), but others mentioned
recommendations by coworkers (26%) or floor monitors (25%), or observations of others leaving (16%).
Ohta and Ohashis (1985) report of data from six Japanese earthquakes categorized earthquake response into
three time periods: during the shaking, during the approximately 10 minutes immediately after the shaking stopped,
and the days to weeks after the earthquake. They plotted the percentage of respondents reporting different
psychological and behavioral reactions as a function of seismic intensity, concluding that psychological reactions
increased and behavioral performance decreased exponentially with shaking intensity. The three major activities in
all six earthquakes were escaping from danger, obtaining information about the situation, and resuming normal
activities. The researchers developed a behavioral typology similar in purpose to that of Canter, Breaux, and Sime
(1980) and used it to analyze housewives behavior during one earthquake. Most of the womens behavior was
significantly influenced by the activities in which they were engaged at the onset of the temblor, as well as their
environmental and social (p. 394) context. For example, those who were preparing dinner focused on turning off
the gas burners to prevent fires and those with small children went to protect them before taking further action.
Goltz, Russell, and Bourques (1992) study of the Whittier Narrows, California earthquake revealed that about 40%
of the people in buildings at the time took cover in a doorway, in a hall, or under furniture. However, 20% remained
where they were when the shaking started or left the building (9% of those at home and 20% of those at work).
Forty-six percent of those in cars pulled over and stopped but 43% continued driving. The researchers reported
that individual differences in response were associated with a number of variables; females and those who were
more fearful of the earthquake were more likely to take cover. Moreover, the presence of other adults inhibited
protective action whereas the presence of children enhanced it. Higher education, higher income, earthquake
preparedness, and earthquake experience combined with level of fear to enhance the levels of taking cover.
Bourque, Russell, and Goltz (1993) elaborated on these findings in their study of the Loma Prieta earthquake in
California. Seventy-two percent of their respondents froze in place or sought protection, but responses were
contingent upon location. Many of those at home had children, so the typical response (42%) in that location was
to try to protect them. Bourque et al. reported that only 6% of those in buildings went outside and those in cars
Page 3 of 28

tended to pull over rather than continue driving (38% vs. 13% in their largest sample). The authors reported
significant variations in response associated with demographic characteristics (e.g., gender, age, education, and
ethnicity), fear, earthquake experience, location, and social context at the time the earthquake struck. There were
significant variations in media contact at the time of the earthquake, with those at home being approximately
equally likely to have the television on (50%) or no media contact (45%), whereas those in transit were
approximately equally likely to have radio on (43%) or no media contact (53%). There was no media contact for
most of those at work or school (82%) or in public places (88%). The earthquake caused a loss of power or
damaged radios/TV sets for 65% of those with media contact and 65% of these attempted to restore media contact.
Sixty-five percent of those who did not have media contact at the time of the earthquake tried to establish it.
Rahimi (1993) reported that physically disabled people are also quite capable of adaptive behavior. This study
reported interviews of 33 individuals about their behavior during the Loma Prieta earthquake, 82% of whom had a
moderate or severe disability. He found that 30% of them moved immediately to safer locations within their
residences and an additional 27% held onto something to avoid falling. Twenty-four percent of the respondents
stayed put, mostly because the shaking was not very intense in their area or they were already in safe locations.
Nine percent seem to have been immobilized by fear but another 9% observed the situation calmly.
In summary, the literature on behavioral response to earthquakes is sparse, but the findings of these few studies do
confirm the diversity of event, person, and situational contexts as well as the importance of these contexts in
determining peoples responses. As one would expect, the likelihood of protective response increases as
earthquake intensity increases (Ohta & Ohashi, 1985) and, contrary to the myth of widespread panic, most people
respond adaptively even in the most severe shaking. Indeed, even many of those with physical disabilities respond
as adaptively as they can. However, some people do respond inappropriately and some even model the
nonadaptive behavior of others in their vicinity (Alexander, 1990). Moreover, peoples responses are affected by
their social context in other ways, especially by the desire to protect children (Goltz et al., 1992). Unfortunately,
there is limited information about peoples emotional reactions, the effects emotions have on peoples behavior
during shaking, or peoples behavior immediately after the shaking stops. Research on the effects of event
characteristics is limited to one study addressing earthquake intensity, and most studies of personal characteristics
have been limited to demographic (sex, age, education, income, ethnicity marital status, and tenure) rather than
psychological (hazard-relevant knowledge/beliefs; physical, psychomotor, or cognitive abilities; and personality)
characteristics. There has been limited study of peoples physical and social context, but not the technological,
economic, political, and temporal components of their response context. Clearly, much more research is needed to
develop a satisfactory scientific understanding of peoples immediate behavioral responses to earthquakes.
Tornadoes
Unlike earthquakes, tornadoes can frequently be detected and warnings disseminated before impact. However,
there are times when tornadoes are either not detected or the warning system is unable to (p. 395) provide
sufficient forewarning before impact. For example, Carter, Millson, and Allen (1989) described the impact of a
tornado in a community where most respondents had access to television (51%), radio (85%), or telephone (64%),
and many (45%) had monitored radio or television during the hour before the tornado struck but the storm
disrupted electric power so people were unable to receive warnings from these media. Thus, 25% of the
respondents reported no forewarning, 66% reported less than one minute, and the remainder reported less than
five minutes. Only 10% of the respondents had tornado experience but 75% knew the recommended locations for
sheltering. Despite this knowledge, only 27% sheltered in one of these locations and only 22% hid under
something or covered themselves with a mattress.
In other cases, the barrier to warning dissemination is linguistic rather than technological. Aguirre (1988) reported a
tornado in a primarily Hispanic community. Fifteen minutes after the National Weather Service (NWS) issued a
tornado warning, local English-language TV stations and a local radio station transmitted warnings but the popular
Spanish-language cable TV channel (Univision) did not. The tornado struck 35 to 40 minutes after the NWS warning
and 20 minutes after the first radio/TV broadcasts, but most people received warnings only a few minutes before
impact, so they remained in the structures where they were located. Aguirre argued that residents preference for
Spanish-language programming, an inadequate translation of the English word warning into the Spanish word
aviso (which does not carry the same sense of urgency), and the location of many people in the community
Page 4 of 28

center (a wide-span building type that is structurally vulnerable to high wind) all contributed to 29 deaths.
In many cases, tornadoes are preceded by severe weather, which serves as an environmental cue for people to
monitor radio and TV for NWS warnings. Hammer and Schmidlin (2002) reported that for a tornado touching ground
for 87 minutes, only 5% of their sample had less than 5 minutes of forewarning, 17% had 5 to 15 minutes, 20% had
15 to 30 minutes, and 57% had greater than 30 minutes. Similarly, Legates and Biddle (1999) reported that few
residents had no warning at all (2%) or less than 1 minute of forewarning (5%). Many residents had 2 to 5 minutes
(22%) or 6 to 10 minutes (11%), and most (40%) had more than 10 minutes.
Sirens are advantageous for speeding the dissemination of tornado warnings if people understand that this signal
means to go indoors and turn on a radio or TV for emergency information. Accordingly, Liu et al. (1996) reported
that 88% of those in an area with sirens received a warning and most of these received their warnings from a siren
(62%) or radio/television (34%). By contrast, only a minority (29%) of those in an area without sirens received a
warning and 73% of these received their warnings from radio or TV. The significance of news media access can
also be seen in Schmidlin and Kings (1995) finding that 45% of their sample of tornado survivors received
warnings from social sources, 52% had only environmental cues to warn them, and 10% had no warning before
impact. Significantly, 70% of those who were watching TV before tornado impact survived whereas only 25% of
those who were not watching TV at the time survived. Overall, the Brown, Archer, Kruger, and Mallonee (2002)
study of the response to an F5 tornado is typical of others in finding that the most common means of warning was
television (80%), followed by sirens (21%), and commercial radio (17%). Many people received more than one
warning and only 4% received no warning.
Even when people have received specific verbal warnings (as opposed to the general alerts provided by
mechanical sirens), these are often imprecise regarding the projected impact locations (Simmons & Sutter, 2007),
so people try to confirm the warnings with observations of environmental cues. Tiefenbacher, Monfredo, Shuey,
and Cecora (2001) reported that 54% of their respondents tried to confirm the threat visually before initiating
protective action. Among those seeking visual confirmation, 23% searched the sky for less than a minute, an
additional 62% searched for 1 to 5 minutes, and some looked for 30 minutes or more.
Regardless of how much forewarning is provided, there is substantial variation in peoples warning response. One
major problem facing risk-area residents when they must decide how to respond to a tornado warning is that they
cannot be sure how intense a tornado will be. In the strongest tornadoes (Enhanced Fujitsu Category 5 tornadoes
have wind speeds exceeding 200 mph), only those in an underground storm shelter or a safe room (FEMA, 2008)
are likely to survive. However, few households have such shelters and, in many cases, people must go outdoors to
reach their own or a neighbors storm shelter. Those who lack such shelters altogether are advised to seek
protection in a basement but many houses in the southern United States dont have them. In such cases, people
should shelter in rooms (p. 396) with no exterior wallssuch as a hallway, bathroom, or closet. Moreover, mobile
homes can be destroyed by even relatively weak tornadoes, so their occupants are advised to abandon these
structures when they receive a tornado warning (Hammer & Schmidlin, 2001). Unfortunately, few mobile home
communities have adequate community storm shelters. In addition, the majority of mobile homes are sited
individually, so the occupants are unlikely to be able to afford the entire cost of a storm shelter. Consequently, the
NWS advises people to abandon these structures and walk or drive to the nearest storm shelter, basement, or
sturdy building (NWS, 2012).
Hammer and Schmidlin (2002) reported that only 53% of those who received a warning remained home when the
tornado struck. These people sheltered in a bathroom (39%), closet (37%), hallway (10%), or other rooms (14%).
The other 47% of the respondents evacuated their homes. Of these, 47% left on foot and 53% left by vehicle.
Almost all of those who traveled by foot evacuated to storm shelters (95%) and the rest sheltered in friends or
relatives houses (5%). Many who evacuated in vehicles sheltered in their own or neighbors storm shelters (37%),
a friends or relatives house (20%), or highway overpasses (37%). The remainder sought safe locations outside
the tornado path (35%).
There has been little research on factors influencing peoples protective-action decisions in tornadoes. The Balluz
et al. (2000) study of a tornado swarm in Arkansas found that 46% of their respondents responded to warnings by
seeking shelter. Peoples warning responses were related to being in the forecast tornado path (OR = 14.9),
hearing a siren (OR = 9.2), having a higher level of education (OR = 4.2), and having a pre-event action plan (OR
Page 5 of 28

= 3.7). People were almost three times as likely to shelter in aboveground locations (63%) as in basements (22%)
but this choice of shelter location was dictated largely by the limited number of houses that had basements.
Despite the paucity of evidence on which factors influence peoples protective-action decisions, there is evidence
that such protective-action decisions can be relatively stable from one tornado to another. In their study of the
1999 and 2003 Moore, Oklahoma, tornadoes, Comstock and Mallonee (2005) found that 51% of those who
experienced both tornadoes took the same action on both occasions, whereas 27% took more protective action
and 22% took less protective action in the second tornado than in the first. Reasons for taking greater protective
action in the second tornado were better access to safe locations (43%), more knowledge about personal
protection (21%), more or better-quality warnings (12%), more time to implement protective action (5%), and better
instructions from the mass media (3%). Reasons for taking less protection in the second tornado included having
less time to implement protective action (52%), receiving fewer or lower-quality warnings (28%), perceiving the
2003 tornado as a less severe threat (14%), and having inadequate access to safe locations (12%).
In summary, the literature on behavioral response to tornadoes is more voluminous than that on earthquakes and it
also confirms the diversity of event, person, and situational contexts as well as the importance of these contexts in
determining peoples responses. Contrary to the myth of widespread panic, most people respond adaptively even
in the most severe storms. However, some people fail to comply with the recommendations of the NWS (Carter et
al., 1989) and some take actions that are completely contrary to those recommendations (Hammer & Schmidlin,
2002). The availability of technology for detecting tornadoes and disseminating warnings is extremely important
because it can provide significantly more forewarning than the observation of environmental cues. However, this
tornado warning technology is not universally available (Aguirre, 1988; Carter et al., 1989). Moreover, warnings
are often less useful than desired because predictions of tornado location and intensity are uncertain (Simmons &
Sutter, 2007). Thus, the wording of warnings has a significant effect on the likelihood that people will attempt to
confirm a warning, thus delaying protective action andin some casesexposing people to greater risk as they
search the sky for environmental cues (Tiefenbacher et al., 2001). In addition, forewarning creates an opportunity
for people to move to locations that are safer than the ones where they received a warning. Unfortunately,
attempts to seek safer locations may expose people to greater danger if they are caught by the storm as they are
evacuating by foot or by car (Hammer & Schmidlin, 2002). In addition, weather forecasters have expressed
concern that repeated false alarms over time will cause people to disregard future warnings. The limited amount of
individual-level data available suggests that this concern might be overstated (Comstock & Mallonee, 2005) but
aggregate-level data using the storm as the unit of observation and analysis suggests that there is a significant
false alarm effect (Simmons & Sutter, 2011).
(p. 397) As is the case with earthquakes, there is limited information about peoples emotional reactions, the
effects emotions have on behavior as a storm approaches, and about peoples behavior immediately after a storm
strikes. Research on the effects of event characteristics on individual behavior is limited to one study addressing
proximity to the forecast tornado path, and few studies of personal characteristics have even addressed peoples
demographic (sex, age, education, income, ethnicity marital status, and tenure) let alone psychological (hazardrelevant knowledge/beliefs; physical, psychomotor, or cognitive abilities; and personality) characteristics. There
has been limited study of peoples technological context, but not the physical, social, economic, political, and
temporal components of their response context. As is the case with earthquakes, much more research is needed
to develop a satisfactory scientific understanding of peoples immediate behavioral responses to tornadoes.
Hurricanes
Like tornadoes, hurricanes can have high wind speeds, but their hydrological threats from storm surge and inland
flooding make evacuation necessary and their days of forewarning make evacuation feasible. However,
uncertainty about a hurricanes track, combined with its great size (some hurricanes are 300 miles in diameter),
means that hundreds of miles of coastline are at risk. Uncertainties about hurricane landfall, intensity, and size are
compounded by the 30 to 40 hours that some coastal cities need to evacuate. Thus, local authorities must make
evacuation decisions so far in advance of landfall that the chance of being struck is less than 25% (Lindell &
Prater, 2007a).
Evacuation Decisions
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There is variation in evacuation warning compliance rates across jurisdictions for a given hurricane and from one
hurricane to another (Baker, 1991). For example, Hurricane Georges produced an evacuation rate of 72% in the
Lower Keys, 58% in the Middle Keys, and 42% in the Upper Keys (Dash & Morrow, 2001). Location on a barrier
island also is important; Dash and Morrow reported only a 13% evacuation rate from mainland MiamiDade County
but a 44% evacuation rate from Miami Beach. Rates of spontaneous evacuation (departures from inland areas that
authorities consider safe) are generally low but have been reported to be high in some cases. During Hurricane
Rita, a substantial percentage of the Harris County (Houston, Texas, area) population evacuated areas that were
outside the hurricane evacuation zone (Chiu et al., 2008, reported 41%; Lindell & Prater, 2008, reported 47%;
Stein, Duenas-Osorio, & Subramanian, 2010, reported 47%). However, that high level of response appears to
have been situation specific because there was only a 9% evacuation rate from the same area three years later in
response to Hurricane Ike (Huang et al., in press).
Response-Time Distributions
Baker (2000) summarized the results of his extensive series of hurricane evacuation studies as indicating that it is
rare for more than 15% of evacuees to leave before local officials issue a warning, that people prefer to leave
during daylight hours, and that residents of inland areas leave later than those closer to the coast. Most recent
studies are consistent with these conclusions. For example, Dow and Cutter (2002) reported that 5% of their
respondents evacuated before an evacuation order was issued, 61% left on the day of the evacuation order, and
31% evacuated the day after the evacuation order. However, other studies have reported early evacuation rates
can be as high as two-thirds of the risk area population for Category 5 hurricanes (Lindell, Lu, & Prater, 2005;
Lindell & Prater, 2008).
Other researchers have reported cumulative departure time distributions as part of their efforts to predict the timing
of individual households departures (Dixit, Pande, Radwan, & Abdel-Aty, 2008; Fu & Wilmot, 2004, 2006; Fu,
Wilmot, Zhang, & Baker, 2007; Wilmot & Mei, 2004). The major reason for assessing these distributions is to
provide empirically based trip generation time distributions as alternatives to the assumed trip generation time
distributions that Lindell and Perry (1992) and Lindell and Prater (2007b) criticized as inadequate input to
mathematical evacuation models. Although it might seem that the variables predicting the decision to evacuate
would also predict departure timing, the available evidence indicates that this assumption is incorrect. Lindell et al.
(2005) found that 13 of 19 variables significantly predicted evacuation decision but only one variable (reliance on
information from local authorities) significantly predicted departure timing. Similarly, Huang et al. (in press) found
that 12 of 16 variables significantly predicted evacuation decision but only four variables significantly predicted
departure timing and all four of those had correlations of r .10.
(p. 398) Warning-Time Distributions
There have been some significant advances in estimating warning time distributions since the first studies reported
data from four floods and the eruption of Mount St. Helens (Lindell & Perry, 1987) and two hazardous materials
accidents (Sorensen & Rogers, 1989). Rogers and Sorensen (1988) proposed a model of warnings as a process
comprising two components: (1) the official (broadcast) component and (2) the informal (contagion)
component. Unlike an official warning network, which is organized and planned in advance, an informal warning
network emerges during the incident from proximity (neighbors), kin (relatives), and other social ties (friends and
coworkers). Informal warning networks can account for a significant proportion of all first warnings (Drabek, 1986;
Lindell & Perry, 1987). Sorenson (1991) attempted to identify predictors of household warning reception times in
the Nanticoke Pennsylvania chemical incident (1987) but there does not seem to have been any subsequent
research on this topic.
Preparation Time Distributions

The time needed to prepare to evacuate consists of two components, psychological preparation (seeking and
processing additional information until people are certain evacuation is necessary) and logistical preparation
(uniting household members, protecting property, and packing clothes and other materials needed while away from
home). Psychological preparation is a part of milling, the process of seeking confirmation that a danger exists,
obtaining further information about the threat and alternative protective actions, and relaying warnings to peers
(Drabek, 1986). The broad outlines of this process are understood (Gladwin, Gladwin, & Peacock, 2001; Gladwin &
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Peacock, 1997), but the information needed to accurately forecast a risk-area populations preparation time
distribution is only beginning to become available. Kang, Lindell, and Prater (2007) examined data from a group of
51 people who had replied to surveys conducted two years apart. The first survey asked Texas coastal residents
to report the expected amount of time they would need to perform six evacuation preparation tasks (Lindell et al.,
2001) and the second survey asked them to report the actual amount of time taken to perform those tasks before
evacuating from Hurricane Lili (Lindell et al., 2005). The results showed that individuals expected preparation times
significantly predicted their later reports of actual preparation times, especially the tasks that were performed on
other occasions such as preparing for other road trips.
Antecedents of Evacuation Decisions

Information Sources and Message Content
Environmental cues rarely serve as a stimulus for protective response to hurricanes because it is generally too late
to evacuate by the time these cues are available. However, there is an effect of social cues such as peers visible
preparations to evacuate (Baker, 1991; Horney et al., 2010a, 2010b) or businesses closing (Baker, 1991, 2000;
Lindell et al., 2005; Lindell & Prater, 2008). Nonetheless, people are likely to receive a substantial amount of
information about an approaching hurricane from a variety of sources, such as local authorities, local and national
news media, and peers (Dash & Gladwin, 2007; Lindell, Prater, & Peacock, 2007). Risk area residents receive
evacuation warnings from the electronic news media well in advance of hurricane landfall because they monitor
these sources frequently as storms approach. For example, Dow and Cutter (2000) found 58% of their respondents
reported leaving news media channels on all day when a hurricane is within 2 to 3 days of striking their area.
Although people receive information from authorities less frequently than from other sources (Lindell et al. 2005),
Baker (1991) noted that information and orders from public officials strongly affect household evacuation. In
particular, households are more likely to evacuate if they receive threat assessments such as National Hurricane
Center watches and warnings or if they receive state or local officials voluntary or mandatory evacuation orders.
These conclusions have been supported by more recent studies on Hurricanes Andrew (Gladwin et al., 2001;
Gladwin & Peacock, 1997; Wilmot & Mei, 2004), Bonnie (Whitehead, 2005), Bret (Zhang, Prater, & Lindell, 2004), Lili
(Lindell et al., 2005), Katrina (Lindell & Prater, 2008), Rita (Chiu et al., 2008; Lindell & Prater, 2008; Stein et al.,
2010), and Ike (Huang et al., in press).
In general, people are most likely to evacuate if a credible source provides a message describing a threat with
sufficient specificity for recipients to develop a high degree of certainty that they are personally at risk from an
immediate and severe threat to themselves and their loved ones (including pets). In addition, evacuation rates are
highest when the message provides guidance regarding a protective action and indicates sources of additional
information (Mileti & Peek, 2000; Mileti & Sorensen, 1987). Sources of additional information are important for those
(p. 399) who lack a means of transportation, have mobility limitations, own a pet or livestock, and have other
impediments to evacuation. Moreover, mandatory evacuation orders elicit greater compliance than voluntary
evacuation orders, which in turn generate greater evacuation rates than when there is no official evacuation order
(Whitehead et al., 2000).
Threat Perceptions
Evacuation is significantly affected by perceptions of hurricane threat, which can be divided into three categories:
perceptions of storm characteristics, expected community impacts, and expected personal impacts. The National
Hurricane Center and news media provide continuing information about an approaching storms characteristics, so
a storms size (Whitehead et al., 2000), intensity (Lindell & Prater, 2008; Whitehead, 2005; Whitehead et al., 2000),
and predicted landfall location (Dow & Cutter, 2000; Lindell & Prater, 2008) are important predictors of evacuation.
Storm characteristics provide people with the information needed to draw inferences about the impacts on their
communities, but it is important to distinguish between expected community impacts and expected personal
impacts because peoples optimistic bias (Weinstein, 1989) or comparative optimism (Klar & Ayal, 2004) may lead
them to believe that they will escape the community impacts. That is, people are unlikely to respond unless they
personalize the risk (Mileti & Sorensen, 1989). Consistent with this distinction, hurricane research indicates that
people are much more likely to evacuate if they believe their home site is likely to be damaged by wind or storm
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surge (Baker, 1991), if they or their families are at risk of death or serious injury, or there is a significant risk of
damage or destruction to their homes (Baker, 1991; Dash & Morrow, 2001; Gladwin et al., 2001; Lindell et al., 2005;
Lindell & Prater, 2008; Riad, Norris, & Ruback, 1999; Whitehead et al., 2000).
Protective-Action Perceptions
Data on perceptions of protective actions are relatively sparse. However, some people have concerns about being
involved in a traffic accident during a mass evacuation or the costs of gas, food, and lodging while away from
home (Baker, 1991; Lindell et al., 2005; Whitehead, 2003). Nonetheless, Gladwin et al. (2001) argued that
evacuation expenses and traffic accidents were not the factors that concerned people most. Instead, they
concluded that people consider whether there is a specific evacuation destination that will accept all household
membersincluding any disabled members (Van Willigen, Edwards, Edwards, & Hessee, 2002) or pets (Heath,
Kass, Beck, & Glickman, 2001), whether they have enough cash or credit to stay in commercial facilities if
accommodations with friends or relatives are unavailable, and whether evacuation routes have adequate capacity
to avoid traffic jams (Huang et al., in press; Lindell & Prater, 2008).
Antecedents of Situational Perceptions

Hazard Experience
Many studies have proposed that previous hurricane experience would increase the likelihood of evacuation
because people want to avoid a storms negative personal impacts. However, not everyone who reports having
been through a hurricane has experienced major personal impacts (Lindell & Perry, 2004). In particular, Baker
(1991) called attention to the problem of false experience among people who believe that because they have
survived strong wind speeds from a given storm, they have survived the strongest wind speeds from that storm
even though their houses might have been subjected only to much slower wind speeds on the outer edge of a
hurricane. As a result of this misconception, some people overestimate their homes ability to withstand a major
hurricane and, thus, are less likely to evacuate.
There is also conflicting evidence about the degree to which peoples evacuation decisions are affected by their
experience with a false alarm or, equivalently, an unnecessary evacuation (Baker, 1991; Dow & Cutter, 1998,
2000; Huang et al., in press). In general, people who evacuate for a hurricane that subsequently misses their
community would nevertheless evacuate when another storm threatened. In one study where there was a
statistically significant negative effect of unnecessary evacuation experience on evacuation decisions, the
effect was small in comparison to the positive effects of official warnings and expected personal impacts (Huang et
al., in press).
Hazard Proximity
Coastal proximity is an important indicator of a homes elevation above mean sea level (which generally increases
with distance from the coast). Thus, coastal proximity is an indicator of danger and a predictor of evacuation
(Baker, 1991). In particular, barrier islands or open coastlines with elevations less than 3 meters (10 feet) above
mean sea level are high-risk sites, having evacuation rates of (p. 400) about 83%. Low-risk sites are located on
the relatively protected mainland, over 3.55 m (1520 ft) in elevation and generally had evacuation rates of about
37% (Baker, 1991). Other researchers have found that households living close to coastal rivers and lakes are also
likely to evacuate (Gladwin & Peacock, 1997; Lindell et al., 2005; Wilmot & Mei, 2004). Misjudgments of coastal
proximity appear to influence warning compliance and unnecessary (shadow) evacuation because many people
misinterpret risk-area maps and thus are unable to determine whether an evacuation warning applies to them
(Arlikatti et al., 2006; Zhang et al., 2004).
Demographic Characteristics
Many studies report a significant relation of female gender to hurricane evacuation (Bateman & Edwards, 2002;
Fothergill, 1996; Gladwin et al., 2001; Lindell et al., 2005; Riad et al., 1999; Whitehead, 2005; Whitehead et al.,
2000). However, Bakers (1991) review concluded that the results for other demographic characteristics are
mixed, which is consistent with more recent studies (Fothergill, Maestes & Darlington, 1999; Fothergill & Peek,
2004; Lindell & Perry, 2004; Phillips & Morrow, 2007) and the warning response literature more generally
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(Sorensen, 2000).
Hurricane Evacuation Logistics

Researchers focus on evacuation decisions, and to a lesser extent evacuation departure times, has generally
resulted in a neglect of evacuation logistics, which can be defined as the activities and associated resources
needed to reach a safe location and remain there until it is safe to return (Lindell, Kang, & Prater, 2011).
Nonetheless, there is a significant amount of research on the types of facilities in which people stay while awaiting
the opportunity to return home. Mileti, Sorensen, and OBrien (1992) summarized the findings of 23 studies
indicating that, on average, 15% of evacuees go to public shelters, but the percentages ranged from essentially
zero to 43%with higher percentages occurring when the evacuation involves cities, hurricanes, nighttime
departures, ethnic minorities, the poor, older evacuees, and well-publicized shelter availability. These estimates
are consistent with Bakers (2000) summary of hurricane evacuation studies and more recent research. For
example, Whitehead (2003) reported 70% staying with peers, 16% in hotels/motels, and 6% in public shelters,
whereas Lindell et al. (2011) reported 54% staying with peers, 29% in hotels/motels, and 3% in public shelters.
Other aspects of evacuation logistics have been examined only sporadically and the data have been reported in a
variety of ways. For example, Perry et al. (1981, p. 126) reported that only 58% of evacuees had a specific plan
that identified a safe route to a safe destination, which was important because possession of a plan increased the
likelihood of evacuation. This study also reported that 74% of the evacuating households used their own vehicles,
13% caught rides with relatives or friends, and 13% used official transportation. Dow and Cutter (2002) found that
25% of evacuating households took two or more cars, which is consistent with reports of 1.7 vehicles per
household (vph) by Dash and Morrow (2001), 1.5 vph (Siebeneck & Cova, 2008), 1.6 vph (Lindell et al., 2011), and
1.4 vph (Wu, Lindell, & Prater, 2012). Baker (2000) reported that hurricane evacuees take 6575% of the
registered vehicles, 5% take trailers or recreational vehicles, and only about 5% of evacuating households require
assistancemost of whom obtain rides with peers.
Dow and Cutter (2002) reported that when choosing evacuation routes, the majority of their respondents carried
road maps but just half of them used these maps to determine their evacuation routes. Instead, they relied heavily
on the interstate highways with which they were most familiar. Recent studies have reported that hurricane
evacuees have traveled an average of 178 miles (Whitehead, 2003), 198 miles (Siebeneck & Cova, 2008) 193
miles (Lindell et al., 2011), and 199 miles for Hurricane Rita and 266 miles for Hurricane Katrina (Wu et al., 2012).
There is little data on evacuation duration other than the reports that evacuees from minimally damaged areas
stayed away for an average of 2.3 days after Hurricane Lili (Lindell et al., 2011) and 4.3 days after Hurricane Rita
(Wu et al., 2012). However evacuation durations were significantly longer in severely damaged areas after
Hurricane Rita (13.8 days, Wu et al., 2012) and Katrina (33.1 days, Wu et al., 2012). Whitehead (2003) reported
that direct evacuation costs varied with shelter type; evacuees who stayed in hotels spent an average of $381
during their evacuations, those who stayed in the homes of friends or family spent an average of $123, and those
who went to public shelters spent an average of $121. Others have broken down the costs by category of
expenditure: transportation($68, Lindell et al., 2011; $341, Wu et al., 2012), food ($65, Lindell et al., 2011; $333,
Wu et al., 2012), and (p. 401) lodging ($47, Lindell et al., 2011; $405, Wu et al., 2012), yielding an average total
cost ranging from $205 (Lindell et al., 2011) to $1137 (Wu et al., 2012). The differences among studies in
evacuation expenses are clearly due to the differences among hurricanes in their size (geographical area
affected) and intensity and, thus, the distance and duration of the evacuations they stimulate.
Evacuation Reentry
Stallings (1991) contrasted the process of reentry into one community affected by a flood with four communities
affected by toxic or radiological threats. He noted that in the latter cases, evacuees are likely to believe that the
evacuation zone is more dangerous than authorities assessments indicate. Interestingly, Dash and Morrows
(2001) study of reentry to the Florida Keys after Hurricane Georges found the reverse effect; evacuees were
frustrated that authorities considered the Overseas Highway to be unsafe and delayed access for up to two days.
More recently, Siebeneck and Covas (2008) study of evacuees compliance with the Hurricane Rita return-entry
plan found that only 54% of evacuees received information about the date they would be allowed to return home
and only 20% were aware of a state Department of Transportation plan indicating the sequence of reentry dates
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for different areas. Their data show that nearly half of the evacuees returned to their homes before the dates in the
Department of Transportation plan.
Summary
The literature on behavioral response to hurricanes, which is more voluminous than that on earthquakes and
tornadoes, further confirms the diversity of event, person, and situational contexts as well as the importance of
these contexts in determining peoples responses. Because hurricanes consistently have many days of
forewarning, there appear to have been no concerns expressed about widespread panic. However, there is
concern that some people fail to comply with the recommendations to evacuate (Baker, 1991; Dash & Gladwin,
2007) and, conversely, some high rates of evacuation from inland locations that authorities consider to be safe
(Stein et al., 2010). The availability of technology for detecting hurricanes and disseminating warnings is extremely
important because it is usually too late to evacuate by the time environmental cues are available. Although
hurricanes substantial forewarning makes it likely that almost all of those at risk know about the threat, hurricane
warnings share the limitations of tornado warnings: predictions of hurricane landfall location and intensity are
uncertain. The wording of hurricane warnings has a significant effect on the likelihood that people will attempt to
confirm an initial warning by other meansin this case, looking for businesses closing and neighbors evacuating.
Hurricane evacuations can experience major problems when a large area is affected, because most people wait
until local authorities issue a warning, so the number of evacuating vehicles can substantially exceed the capacity
of the evacuation route system and cause evacuation trips to take 510 times as long as normal (Lindell et al.,
2011). As is the case with tornadoes, weather forecasters have expressed concern that repeated false alarms
over time will cause people to disregard future warnings. However, the available evidence suggests that this
concern is overstatedquite possibly because even the most hurricane-prone areas receive warnings much less
frequently than the most tornado-prone areas (Baker, 1991; Dow & Cutter, 1999, 2000). Hurricane evacuation
research has progressed to the point of examining response time distributions and the variables that determine
response time but there has been limited progress in this area to date. In addition, research is beginning to
examine evacuation logistics (Lindell et al., 2011) and the return-entry process much more systematically
(Siebeneck & Cova, 2008).
There has been no research on peoples emotional reactions to hurricane warnings, probably because of the
comparatively lower sense of urgency in most hurricane evacuations. Research on the effects of event
characteristics on hurricane evacuation is limited because this requires meta-analysis across studies (although
see Baker, 1991, for an example). Most hurricane studies have addressed peoples demographic characteristics
and some have addressed physical disabilities (Van Willigen et al., 2002) and other impediments such as pet
ownership (Heath et al., 2001). There has been limited study of peoples technological (e.g., vehicle access, Kang
et al., 2007; Lindell et al., 2011) and temporal context (morning departures are most common, Baker, 1991; Lindell
& Prater, 2008), but there has been little study of the economic and political components of their response context.
In general, hurricane response is better understood than earthquake and tornado response, but much more
research is needed to develop a more complete scientific understanding of peoples evacuation decision timing,
evacuation logistics, and the return-entry process.
(p. 402) Pre-Impact Hazard Mitigation and Disaster Preparedness Actions
Types of Actions
Pre-impact hazard adjustmentsthose actions that intentionally or unintentionally reduce risk from extreme
events in the natural environment (Lindell et al., 1997, p. 328)are commonly categorized as hazard mitigation,
emergency preparedness, and recovery preparedness (CDRSS, 2006; Lindell et al., 2006). However, empirical
research has found that household hazard adjustments do not match these categories. For example, Russell,
Goltz, and Bourque (1995) defined hazard adjustments in terms of three factorsbasic survival, planning, and
hazard mitigationwhereas Norris, Smith, and Kaniasty (1999) classified items into advance planning, basic
supplies, and hazard alertness and Lindell, Arlikatti, and Prater (2009) identified two factorsdirect action and
capacity building. Other studies have focused on individual hazard adjustments such as hazard insurance
(Blanchard-Boehm, Berry, & Showalter, 2001; Palm, 1995) or hurricane shutters (Peacock, 2003). Finally, some
studies simply asked whether the respondents had done anything about their hazard vulnerability (Blanchard-
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Boehm, 1998; Blanchard-Boehm & Cook, 2004; Weinstein, Lyon, Rothman, & Cuite, 2000). Despite these
differences, all studies agree that the level of hazard adjustment is modest. The average number of adjustments
reported was 8 of 16 (Lindell & Prater, 2000), 14 of 36 (Whitney, Lindell, & Nguyen, 2004), and 4 of 7 for fire, 3 of 7
for earthquake, and 2.6 of 7 for volcano (Perry & Lindell, 2008). However, there is substantial variation among riskarea residents in their levels of hazard adjustment adoption and significant variation among hazard adjustments in
their popularity. For example, 90% of respondents reported having wrenches to operate utility shutoff valves and
switches but only about 7% had joined a community organization dealing with earthquake emergency
preparedness (Lindell & Prater, 2000).
Antecedents of Hazard Adjustment Adoption

Risk Perception
Lindell and Perrys (2000) review of 23 earthquake studies concluded that risk perception generally, but not
always, has significant correlations with hazard adjustment adoption. Lindells (in press) more recent review of
research on hazard adjustment adoption confirmed this conclusion. Consistent with research on immediate disaster
response actions, research on hazard adjustment adoption generally shows that these actions are significantly
related to risk perception when it is defined as expected personal impacts. For example, Preston et al. (1983)
reported a significant correlation between flood risk perception (measured by intensity, frequency, and health and
economic impacts) and home modifications, whereas Laska (1990) found a significant correlation between
expected flood damage in the next five years and a coping index. Kim and Kang (2010) found that hurricane risk to
both self and other community members predicted information-seeking and general preparedness. Lindell and
Hwang (2008) reported significant correlations of expected property damage, personal injuries, and health effects
from floods and wind with flood adjustments, wind adjustments, and flood insurance purchase. Perry (1990) found a
significant correlation between risk perception and hazard adjustment at Mt. Shasta and Perry and Lindell (1990)
reported significant correlations of expected flood impact severity and ash impact severity with multi-item
preparedness scales for these two volcano threats at Mount St. Helens. Sattler, Kaiser, and Hittner (2000) found
that risk perception was significantly related to possession of hurricane emergency supplies and Peacock (2003)
reported positive correlations of risk perception with hurricane shutter installation and envelope protection
(reinforcing a houses doors and walls).
Other studies have found mixed evidence for effects of risk perception on hazard adjustment adoption. BlanchardBoehm et al. (2001) found that expected personal damage, but not expected community damage, was positively
correlated with flood insurance purchase. This finding was similar to that of Weinstein et al. (2000), who reported
significant correlations with doing anything about tornado threat for expectations of personal injury and damage
but not others injury and damage. Basolo et al. (2009) reported that ratings of dread risk, but not likelihood of
occurrence or fatal consequence, were correlated with one of four hazard adjustments (development of a family
hurricane emergency plan) at their New Orleans site. Finally, Mileti and Darlington (1997), Lindell and Whitney
(2000), and Lindell and Prater (2000) found nonsignificant correlations of expected personal consequences with
hazard adjustment adoption. Moreover, Perry and Lindell (2008) reported nonsignificant correlations of perceived
risk to persons and property with multi-item preparedness scales for wildfire, earthquake, and volcano
preparedness.
Some research indicates that the recency and frequency of reminders about a hazard are also (p. 403) important
aspects of risk perception that are distinctly different from beliefs about the probability and severity of an event
and its personal consequences. Perry and Lindell (1990) reported that hazard saliencemeasured in terms of the
degree to which respondents thought about the Mount St. Helens volcano threat rarely, periodically, or oftenwas
significantly related to hazard adjustment adoption. Later, Lindell (1994) found that frequency of thought and
discussion about a hazard was related to the prospect of severe personal consequences from a hazard. Based on
this work, Lindell and Whitney (2000) and Lindell and Prater (2000) proposed that the frequency of thought,
discussion, and passive information receipt about a hazard serves as a reminder for people to take actions that will
reduce their hazard vulnerability. Their data showed that this construct, hazard intrusiveness, was indeed
significantly correlated with seismic hazard adjustment adoption. At about the same time, Weinstein et al. (2000)
independently studied a construct they labeled preoccupationdefined by frequent thoughts, vigilance, intrusive
thoughts, and talk frequencywas significantly related to doing anything about hazard vulnerability after being
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struck by a tornado.
Stakeholder Characteristics
The adoption of hazard adjustments takes place in a social context involving many different stakeholders, which
Drabek (1986) categorized as authorities, news media, and peers. Interrelationships among these stakeholders
can be defined by their reward, coercive, legitimate, referent, expert, and information power over each others
actions (French & Raven, 1959; Raven, 1965). Reward and coercive power require continuing surveillance to
ensure that rewards are received only for compliance and that punishment will follow noncompliance (Raven,
1993). Although it is possible for government to provide incentives for household hazard adjustment adoption (Ge,
Peacock, & Lindell, 2011), this is not common, so most households adopt hazard adjustments voluntarily.
Consequently, there is a need to examine the effects of the other bases of power.
French and Ravens conception of expert (i.e., understanding of cause-and-effect relationships in the
environment) and information (i.e., knowledge about states of the environment) power suggests assessing
perceptions of stakeholders hazard knowledge. Moreover, French and Ravens conception of referent power is
defined by a persons sense of shared identity with another (Eagly & Chaiken, 1993), which is related to trust in
that personespecially their willingness to communicate information accurately. Finally, French and Raven (1959)
defined legitimate power by the rights and responsibilities associated with each role in a social network that, in the
hazards context, can be interpreted as perceived protection responsibility.
The proposition that perception of personal protection responsibility leads to a higher level of hazard adjustment
adoption is supported by findings on preparedness for tornadoes (Mulilis & Duval, 1997; Mulilis, Duval, & Rogers,
2003); earthquakes (Arlikatti et al., 2007; Lindell & Whitney, 2000); wildfires, earthquakes, and volcanoes (Perry &
Lindell, 2008); and earthquakes and hurricanes (Basolo et al., 2009), although the latter study found a statistically
significant effect only for development of family hurricane plans. Moreover, Laska (1990) reported a nonsignificant
correlation of personal protection responsibility with a flood hazard coping scale.
Lindell and Whitney (2000) reported that hazard adjustment adoption was significantly related to family and
personal earthquake knowledge in addition to personal protection responsibility. Similarly, Arlikatti et al. (2007)
found that local officials, employers, peers, and family/self seismic knowledge were correlated with hazard
adjustment adoption, as were employer, peer, and family trust, and employer, peer, and family/self protection
responsibility.
Arlikatti et al. (2007) also examined whether perceived stakeholder characteristics are directly or indirectly related
to households adoption of seismic hazard adjustments. A direct effect occurs if a stakeholder characteristic
influences hazard adjustment adoption through what is described by Fishbein and Ajzen (1975) as the effect of the
subjective norm, by Petty and Cacioppo (1986) as the peripheral route to persuasion, and by Chaiken (1987) as
heuristic processing. An indirect effect occurs if perceived stakeholder characteristics change peoples risk
perceptions and this change, in turn, affects their adoption of hazard adjustments. Arlikatti et al. (2007) reported
that perceived stakeholder characteristics appears to affect hazard adjustment adoption both directly (via the
peripheral route) and indirectly (via the central route).
Hazard Adjustment Attributes

The identity of perceived hazard adjustment characteristics can be surmised from a variety of studies on the
adoption of seismic hazard adjustments (p. 404) (Lindell, in press; Lindell & Perry, 2000). The most important
attributes are hazard-related (efficacy in protecting persons, efficacy in protecting property, and utility for other
purposes) and resource-related (cost, knowledge and skill requirements, time and effort requirements, specialized
tool and equipment requirements, and required social cooperation). The significance of these attributes has
generally been supported by recent research predicting the adoption of a variety of different hazard adjustments.
Specifically, the significance of efficacy in protecting persons and property is supported by findings from
Blanchard-Boehm (1998) regarding effectiveness, Norris et al. (1999) and Rstemli and Karanci (1999) regarding
personal control, Weinstein et al. (2000) regarding damage control and injury control, and Turner, Nigg, and HellerPaz (1986) regarding fatalismthe belief that there are no effective hazard adjustments. The significance of
resource-related attributes is supported by the findings of Mulilis et al. (2003) regarding difficulty and BlanchardBoehm et al. (2001) regarding cost. However, there are negative findings as well. Weinstein et al. (2000) reported
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that two measures of perceived controldamage control and injury controlhad nonsignificant correlations with
doing something about tornado hazard and Blanchard-Boehm et al. (2001) found that the cost of past hazard
adjustments was not significantly correlated with insurance purchase.
Systematic assessments of these hazard adjustment attributes have found that hazard-related attributes were
significantly correlated with adoption intention and actual adjustment. However, contrary to expectations, the
resource-related attributes had nonsignificant correlations with adoption intention or actual adjustment (Lindell &
Whitney, 2000). These findings were later replicated in a study of households in three Southern California cities
and three western Washington cities (Lindell & Prater, 2002). This study also found evidence of the construct
validity of the hazard adjustment attributes. Specifically, all three hazard-related attributes had large and significant
correlations with each other and the four resource-related attributes also had large and significant correlations with
each other. However, the resource-related attributes had much smaller correlations with the hazard-related
attributes, and 6 of the 24 correlations were not even statistically significant. Moreover, all three hazard-related
attributes had large and statistically significant positive correlations with adoption intention, as well as statistically
significant correlations with actual adjustmentalthough the latter correlations were much smaller than those with
adoption intention. The resource-related attributes generally had negative correlations with both adoption intention
and actual adjustment, but these were small and nonsignificant. More recently, Terpstra and Lindell (in press)
replicated these findings in a study of a different hazard (flood rather than earthquake) in a different country (the
Netherlands rather than the United States).
Further analyses have shown that the three hazard-related and four resource-related attributes strongly
differentiated among the hazard adjustments, as indicated by significant differences among hazard adjustments in
respondents mean ratings on each attribute (Lindell et al., 2009). These results suggest that the attributes were
meaningful to the respondents and, moreover, that it is reasonable to distinguish between hazard-related and
resource-related attributes. Moreover, the reanalyses explained previous reports of low correlations between the
resource-related attributes and adjustment adoption (Lindell & Prater, 2002; Lindell & Whitney, 2000). The variation
in the ratings of the resource-related attributes (an average of 38.8% of the scale range) is much smaller than the
variation in the ratings of the hazard-related attributes (an average of 65.0% of the scale range), which is
consistent with the well-known principle that variance restriction can attenuate correlations (Nunnally & Bernstein,
1994).
Antecedents of Core Perceptions

Researchers have sought to link perceptions of the threat, stakeholders, and protective actions to some of the
same variables that are linked to disaster response. These are hazard education (which is equivalent to hazard
warnings but takes place long before disaster impact), hazard experience, hazard proximity, and demographic
characteristics.
Hazard Education
One goal of hazard education programs is to provide risk-area residents with vicarious experience that substitutes
for personal experience (i.e., casualties and damage) in promoting the adoption of hazard adjustments. However,
few studies have evaluated the effects of risk communication programs for natural hazards (Lindell et al., 1997),
and most of those have focused on earthquake hazard. For instance, Faupel et al. (1992) found modest effects of
disaster education on disaster planning and preparedness. Mileti and Fitzpatrick (1992, 1993) and Mileti and
Darlington (1997) reported that earthquake risk communication programs (p. 405) in California had affected
residents risk perceptions. In turn, elevated risk perceptions resulted in increased information-seeking behaviors,
especially when people had received multiple risk information messages and knew others who had engaged in
protective behavior. Similarly, Karanci, Aksit, and Dirik (2005) conducted hazard awareness training that
significantly affected participants expectations of a disaster in their community, as well as disaster worry,
expected loss, the feasibility of mitigation, efficacy of disaster preparedness, and whether they had implemented
any preparedness actions. Preparedness was higher among males, those with higher levels of education, renters,
and those with higher levels of disaster worry.
Mulilis and Lippa (1990) conducted a field experiment in which they constructed earthquake awareness brochures
that systematically varied information about an earthquakes probability of occurrence, its severity, the efficacy of
Page 14 of 28

a recommended seismic adjustment, and the receivers self-efficacy. The researchers found that the information in
the brochures induced immediate changes in the receivers perceptions of probability, severity, outcome efficacy,
and self-efficacy. However, these impacts were not sustained over the five to nine weeks between the
administration of an immediate post-test and a delayed post-test, and there were inconclusive changes in the level
of hazard adjustment adoption. Whitney et al. (2004) conducted a laboratory experiment that investigated the
effects of an experimental earthquake education program on peoples beliefs in accurate and erroneous
earthquake-related beliefs and their adoption of seismic hazard adjustments. The program produced a significant
increase in hazard adjustment. Moreover, compared to an earthquake facts format, an earthquake myths
versus facts format was slightly more useful for dispelling erroneous beliefs.
In a study of risk communication with schoolchildren, Ronan and Johnston (2001) reported that participation in a
hazard education program increased primary and intermediate students hazard knowledge and hazard
adjustment. The program also significantly changed students perceptions of the future likelihood of occurrence for
four of the eight hazards, but changed their perceptions of the future likelihood of injury for only one of the eight,
and had no effect on hazard-related fear, parent fear, or emotional coping ability. Ronan and Johnstons (2003)
later quasi-experiment found that a program involving hazard education plus guidance on hazard adjustments
coupled with parent-child discussion increased hazard knowledge and hazard adjustments more than a program of
hazard education alone. Both treatments produced significant reductions in hazard-related fears and childrens
perceptions of parental distress, but did not change perceived emotional coping.
Formal hazard education programs are not the only way to provide people with vicarious (rather than personal)
hazard experience. Indigenous knowledge arises from the historical experience of groups that have continuously
settled a hazard-prone area who provide informal cultural transmission of information about the hazard and
protective actions. The practical value of indigenous knowledge is illustrated by the actions of the Simeulue people
of Indonesia, who responded to an earthquake and recession of seawater by evacuating into the mountains to
avoid an imminent tsunami (Gaillard et al., 2008). They learned this lesson from their ancestors experience in a
1907 tsunami that also was preceded by the recession of the seawater. By contrast, the people of Kajhu on the
main island of Sumatra had had no such experience and, thus, no cultural transmission of knowledge about
tsunamis environmental cues. Consequently, 70% of them became aware of the oncoming tsunami only when they
saw or heard it or saw people running or heard their shouts. Only 3% of those in Kajhu noticed the sea withdrawal
in comparison to 37% of those in Simeulue.
Personal Hazard Experience

As is the case with disaster response, studies of hazard adjustment adoption have defined hazard experience in a
variety of wayshaving been in a tornado (Mulilis et al., 2003), the number of earthquakes experienced (Russell et
al., 1995), amount of previous earthquake losses (Jackson, 1981), and experience of earthquake losses by oneself
or close others (Turner et al., 1986). Despite the use of varying operationalizations, most studies prior to 1999
found that earthquake experience is significantly correlated with the adoption of hazard adjustments (Lindell &
Perry, 2000). This conclusion is supported by more recent research reporting that hazard experience, defined as
past damage, is significantly correlated with a variety of measures of hazard adjustment adoption (Baumann &
Sims, 1978; Blanchard-Boehm, 1998; Blanchard-Boehm & Cook, 2004; Blanchard-Boehm et al., 2001; Browne &
Hoyt, 2000; Faupel, Kelley, & Petee, 1992; Heller et al., 2005; Laska, 1990; Lindell & Hwang; 2008; Lindell & Prater,
2000; Norris et al., 1999; Peacock, 2003; Perry & Lindell, 1990; Perry & Lindell, 2008; Sattler et al., 2000). In
addition, other studies have reported correlations of hazard adjustment with other aspects of experience, such as
shaking intensity, physical injury, emotional injury, and financial injury (Nguyen et al., 2006) and injury to self,
family, or peers (Lindell & Prater, 2000).
Some studies have found mixed results, with Blanchard-Boehm and Cook (2004) reporting that being in a tornado
path and seeing a tornado were not significantly correlated with having done anything about tornado hazard,
and Laska (1990) reporting that scores on a coping index were uncorrelated with flood frequency. Norris et al.
(1999) found nonsignificant correlations of past disaster experience with advance planning, Peacock (2003)
reported a nonsignificant correlation of hurricane experience with envelope protection, and Faupel et al. (1992)
reported a nonsignificant correlation of past experience with household planning. Weinstein et al. (2000) found that
doing anything about tornado hazard was significantly correlated with having recent reminders, engaging in
volunteer acts, and having contacts with victims, but not with having watched the impact or experiencing problems
Page 15 of 28

later. Perry and Lindell (2008) reported that earthquake preparedness was nonsignificantly related to health
impacts and Basolo et al. (2009) found nonsignificant correlations of hazard experience with all four indexes:
family plan, basic supplies, mitigation, and shutting off of utilities.
Hazard Proximity
There is mixed evidence regarding the correlations of hazard proximity with hazard adjustment. Farley, Barlow,
Finkelstein, and Riley (1993) reported that adoption of adjustments was correlated with proximity to the Central
United States New Madrid earthquake fault and Lindell and Hwang (2008) found that proximity to inland flood and
coastal hurricane hazards was significantly related to the adoption of both flood and wind adjustments. More
recently, Peacock (2003) found that both hurricane shutter installation and envelope protection were significantly
related to location in a coastal county but not location in an evacuation zone. With respect to hazard proximity and
insurance purchases, Montz (1982), Gares (2002), and Lindell and Hwang (2008) reported significant correlations
but Palm, Hodgson, Blanchard, and Lyons (1990) and Mileti and Darlington (1997) found no association of hazard
adjustment adoption with proximity to an earthquake fault.
Demographic Characteristics
As is the case for immediate disaster response actions, there are mixed findings on the relationships of
demographic variables with hazard adjustment adoption (Lindell, in press). Gender has a roughly equal number of
positive and nonsignificant results, education and income have more nonsignificant than positive results, and age
and ethnicity have more nonsignificant results than positive results and even some negative correlations. Marital
status, children in the home, andespeciallyhomeownership and community tenure have too few results to even
classify reliably.
Conclusions
Past research on hazards and disasters has documented that people respond adaptively, not in panic or shock, to
different types of disasters. In addition, researchers have identified many variables that influence peoples disaster
responses. These include warnings, environmental cues, and social cues that, in turn, influence peoples core
perceptions of the situationperceptions of the threat, stakeholders, and alternative protective actions. Research
has also documented the effects of hazard proximity and hazard experience on disaster response and hazard
adjustment adoption and is beginning to provide evidence that these effects are mediated by the core perceptions.
Research on hurricane response is beginning to expand beyond the immediate protective-action decision to
examine the timing of responses such as evacuation preparation, the logistics of evacuation to a safe location, and
the process of reentry to evacuated areas after authorities announce it is safe to return.
Studies have consistently shown that there is only a modest level of household hazard adjustment but have found
that the variables affecting hazard adjustment are similar to those affecting immediate disaster response. These
include hazard education, hazard experience, and hazard proximity that, in turn, influence peoples core
perceptions of the situationperceptions of the threat, stakeholders, and alternative protective actions. Research
continues to show that demographic variables are inconsistent predictors of disaster response and hazard
adjustment but some demographic variables do have consistent correlations with antecedents of these behaviors.
The most reliable of these correlations is between female gender and risk perception.
One weakness of research on both (p. 407) disaster warnings and hazard education programs has been a failure
to develop and measure specific characteristics of disaster warning messages and hazard education programs.
Proposed characteristics have included message specificity, consistency, certainty, clarity, accuracy, and
sufficiency (Mileti & Peek, 2000; Mileti & Sorensen, 1987) and message comprehension, agreement, dose-response
consistency, hazard-response consistency, uniformity, audience evaluation, and types of communication failures
(Weinstein & Sandman, 1993). However, there are few studies in which specific messages or entire hazard
education programs have used these or other measures and sought to correlate them with peoples perceptions of
the threat, stakeholders, or alternative protective actions.
Future Directions
Page 16 of 28

There are needs for further research in four major areas: developing and assessing typologies of disaster
response and hazard adjustment actions, developing and assessing measures of core perceptions, developing
and assessing measures of antecedent variables, and methodological improvements in research on disaster
response and hazard adjustment actions.
Theoretical Directions
Typologies of Disaster Response and Hazard Adjustment Behaviors
Most research on earthquake and tornadoes has focused on characterizing the frequency with which people
engage in different disaster responses, but the types of responses that have been reported vary from one study to
another. Consequently, there is a need to develop a behavior typology that lists all of the behaviors that have been
reported for each hazard. Such a typology not only would facilitate comparisons across studies within a given
hazard, but also would facilitate comparisons across hazards. Similarly, there is a need to adopt a consistent
typology of pre-impact hazard adjustments, develop standardized scales for measuring these adjustments, and
assess the psychometric adequacy of these scales (e.g., Mulilis & Lippa, 1990). Future studies also should
systematically develop and test scales measuring information-seeking activities (Mileti & Darlington, 1997; Mileti &
Fitzpatrick, 1993). These information-seeking scales should distinguish between information about a hazard and
information about hazard adjustments.
Measures of Core Perceptions

Researchers need to systematically examine and reconcile the names, definitions, and measures of key constructs
such as the variable that has variously been labeled hazard salience, hazard intrusiveness, preoccupation, and
rumination. There is a similar level of ambiguity regarding the personality characteristics of fatalism and
internal/external fate control versus perceptions of injury control and damage control (or, alternatively, protection
of persons and protection of property). Personality characteristics are, by their very nature, attributes of persons,
whereas protection of persons and protection of property are attributes of objects or actions. It is not entirely clear
how these constructs are related to each other or whether injury control and damage control are attributes of
persons or objects/actions (Terpstra & Lindell, in press).
Measures of risk perception are similarly problematic because they have been measured in at least five distinctly
different ways. First, risk perception has been measured using a number of dimensions that have been found to tap
two underlying factorsthe degree to which risks are known to those exposed and the degree to which those risks
are dread (Fishchhoff et al., 1978). Second, risk perception has been measured in terms of hazard agent
characteristics such as speed of onset, and scope and duration of impact (Lindell, 1994). Third, risk perception has
been defined as respondents perceived probability that an event such as an earthquake will occur in their
communities (Preston et al., 1983). Fourth, risk perception has been measured as respondents perceived
probabilities that they will experience specific personal consequences such as death, injury, property damage, or
disruption to their work, school, or daily activities (Lindell & Prater, 2000). Fifth, risk perception has been measured
as respondents emotional reactions such as concern, fear, or dread of a specific hazard (Dooley, Catalano,
Mishra, & Sexner, 1992; Rstemli & Karanci, 1999). With few exceptions, past studies have used only one of these
measures at a time, so studies are needed in which two or more types of measures are used to determine how they
are interrelated.
Second, most studies report a positive correlation of risk perception with hazard adjustment adoption but there are
some cases with mixed positive or even nonsignificant results. Thus, one objective for future research is to explain
why risk perception is not always significantly correlated with hazard adjustment adoption. One possibility is that
the inconsistent results are due to variations in the operationalization of this variable. This cannot be the entire
explanation because the available research shows that some notably different measures of risk perception have
significant correlations with hazard adjustment adoption. Weinstein and Nicolich (1993) have provided another
explanationas people with high levels of risk perception adopt more hazard adjustments, their risk perception
decreases. To rule out this possibility, future studies should be conducted that are longitudinal or, if they are crosssectional, should include self-reports of behavioral intentions as well as actual behavior.
It is also important to examine the possibility that judgments of the probability and severity of personal
Page 17 of 28

consequences have failed to accurately capture risk-area residents cognitive representations of environmental
hazards. Turner et al. (1986) and Whitney et al. (2004) found that many risk-area residents hold erroneous beliefs
about earthquake hazard. Further research is needed to examine the correlations of these erroneous beliefs with
other risk perception measures, such as hazard characteristics, community impacts, expected personal impacts,
and emotional reactions such as concern, fear, and dread. Such studies should also examine the correlations
among hazard characteristics, community impacts, expected personal impacts, concern, emotional reactions, and
hazard adjustment adoption.
Hazard intrusiveness appears to be an extremely promising variable because the cases in which it has been used
yielded positive results. Here, too, the conclusion must be regarded as tentative because it was tested so few
times. Nonetheless, hazard intrusiveness is likely to play an important role in the hazard adjustment process
because long-term threats lack the specific deadline associated with imminent threats. As a consequence,
procrastination can allow more immediate concerns of daily living (e.g., expenses for food, clothes, and
transportation) to receive a greater priority than adjustments to environmental hazards unless frequent reminders
cause those hazards to remain high on the household agenda.
There is only limited research on perceptions of hazard adjustment attributes and almost none on perceptions of
disaster response actions. The available research on this topic indicates that hazard-related attributes are
consistently related to hazard adjustment adoption but resource-related are not. This result might be due to the
limited set of hazard adjustments that have been examined to date, so more research is needed that examines
hazard adjustments with a broader range of resource requirements.
Stakeholder perceptions also have some positive results but the support for this finding is also weak because so
few studies have included these variables. Research should be conducted on a variety of hazards to examine riskarea residents perceptions of stakeholders expertise, trustworthiness, and protection responsibility.
Measures of Antecedent Variables

Message characteristics such as information quality (specificity, consistency, and source certainty) and
information reinforcement (number of warnings) are believed to have a significant impact on disaster response and
hazard adjustment adoption (Mileti & Peek, 2000). However, few of these characteristics have been explicitly
examined in field studies. Thus, there is a need for researchers to develop objective measures of these message
characteristics, or at least reliable rating scales, and to examine the extent to which these message characteristics
affect disaster response and hazard adjustment adoption and whether there are others.
Hazard experience is frequently a significant predictor of hazard adjustment adoption but the inconsistencies in
findings might be generated by variations in the ways in which this variable is measured (Baker, 1991), so it needs
to be more carefully conceptualized and consistently measured. There is also a need to ask how hazard
experience affects hazard adjustment adoption because of support for the hypothesis that the effect of hazard
experience on hazard adjustment adoption is mediated by risk perception (Lindell & Hwang, 2008) but other
evidence contradicts the hypothesis (Lindell & Prater, 2000).
Finally, demographic variables continue to have inconsistent correlations with disaster response and hazard
adjustment. These findings are consistent with previous conclusions by Baker (1991) and Lindell and Perry (2000).
As is the case with hazard experience, the weak results for demographic variables might be attributable to having
causal effects on variables early in the causal process such as hazard proximity, as proposed in the social
vulnerability literature (Wisner, Blaikie, Cannon, & Davis, 2004). Thus, demographic variables deserve continued
examination to determine whether they affect hazard adjustment adoption indirectly through variables such as
perception of threat, stakeholders, and hazard adjustment attributes rather than directly.
Methodological Directions
The vast majority of empirical studies on disaster response and hazard adjustment adoption have been conducted
in developed counties, although there are some exceptions such as research on indigenous knowledge that have
frequently been reported in (p. 409) the Journal of Volcanology and Geothermal Research. Moreover, there is a
need for additional studies of disaster response and hazard adjustment adoption by ethnic minorities (Eisenman,
Glik, Maranon, & Gonzales, 2009) and those with physical and mental disabilities (Rahimi, 1993).
Page 18 of 28

A continuing problem is researchers failure to report the intercorrelations among all the variables that were
measured. The unavailability of such correlations impedes the replacement of narrative literature reviews, such as
this one, with meta-analyses (Borenstein, Hedges, Higgins, & Rothstein, 2009) that can assess the magnitude of the
effects of independent variables on hazard adjustment and the intercorrelations of the independent variables with
each other. Failure to report correlations among variables has been problematic when reporting the results of
regression analyses because many studies have reported only the results of stepwise regressions that identify the
most parsimonious set of predictor variables. Stepwise regression analyses can produce extremely misleading
results when, for example, two independent variables are correlated with each other but one has a slightly higher
correlation with the dependent variable. The stepwise regression algorithm will generally only allow the variable
with the slightly higher correlation to enter the equationeven if that correlation is trivially higherperhaps
because of sampling fluctuations. The stepwise regression analysis will indicate that one of the independent
variables is an important predictor and the other is not when, in fact, both variables are approximately equally
important predictors.
In addition, research analyses that test single stagesingle equation models cannot assess the validity of mediation
models, such as the hazard proximity hazard experience risk perception hazard adjustment model
discussed above. Multistage-multiequation models are needed, as are longitudinal designs. If hazards researchers
adopt these changes in research designs, data analyses, and reporting practices, future reviews will be able to
extract much more valuable information from the studies that are published.
Acknowledgments
This work was supported by the National Science Foundation under Grants SES0527699, SES-0838654, CMM0826401, CMM-1138612, and CMM-1129998. None of the conclusions expressed here necessarily reflects views
other than those of the author.
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Michael K. Lindell
Michael K. Lindell Hazard Reduction & Recovery Center Texas A&M University College Station, TX
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Environmental Injustice, Collaborative Action, and the Inclusionary Shift

Susan Opotow
2012

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0022

Psychologists environmental work fosters protection of the natural world (e.g., forests, animals, ecosystems) and
opposes environmental degradation. Utilizing research on seven activist environmental collaboratives that
addressed long-standing environmental and health challenges, this chapter examines moral exclusion in
environmental degradation that has disproportionately burdened low-income communities of color for many
decades. Research on these projects identifies strategies, activities, and successes of environmental justice
collaborations can effect a shift from moral exclusion to moral inclusion. A study of their work, which includes
education, research, and outreach, offers a nuanced and activity-based understanding of processes that can
foster moral inclusion.
Keywords: scope of justice, moral exclusion, moral inclusion, minority populations, environmental justice, environmentalism, environmental racism,
scope of justice, pollution, ecosystem degradation, hazardous facilities, toxic wastes, activism, coalitions, participatory research, fair trade
Introduction
In April 2011, Benjamin Chavis Jr. (2011) proposed a Black American Earth Day:
A Black American Earth Day should be a day of solidarity with all people, but in particular with other
people of color, who like Black Americans are disproportionately exposed to environmental injustices and
life-threatening pollutions and toxic hazards. These dangerous problems are local, statewide, regional,
national and international. In Harlem, South Central Los Angeles, Southside Chicago, Houston, Philadelphia,
Detroit, Cleveland, St. Louis, New Orleans, and in just about every other place in America where we reside,
we find ourselves disproportionately with high rates of asthma and other respiratory diseases, multiple
forms of cancer, and other sicknesses that are directly related to harmful exposure to environmental
hazards in the air that we breathe, as well as in the water and food that we consume.
Chavis, credited with coining the term environmental racism, cowrote a landmark study commissioned by the
United Church of Christ a quarter century before that documented the disproportionate siting of waste facilities in
communities of color (Chavis & Lee, 1987). The study emerged from increasing concern about landfill sitings
adjacent to black communities. In late 1970s two communities, one Texas and one in North Carolina, mounted
challenges to these decisions (Bullard, 1983; Bullard & Johnson, 2000; US General Accounting Office, 1983; also
see Cole & Foster, 2001).
In psychology, environmentalism is often associated with the protection of of the natural world (e.g., native forests,
endangered animals and plants, and threatened ecosystems) (e.g., Opotow & Clayton, 1994), but another focus
concerns environmental costs of modern technology (Oskamp, 2000; Zelezny & Schultz, 2000) and asks who
bears these costs. This line of research, called environmental (p. 415) racism, injustice, inequality, or inequity,
Page 1 of 16

concerns environmental harms, degradation, and disbenefits that afflict particular groups. It positions social justice
and human rights as closely linked to access to clean water, air, and soil (cf., Opotow & Weiss, 2000; Syme &
Nancarrow, this volume) because, without a healthy environment, basic human rights and freedoms cannot be
achieved (cf., Laituri & Kirby, 1994; Pulido, 1991). Psychologists and other researchers concerned with the
environment have often been part of multidisciplinary collaborations that combine research, practice, and
advocacy to foster the well-being of individuals, communities, and ecosystems (Opotow & Gieseking, 2011).
This chapter examines moral exclusion as it plays out in environmental degradation, focusing on how polluting
practices have disproportionately burdened low-income communities of color for many decades. It describes
scope of justice theory, current environmental issues, and, utilizing Pulidos (2000) work, on environmental racism,
discusses how environmental justice connects with moral exclusion and inclusion. The second section describes
research on collaborative efforts that have addressed environmental and health challenges of poor and minority
communities. The final section discusses how collaborative alliances can redress environmental injustice, widen
the scope of justice to foster the well-being of communities.
The Scope of Justice

The scope of justice is a construct that calls our attention to implicit beliefs about fairness. Morton Deutsch (1985)
has described justice as applicable only in social relations or social systems in which there is perceived to be at
least a minimal degree of actual, normatively expected or potential cooperation (p. 37). Working from his idea that
a narrow scope of justice will result in a narrow set of situations in which ones thinking and behavior will be
governed by considerations of justice, my research has examined social psychological contexts in which the
scope of justice has changed. To facilitate this research, I modify the scope of justice and developed a Scope of
Justice Scale (Opotow, 1987, 1993, 1996) that consists of three attitudes indicating that someone or something is
within ones scope of justice or is morally included: (1) the belief that considerations of fairness apply to a person,
group, or place; (2) the willingness to allocate a share of community resources to protect that person, group, or
place; and (3) the willingness to make sacrifices to foster their well-being. The scale suggests that considering
what is fair for others and enacting it through resource allocationseven when doing so may incur costs to oneself
is consistent with inclusionary attitudes.
In contrast, people or places outside the scope of justice can be viewed as morally excluded and viewed as
nonentities and unworthy of rights, resources, sacrifices (Opotow, 1990). Those outside the scope of justice are
vulnerable to exploitation and harm. Exclusionary behavior is evident when individuals or groups lack public goods
such as clean air and water, quality education, health care, housing, and worker enforced safety codes. Excluded
places can be exploited for their resources or serve as dumps for residential or industrial waste. Because moral
exclusion is normalized as the way things are or the way they ought to be, people, groups, or places outside
the scope of justice may be harmed without provoking sense of outrage or calls for redress because such harms
may seem natural and inevitable.
Exclusion from the scope of justice is relevant for a wide variety of environmental issues including the protection of
animals, fragile habitats, ecosystems, or commons. I have studied the social psychological antecedents of
extending justice concerns to endangered or disliked animals (Opotow, 1987, 1993, 1994), ranchers views of
listing the Prebles Meadow Jumping Mouse as an endangered species (Opotow & Brook, 2003; US Department of
the Interior, 1988), and how people living in Namibias arid Kunene region view the conservation of nature and
charismatic megafauna (i.e., large mammals with widespread appeal, such as elephants, lions, leopards, and
cheetahs; Chang & Opotow, 2009). I situate my research within the Lewinian tradition that is attentive to the
interaction between people and their environment (Lewin, 1935, 1936) and draw inspiration from Lewins post
World War II research on minority rights, civic participation, and democratic processes. Lewin viewed the
communities in which people live and work and the issues people faced in their communities as a laboratory for
studying participatory democracy (Cherry & Borshuk, 1998; Lewin, 1997/1939).
In the next section I am attentive to people and the environment, focusing on polluted sites and the people who live
in or near them. Both can seem inconsequential to people living in more secure, pristine places.
Environmental Degradation
Page 2 of 16

Susan Clayton and Gene Myers (2009) alert psychologists to environmental threats that people experience globally
and locally as the result of human activities that adversely affect ecological systems. (p. 416) Their concern is
consistent with a large-scale study of the earths ecosystems commissioned in 2001 by UN Secretary General Kofi
Annan.
The UN report, Ecosystems and human well-being (Millennium Ecosystem Assessment Board, 2005), described the
increasing demand for resources (i.e., food, freshwater, timber, fiber, and fuel) throughout the world. Human
activities in the past 50 years have changed the earths ecosystems in ways that have fostered human well-being
and economic development. These changes have resulted in more extensive and rapid ecosystem degradation
than any prior period in human history. Habitat destruction to meet human needs and for economic gain has
resulted in the irreparable loss of diverse life forms on earth. As a consequence of ongoing environmental
degradation, the UN report predicts that there will be diminished ecosystem benefits for future generations, and
reparative actions, if instituted immediately, can reverse some but not all ecosystem changes. Irreversible
ecosystem changes will disproportionately affect vulnerable groups resulting in increasing poverty, hunger, child
and maternal mortality, disease, and gender disparities. The UN report emphasizes the close relationship between
the well-being of the physical and human environment.
The United States, like the rest of the world, struggles with environmental degradation. While some kinds of pollution
are widespread, others are concentrated and disproportionately affect people living near contaminated sites such
as power plants, landfills, and brownfields. Decades of research have documented the disproportionate siting of
such facilities near low-income communities of color (e.g., Chavis & Lee, 1987; Williams & Collins, 1999). Research
on aggregate, long-term effects of segregation and discrimination on health over the life course describes how
societal policies can undermine health by isolating people into particular neighborhoods that reinforce economic
segregation and limit access to key resources such as schools, jobs, medical care, parks, stores, and healthpromoting activities (Ruel & Robert, 2009). Isolated and low income communities exposed to industrial waste in
their water, air, and soil have been labeled sacrifice zones, fence-line, or throwaway communities. Such
communities sit on or next to some of the most toxic sites in America (Bullard, 2011; Lerner, 2010).
Siting toxic and hazardous facilities in communities of color has a long history. As one example, Eno Road, a tiny
black community in Dickson County, Tennessee, abuts a landfill containing toxic chemicals that have polluted its
water. New York Times columnist Bob Herbert (2006) described Eno Road as
a quiet rustic area with an interesting history. Hundreds of acres of land along the road were acquired by
blacks in the post-slavery period. Only recently freed, they were proud of being landowners. The Holts
have lived in the community for many decades. Blacks make up just 4.5 percent of the Dickson County
population, and they have always been clustered in the vicinity of Eno Road. This has been a great
convenience for the whites, who have run the local governments. For six decades, the Eno Road
community has been designated as the place for whites to dump their garbage. (p. 19)
This community was founded after the Civil War when slavery was abolished. People who had been enslaved
wanted to own land to be self-employed and be able to earn a living in the Souths agrarian society (Foner, 1990).
But it was common practice for white landowners to refuse to sell land to black Americans. When land did become
available from state governments, it was often encumbered by promissory titles and, later, repossessed by the
state or former white owners (Bleser, 1969). Research on family genealogies by Henry Louis Gates (2007) has
indicated a strong correlation between land ownership by families after the Civil War and achievement of their
decendents today (Browne-Marshall, 2007). Siting hazardous waste adjacent to land that had been acquired and
retained by black families against all odds after the Civil War and during Jim Crow (see Blumenthal, 2006) violates
the ideal, land of opportunity, that America holds dear.
Environmental injustice became a newsworthy topic when President Bill Clinton signed Federal Actions to Address
Environmental Justice in Minority Populations and Low-Income Populations, Executive Order 12898 (1994) 24
years after the first Earth Day in 1970. The executive order was a victory after decades of legal and community
opposition to environmental injustice (see Paben, 2011). The executive order directed federal agencies to address
the disproportionately high and adverse human health or environmental effects on minority populations and lowincome populations and to coordinate their activities as they developed a comprehensive environmental justice
strategy. Although Executive Order 12898 generated hope for significant change, six years later, almost half (46%)
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of the housing units designated for poor residents in Dallas, Texas (p. 417) were situated within a mile of factories
cited by the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) for toxic emissions (Bullard, 2005).
Some communities have prevailed in environmental injustice lawsuits. For example, in 2001 a black community
adjacent to a Monsanto facility in Alabama contaminated with polychlorinated byphenyls won a $42.8 million out-ofcourt settlement in a class action suit. In 2002 in Louisiana, a minority community located between two Shell Oil
facilities secured a $5 million community redevelopment fund and a buyout that allowed residents to relocate
(Bullard, 2005). But in spite of these cases in which polluting companies have acknowledged damage they have
inflicted and have compensated communities for long-term exposure to toxins, environmental injustice has
persisted.
To mark the 20th anniversary of Chavis and Lees 1987 report, the United Church of Christ commissioned a new
study, Toxic Wastes and Race at Twenty, 19872007: Grassroots Struggles to Dismantle Environmental Racism
(Bullard, Mohai, Saha, & Wright, 2007) the study utilized 2000 census data, a national database of commercial
hazardous waste facilities, and geographic information systems to conduct a national assessment of racial and
socioeconomic disparities and the location of waste sites. It reviewed the current state of environmental racism in
the United States and examined racial disparities by region, state, and metropolitan area.
The study found that: more than 5 million people of color, including 2.5 million Latinos, 1.8 million African
Americans, 600,000 Asians and Pacific Islanders, and 60,000 Native Americans, live in host neighborhoods
within 3 kilometers of one or more commercial hazardous waste facilities; 56% of people living in host
neighborhoods adjacent to the nations 413 commercial hazardous waste facilities were people of color; and
poverty rates in such neighborhoods were 1.5 times greater than in communities further from such facilities. This
study revealed that 20 years after Chavis & Lees initial report in 1987, significant socioeconomic disparities in
exposure to hazardous environmental sites remained. It recommended corrective legislative and executive
measures at the local, state, and federal levels; industry adoption of clean production processes; and distribution
of health information and regular health monitoring for host neighborhood residents and facility workers.
Environmental racism remains a challenge in many low-income communities of color today. For example in 2010 a
the weekly newspaper, Washington Informer, reported that four of five residents in Californias most polluted
neighborhoods are minorities, but its the elders among them who face the greatest risks (Nahmyo, 2010). It noted
that across the United States, seniors live in cancer alleys near polluting factories, some now closed, in which
these seniors worked decades ago. In poor, predominantly minority neighborhoods, the lack of good health care
along with long-term exposure to air pollution have resulted in a disproportionate incidence of asthma and chronic
obstructive pulmonary disease. In this example of environmental injustice, we see what Fine and Ruglis (2009) call
circuits of dispossession, the negative consequences that move from one sphere of society to another with a
faade of naturalness (p. 20). Their analysis extends Harveys (2004) work on the privatization of public goods,
which he describes as accumulation by dispossession [and] is about dispossessing somebody of their assets or
their rights. This occurs when common property is taken out of the public sphere by privatizing it. Water is an
example: Traditionally, everybody had had access to water, and [when] it gets privatized, you have to pay for it
(Harvey, 2004).
To borrow from Fine and Ruglis (2009), disadvantage courses from the economic sphere in unemployment and
underemployment, poverty, and facility siting, to the social sphere in housing segregation, and to the health sphere
and into bodies, blood, and lungs as communities are dispossessed of clean water, air, and land, precious
resources that support healthy life. Instead, both private and public sectors appropriate environmental resources
and produce environmental pollution that concentrates in bodies and communities over time. Thus poor
communities of color bear the costs of profit and well-being elsewhere. This is moral exclusion in action as harms
are invisible, normalized, and cumulative that are concentrated in particular people and places.
Environmental Racism
Laura Pulido (2000) describes environmental racism from a structural and geographic perspective and argues that
environmental racism is the product of relationships between distinct places, including industrial zones, affluent
suburbs, working-class suburbs, and downtown areas, all of which are racialized (p. 13). Rather than view racism
as a specific malicious act, Pulido situates racism within structural factors that perpetuate environmental
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inequalities. Drawing on research on residential segregation (Massey & Denton, 1993) and employment patterns
(Kirschenman & Neckerman, 1991), (p. 418) Pulido locates racism in systems that support white privilege as an
organizing principle in social and cultural relations (Lipsitz, 1995, p. 369). In her research she asks, How did
whites distance themselves from industrial pollution and nonwhites? (p. 14). She situates her answer in three
related practices: racialized environments, anti-racist affirmations, and unwillingness to act or tolerate
inconvenience to racial and environmental justice. She has argued that racism does not emerge only from
discriminatory attitudes or behavior but also, and with more lasting influence, from social and cultural systems that
offer white people a set of environmental benefits they come to expect and are protected by custom and law (cf.,
Harris, 2005).
Pulidos work directs our attention to the spatiality of racism, distinct geographies of exposure (p. 33) in the
relationship between industrial and residential zones. This spatiality has a history. As whites abandoned zones
abutting environmental hazards, these zones were increasingly occupied by racial and ethnic minorities. The
seemingly natural upward movement of whites away from inner cities to suburbs did not seem to be a racist act.
Cumulatively and over time, zoning laws and urban development policies were codified and contributed to de facto
segregation.
The racial history underlying such siting decisions is informative. In the 1920s during Jim Crow, a period when
residential segregation was a norm that was violently enforced (Woodward, 1966), zoning laws in Los Angeles
promoted the concentration of industrial activity in poorer, nonwhite areas and the development of whites-only
housing developments (Pulido, 2000). This encouraged white residents of Los Angeles to move from the inner city
and into suburban communities (cf. Sharpe & Wallock, 1994). In this, Pulido has argued, we can see white privilege
as people exploited the benefits of whiteness while denying that their motives for residential change were
motivated by racism. Pulidos analysis clarifies that exclusionary practices, laws, and policies imposed the costs of
public and commercial polluting activities on black Americans and cast the disadvantage they experienced
disadvantage that was unwanted by those who fled polluted zonesas nonracist, acceptable, and natural.
Environmental racism, therefore, resulted from millions of choices made by countless individuals over time that, in
the aggregate, constitute a racial formation, and are a response to conditions deliberately created by the state
and capital (Pulido, 2000, p. 25).
In the next section I describe studies of seven grassroots environmental initiatives that were formed to denaturalize
environmental racism and the exclusionary status quo. These initiatives were collaborative efforts that sought a
shift from environmental injustice to environmentally sound, health-promoting policies. These cases offer insight
into initiatives and activities that can address long-standing exclusionary practices to foster inclusionary change.
Collaborations to Redress Environmental Injustice

Environmental conflicts are best addressed at the local level, as this is where they matter most (Syme, Kals,
Nancarrow, & Montada, 2000). Local people want to resolve the environmental issues they face, and their
knowledge of the particulars of their community, both physically and socially, can inform environmentally sensitive
and sound policy (cf., Chang & Opotow, 2009). By acting together and exercising their rights, community groups
can seek to end their disproportionate exposure to environmental toxins. When multi-group collaborations mobilize
stakeholders and engage allies to collectively protests long-standing environmental pollution, they can obtain
access to legal and political power that they may not have had before (Smith & Pangsapa, 2008).
Using PsycINFO, a psychological database, to search for environmental justice initiatives, I identified seven studies
that examined community mobilization efforts to redress long-standing pollution. Each described environmental
problems faced by a community, how the community addressed these problems, and effects of their efforts. The
first study describes environmental coalitions formed to address pollution; the rest describe initiatives mounted by
of community-based coalitions. Together, these cases offer insight into the de-normalization of moral exclusion to
foster inclusionary change.
Study 1: Environmental Justice and Social Movements Groups

Tamara Mixs (2011) research focused on coalitions between two kinds of organizations. The first, environmental
justice groups, seek to end racial biases in environmental practices, laws, and enforcement (cf. Schlosberg, 1999).
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The second, social movement organizations, seek to advance specific social issues (e.g., peace, ethical treatment
of animals, and civil rights; cf. Shaffer, 2000). Environmental justice groups tend to be grassroots, working class,
and live and/or work close to hazardous environments, while people involved in social movement organizations
tend to have more (p. 419) schooling and live and work in more secure and less polluted circumstances.
Based on interviews and focus groups with a sample of community-based, grassroots environmental justice
activists across the United States, Mix notes that there are three kinds of coalitions: (1) two-organization coalitions,
(2) multi-stakeholder coalitions formed to address a galvanizing issue, and (3) multi-issue, multi-organization
coalitions in which environmental justice groups work with social movement organizations to address a broad
range of concerns. Mixs research respondents described the challenges of collaborative work, which include
group competition over scarce resources, suspicions that one group will co-opt the others agenda, and the costs
of labor-intensive work such as outreach and education. Respondents also described the benefits of collaborative
work: enhanced understanding of local and community experiences and concerns, the opportunity to share
resources, and the ability to speak with a strong voice that can hold those in power accountable for environmental
injustice and enlist them in change. Building such coalitions can be difficult, she found, because environmental
justice and social movements groups differ in a number of ways including ethnicity/race, social class, and
exposure to pollutants. In spite of these difficulties, Mix describes coalition-building as important because of its
potential to increase awareness about environmental justice and to effect positive change.
This typology of organizational coalitions makes a practical contribution to research on social contexts. Thomas
Pettigrew (1997) has argued that experimental psychology has yet to formulate a taxonomy of situations or to
specify a consistent means of measuring and comparing situations (p. 424). By differentiating among various
kinds of coalitions, Mix offers researcher a tool to study the coalitional work that can address chronic
environmental injustice. Descriptions of coalitions that follow utilize her typology, starting with simpler and moving
to more complex coalitions.
Study 2: Environmental Awareness and Theater of the Oppressed

Communities Organized Against Asthma & Lead (COAAL) in Houston, Texas is a project designed to bring together
health experts and community members. Instituted by the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences
Environmental Justice Project at the University of Texas Medical Branch, the project works with local communities
on the Texas and Louisiana Gulf Coast to address the tangled power dynamics overarching environmental
justice (Sullivan et al., 2008, p. 167). To advocate for environmental changes that would improve community
health, COOAL created a series of two-organization coalitions with several fence-line communities (cf. Mix, 2011).
COAAL draws on the work of Brazilian theater director, writer, and politician Augusto Boal (19312009), who
developed Theater of the Oppressed in the 1960s (Cohen-Cruz & Schutzman, 2006). Theater of the Oppressed is a
theatrical method that seeks to foster personal growth via dramaturgical experiences that encourage spontaneity
in image-making and improvisation. COAAL utilizes Boals methods to deepen environmental and health knowledge
and develop community support networks in Texas and Louisiana Gulf Coast fence-line communities that share a
boundary with such pollution point sources as hazardous waste sites and petrochemical and power plants.
The project asked participants to examine hidden, unexamined issues and influences such as local histories and
power dynamics. Through the participation of toxicological, epidemiological, and medical experts the project
encouraged participants to expand their knowledge about environmental issues and their expressive abilities in
order to increase the communitys capacity for advocacy.
Studies 35: Community-Based Participatory Research and Pollution

Drawing from psychological work on health and community capacity-building (cf. Freudenberg, 2004), Minkler,
Breckwich-Vasquez, Tajik, and Petersen (2008) examined several community-based participatory research in
projects that addressed community health problems and sought policy changes to address them. Minkler and her
colleagues utilized such qualitative methods as site visits, interviews, and focus groups) along with a multi-site
case study approach (Yin, 2009) to examine two-organization and multi-stakeholder coalitions (cf. Mix, 2011) that
formed around galvanizing, local environmental issues. I describe three of their studies in which community
residents worked with university researchers, lawyers, and other organizations to address a specific environmental
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concern, assess its prevalence, and seek redress.
Study 3: Air Pollution and Asthma in Harlem

To study the high rates of asthma, West Harlem Environmental Action (WE ACT), a community (p. 420) group in
Harlem, New York, worked with the Columbia Center for Childrens Environmental Health at the Columbia University
School of Public Health (the center) (Minkler et al., 2008). Trained by researchers at the center, WE ACT
conducted a research project to assess concentrations of fine particulate matter in Harlems airshed that result
from diesel pollution. High school students participated in the study as project air monitors. Their data indicated that
concentrations of fine particulate matter was, in some areas, 200% above the EPAs maximum level (Kinney et al.,
2000). Utilizing these data, WE ACT raised public awareness of this health hazard through media advocacy, legal
complaints, and outreach to decision makers. This project and WE ACT were credited with the conversion of New
York City buses to clean diesel fuel and the mandating of air quality by the federal EPA in Harlem and at other sites
locally and nationally with similar environmental concerns.
Study 4: Toxic Air and Industry in Los Angeles

The Southern California Environmental Justice Collaborative is a partnership of several grassroots organizations. It
includes a community group, Communities for a Better Environment; researchers from the University of California,
Santa Cruz, Occidental College, and Brown University; and a small philanthropic organization (Minkler et al., 2008).
Taking an epidemiological approach and utilizing data in governmental databases, the collaborative developed a
health riskscape of South Los Angeles assessing demographic and geographical distributions of pollution
burdens (Morello-Frosch et al., 2005, p. 379) in the area.
Their data indicated that industry tends to locate in areas that are disproportionaly populated by low-income
minority communities. This debunked a prevalent assumption that minorities move into areas that are already
heavily industrialized and polluted. The collaborative publicized its findings via the media, which focused public
attention on regulatory agencies responsible for locally disliked and environmentally polluting siting decisions. The
collaboratives work secured a revision of regional regulations governing maximum lifetime cancer risk and a
tightening of emission standards. Over time, both meaures should improve regional health.
Study 5: Lead Contamination in Oklahoma

Tribal Efforts Against Lead (TEAL) is a collaboration in the Tar Creek area in northeastern Oklahoma. The area was
designated as a Superfund site in 1984 because of acid mine drainage and lead contamination (Minkler et al.,
2008). The collaboration included eight tribes and nations, affected nontribal communities, faculty from Emory
University, the Universities of New Mexico and Oklahoma, and the Ottawa County Department of Public Health. It
focused on a long-standing local concern about the contamination of soil and the high blood levels of lead in
Native American children exposed to granular mine tailings (chat) used on roads and in local construction.
TEAL arranged to collect data on blood levels of lead before and after an intervention conducted by a lay health
adviser. It also collected survey data from caregivers and performed environmental home assessments (Kegler &
Malcoe, 2004). Legally, TEAL could not be involved in advocacy for policy change because of federal funding
regulations, but members of its community partner, Clan Mothers and Fathers, advocated as citizens on behalf of
the communities affected. TEAL is credited with raising awareness of lead exposure within the community and
among local decision makers. Their work led to regulations that limited the use of chat and instituted a program of
routine lead testing for children by the county health department and the Indian Health Service.
Summary of Studies 35: Forming Effective Partnerships

Commenting on findings that emerged from the cases they studied, Minkler et al. (2008) identified three factors that
facilitate the formation of effective partnerships that can influence public policy: first, project leadership by a
strong, autonomous community group that can mobilize the local people; second, effective collaboration among
partners; and third, the pooling of complementary resources, including the skills and extended networks of project
partners. The researchers also found that an appreciation of the communitys history of environmental burdens
and its struggles along with a shared sense of community, and a commitment to shared values (e.g.,
environmental justice) underlying the project may be critical to maintain a strong and focused partnership in the
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face of such tensions (p. 135).
Such collaborations, they found, have the capacity to challenge the normalization and seeming inevitability of
ongoing environmental degradation by positioning it as an urgent issue. Surfacing these issues for public scrutiny
can mobilize affected communities and enlist the media and engage (p. 421) governmental representatives. I
discuss these inclusionary tactics in a later section.
Study 6: Opposing Polluting Industries

A communitys successful efforts to prevent the issuing of a permit for a proposed coal-fired electrical power plant
in Taylor County, Florida served as a case study for Stokes, Hood, Zokovitch, and Close (2010). Their research
analyzed the mobilization and process of opposition in Taylor County in order to create a blueprint that would be
useful in future conflicts over the siting of pollution-generating facilities in already burdened communities.
The Taylor County community had been designated as the site for a coal-fired power plant in the region. The
community had already been disproportionally exposed to pollution from a nearby paper mill that had contaminated
local waterways and property. It was also disadvantaged socioeconomically as several measures of well-being
indicate. It was in the fourth (i.e., the lowest) quartile in median income, unemployment, and population over age 25
without a high school diploma, and it was in the third (i.e., next to the lowest) quartile of residents with household
income below poverty level.
When the coal-fired electrical power plant was proposed, the community lacked a coalition that could have
effectively opposed the plant, but a partnership emerged that included Florida Agricultural and Mechanical
University, Wildlaw (a not-for-profit environmental law firm), and a community-based organization called TRUE.
Together these organizations formed a new organization, the Taylor County No Coal Coalition, which secured a
grant from the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry/Association of Minority Professional Health
Schools.
Stokes et al.s paper delineates how the coalition addressed the challenges they faced. In summarizing their
findings they advised similarly-situated communities to: (1) do your homework investigate the power plant
partnership, ask about alternative technologies; (2) participate in local decision-making processes, the state
certification and siting processes, the federal review and permitting; (3) get involved at the grassroots level
participate in steering committee meetings, county master planning boards, community surveys and analyses, and
other local activities; 4) negotiate argue for an environmentally friendlier and healthier facility with postconstruction options. These steps, they argue, can increase the knowledge of local residents and foster
community engagement throughout this complex process.
Study 7: Bananas and Fair Trade

Henry Frundts (2009) research on a fair trade for bananas describes the development of a system developed to
foster environmental justice for agricultural workers and protect the environment. Fair trade is a social movement
that uses market-based approaches to assist small producers in developing countries so that they can offer fair
compensation to their workers and protect workers health as well as the environment. Producers who adhere to
established fair trade standards, which are attentive to social, economic, and environmental justice, would be
eligible for fair trade certification and higher prices for their bananas. Consumers purchasing fair trade bananas
would be assured that they are buying products produced under fair labor conditions for hours worked,
compensation, benefits, and protection from environmental hazards such as pesticides. Fair trade was first
developed to secure the rights and well-being of banana workers and small producers. It and has since been
extended to other products including chocolate, tea, coffee, sugar, and wine. Using Mixs typology (2011), fair
trade is a multi-issue, multi-organization project that depends on a broad collaboration of local banana workers and
producers and consumers living in distant, affluent countries who are willing to pay a premium for banana
production that takes into account workers needs and rights. The goals of fair trade are inclusionary and
achieving them requires cooperation among proximate and distal partners.
The history and challenges of achieving fair trade to benefit banana workers in Latin America is the subject of
Frundts research. He describes how fair trade was designed for small producers, but bigger producers, seeing
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potential for market share, sought fair trade designation too. But when some of the claimed environmental and labor
enhancements proved illusory, there was a tightening of standards and rules to close loopholes. As one example,
the use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides (i.e., to prevent worker exposure) and recycling and the disposal of
banana wastes (i.e., to prevent environmental degradation) utilized by some producers did not always conform to
best practices, sometimes because of the practicalities of farming and sometimes because of producer shortcuts to
evade fair trade standards.
Fair trade can foster significant positive change. Frundt argued that when it can maintain high employment and
environmental standards and when it is sustainable, it can bring about significant change in the status quo. Such
change would mean that more people would be able to work for sufficient (p. 422) pay. As a result, the health
needs of workers families could be met, their children could attend school, the natural environment in which
workers live and work would be vibrant, and workers community and cultural life would be strengthened, not only
in the present, but for future generations as well. Achieving these goals would substantially increase the well-being
of banana workers, many of whom are members of such disenfranchised groups as indigenous people, women,
and immigrants who are vulnerable to negative economic and environmental change.
Bettering the Environment: From Moral Exclusion to Moral Inclusion

The cases I have described offer details on the specifics of collaborative work intended to foster inclusionary
change. Activist coalitions educate the community, the media, public agencies, officials, legislators, and the courts
to set higher standards for environmental health and safety that can foster well-being and environmental justice.
The work described in these cases begins at the local level but, in some cases, has effected policy change and
protective laws at state and national levels. Specifying local activities that yield inclusionary effects is important.
Unlike moral exclusion, which can take hold as a discriminatory ethos gains momentum quickly, moral inclusion
tends to occur over a long period (Opotow, 2008). Sustainable inclusionary change need to occur in several
societal sphereslegal, social, political, and economicand at micro and macro levels of analysis (Opotow, 2006).
Thus, a focus on the activities of local groups offers insight into contexts in which inclusionary change can take
root.
Vygotskys (1978) construct, zone of proximal development, is relevant to the community and collaborative
activities described in these cases. In such zones, Vygotksy has argued, people are positioned to foster each
others development and learning. Through taking in information (internalization) and producing information
(externalization), people, such as those working in environmental coalitions, revise their understandings, norms,
and standards (Lektorsky, 1999). Activities in such contexts have the potential to transform how people view
themselves and their communities (Muoz Proto & Opotow, 2012). Activity theory, developed early in the 20th
century in political philosophy and Russian psychology, draws on the work of Vygotsky, Luria, and Leontev. It
bridges two main approaches in psychology: one looks at individuals and their development, attitudes, and
actions; the other concerns societal structures that influence human behavior. Activity theory connects these two
strands by examining how individuals influence societal structures (Engestrm, 1999). This emphasis on activity,
agency, and influence is particularly relevant for contexts in which social injustice is pervasive.
Collaboration and Environmental Inclusion

Utilizing the Scope of Justice Scale (Opotow, 1987, 1993, 1996) as a conceptual guide, the next sections discuss
the activities these case describe to precipitate change and widen the scope of justice. I especially focus on: 1)
applying considerations of fairness to affected communities and their residents; 2) allocating resources to benefit
formerly marginalized and polluted communities; and 3) bettering such communities even when doing so requires
sacrifices and changes in the status quo.
Considerations of Fairness
Extending fairness to others is a core goal of activist environmental collaboratives. In these cases, considerations
of fairness concerns justice, rights, respect, entitlement, and deserving. Environmentally burdened communites
and their allies speak of unfairness as lack of protection from harm, lack of parity with other communities, and lack
of access to environmental and health data. The sense that fairness was violated is important because it is
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motiviating. It can inspire efforts to change extant laws, rules, and practices so that they are more fair and
protective, and so that communities that have been morally excluded can be part of environmental decisions that
affect them. Perceptions of unfairness can forge connections among disparate stakeholders and give rise to
creative, collaborative initiatives. Considerations of fairness, therefore, is an influential construct because it speaks
to the engagement of environmental activists, the larger public, and decision makers in issues that were previously
accepted, excused, or ignored.
Allocation of Resources
Collaborative efforts to foster environmental justice begins with resources. In these seven cases key resources
included law, empirical data, education, and partnerships. Environmental coalitions utilized extant law to challenge
polluting practices and to advocate for new laws that would protect people and places. Making the case that
fairness has been violated depends on marshaling and disseminating evidence. These cases indicate that doing so
is a key activity of environmental justice collaborations. To support their advocacy work, coalitions collected data
from individuals (e.g., blood levels of lead), (p. 423) environmental assessments of homes, mapping of polluted
sites in the region, and measurements of pollutants in commons (e.g., air quality). They also utilized existing
environmental and health data. Data then served as the basis for educational and advocacy efforts and were
disseminated to the community, to decision makers, and to the public via the media. Education was also a key
resource because it broadened community knowledge of health risks associated with environmental pollution,
garnering support for advocacy. Educational programs included experiential learning (e.g., theatrical
improvisation) and community lectures by health experts. High school students who collected data on air quality in
Harlem contributed information to the project as well as fostered their own learning.
Minkler et al. (2008) noted that partnerships among groups were a key resource for change, but Mix (2011) warned
of the potential for conflict as stakeholders within collaborations compete for resources. Mix observed that
coalition-building and coordinated action can be labor-intensive, but coordinated action can also be efficient when
resouces are shared. Cooperation, therefore, is a key resource in these coalitions that connect people across
occupations and socioeconomic backgrounds. Cooperation can benefit from and be challenged by the ways that
partners differ from each other (e.g., socioeconomic status, education level, and environmental exposure; cf.,
Minkler et al., 2008). The efficacy of coalitions clearly depended on their ability to cooperate. As Deutsch (1973)
describes, cooperation is fostered by an emphasis on harmony, mutual interests, similarities, trust, honest
communication, and norms that favor power sharing and persuasion over coercion. These characteristics of
cooperation suggest that moral inclusion begins as a stance toward others within a collaboration and can then
ripple out into the proximate and distal parties in the larger society.
Willingness to Sacrifice
Willingness to sacrifice in these seven cases focused on concrete and psychological costs of change, including
cleaning up and retrofitting facilities with newer, cleaner technology. In her discussion of white privilege, Pulido
(2000) argued that white privilege was asserted in an unwillingness to endure the inconvenience to foster equality.
This suggests that the willingness to share and sacrifice to foster others well-being is a key component of moral
inclusion at the individual and collective levels. Redistributing the costs of pollution so that they do not fall on one
sector of society inevitably requires a reallocation of resources as well as change in the structures that distribute
disadvantage and privilege.
Willingness to sacrifice is akin to, willingness to proenvironmental commitments, identified as a core variable by
Leo Montada and Elisabeth Kals (2000) in their model of proenviromnental commitment. Willingness to make
proenvironmental commitments, they argued, can be achieved through a variety of actions ranging from personal
renunciations, to political protest against others polluting activities, and to public claims for prohibitive laws (p.
169). Their research indicated that the willingness to foster the well-being of other people and the natural world is
key to proenvironmental change (also see Liu & Silbey, 2011). Thus, the willing to act on behalf of others, even
when it entails sacrifice is an important component of moral inclusion.
Conclusion: Inclusionary Change over Time

My work on the moral inclusion in the extended postwar period (e.g., Opotow, 2008) indicates that inclusionary
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changes that challenges the status quo do not come quickly or in a neat, linear progression. It can take
generations for a society to change in ways that widen the applicability of justice. Periods of inclusionary progress
can be followed by periods of exclusion. Activist work to foster environmental justice is not only a collaborative
project across groups, but it is also a collaborative project over time. The projects described in this chapter have
required years and, in some cases, decades of work. Inclusionary efforts therefore require sustained commitment.
Change occurs in fits and starts, and efforts that bear fruit (e.g., new rules, laws, or executive orders) and hailed
as victories can later be undermined or overturned.
Thus, Wildlaw, a 25-year-old not-for-profit environmentalist law firm that participated in Stokes et al.s (2010) study
of the Taylor County No Coal Coalition, ceased operations in May 2011 for lack of funding (Vaughn, 2011).
Wildlaws accomplishments had included protecting 24 million acres of public lands and environmental justice work
that involved more than 250 environmental and community groups of all sizes. In its 25 years, Wildlaw worked on
behalf of more than 35,000 people living in low-income, underrepresented communities in the South to advocate for
the inclusion of their voice in managing the environment that affects their lives.
Wildlaws Alabama office fought for poor communities of color that were repeatedly burdened (p. 424) by
environmental dumping. In November 2010, six months before the Wildlaw Alabama office closed, organizing
coordinator Barbara Evans wrote Gwendolyn Keyes Fleming, the EPAs District 4 administrator:
In 1996 the Alabama Department of Environmental Management (ADEM) permitted a huge regional landfill
to be constructed on the then newly designated United States Civil Rights Trail in Lowndes County,
Alabama, along the road where the 1965 Voting Rights March took place. The site would have negatively
impacted a historic African American community, and was seen as disrespectful, as well as a violation of
the Presidents Executive Order. A lawsuit proved that the State of Alabama and ADEM had not followed the
law with their state solid waste disposal plan but after the technicalities were modified, the plan was
approved.Perry County, Alabama, was not so fortunate. The Arrowhead Landfill may not be on a historic
highway, but it is yards from homes where African American people live. A lawsuit failed to stop that dump.
Now it is home to the coal ash from the Kingston, Tennessee spill. EPA Region 4 staff came to Perry County
last year. I attended the meeting, where Region 4 staff stood by the side of Perry County Commissioner
Albert Turner, Jr., to convince the people of Uniontown, Alabama that coal ash was safe. Commissioner
Turner, with Region 4 staffs blessing, would not allow people to ask questions if they did not live in the
county, including District Attorney for the county, Michael Jackson. The so called public hearing was a
sham. Earlier this month I traveled to Knoxville, Tennessee, where I testified before the EPA and asked them
to rule coal ash a hazardous material that is not fit for a household garbage landfill. I implored them to send
the toxic coal ash to a landfill that houses hazardous and toxic waste rather than dumping it in a landfill so
close to a community. I have been working with the people who live right across the street from the dump
in Uniontown. They are afraid. The coal ash is everywhere, and the risk to health and safety is high.
(Evans, 2010)
This letter, so poignant and vivid in is details, documents the persistence of moral exclusion as directly injurious
and as and structural injustice. Ms. Evans letter, a recent rather than an historical document, speaks to the
importance of the linkage between research and advocacy to reveal and oppose injustice that has become
routine, established, and seemingly inevitable.
Ms. Evans efforts are in the tradition of liberation psychologist Ignacio Martin-Bar (1997) who asked psychologists
to focus on the social forces that harm people[and on] the existence of particular communities, groups of
people who have for too long been marginalized and neglected by those in power (Ouellette, 2008, p. 4).
Researchers concerned with environmental and related social issues utilize participatory methods in collaborative
work with communities that critically examine historical and structural injustice (cf. Torre, Fine, Stoudt, & Fox,
2012). Such research draws inspiration from Kurt Lewin, Ignacio Martin-Bar, and the commitment to collaborative
fieldwork that has animated environmental psychology since its founding in the 1970s (Proshansky, 1987;
Richards, 2000).
Fostering inclusionary policies and commitments is, in itself, an important goal. When such collaborative work is
effective at local levels, it can inform larger scale and sustained efforts that are urgently needed to protect the
earths degraded ecosystems if humankind is to thrive.
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Future Directions for Research
1. Many grassroots, activist coalitions depend on the tireless work of women. Understanding womens role in
environmental justice initiatives would contribute to the literature on gender and justice in environmental
contexts and offer insight into the gendered dynamics of such collaborations.
2. The poignant 2010 letter from Ms. Evans to District 4 EPA suggests that there are times and places where
environmental data and efforts get a hearing and other times and places where they do not. An analysis of
specific times and places where such pleas are heard by decision makers and where they are ignored could
offer insight into contextual factors that allow pleas for change to gain traction. Clearly each case has its own
socio-political history, decision-making structures, economic resources, and so on. Consistent with Pettigrews
(1997) call for a typology of situations, these are data that could be helpful in identifying characteristics of
contexts that are responsive to social justice claims. Multi-case comparisons could also focus on an analysis
of the justice discourses that have advanced such cases as well as those that have not.
3. Research on activist environmental collaborations can be studied as organizational (p. 425) behavior in
informal and egalitarian contexts. Organizational studies of activist groups would contribute to a literature on
collaborations that are small-scale, time-limited, and include actors from public and private sectors. These
collaborations have some similarities to small group studies (e.g., church groups, home owners, or food
cooperatives) but differ in significant ways. Such research, conducted from a psychological perspective,
could identify how and when groups come together and persist in their work to effect inclusionary change.
4. Some social justice issues are taken up by the media and the public while others are not. It would be
important for justice research to focus on the kinds of injustice that have become mundane, invisible, and
rarely in the public eye. This research can address the impediments to gaining traction in the larger society.
Unfortunately, examples are numerous.
5. In activist environmental collaborations, the parties (community groups, law firms, universities, departments
of medicine) vary on virtually all dimensions (size, resources, etc.). In this context, it could be productive to
study partners goals, where they overlap and where they differ, and when congruent and incongruent goals
are synergistic and when they generate discord.
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Page 16 of 16
Therapeutic Uses of Nature

Keith C. Russell
2012

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0023

It has been proposed that our growing separation from nature is a driving force behind a multitude of physical,
psychological, and emotional ailments pervasive in modern-day society. This chapter provides an overview of the
therapeutic use of nature. The history of this use, including the rise of the camping movement, is reviewed to
provide the foundation for modern day programs and practice. A theoretical framework of the wilderness
experience illustrates how various factors present in nature-based experiences work to restore mental fatigue and
revitalize mind, body, and spirit. A review of wilderness therapy programs provides a practical example of how
wilderness experiences are integrated with clinical treatment models to effectuate change in adolescents and
young adults. The chapter concludes by describing emerging programs and other therapeutic uses of nature,
including nature-based programs for cancer survivors and returning veterans, and rites of passage programs for
people seeking renewed perspectives on their lives.
Keywords: nature, therapy, wilderness experience, restoration, treatment, adolescents, ecopsychology
Introduction
We live in an increasingly urbanized and fast-paced world, dominated by rapid advances in technology that seem
to move us further and further from the natural systems that sustain us. The philosophy of ecopsychology,
introduced almost 20 years ago by Roszak, Gomes, and Kanner (1995), suggests that this growing separation from
nature is the driving force behind a multitude of physical, psychological, and emotional ailments pervasive in
modern-day society. The first step in helping us reestablish our relationship to nature, and to help unlock what has
been referred to as our ecological identity, is to develop a deeper awareness of our interdependence with
nature. This need to reestablish our connection to nature has been discussed for hundreds of years by the likes of
John Muir, in his famous essays on the Sierra and the value of parks to mental and spiritual well-being. Paul
Shepard (1982) posited that our whole society may have indeed gone mad due to our separation from nature, and
addressed the consequences of this separation in stating that modern humans seem to have a readiness to strike
back at a natural world that we dimly perceive as having failed us (p. 23). When Richard Louv (2003) published
his now famous book Last Child in the Woods, an alarm was again sounded and an international movement began
to save our children from nature deficit disorder.
A practical and instrumental effort in the process of reconnecting our minds, bodies, and spirits to the natural world
are the intentional programs and practices that utilize nature for therapeutic purposes. The very idea of a
therapeutic use of nature implies a dualistic way of thinking that is inherently problematic. The dualism is manifest
by implying (p. 429) that as one begins to enter into and use nature, he or she invariably leaves community,
culture, and place behind. Indeed, the archetypal heroes journey posed by Campbell (1968) involves the hero
receiving a call to adventure, a calling that takes her into a strange and wonderful other world. This mysterious,
Page 1 of 20

unknown, and dangerous world is often characterized by vast oceans, deep forests, and magical mountaintops.
The heros journey continues with the crossing of the first threshold, leaving the known rules, order, and limits of
her world behind, to ultimately achieve the goal of the quest. The journey is not complete until a return crossing of
the threshold occurs, where the challenge is to integrate the wisdom learned on the journey into the known world.
The duality and metaphorical role that nature plays in the heros journey shows how firmly entrenched this dualistic
way of knowing, and using, nature is in our Western industrialized consciousness. This inherent split between
subject (human, mind, body) and object (nature, wilderness, ecology) is exactly what ecopsychology has sought
to reconcile since being introduced more than 25 years ago by Roszak (1992) in his call for an ecological self. In
fact, Amel, Manning, and Scott (2009) spoke of the project of ecopsychology as one that seeks to reconnect
psychology and ecology largely by reestablishing the self as inextricable from nature (p. 14). Evidence of this
project can be seen in certain practices and programs that seek to reconnect people to nature, themselves, and
others through the therapeutic use of nature.
History
The movement to view natural landscapes in the United States as beneficial as opposed to adversarial to
humankind emerged in the late 19th Century with the publication of the Significance of the American Frontier by
Fredrick Jackson Turner (see Nash, 1982). Writers and philosophers such as Henry David Thoreau and John Muir
awoke the American conscience to the therapeutic value that wilderness afforded, especially juxtaposed to the
steady advance of the industrial revolution during this period. Consequently, several programs and movements
emerged during this time period reflecting this awakening that when integrated, form the theoretical and practical
foundations of the current therapeutic use of nature by individuals, programs, organizations, and institutions. They
are: (a) early camping and therapeutic camping approaches developed in the late 1800s and early 1900s; (b)
early wilderness experience and rites of passage programs, such as Outward Bound, which emerged in the 1960s;
(c) early primitive skill programs developed by Larry Dean Olsen in the late 1960s; and (d) early adjudicated
programs that worked with juvenile delinquents and were an alternative to traditional incarceration.
The seminal work on the origins of the therapeutic camping movement written by Will White in Chapter 2 of the text
Adventure Therapy (in Gass, Gillis, & Russell, 2012) provides an in-depth exploration of this rich history. The
earliest forms of the therapeutic use of nature are found in the organized camping movement that originated in the
late 1800s in the eastern United States. The first summer camps were developed by educators from boarding
schools looking for unique ways to fill the summer months of primarily upper-class youth from Boston and New York
City. McNeil (1957) described the evolution of the therapeutic camping movement as a direct reaction to the
physical and moral declines of youth growing up during the industrial revolution. The Gunnery School (1861) and
Camp Chocorua (1881) are widely believed to be the first camps in the United States that had an intentional
therapeutic component for youth (White, 2010). Frederick Gunn established the Gunnery School, which involved
outdoor living in a camp setting, to develop character and re-create the romanticized view of a soldiers life [the
camp originated during the Civil War] of camping under the stars (Eells, 1986, p. 5). In August 1861, Gunn and his
wife took the whole school on a two-week hiking and camping trip. Camp Chocorua was founded to help the male
campers develop independence and responsibility and get away from the cultural comforts of growing up in an
upper class household (Eells, 1986, p.7). The campers cooked all of their own meals over an open fire and learned
basic outdoor skills, including basic camp skills, swimming, and canoeing. With these camps as the foundation, the
late 19th century saw an explosion of camps for youth in the United States and around the world. These early
camps helped form the foundation of the first modern-day camps designed specifically to address behaviorally and
emotionally challenged youth.
An interesting and accidental discovery by staff at a mental health hospital in New York also occurred during the
early part of the 20th century. As portrayed by Caplan (1974), staff at the Manhattan State Hospital East had to
quarantine 40 mental health patients during the summer because of fear that tuberculosis would spread throughout
the hospital. Due to a lack of space, patients were placed in tents by a nearby river and assumed their normal
routines. The hospital staff noticed significant improvements in both their medical condition and their mental health
symptoms. The experiment was (p. 430) so successful that administrators began to move the other nontuberculosis patients into the tents to reap the benefits of this remarkable discovery. Many patients were
discharged from the hospital as they were pronounced cured of their insanity. When fall arrived, patients were
moved back inside, at which time staff noted a marked deterioration of their symptoms and well-being. A small
Page 2 of 20

group that remained outside in a winterized tent continued to show improvement in their mental and physical
health, prompting a brief trend of hospitals using tent treatment approaches based on these reports which first
appeared in the American Journal of Insanity.
Recognizing the therapeutic value of camping, alternative camps began to emerge during this period to
intentionally address the physical, social, and emotional needs of troubled youth. Camp Ramapo, founded in 1922,
was the first camp developed specifically for emotionally challenged young people. The purpose of the camp was
to socialize troubled children through a structured curriculum implemented in a natural setting by staff, which
included psychiatric social workers working with counselors. This natural setting, which included group living and
extended unstructured time with staff, helped to socialize the boys and develop important outdoor recreational
skills aimed at improving their physical health. This period also saw the development of Camp Wawokiye-1926,
Camp Wediko-1935, and the University of Michigan Fresh Air Camp-1944. Morse (1957), founder of the Fresh Air
Camp, provided early justification for why camps would be effective for maladjusted youth, especially when
compared to other residential institutions of the era, in highlighting that nature provided structure that was not
controlling or artificial and that the camp environment was relaxed and did not require the use of extensive
punishment.
Camp Ahmek (1929) was also founded during this time and is one of the more well-known camps of this era. The
camp curriculum reflected a youth development approach with two major goals: recuperate and socialize the
behavior of the young campers (Davis-Berman & Berman, 1994b). These goals were accomplished by having
campers live and function in small groups, in natural settings, away from the distractions of burgeoning urban and
industrial centers in the East. Camp Ahmek helped lead to the creation of later programs, such as the Dallas
Salesmanship Club, founded by Campbell Loughmiller in 1946. Loughmiller (1965), in the famous book Wilderness
Road, argued that the outdoors contained real threats and natural consequences that helped teach campers
personal and social responsibility, that were reasoned to naturally transfer to their everyday lives. The use of
natural consequences as a therapeutic tool afforded by living and traveling in wilderness environments and the
subsequent development of responsibility and self-efficacy to this day remain a key benefit in the therapeutic use
of nature by modern-day programs such as Outward Bound.
During the same period that therapeutic camping emerged in the United States, a separate and distinct influence
on the therapeutic use of nature emerged in the United Kingdom, developed by the German educator Kurt Hahn.
Kurt Hahns ideas on educating young men were manifest in the creation Outward Bound (OB), founded in 1941 in
Aberdovey, Wales. The program included a month-long wilderness expedition designed to train young men,
especially sailors, to develop resiliency and learn to work together as a small group to overcome self-perceived
limitations (Minor & Bolt, 1981). In a speech delivered to the Outward Bound Trust in 1960, Hahn outlined five
social diseases that OB specifically targeted, that later formed the theoretical framework for how OB uniquely
addressed the developmental needs of young people of this era. They were: (1) the decline in fitness due to the
modern methods of locomotion; (2) the decline in initiative, due to the widespread disease of spectatoritis; (3) the
decline in care and skill, due to the weakened tradition of craftsmanship; (4) the decline in self-discipline, due to
the ever-present availability of tranquilizers and stimulants; and (5) the decline of compassion (Hahn, 1960).
Outward Bound first arrived in the United States in 1962 with the establishment of Colorado Outward Bound and now
operates in 58 countries and serves over 300,000 participants a year (Outward Bound USA, 2011).
The classic 28-day OB course included small-boat training, athletics, map and compass skills, rescue training,
expeditions at sea and on land, as well as service to local communities. The Hahnian approach to education
was not only experience- and value-centered and was centered on learning by doing. The experience as not
aimed at the learning of academic content and cognitive skills, but rather the development of character and
maturity (Kimball & Bacon, 1993, p. 13). Stephen Bacons The Conscious Use of Metaphor (1983) was the first
attempt to systematically articulate how metaphor was manifest in wilderness experiences to illustrate how lessons
learned through the experience related (p. 431) to participants personal lives. Bacons work suggests that there
exists natural archetypal metaphors that are directly attributable to the wilderness experience and that OB
instructors can help participants interpret the meaning of the experience through facilitated conversation and
discussion. This important book and the growing recognition and research interest in Outward Bound and its
reported benefits to participants led to several practical, educational and clinical adaptations of the OB model to a
variety of populations, including youth involved in the corrections system and young people in treatment for
substance abuse.
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One such program was developed by OB in 1966 as a pilot project for adjudicated youth for the Massachusetts
Department of Youth Services. In the first study to evaluate the effects of OB on participants, Kelly and Baer (1969)
showed that the OB program was effective when compared to a control group, concluding that 20% of the OB
participants had reoffended compared to 37% of the control group. The results of the study generated intense
interest in using Outward Bound as an intervention for adjudicated youth, causing OB to expand these offerings.
Adaptations of the OB model to clinical populations included the collaboration between the Dartmouth Medical
School and Hurricane Island Outward Bound, where people in outpatient treatment participated in adventure-based
outings, such as cross-country skiing, canoeing, and rock climbing (Stich, 1983). The OB experience was also
integrated with adolescent substance abuse treatment in a collaboration with the Beech Hill Hospital in Dublin, New
Hampshire (McPeake, Kennedy, Grossman, & Beaulieu, 1990). The program included a 3- day clinical assessment
phase of the individuals substance use history and mental health diagnoses, a 22-day wilderness expedition
phase, and a culminating 48-hour solo.
In many ways, the history and evolution of the first individuals, programs, and institutions portray a story of
discovery, experimentation, and documentation of the noticeable therapeutic and other health-related benefits of
spending time in nature. Several reviews of literature and meta-analyses have examined the benefits and expected
outcomes of Outward Bound and other related wilderness-based programs (Chalquist, 2009; Hattie et al., 1997;
Russell, 2008; Wilson & Lipsey, 2000). The earliest and most often cited meta-analyses of outdoor-based
adventure programs is Hattie, Marsh, and Neills (1997) work that found 151 unique samples within 96 studies
involving over 12,000 participants (p. 51). The studies were published between 1968 and 1994 and involved
nature-based adventure programs that were on average 24 days in length and involved participants who were on
average 22 years old. An overall effect size on learning of 0.34 was concluded along several dimensions,
including leadership, academic, independence, assertiveness, emotional stability, social comparison, time
management, and flexibility. The greatest effects were related to self-control, and were found to be long-lasting
when compared to other educational programs. Despite these positive findings, the authors noted a lack of
dependable measures used in many studies, inadequate research designs and controls to make a causal
inference, and a general difficulty of comparing one study to the next because of differing program design and
duration. Also missing from the discussion is a critical analysis of the role that nature plays, referring to the naturebased adventure experience as a gestalt, and that most studies assume that the whole of the experience is
greater than the sum of its parts (p. 73).
Wilson and Lipsey (2000) reviewed 28 studies involving over 3,000 youth and found moderately positive overall
results, and support for the value of wilderness programs as an intervention for delinquent youth. They noted that
programs that involved a physical activity component and a demonstrated therapeutic approach showed the
largest effect sizes. Programs that were six weeks in length and included a therapeutic intervention woven into the
experience were reasoned to help participants to process the challenging experiences and draw implications for
their own behavior with more success (p. 11). A more recent review of literature in the journal Ecopsychology
took a slightly different approach in analyzing the literature on what was termed ecotherapy research (Chalquist,
2009). This review of literature focused specifically on the role of nature in promoting healing, and used outdoor
restoration as one theme. Within this theme, several studies were reported that supported the notion that programs
in the outdoors were restorative. This included Greenways (1995) study of college students that reported sense of
balance and relief from everyday stressors resulting from a wilderness experience that rekindled a sense of
belonging and connection with the world at large.
Though researchers have noted methodological shortcomings in many of the studies on therapeutic programs
based in nature and their reported effects, evidence does suggest that these programs work across a variety of
outcome dimensions, including (p. 432) development of the self and a development of a sense of community
within the participants along with a renewed appreciation of nature. With the growing interest in this research area,
more researchers are interested in conducting this research, evidenced by a wide variety of disciplines and
journals reported in the literature (Thompson, 2009).
As the evolution continued, adaptations were made to more specific populations with more troubling problems,
especially for youth. Much of the programmatic structure and models used during this time of program and
knowledge expansion exist today in the literally hundreds of programs that use nature intentionally for therapeutic
purposes. Prior to reviewing the types and models of programs that are currently operating in the United States and
internationally, it is important to review a proposed theoretical framework that seeks to explain and model how and
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why spending time in nature is inherently therapeutic. Much of the foundation for this theory is culled from the
history and experience of those individuals and programs presented in the previous section. In addition, the
theoretical framework also integrates the work of Albert Bandura, and environmental psychologists such as Rachel
and Stephen Kaplan of the University of Michigans Environmental Psychology Lab and their work on attention
restoration theory.
Theoretical Framework for Understanding the Therapeutic Use of Nature

The model presented herein is a concurrent model, where the factors present in nature-based experiences are
reasoned to be acting in concert and in varying degrees, based on the context of the experiences. The term
wilderness experience will be used to focus the model on a nature-based context that assumes a prolonged
experience in an environment that has characteristics consistent with naturalness and solitude, and where nature
is relatively uninfluenced by humans. Though it varies and there is debate, scholars such as Greenway (1995)
have suggested that to enter wilderness psychologically and leave culture behind completely, experiences
should be at least seven days in length. This concurrent model was developed in contrast to stage-based models,
which model the experiences in mechanistic terms, where participants pass through specific stages to achieve
desired outcomes (Bacon & Kimball, 1989; Davis-Berman & Berman, 1994a; Powch, 1994). These stage-based
models are sequential and discrete and may not accurately capture the dynamic and interrelated nature of the
therapeutic factors inherent in a concurrent model. Several critiques of stage-based models have been put forth in
the educational and psychology literature, with similar arguments being made against their ability to explain the
phenomena in question. First of all, implicit within stage models is the idea that individuals progress through
graduated levels in a discrete and hierarchal fashion (Sutton, 2001). To view stages of, for example, a
psychotherapy process in isolation from one another provides an inaccurate conceptualization of the
psychotherapy Gestalt (Waehler & Lenox, 1994). Similarly, stage models suggest that processes occurring in one
stage would be absent in all others (Littrell, 2002). This adds to a false sense of disconnect between various points
on a continuum. Lastly, presenting a stage-based conceptualization of a process precludes the cyclical nature of
the process (Davidson, 1998). In other words, it is quite possible that individuals may revisit or skip ahead to
points along a continuum.
A concurrent model of the therapeutic factors associated with wilderness experiences process was developed to
address the limitations noted above (the model was first presented in Russell, 2003). Table 22.1 presents a brief
overview of the factors believed to be operating within the context of a wilderness experience. Though there are a
plethora of factors that may add to the success of any group therapeutic process (e.g., group cohesion,
universality), the remainder of this section will focus on those factors unique to, or particularly active in, wilderness
and nature-based experiences. The model will be illustrated using the perspective of adolescents as participants,
as most (but certainly not all) therapeutic wilderness programs operating in the United States and Canada cater to
adolescents and their personal, social, and emotional development. The model certainly can also be applied to
adults and other more specific demographics as well.
Four factors are proposed to be operating within the wilderness experience concurrent model. The first factor,
nature, refers to elements of the natural world that are inherently therapeutic regardless of the activity or social
environment. The second factor, active self, consists of activities or processes within wilderness that facilitate
learning and personal growth. The third factor of the milieu is social group and refers to variables associated with
developing a strong sense of community through intense and sustained social interaction. The fourth factor,
activity reflection, suggests the adventure-based activities themselves provide meaning and context for individual
and group learning and are used to (p. 433)
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Table 22.1 Factors Reasoned to Compose the Concurrent Model of Wilderness Experience
Category
Time of
Peak
Intensity
Proposition
Nature
Beginning
The wilderness environment, acting alone, can be seen as a restorative

environment for youth who have high levels of anxiety and are stressed from
mental fatigue caused by too much direct attention.
Active Self
MiddleLate
By combining the effects of actively accomplishing physically demanding tasks

designed to increase in difficulty and scope while allowing opportunities for
immediate feedback and success, the wilderness works as a therapeutic medium
to foster an enhanced sense of the self.
Social
Group
Late
Research has shown that wilderness experiences conducted in small group

settings over extended periods of time help break down preconceived stereotypes
and self-doubt, allowing youth to experience a unique and intense feeling of
community and belongingness.
Activity
Reflection
Variable
The adventure-based activities themselves provide meaning and context for

individual and group learning and are used to aid direct and indirect transfer of
learning back to also youths daily lives.
aid direct and indirect transfer of learning back to participants daily lives. These four therapeutic factors can be
viewed as interrelated and mutually influential, present throughout the experience and varying in intensity
according to the temporal progression of the trip.
Nature
This construct refers to the inherent characteristics of natural areas, including wilderness, that promote the health
and well-being of individuals through simply being in nature. The term wilderness is inherently ethnocentric and
is in essence a social construction first defined by scholars of European descent. For example, Oelschlaeger
(1991) suggested that the concept of wilderness is often defined using dialectic method, in that its very definition is
juxtaposed to civilization, which is characterized as an overpopulated, industrialized, anxiety-ridden, polluted and
often violent world (p. 5). Indeed, our disconnection to the natural world produces the very symptoms that
returning to nature alleviates, be they anxiety or depression. Therefore, the nature factor of the model is reasoned
to act independently to produce physical, psychological, and emotional benefits to individuals. Though wilderness
has long been supposed to induce positive psychological effects (Greenway, 1995), research in the past two
decades has attempted to provide an empirical foundation to arguments that have for the most part been
philosophical and theoretical. Attention restoration theory, developed by Kaplan and Kaplan (1989) and colleagues
at the University of Michigan, elucidates several factors that support how and why nature is psychologically and
physically restorative. Our constant connection to technology and our fast-paced urbanized lives all contribute to
prolonged mental fatigue, which produces a variety of other psychological symptoms, including anxiety,
depression, and frustration, that many psychologists agree cannot be solely attributed to intrapsychic and
intrafamilial dynamics (Chalquist, 2009).
The constructs supporting attention restoration theory that Kaplan and Kaplan (1989) specified that are related to
the nature construct are the notions of being away and of soft fascination. Being away suggests that when we are
distanced physically and psychologically from our daily lives, and thus sources of stress, our psyche is allowed to
recover from the cognitive overload. Kaplan and Kaplan claimed that natural settings provide one of the best
opportunities for being away, as they are dissimilar from our stressful daily environments. Considerable evidence
exists that wilderness experiences produce restorative effects (see Kaplan, 1995; Chalquist, 2009; Thompson,
2009, for excellent theoretical and empirical support of this notion). Research has also shown that people
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specifically use natural areas to escape their daily lives and civilization (Driver & Tocher, 1970), and report
restoration (p. 434) from spending time in wilderness from a variety of stressors, including noise (Lucas, 1963),
crowding (Lime & Cushwa, 1969), the city (Hendee, Catton, Marlow, & Brockman, 1968), predictability (Catton,
1969), role overload (Knopf, 1972), and social restriction (Etzkorn, 1965).
Kaplan and Kaplans (1989) notion of soft fascination is another factor that works to restore mental fatigue. When
individuals experience soft fascination in natural environments, they are cognitively engaged by the visual and
auditory beauty of nature, yet they also have the ability to engage in reflective thought. Billowing clouds, colorful
sunsets, and sparkling creeks capture attention and fascinate, but do not necessitate or demand our full attention,
thus actively engaging the mind while also allowing one to meditate, reflect, or simply let his or her thoughts
wander. In our daily lives, we use directed attention nearly nonstop, as we focus on getting ready in the morning,
drive to work navigating traffic, and then immediately start our multitasking at work. In nature, these near constant
demands on directed attention are diminished, allowing for psychological restoration to occur. In nature, our
attention is captured by an interesting and aesthetically pleasing environment that does not require a high degree
of cognitive processing. When the mind begins to rest, the body also begins to relax. Greenway (1995) called this
process the wilderness effect, where we psychologically shift from our complex and hurried lives to a way of
being that involves deeper sleep, more vivid dreams, and reduced anxiety. Thus, soft fascination allows for release
from stressors that cause mental fatigue, easing away from cognitive strain and relaxing.
In a recent review of research, Chalquist (2009) reviewed several studies on the restorative effects of nature and
concluded that participants encounters with the natural world brought a sense of balance and relief from
everyday stressors and also rekindled a sense of belonging and connection with the world at large (p. 68). In one
such study, by Hartig, Jammer, Davis, and Grling (2003), 112 young adults reported lower blood pressure when
walking in nature areas when compared to urban settings, and their anger decreased and positive feelings and
attention increased. In such studies, participants have rated natural environments, as opposed to urban
environments or even television watching, as being preferable in achieving a sense of restoration and relaxation.
Reports from qualitative work also suggest that participants find the natural environment to contain these elements
of being away and fascination. Consider the following excerpt from an at-risk student in a federal work and
educational program as he was acclimating to a week-long wilderness experience:
I realized that time is really no necessity when your in the wilderness. I cant believe how relaxed I am here
I just feel so free. [Two of us] got up early in the morning and took a hike up to the top of the hill I seen
some land before but I never saw anything like it the sky was blue as my bandana. (Quoted in original
grammar and text from student journal; Russell, Hendee, & Cooke, 1998, p. 33)
Nature, and especially wilderness, with its sense of being away and soft fascination, forms the first factor in the
wilderness experience theoretical framework.
Active Self
The active self (AS) factor of the framework consists of therapeutic variables arising solely from personal
interaction with the natural environment. In other words, this factor exemplifies those variables that contribute to
the change process and arise from acting in and through the environment. The two main constituents reasoned to
compose the AS factor are (a) physical fitness and physical well-being, and (b) tasks associated with wilderness
living. The first construct, physical fitness and well-being, borrows heavily from health psychology and related
fields, disciplines that have long observed that physical health is related to mental health. Studies have
consistently shown that routine physical exercise is associated with healthier self-images in both adults and
adolescents (Boyd & Hrycaiko, 1997; DiLorenzo et al., 1999; Kirkcaldy, 2002; Van de Vliet, 1999). Such
observations have also been made in wilderness-based literature, suggesting that wilderness and adventure-type
activities may indeed provide measurable physiological benefits (Bunting et al., 2000; Knopf, 1983). During the
wilderness experience, participants are eating nutritious foods on a scheduled basis and exercising regularly. In
many programs, participants are hiking 8 to 12 miles per day and are allotted about 3,000 to 5,000 calories daily.
Hiking, gathering food and firewood, and setting up shelter are all examples of the physical activities that must be
performed within the wilderness. As participants continue these activities, greater control is gained over physical
functioning, and research has shown that individuals facilitate the integration of these experiences and feelings
because wilderness experiences encourage introspection, which results in a more coherent sense of (p. 435)
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self (Walker, Hull, & Roggenbuck, 1998). Overall, then, there is compelling evidence to imply that the effects of
healthy lifestyle routines may be physically and psychologically beneficial to individuals. Wilderness living, by the
virtues of what it entails, seems an excellent method of capitalizing on these physical- and mental-health
relationships.
In addition to benefits gained through physical activity, AS also works to promote self-concept through specific
tasks inherent in outdoor living, such as finding shelter and making food. In wilderness programs, skill acquisition
begins by learning the basics, such as how to pack a backpack and read a compass. Participants are soon able
to complete long and arduous hikes, start their own fires, and cook meals for the group from materials gathered
from the land. Exhaustive literature reviews show that completing these challenging tasks is associated with
benefits for various aspects of self-concept such as self-esteem, self-efficacy, and locus of control (see Hattie et
al., 1997). As with the nature construct, evidence of the active self construct is also reinforced through qualitative
research. The following observation was made by Golins (1978) in one of the first studies attempting to ascertain
how wilderness programs might affect self-concept:
The outdoors always presents itself in a very physical, straightforward way. There are mountains to climb,
rivers to run, bogs to wade through. As an adolescent delinquent whose principal mode of expression is an
action-oriented one and whose thinking process is mostly concrete, the possible activities in the outdoors
are limitless to fulfill his developmental capability. He just stands a better chance of excelling here. (p. 27)
The following statement also captures the essence of the active self factor in one participants response to the
physical aspect of the process taken from Russell and Phillips-Miller (2002): Hiking, I mean that just boosted my
self confidence even more. It was hell at the time but I mean, towards the end I really got used to it and started to
enjoy it (p. 173).
Social Group
Social learning theory (SLT) forms the basis of the social group factor. The main premise of social learning theory
(Bandura, 1977) or social cognitive theory, as it is referred to today (Bandura, 1986), is that many of our behaviors
originate through watching others, a principle referred to as observational learning. Wilderness experiences
involve intense small-group environments where each individual is personally responsible for the success of the
group while also relying on other members of the group to thrive. Because of this, the communal living environment
provides a unique platform for social learning interactions to occur. Research suggests that being in wilderness
settings contributes to the dissolution of status barriers, thus enhancing candid interactions and sharing among
group members (Hendee & Brown, 1987). The mechanism promoting this genuine interaction social learning
processes derives from the necessities associated with wilderness living. During day-to-day activities,
participants need to work together to get tasks accomplished, from cooking dinner to setting up tarps to conducting
process groups. These task-oriented goals facilitate social learning by encouraging communication among parties
and sharing learned knowledge. Students often have to collaborate on jobs to meet basic needs. Performance of
these activities leads observational learning and, at the same time, mutual collaboration is promoted. In this way,
communication between all participants even those who may be at odds with each other is facilitated.
In addition to member-to-member interactions, SLT principles also underlie the dynamics of leader-to-member
interactions. Wilderness program leaders are selected on the basis of their quality characteristics, such as clear
focus in life, desire to enhance self-growth and knowledge, and ability to communicate well and with a wide variety
of people (Priest & Gass, 1997). Leaders embody many of the abilities and attributes that young people view as
desirable and are often perceived as being role models (Cooley, 1998). Leaders, then, have skill sets and abilities
attractive to adolescents, and are close enough to students ages for students to be able to identify with them.
Studies assessing SLT show that people are more likely to emulate behavior when the initiator of the behavior is
viewed as being similar to the observer and having desirable qualities (Bandura, 1986). Naturally, the behavior that
leaders strive to model is positive; they encourage appropriate exploration of personal issues, demonstrate
stewardship, and show respect for students and fellow group leaders. Thus, wilderness experiences provide an
environment where participants can identify with positive role models who are purposively demonstrating healthy
social skills and fostering empathetic communication.
Activity Reflection
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In each wilderness experience program, a series of outdoor activities guides the process. These activities (p. 436)
are designed to teach a variety of technical skills while allowing participants to experience success through
challenge, adventure, and reflection. Activities may include backpacking, canoeing, rock climbing and rappelling,
mountaineering, sea kayaking, ocean sailing, dog mushing, river rafting, and solo experiences. Wilderness
programs utilize activities for a variety of reasons, especially in programs that have therapy and personal growth
as primary goals. Some of these reasons include outdoor activity for self-development, to enhance motivation to
change previous behaviors, to reflect on and use as metaphor in more directed individual and group sessions, and
as specific tools for insight into a personal or interpersonal issue. Russell and Gillis (2010) quoted one program
director as stating, The emphasis of our experiential approach is to help participants make effective and
appropriate choices, as we relate and re-create the experiences in a variety of experiential settings in order to
help them gain experience, insight and understanding (p. 52). In this way, activity, experience, and the
subsequent personal and interpersonal learning that occur are revisited and utilized to help make more abstract
and tangential concepts, ideas, and understandings, which are often difficult for adolescents to relate to, more real.
The key to the use of these experiences and activities is the reflection on the activities before, during, and after
the experience. Careful facilitation yields enhanced learning for participants, and research has shown that
participating in these experiences develops resiliency (Neill & Dias, 2001), self-competence (Hattie et al., 1997),
enhanced perception of self (White, Caulkins, & Russell, 2006), and a host of other physical, emotional, and
psychological benefits for participants well after the experience is complete that are applied to contexts and
settings in their daily lives.
Conclusion
The model attempts to provide an overview of what is believed to be occurring in most wilderness experiences
most of the time. It is an attempt to describe an eclectic and dynamic environment and experience in a way that is
cogent and testable. Though there are certainly other factors not included in the model, the ones outlined here are
those that are unique to, or especially active in, group-based nature experiences. The theoretical framework can
be used to increase our understanding of how people experience nature in general, and how programs may use
nature and wilderness experiences in particular. It is hoped that the model can aid in the development of a
common language and understanding among those interested in the therapeutic use of nature. Future research
using this model could test the theoretical constructs (Kerlinger & Lee, 2000) through the use of existing
measurement tools associated with each construct (e.g., attention restoration theory, self-efficacy, group
therapeutic alliance) or through qualitative analysis, which could involve observation or individual and groupbased interviews to explore how these factors relate to individual and group experience.
Programs That Use Nature as a Therapeutic Tool

The therapeutic use of nature to develop human potential is widespread and has been the subject of research
since philosophers and writers first began to espouse the benefits of nature more than 200 years ago. This section
focuses on the types of programs operating in the United States and internationally that deliberately take people
into nature for therapeutic purposes. Various definitions and terms used to define these nature-based programs are
reviewed and a typology is presented that classifies them based on variables such as clientele, aims of the
program, and how and to what degree wilderness was used to facilitate outcomes. The typology of programs was
developed by researchers at the Wilderness Research Center at the University of Idaho1 in the late 1990s as a
component of a larger research agenda that explored the use of wilderness for personal growth, education, and
therapy. Next, the wilderness therapy, as a specific intervention for adolescents and young adults, is reviewed to
examine how clinical treatment models have been integrated with wilderness experiences. The relative
effectiveness of wilderness therapy and the current controversies surrounding client treatment and government
oversight of these programs will also be discussed. Finally, the section will conclude with a discussion of current
trends in international program development, and emerging programs presented as case studies that serve young
adults struggling with chemical dependency, disabled veterans suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, and
cancer survivors. Friese, Hendee, and Kinziger (1998) summarized much of the research that sought to identify
how many and what types of wilderness experience programs (WEPs) were operating in the United States at this
time. Their search yielded over 700 such programs and noted a wide range of methods used to develop human (p.
437) potential utilizing activities in wilderness and natural environments. These have been referred to in the
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literature as wilderness experience programs, outdoor adventures, wilderness therapy, wilderness adventure
therapy, wilderness, outdoor experiential programs, outdoor leadership, and vision quests. At the time, the authors
predicted that the growth in these programs was projected to continue into the near future, and by many estimates,
this has occurred (Russell, 2008). A typology was developed to describe the programs identified in their survey. A
key factor used to define WEPS was the primary aim of the programs, which help frame the scope of how programs
use wilderness and nature as a therapeutic tool.
The primary aim is the intended outcome of program participation for clientele, and three target categories were
noted: (a) healing, (b) education, and (c) personal growth. For example, participant recovery from an addiction
describes the intended outcome of participating in a healing program. Some WEPs, such as the National Outdoor
Leadership School and the School of Lost Borders, offer educational programs that train participants to be WEP trip
leaders. Some WEPs offer focused programming covering all three primary aims, such as Outward Bound. For
example, Pacific Crest Outward Bound (1995) offered a healing WEP for teenagers who have motivational and
behavioral problems (p. 48); professional development wilderness programs to develop individual leadership
skills and providing an opportunity for personal reflection and renewal (p. 40); and programs that use themes of
leadership, judgment and community to teach wilderness leadership skills (p. 36). The primary aims education,
healing, and personal growth of WEPs are described below. The descriptions include the authors description and
statements from specific program promotional material.
Education
The aim of educational WEPs is the acquisition of knowledge, skills, and experiences to change behavior, and to
increase and enhance understanding, enjoyment, appreciation and/or preservation or protection of wilderness.
Educational WEPs may have academic, vocational, research, or personal educational interest (learning for the
sake of learning) purposes. For example, an education WEP may teach leadership skills, be included in academic
degree programs, or encompass field research and field-based data collection efforts that span several weeks in
backcountry environments.
Healing
WEPs with a primary aim of healing are designed to provide therapy, assistance, or recovery for participants
suffering from addiction, abuse, illness, and/or socially unacceptable behavior. Illness could be mental, physical,
and/or emotional. One such healing program is Catherine Freer Wilderness Therapy Expedition, where students
learn to recognize and deal with their behavioral and emotional problems throughout the trek. Their therapists and
wilderness guides help students confront their denials and manipulations, see their behavioral problems from an
objective perspective, and work to change their attitudes and ways of handling interpersonal issues and
relationships in their lives.
Personal Growth
The primary aim of personal growth WEPs is the expanded fulfillment of participants capabilities and potential.
These programs focus on participant empowerment, spiritual renewal, increasing motivation, self-esteem, selfawareness, self-confidence, teamwork, problem-solving, and/or social skills. The most well-known personal growth
WEP is Outward Bound, founded in Wales by the innovative German educator Kurt Hahn, reviewed earlier.
Therapeutic Use of Nature for Youth and Adolescents

The healing WEPs noted above most directly relate to the therapeutic use of nature, and have been the subject of
increased study and scrutiny as they have grown in both the number of programs operating and the number of
clients served. In 2000, and again in 2008, this author surveyed existing wilderness therapy programs in the United
States and Canada to gain an understanding of a treatment modality that intentionally integrated wilderness
experiences with clinical treatment models. These programs subscribe to a multimodal treatment model within the
context of wilderness environments and backcountry travel to facilitate progress toward individualized treatment
goals. The approach incorporates the use of evidenced-based clinical practices including client assessment,
individual and group psychotherapy conducted by independently licensed clinicians, and the development of
Page 10 of 20

individual treatment and aftercare plans. To date, these studies offer the most comprehensive look at an expanding
and at times controversial industry that directly uses nature to work with troubled youth and their families. Issues
with program (p. 438) operation that have surfaced through government investigation follow a description of the
industry that provides an overview of the types of programs in operation and a description of the clients served by
this intervention.
To identify programs, three national associations were contacted, via e-mail and phone call, and a list of programs
fitting this description was generated (associations contacted were the National Association of Therapeutic Schools
and Programs, National Association of Therapeutic Wilderness Camps, and Association of Experiential Education).
In addition, Internet searches were conducted to identify programs that included keywords, such as wilderness
treatment, outdoor behavioral health care, and wilderness program for youth. From these sources, a list was
developed and checked against three criteria: (a) Did the program claim to offer therapeutic services to help
change problem behavior of adolescents? (b) Was a wilderness expedition a significant component of the
therapeutic process (defined as two weeks or more while client is in treatment)? and (c) Were identified marketed
program components consistent with definitions and references found to therapeutic programs noted in the
literature?
Program Models
A total of 124 programs were identified as meeting the criteria of a wilderness therapy program, and 65 responded
to a survey asking them to describe their treatment services and organizational structure. Table 22.2, which
includes associated definitions, shows that expedition (35.4%) and residential (26.2%) programs were the most
represented program models. The integrated expedition program was the third most represented model, with 11
programs identifying themselves as offering shorter, rotational wilderness expeditions of up to five to seven days,
supplemented with two to three days of residential and school-based curricula. Three programs (5%) were
operating in Canadian provinces.
The majority of programs were private nonprofit (40%) organizations, with approximately one-third being private
corporate (33.8%). Only five programs (8%) were operated by the government, which were all in the correctional
domain working with adjudicated youth, while two indicated other types of organizational sponsorships.
Licensure and Accreditation

When programs were asked whether the states in which they operated had standards specific to wilderness
therapy programs, 84% indicated yes, while 16% said no (n = 55 and 10, respectively). Minnesota and Montana do
not currently have specific licensing standards, while Idaho, Colorado, and Oregon have passed legislation in past
years, with licensing guidelines specific to wilderness therapy program
Page 11 of 20
Table 22.2 Frequency and Percentage of Programs Who Self-Reported Reflecting One of Seven OBH Models,
Including Respective Definitions
Frequency
Base Camp Outdoor base camp supplemented by wilderness expeditions
Percent
13.8
Expedition Program is conducted primarily in wilderness on expeditions
23
35.4
Residential Residential treatment supplemented by wilderness expeditions
17
26.2
Outpatient Outpatient treatment supplemented by wilderness expeditions
3.1
School Therapeutic school supplemented by wilderness expeditions
3.1
Integrated Expedition Short expeditions (46 days), then return to residential

(23 days)
11
Multiple
Total
65
16.9
1.5
100.0
(p. 439)
Table 22.3 Type of Family Involvement and Its Significance to Programming
Question
Significant N (%)
Insignificant N (%)
Average Importance
Family Sessions
53 (84.1%)
10 (15.9%)
3.19
Individual Parent Sessions
50 (79.4%)
13 (20.6%)
2.97
Psycho-Educational Family Groups
45 (71.4%)
18 (28.6%)
2.81
Parent/Family Support Groups
43 (68.3%)
20 (31.7%)
2.56
Parent Seminars
31 (50.8%)
32 (49.2%)
1.98
Online Support Services
24 (38.1%)
39 (61.9%%)
1.51
Note: Average importance is based on a scale of 1 = very insignificant to 4 = very significant.

operation. Because extended wilderness expeditions are a significant component of each program, traditional
residential treatment guidelines (for example, maintaining a licensed psychologist, medical doctor, and/or
registered nurse on expedition) are challenging to apply in wilderness settings, and need to be retrofitted while still
maintaining safety and oversight that protects youth and families. Coinciding with the percentages of states that
have licensing, all 55 programs that operated in a state with program licensing standards in place were indeed
licensed; 10 respondents stated they were not licensed.
Half the respondents (n = 33) (50.8%) were nationally accredited by an organization such as the Joint Commission
or the Council on Accreditation, both of which have also implemented national accreditation standards that are
specific to OBH programs (for more information see Joint Commission, 2007; COA, 2007). For those that responded
yes to accreditation, 11 (33%) were accredited by the Joint Commission and 10 (30%) by the Council on
Page 12 of 20

Accreditation. These standards are considered more rigorous than state standards and require, for example, that
programs routinely monitor outcomes and have certain ratios of licensed staff to clients. A similar percentage (n =
10; 30%) of respondents indicated they were accredited by a national accreditation agency that specializes in
standards specific to outdoor or camping programs, such as the Association for Experiential Education or the
American Camping Association. These standards specify risk-management strategies and leader/guide credentials
for outdoor education programs. Two programs were accredited by Canadian provincial government agencies.
When asked whether their program currently had licensed mental health professionals on staff that work through
individual treatment plans with clients, 88% (n = 57) said yes, while 12% (n = 8) said they did not. This finding
suggests that though a program may have viewed itself as a wilderness therapy provider, it did not at that time
necessarily have a licensed mental health professional on staff.
Family Involvement in Treatment

Several questions on the survey asked programs to describe the methods and the degree to which they work
directly with the families while the youth is in treatment. The types of family involvement included: (a) individual
parent sessions, (b) family sessions, (c) psycho-educational groups, (d) support groups, (e) seminars, and (f)
online support services. Respondents indicated the relative degree of significance each of these types of family
programming played in their overall treatment approach. Most programs utilize family sessions, individual parent
sessions, and psycho-educational groups, and these types of involvement are more important in programming than
resources such as online support services for parents or face-to-face parent seminars. Over three-quarters of all
programs said that the three intervention types were significant aspects of the treatment process. When asked on
average how much contact time each program had with parents, a wide range was reported. Over 50% of all
respondents reported 15 hours or less of contact time, 30% between 15 and 30 hours of contact time, and 20%
greater than 30 hours.
Wilderness Therapy Client Characteristics

According to questions asked on the characteristics of clientele, descriptive statistics show that the typical client
appears to be a male Caucasian adolescent from a middle socioeconomic class. The average gender percentages
were 65% male and 35% female, with an age range of 1217 years old. Over (p. 440) 60% of programs (n = 36)
indicated they worked with youth ages 18 and over. Trends in client characteristics have remained stable in
wilderness therapy programs for over a decade. The most significant clinical issue for which clients were being
treated was substance abuse. ADHD was mentioned second most frequently, with conduct disorder third.
Respondents were also asked to estimate the relative percentage of their clients who had tried other types of
counseling services prior to entering wilderness therapy. A total of 59 of the 63 programs (94%) indicated that
more than 70% of their clients had tried some other form of counseling or mental health services prior to admission.
This information is culled from intake assessments completed by each program, and is reasoned to be an accurate
representation of past mental health service utilization.
Wilderness Therapy Program Outcomes

Several issues have been raised in the literature regarding the relative effectiveness of wilderness therapy
interventions. First, little research using rigorous research designs that include randomized assignment and control
groups has been conducted. Several barriers to implementing these research designs are noted by authors in the
literature, including the ethics of no treatment options, cost, difficulty in having parents and other custodial
authorities agree to such a process, and the myriad pre-treatment factors that can confound results. Second, little
or no treatment differences between control and groups in the few studies that do use appropriate designs have
been noted, making it difficult to draw conclusions between groups. Lastly, because no two programs are alike, it is
difficult to make comparisons from one setting to the next. More research is needed that includes more rigorous
research designs to determine whether wilderness therapy programs are efficacious, especially when compared to
other forms of residential treatment.
Despite these shortcomings, research on wilderness therapy programs indicates that the intervention can yield
positive treatment outcomes (see Clark, 2003; Russell 2003, 2005, 2008). For example, Clark found that a 21-day
wilderness therapy program facilitated positive change in adolescents with clinically elevated Millon Adolescent
Page 13 of 20

Clinical Inventory (MACI) personality scores, and noted that short-term interventions rarely indicate these types of
outcomes. Russell (2008) evaluated six programs and found that adolescents, at a six-month follow-up
assessment, had significantly reduced their substance use in the period following the intervention. The results
showed significant reductions in frequency of use across the range of mental health diagnoses and aftercare types
used following treatment.
Recent research on programs indicates a growing interest in examining how the treatment modality works for
different types of clients and the treatment factors that are reasoned to effectuate change in participants. For
example, Lambie et al. (2000) examined the use of wilderness therapy for the treatment of adolescent sex
offenders; Orren (2003) found that the treatment group did not differ from the control group on self-concept or
internalizing/externalizing behaviors, and that African-American treatment group participants actually reported
lower self-concept scores after the wilderness intervention. Hagan (2003) assessed treatment outcomes using the
Youth-Outcome Questionnaire and found that adolescent self-reports indicated no significant improvement from
wilderness treatment, whereas parents and counselors indicated significant improvement. Martinez (2002)
examined self-esteem and locus of control and their relation to group affiliation and noted positive changes as a
result of treatment. In a comparison study of a residential and wilderness program, Edgmon (2002) found increased
self-confidence, increased communication, and an increased closeness with family for wilderness therapy program
participants. Follow-up tests revealed no significant difference between treatment and control group in family
relations, school success, and job/work success. Webb (2001) also conducted interviews with clinicians in
programs and found that the client can more easily transfer learning when parents are actively involved in the
program, and that clinicians have significant desire to increase family therapy and follow-up programs that include
family-based outpatient counseling in the communities in which youth and families reside. Interventions may
include weekly or biweekly sessions.
In summary, these studies reflect an increasing interest and sophistication in research design and methods
evaluating and assessing process and outcomes in wilderness therapy. Worth noting, however, is the observation
that many of these studies published as dissertations are not published in refereed journals because the authors
move into nonacademic careers. This has seemingly been a consistent trend in research on wilderness therapy
since the seminal studies on the effects of Outward Bound were first reported in the 1960s through the 1970s
(Burton, 1981; Kelly & Baer, 1969).
(p. 441)
Wilderness Therapy Program Controversy
On October 10, 2007, Kutz & OConnell (2007) in the GAO report (GAO-08146T) Residential Treatment Programs:
Concerns Regarding Abuse and Death in Certain Programs for Troubled Youth, examined 10 closed cases where
a teenager had died while enrolled in a private residential treatment program. Specifically, the report found that
untrained staff, the lack of adequate nourishment, and reckless or negligent operating practices were the primary
causes of the tragic incidents. The screening, training, and hiring of field staff, or wilderness leaders, is a critical
issue and requires attention to better determine how best to train leaders who spend the majority of their time living
and traveling with clients in remote backcountry environments. More troubling is the reference in the report of
tough love practices, as it suggests a philosophical approach that appears to be contradictory to existing state
standards of best practice as well as previous research and evaluation on wilderness therapy program practice. In
examining the Utah state standards (2007) as a benchmark, wilderness therapy programs are required to provide:
(a) six quarts of water per day for each client, (b) a detailed menu of food preparation that must equal 3,000
calories per day, (c) fruits and vegetables at least twice a week, and (d) daily offered multiple vitamin supplements,
and food shall not be withheld from a consumer for any reason (R5018-8, p. 8). There are also provisions for
calorific increases as energy expenditure increases.
Russell (2006) empirically examined wilderness therapy program guiding principles and concluded that in direct
contrast to boot camps, consequences of client actions while on the trail were not met with harsh and cruel
punishment in the form of marathon hikes and food deprivation, but are facilitated through natural consequences
and often mediated in a group context (p. 63). These findings, as well as others consistently reported in the
literature (see Clark, 2003; Edgmon, 2002; Hagan, 2003; Lambie, 2000; McNamara, 2002), do not report practice
consistent with withholding food from clients, especially to the point of serious illness, injury, or death. It is also
clear to note that those programs that do utilize these practices are in violation of basic standards of practice, and
Page 14 of 20

are unethical and cruel in their treatment of youth and should be not be in operation.
Negligent program practices noted by the GAO report included: (a) program operation in unfamiliar and dangerous
territory and not carrying necessary emergency medical supplies or radios/satellite phones; (b) issue of
detoxification and transition time from home into a wilderness environment; and (c) programs that were operating
without state licenses, or that chose to disregard state health and safety standards. This factor in essence
incorporates the previous two issues, as well as the overriding issue of what to do about any treatment program,
be it private, state, or federally operated, that simply chooses to operate outside the realm of state and national
accreditation standards. Wilderness therapy protocol on emergency operation procedures, which includes the use
of satellite phones and other resources to notify emergency personnel and perform wilderness evacuations, is well
documented and rather exhaustive in its detail (see State Standards of Utah for overview). It is beyond the scope
of this chapter to delve further into this issue, but it is noted that it requires attention to continually examine what
programs are doing to reduce the risks associated with backcountry travel. The issue of detoxification prior to
admittance into wilderness therapy programs does not appear to be included in existing state standards. The
complexity and seriousness of drug-use trends, both prescription and illegal, when compounded with issues such
as altitude, heat, and physical activity, are important issues to discuss and monitor to identify best practices.
Conclusion
In addition to wilderness experience programs and wilderness therapy, other therapeutic uses of nature exist and
seem to be continually emerging. One example is that of programs that take paying customers into the wilderness
to fast and engage in solo activities for several days to gain clarity on their lives (Foster, 1998). The Wilderness
Guides Council (2011) involves hundreds of wilderness guides and seeks to reconstitute in a modern framework
ancient rites of passage experiences for young and old clients. Another example is the integration of Outward
Bound experiences to treat and support veterans returning from service who exhibit signs of post-traumatic stress
disorder (Ewert et al. 2010). Finally, young adult cancer survivors are experiencing nature through river trips and
other adventure excursions that include multi-day river trips that focus on recovery, resiliency, and rebuilding lives
torn apart by cancer (Survive to Thrive, 2010).
The therapeutic use of nature inspires a paradox. Our disconnection from nature and natural processes is
seemingly spiraling out of control as technology continues its steady march toward infiltrating every aspect of our
lives. As this process (p. 442) continues to unfold, the need to uncover and reconnect with our ecological
identity will be paramount. It is indeed unfortunate that the wilderness-based experiences are being primarily
employed as a treatment and intervention for youth rather than as a rites of passage, as they were used for
centuries by myriad cultures the world over. It may be that by using these experiences as a celebration of the
transition from youth to adulthood as opposed to a treatment, the journeys associated with wilderness experiences
would be therapeutic instead of therapy. Spending time in nature to harness its therapeutic benefits could be used
as an important rite-of-passage experience for any individual involved in a transition, especially youth. The more
we need and use nature to heal us, the more we impact these natural wonders. The very factors that make nature
therapeutic, including its extent, its opportunities for solitude, and its ability to inspire awe and wonder, will need to
be watched over with great care. If not, we risk losing a source for healing that has defined and been part of our
human consciousness for millions of years.
Future Directions
What has the historical use of nature for therapeutic purposes taught us about our modern-day programs?
How important will nature be for youth who are growing up in an increasingly technological world?
How do we reconcile the paradox that as we continue to use nature therapeutically, we may be effectively
altering the very factors that make it therapeutic?
Is there a proxy environment that can mimic the therapeutic benefits of spending time in nature?
What are best practices for wilderness therapy programs?
What outcomes may be realized from these wilderness therapy programs that are less likely to occur in more
formal treatment programs?
Page 15 of 20
Should we restore rite-of-passage experiences in nature for youth to celebrate transition into adulthood?
What other likely trends in programming will emerge in the therapeutic use of nature?
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Notes:
(1.) The author of this publication was a research assistant, research associate, and the associate director of the
Wilderness Research Center from 1995 to 2003 and was involved in much of the research and report writing on a
major research agenda examining the use of wilderness for personal growth, education, and therapy.
Keith C. Russell
Keith C. Russell Department of Physical Education, Health and Recreation Western Washington University Bellingham, WA
Page 20 of 20
Restorative Environments

Henk Staats
2012

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0024

Restorative environment research is flourishing. Widespread appreciation of the concept has been spurred by two
influential theories and has led to a substantive body of research. This chapter gives an overview of what has
happened in this area. It begins with a description of the two theories, attention restoration theory and the psychoevolutionary theory of stress reduction, their content, similarities, and differences, and then reports on the
research done in a number of environmental domains: nature, both wild and managed, the home, the workplace,
museums and religious environments, hospitals, other health care settings, and favorite places. The following
paragraphs then discuss central concepts in restorative environment research: perceived restorativeness and its
determinants, new approaches to visual analysis of environmental scenes, and the social context of restoration.
The chapter closes with a look into the future, to new methods, expansion of theoretical approaches, and
applications.
Keywords: restoration, attention fatigue, stress, nature, self-regulation, social context, health
Introduction
Restorative environments have become a very important topic in environmental psychology. Books, the main
journals, and the conferences of the discipline all increasingly report on research about restorative environments.1
This chapter tries to take stock of what has happened in this area. We will start with a description of the main
theories that have been developed, after providing a context of theories that have preceded these or bear
important relationships. We pay explicit attention to the similarities and differences of the theories. Then we look at
environments where restorative experiences tend to take place, with an important but not exclusive role for natural
environments. Other outdoor and indoor environments will be discussed that may provide opportunities for
restoration. Where, and depending on what circumstances, environments provide restoration is the leading
question. In this review of environments for restoration we will encounter questions regarding theoretical,
conceptual, and methodological issues that will be addressed in the next paragraphs. Specifically we will look at
the concept of perceived restorativeness, its psycho-environmental characteristics, and the instruments
developed to measure restorative quality. We then will pay attention to new ways of analyzing the visual
experience of environments that attempt to explain their restorative quality and to the social aspects of restoration.
The final paragraph will be on priorities for future research, and potential applications that are promising and so far
untested.
Theories on Restoration: Predecessors

Restoration implies discretionary time, time that is spent freely. Therefore, the theories developed in leisure and
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recreation research provide a backdrop (p. 446) for the specific theories on restoration as we know them.
Relevant earlier work in leisure research speaks about the different motivations for leisure, making distinctions
between leisure that is intrinsic, that is, chosen for the activity itself, and leisure in which compensation is sought
for earlier experiences: fatigue from work, overstimulation, and other states (see, e.g., Manfredo, Driver, & Tarrant,
1996; Witt & Bishop, 2009). Kelly (1978) provided an estimate of the relative importance of these different
motivations, suggesting that 30% of leisure behavior is chosen to recover from earlier experiences. When
evaluating this estimate, one should bear in mind that a figure like this takes into account only the leisure that
stands apart from behavior in other life domains, such as work and the household, and does not take into account
experiences of micro-restoration, the short breaks that periodically take place while engaged in other activities. In
all it shows that restoration is a societally important phenomenon.
A second group of theories that bear importance to the concept of restorative environments comes from earlier
work in experimental aesthetics and environmental psychology. Very influential is the work by Berlyne (e.g., 1960,
1974) on the relation between stimulus characteristics and pleasure. Berlyne stated that the experience of
pleasure is derived from the arousal potential of stimulation and this relationship has the shape of an inverted U: an
intermediate degree of arousal potential creates the strongest experience of pleasure. Berlyne distinguished three
characteristics of stimulation: psychophysical, collative and categorical2 characteristics that are each capable of
creating the inverted-U relationship with pleasure. The psychophysical dimension refers to intensity of stimulation:
the loudness of sounds, the brightness of light. Collative properties of stimulation refer to the spatial or temporal
distribution of perceptual elements: complexity and incongruity as spatial, and novelty and newness as temporal
collative properties of stimulation. Thirdly, characteristics signifying the environmental category refer to the inborn
or learned value of stimuli for survival.
Important for the present discussion is the application of the theory to the experience of urban and natural
environments. Wohlwill (1983) used Berlynes framework to describe why nature is generally appreciated: he
stated that the lower arousal potential of nature, compared to that of urban environments, is caused by lower
psychophysical intensity of stimulationlower sound levels, colors that are less intenseand lower complexity
less contrast, more continuity, more gradual transitions in shapes and succession of stimuli, and slower movement.
Apart from these stimulus characteristics that favor relaxation, Wohlwill mentioned that natural environments may
have high value as a category. Given that the human species lived in natural environments for most of its
evolution, it seems likely that people have a preference for environments that appear to have good characteristics
for survival. A final distinction between urban and natural environments points explicitly at the social
characteristics of the two environments: due to the relative absence of other human beings, a natural environment
is characterized by the absence of feedback, or inferred feedback, the feeling of not being evaluated by other
people, which allows for relaxation. The notion of evolutionary influences on the appreciation and restorative
qualities is an issue that we encounter in currently viable theories of psychological restoration, described in the
next paragraph.
Current Theories on Psychological Restoration: Attention Restoration Theory and Ulrichs PsychoEvolutionary Framework
There is a narrow choice of theories that have been developed to understand processes of psychological
restoration in which the sociophysical environment plays a pivotal role. In fact only two are generally used. The
first is attention restoration theory (Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989; Kaplan, 1995). The second is the psycho-evolutionary
model developed by Ulrich (1983, 1991).
Attention Restoration Theory

In the beginning of the 1970s Rachel and Stephen Kaplan, from the School of Natural Resources at the University of
Michigan, started a 12-year research project on the experiences of people who went on a hike in a wilderness area
for more than a week, spending part of that time alone. Participants kept diaries, which provided a unique database
of experiences of being in the great outdoors (Kaplan & Talbot, 1983; Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989). Analyses of these
diary notes provided the basis for the notion of a restorative environment, defined as an environment that is
beneficial in restoring mental resources that were spent in previous activities. These notions developed into an
influential theory, named attention restoration theory (ART). ART has the capacity to direct attention as a central
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concept. Building on the classical work of William James (1892), ART proposes that attention has two modes,
voluntary or (p. 447) directed, and involuntary or spontaneous. Directed attention implies that the individual
concentrates on a task, situation, or behavior and wards off other stimulation competing for attention. This enables
him/her to succeed at the task at hand. Directed attention is a scarce resource. Similar to other energy models of
psychological functioning (Baumeister, 2002), ART assumes that the capacity to direct attention diminishes with
use, because it requires effort to inhibit distractions in order to direct attention. As the capacity to direct attention
diminishes, a person may commit errors on tasks, show less sensitivity to others, become irritable or impulsive, and
otherwise show signs of attentional fatigue. Entering a situation that does not require directed attention permits a
fatigued person to rest the inhibitory mechanism on which directed attention depends, and this allows for
restoration of the capacity to direct attention. This would be reflected in more effective functioning, sometimes with
enhanced subjective well-being (Hammitt, 2004; Hartig, 2007).
Psycho-Environmental Conditions for Restorative Experiences

As described in ART (Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989; Kaplan, 1995), restoration proceeds to the degree that four qualities
characterize the person-environment exchange. First, the person has a sense of being away. Psychologically, if
not geographically, the person gains distance from unwanted distractions and routines that impose demands for
directed attention. Second, the person is effortlessly engaged by interesting environmental contents and
processes, such as exploration. This fascination promotes rest for the inhibitory mechanism behind directed
attention. It is thought to be prolonged when the environment allows a sense of extent, itself attributed to
coherence in the experience of the environment (e.g., the environment is perceived as structured and orderly
rather than confusing) and the scope for continued exploration. As a motivational context in which being away,
fascination, and extent can occur, compatibility refers to the correspondence between what the person wants to
do and what the environment allows or necessitates. Of these four components, it is thought that fascination plays
the key role, with the other three enhancing or sustaining fascination.
Different Kinds of Fascination

According to ART, fascinationeffortless attentioncomes in two ways. One is hard fascination, the kind of
fascination that is raised by intense stimulation that captivates the senses, precluding thinking about anything else.
Kaplan (1995) mentioned auto racing, Kaplan and Berman (2010) additionally mentioned watching athletic events,
violence, sex, and intense competition. Herzog, Black, Fountaine, and Knotts (1997) used examples of
sports/entertainment settings, such as a bowling alley, Jet Skiers, a nightclub, and found that these qualified as
settings for hard fascination. Hard fascination supposedly has the potential to allow partial, shallow recovery. Soft
fascination, on the other hand, is a state that can be evoked by stimuli with moderate intensity that are
aesthetically pleasing (Herzog et al., 1997; Kaplan, 1995). Due to these qualities, it leaves room for reflection, a
deeper state of psychological restoration. The opportunity to reflect on priorities, worries, personal problems,
and possible solutions may solve the tension that these kinds of unfinished business evoke. Soft fascination seems
to be evoked especially, but not only, by natural settings that please the eye but do not captivate the mind.
Phases in the Restoration Process

Already implied in the previous paragraph is the sequence of phases in the restoration process. Elaborating on the
concept of restoration, Kaplan and Kaplan (1989, pp. 196197) proposed four successive stages that a restorative
experience might pass through. Starting with clearing the head of cognitive clutter, such as distracting thoughts,
a person can continue into recovery of directed attention capacity. With the cognitive quiet gained in these initial
stages of restoration, the person is better prepared to consider matters on ones mind that otherwise would
remain unheard. Finally, the restorative experience, if not disrupted, can entail reflection on ones life, priorities,
possibilities, actions, and goals.
Psycho-Evolutionary Theory of Stress Reduction

The second theory that is regularly employed to explain the process of psychological restoration induced by
environments has been developed by Roger Ulrich and his colleagues. The initial formulation of the theory (1983 )
states that the appreciation of a scene, particularly a natural scene, succeeds in a number of phases, starting with
a very quick, affective response to the gross configurational properties of the scene, that is, the dominant
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landscape elements, such as trees, plains, mountains, water; presence or absence of a focal point; degree of
depth in the scene; surface texture; a deflected vista; and (p. 448) the absence of threat. The affect has a clear
physiological basis: after exposure to simulations of natural environments or urban environments following a
stressor, measures employed to assess physiological changes report effects in the sympathetic and
parasympathetic nervous system indicative of recovery of stress that are faster for natural environments (Ulrich,
Dimberg, & Driver, 1990; Ulrich et al., 1991). This initial affective response may lead to further scrutiny of its
implications for well-being, and drive behavior.
Ulrich (1983) argued that natural environments with the characteristics that lead to high preference can bring
about psycho-physiological changes that increase well-being, especially for stressed or anxious individuals,
meaning that these environments have restoration potential. This initial version of a tentative perspective (p.
116) of psycho-physiological restoration is followed by theoretical and empirical papers, that elaborate this notion
of the restorative power of natural landscapes. It is placed in the context of an evolutionary perspective (Ulrich,
1993), on the argument that for the survival of the human race it has been beneficial to be attracted to natural
landscapes that seem fertile, and therefore promise food and water, have depth, allow locomotion, and are absent
of danger. Empirical papers demonstrate that post-operative recovery proceeds faster and more easily for patients
who have a view of nature compared to patients who have a view of a brick wall (1984 ), that mildly stressed
student participants show more beneficial changes in anxiety and positive affect after viewing slides of natural
compared to urban settings (Ulrich, 1979), and that physiological indices also point at beneficial changes after
viewing nature scenes relative to viewing urban scenes (Ulrich, 1981), especially after having been severely
stressed (Ulrich et al., 1991; Van den Berg, Koole, & Van der Wulp, 2003). Effects of nature are discerned in
different settings that are in line with these findings: effects of nature posters in offices (Kweon, Ulrich, Walker, &
Tassinary, 2008), roadside vegetation for automobile drivers (Parsons et al., 1998), and hospital waiting rooms
(Ulrich, Simons, & Miles, 2006).
Similarities and Differences Between the Two Theories

The two frameworks developed to understand restorative experiences seem to have many differences, while the
similarities are less obvious. Both similarities and differences are described below, followed by a paragraph that
describes how the two, although different, can be related.
Looking At Similarities
We note two related issues: the emphasis on a possible evolutionary basis for nature as a restorative environment,
and the kind of natural environments that seem to be highly restorative.
An Evolutionary Basis
Both theories are proponents of the biophilia hypothesis, the idea that love of nature is in our genes (Wilson &
Kellert, 1993). This is described in several publications by both leading authors.
Ulrich (1993) argued that the human species survived through learning which natural settings and elements
were favorable and which were not. Biophilia and biophobia are therefore expressions of the same dependence
of people on nature. Those natural settings that were favorable for survival are the ones that receive high
preference ratings in contemporary research. That seems especially true for savanna-like settings or settings
with calm water bodies. The contrast in preference scores with those of urban environments is, according to
this perspective, due to the fact that urban environments do not exhibit the characteristics that, during
evolution, suggested the satisfaction of basic needs of food, shelter, and protection from threatening species.
The perspective of restoration after having been exposed to stressful circumstances is seen by Ulrich (1993, p.
108) as an extension of preference in ordinary circumstances, because people who are under stress benefit
even more from the characteristics of these highly favored natural environments. These are thought to be
adaptive because quick recovery will bring a person back to a state in which he can defend himself and, in
general, be more alert and energetic. From a different line of research comes the finding that positive mood
change, as brought about by exposure to unthreatening natural environments, enhances creativity and higher
order problem-solving, which Ulrich (1993) also considered important for survival.
The framework of ART is also strongly based on the evolutionary significance of nature as the environment
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that leads to restoration. Kaplan (1995) argued that environmental qualities that determine restoration refer to
the qualities that originally favored survival and that may explain why natural environments and processes
have high restorative value. In earlier phases of evolution it was beneficial for survival to be vigilant and led by
fascination, (p. 449) not focus intensely and for a long time on one specific phenomenon, because the wild
environment would make such a person vulnerable for surprises. In Kaplans words (1995 , p. 170), It is only in
the modern world that the split between the important and the interesting has become extreme.
Physical Characteristics of Restorative Natural Environments

The two theories seem to agree on the kind of natural environments that have strong restorative qualities. As
mentioned above, Ulrich (1983) emphasized that natural environments that are highly restorative should be
unthreatening, and have structured complexity (p. 98) by the presence of homogeneous textures, grouping of
natural elements, a focal point that draws the observers attention, a degree of depth in the scene that allows
anticipation of potential threats, and relatively even surface texture that allows accurate estimation of distance and
easy locomotion. A second kind of landscape that he considered highly restorative is that of large, calm water
bodies (Ulrich, 1993). The four components of restorative environments in ART indirectly refer to physical
properties of nature. The exact physical characteristics of natural environments that are restorative may not be
that critical in ART as long as the experiences that are evoked match the four qualities described. Nevertheless, it
seems that Kaplan draws on earlier work that specifies needs, time frames, and cognitive qualities of the landscape
in the Landscape Preference Matrix (Kaplan, 1987; Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989). The landscapes predicted to be highly
preferred are those that combine coherence with complexity (i.e., visual richness), and possibilities for orientation
with implied richness upon entering the scene.
Describing the Differences

Differentiating between the theories seems easier: differences regard the main antecedent states and processes,
and correspondingly the main dependent variables. In addition, there seem to be differences in the temporal
course of the processes of restoration. Regarding the antecedent state, ART posits attentional fatigue as caused
by cognitive processing: having been obliged to attend to information that is crucial for a task leads to fatigue.
Kaplan (1995) stated that the task leading to fatigue does not have to be experienced as unpleasant: it is merely
the demand on voluntary attention that causes fatigue. This contrasts with psycho-evolutionary theory that
focuses on negative affect and stress as the state from which to restore. The processes involved differ
correspondingly: in ART the taking over of spontaneous attention to rest the directed attention mechanism, in
psycho-evolutionary theory the blocking of negative feelings and thoughts by pleasant experiences that gradually
diminish feelings of stress.
Integration
Integrating attention restoration theory and Ulrichs psycho-evolutionary approach is done both at a theoretical
level as in a pragmatic sense in many studies applying the theories to assess restorative effects of different
environments. On a theoretical level Kaplan (1995) made clear that attention fatigue and stress are different
phenomena that may however appear simultaneously or in close succession. He mentioned three ways in which
the two may be related. One possibility is that attention fatigue impairs performance, which may give rise to stress;
a second possibility is that a stressful situation may cause a decrease in attentional capacity due to the effort to
keep stress under control, for example, when a person experiences pain that puts demands on inhibitory control to
drive safely. A third option is the actual co-occurrence of stress and attentional fatigue when an aversive stimulus,
for example, listening to the description of a traumatic experience (Kaplan, 1995, p. 178), both causes stress and
demands attention. On an empirical level researchers, not wanting to miss possible effects of the situations they
study, include both affective and cognitive measures to study the effects of antecedent conditions and potential
restorative conditions (e.g., Berman, Jonides, & Kaplan, 2008; Johansson, Hartig, & Staats, 2011).
Environments for Restoration

In this section we want to give an overview of what environments have been investigated regarding their
restorative effects and what the results were. The preceding paragraphs have described restoration as a process
that is induced by natural environments. In itself, exposure to nature is not a prerequisite for restoration. Although
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the majority of studies have been executed to see what natural environments can do to restore whatever human
capability needs restoration, it does not necessarily only appear in nature. Moreover, there are so many ways that
nature has been presented in the extant research that a further distinction of nature presentations seems relevant.
Below we organize the work in two main categories: the first is different manifestations of nature, and the second
consists of other environments.
(p. 450)
Nature as a Restorer
In the literature we find research in the following categories: wild nature, managed nature, urban nature, flowers,
and water, and these can be experienced in reality, or be represented through media such as video, photographs,
virtual reality, imagination, and even soundscapes. We will shortly discuss findings from these environmental
categories,
Wild Nature
The first study that provided the ideas for restorative environments and attention fatigue took place in relatively
wild areas. The participants in the Outdoor Survival Program experienced wilderness circumstances for more than
a week and eventually felt better because of that, providing the inspiration for ART (Kaplan & Talbot, 1983; Talbot
& Kaplan, 1986). Experiences of this duration have rarely been investigated systematically from a restoration
perspective. Hartig et al. (1991, Study One) is the exception in that this study also looked at recreationists who
spent a considerable amount of time in nature and afterward improved their performance on a cognitive, attentiondemanding task. A recent study looking at restorative effects in a wilderness area corroborated findings regarding
both stress reduction and mental rejuvenation (Cole & Hall, 2010). This seems to support the idea that wilderness is
a restorative environment but the self-selection of participants in these studies raises questions about the
generality of these long-term findings.
Wilderness appears to raise other sentiments as well, such as fear and disgust (Bixler & Floyd, 1997), making
people apprehensive of going to wild lands. Fear for wild nature can have many sources, such as getting lost,
confrontation with wild animals or people with bad intentions, bad weather, and insects and snakes, and these
fears are quite common. Andrews and Gatersleben (2010), applying prospect-refuge theory (Appleton, 1975),
showed that one source of fear is the spatial organization of the landscape in that low levels of prospect, refuge,
and escape increase fear. Herzog and Rector (2009) showed that a person ominously present in the setting
destroys the restorative qualities that were originally present. Koole and Van den Berg (2005) showed how wild
landscapes are more associated with thoughts of death than cultivated landscapes and that preference ratings of
wilderness decrease when mortality is made salient, contrary to the preference scores of rural and urban
landscapes.
Although the last three studies report findings in terms of preference or perceived restorativeness, it seems likely
that landscapes that evoke fear and thoughts of death will not be restorative. It might be hypothesized that, for
wilderness environments, situational and personal characteristics may be responsible for differences in restorative
effects, more so than for other natural environments. Familiarity, acquired through long-term exposure (Talbot &
Kaplan, 1984), or through childhood experience (Chen-Hsuan Cheng & Monroe, 2012), need for structure (Van den
Berg & Winsum-Westra, 2010), or specific professional expertise qualify as factors that may explain the difference.
Given its selective appeal, it is therefore possible that the results of simulation studies are less predictive for
wilderness environments than for other environments.
Managed Nature
Landscapes that are experienced as natural, because they predominantly consist of natural elements but are
clearly designed and maintained for human purposes, are evaluated differently than wild, unmanaged nature.
Under the heading of managed nature, several subcategories exist, notably areas that are protected, properly
maintained, and usually made accessible by the creation of paths and signage: recreation areas, containing
spaces and facilities designed for play and picnicking, and rural areas whose primary function is agricultural.
Because the transition from managed natural areas outside town to urban parks is a gradual one, they are also
included in this paragraph. A number of studies that looked at activities, walking mostly, in natural areas report that
these experiences have restorative effects (e.g., Berman et al., 2008; Hartig et al., 1991, Study 2; Hartig et al.,
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2003; Hull & Michael, 1995; Johanson, Hartig, & Staats, 2011). A study comparing the effects of walks through
parks that were tended or wild, due to different degrees of maintenance (Martens, Gutscher, & Bauer, 2011),
showed that the tended park walk more strongly increased positive affect and decreased negative affect
compared to a wild park. The authors explanation of the stronger effect of tended nature walk mentioned, among
others, sadness because of the deadwood in the wild forest walk, an explanation that might be related to the
mortality salience explanation offered by Koole et al. (2005).
Other studies looked at views on nature, in realistic situations, or as simulations of nature. Views of nature have
been studied as roadside views from a car, views from home, and views from a hospital room. In a study by
Cackowski and Nasar (2003), the view on surroundings from a car interior were (p. 451) simulated and changes
in anger and frustration were measured after induction of a stress-inducing task. Frustration appeared to decrease
more after exposure to more natural views as compared to more built views as measured by the time participants
were willing to spend at trying to solve unsolvable anagrams. Another study on roadside environments using video
simulations (Parsons et al., 1998) found that the more natural-looking environments, a golf course and a forest,
reduced stress more, and led to better performance on an attention-demanding post-test than roadsides showing
urban or mixed (natural-urban) scenes. Interestingly, the golf course seemed to give the best results overall, in line
with a (hypothesized) preference for managed natural environments. Views that were actually from a window in
ones home or simulated as such have been investigated for their effects. The benefits of experiencing nature from
real windows was investigated by Tennessen and Cimprich (1995), who found that students with a more natural
view from their dormitory room were better at attention-demanding tasks as compared to those looking out at a built
environment.
Kaplan (2001) demonstrated that different measures of well-being were related to the naturalness of the immediate
surroundings. Even when controlling for variability of activities performed outside, a factor not included in the
Tennessen and Cimprich study, relationships existed between naturalness and two measures of well-being. A
research program that focused on effects of the immediate surroundings of high-rise apartments in Chicago found
that vicinity of nature increased attention span and reduced aggression (Kuo, 2001; Kuo & Sullivan, 2001; Taylor,
Kuo, & Sullivan, 2002). These studies benefitted from random allocation of the apartments to residents, creating a
true experimental design in a real-life research situation where residents lived in apartments that were identical
apart from the amount of green surrounding the apartment buildings. Simulations of views have been investigated
many times. Some noteworthy examples are studies looking at changes in affect after a stress induction (Ulrich et
al., 1991, Van den Berg et al., 2003), attentional performance (Berto, 2005), and studies looking at preference for
natural versus urban environments after a mental fatigue induction (Hartig & Staats, 2006; Staats & Hartig, 2004).
The studies looking at affect change after exposure to a stressor consistently report that affect improves more
when participants are exposed to nature views as compared to urban views. An elaborate study showed that
physiological changes (heart period, pulse transit time, skin conductance) were congruent with the self-report
affect measures (Ulrich et al., 1991). No behavioral instructions were given to participants, other than to relax
(Ulrich et al., 1991, p. 212). Studies of affect change that also incorporate physiological measures and that look at
the effectiveness of different presentation media consistently find that both self-report and physiological measures
indicating relaxation follow similar patterns when natural stimuli are experienced in the field or mediated (Kjellgren
& Buhrkall, 2010). Different degrees of immersion (De Kort, Meinders, Sponselee, & IJsselsteijn, 2006) may provide
different intensities of the recovery process. In the studies looking at preference for natural versus urban
environments after a mental fatigue induction, participants were instructed to imagine themselves walking for an
hour through the urban or natural environment simulated by a series of slides. On all of the scenes a path was
visible, making clear that it was relatively tended nature that was shown. The main outcome of the studies is that
the preference for natural environments over urban environments increases when mentally fatigued. This effect
was originally found in scenario studies (Staats, Kieviet, & Hartig, 2003; Staats & Hartig, 2004) but proved to exist
in a study with a real fatigue induction (Hartig & Staats, 2006). The studies show that the sensitivity for
environmental characteristics that can reduce mental fatigue is reflected in the overall preference for an
environment.
Studies of views on natural or other scenes from settings other than the home or a laboratory situation have one
major predecessor, the seminal study by Ulrich (1984) of views from hospital rooms. In an archival study of
patients recovering from gallbladder surgery, Ulrich found major differences as a function of the window view these
patients had in their recovery rooms. Patients looking out at trees had shorter recovery time, used less painkillers
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and anti-anxiety drugs, and were in better moods as reported by nurses, than patients looking out at a brick wall.
The strength of the effect and the potential importance of these findings, both for medical and for economic
reasons, have been major drivers of research on restorative environments in general and currently for healing
environments and hospital design in particular (e.g., Largo-Wight, 2011; Ulrich, 2006).
A somewhat neglected topic in restorative environment research is the effect of water completely or partly
occupying the scene investigated for (p. 452) restorative effects. Only a couple of studies have paid systematic
attention to the presence of water in scenes intended to effect restoration or at least assess the degree of
perceived restorativeness. White et al. (2010) compared scenes that consisted of built, green, and water elements
in fixed proportions and found that different measures, including perceived restorativeness, increased when the
proportion of water in the scene increased. Interesting, and in line with a second study that looked at water
elements (Karmanov & Hamel, 2008), is that urban scenes with water elements scored almost as well on change in
affect indicative of restoration as green scenes, potentially qualifying outcomes of the earlier studies that so
uniformly showed that nature has superior restorative qualities. This issue is clearly not resolved yet.
Other Environments
Baum (1991, in Hull & Michael, 1995, p. 2) stated, It is likely that recreation opportunities which are readily
available in our everyday environment provide more benefits than relaxing or recreation in the [natural setting].
This is a simple yet important observation, emphasizing that most leisure behavior takes place in and around the
home, possibly in the workplace, and often in the context and short intervals that obligatory activities allow. That in
itself is enough reason to look at what other settings can provide. And ironically, Ulrichs (1984) most influential
paper on views from hospital rooms ends with the statement that future research should look at what other types of
views (than of trees or a brick wall) may accomplish: Perhaps to a chronically understimulated patient, a built view
such as a lively street might be more stimulating and hence more therapeutic than any natural views (p. 421).
Understimulation seems a somewhat forgotten phenomenon in restoration research, while it is undoubtedly a
potential stress factor and a state that people are motivated to escape from, just as the overstimulation processes
leading to stress and mental fatigue. So there are different reasons to look at restorative effects of other
environments, springing both from the need for restoration that is easily available, and from the need for other
environments than what the low-stimulation natural environment generally offers. These two conditions together
open up a huge number of possible situations that have been investigated for their restorative effects, mentioned
as such or in other terms. Discussed here is a number with obvious importance in daily life that explicitly used the
restorative framework: the home, workplace, museums, houses of worship, hospitals, andalthough stemming from
a different kind of categorizationfavorite places.
Home
The home is probably the place that qualifies most prominently as a restorative environment. However, there are
several obstacles reported in the literature. One is that the home also is a location for regular paid and unpaid work
(e.g., Ahrentzen, 1990; Hartig, Johansson, & Kylin, 2003). As such, the home is a place that can be strongly
associated with chores, unfinished tasks, and maintenance demands (Saxby & Repetti, 2010). If so, being at home
is ambiguous for restoration. This ambiguity can be resolved in research by specifying spatial, social, behavioral,
and temporal circumstances within the home that are conducive or not conducive to restoration (Ahrentzen, 1990;
Repetti, 1989). Repetti, for example, showed that air traffic controllers more effectively buffered the effects of
stress at the workplace when their spouses allowed them to withdraw socially at home. A similar finding (Staats,
Van Gemerden, & Hartig, 2010) is that mentally fatigued people considered performing undemanding leisure
activities at home more attractive while alone than with a good friend compared to people who were rested.
Another explanation for the home not always being restorative is that the home environment tends to become
dominated by media-oriented activities that reduce privacy and calm (Ward Thompson, 2002). Privacy, beneficial
for restoration, is in turn also influenced by spatial characteristics of the home (see, e.g., Evans, 1996).
Workplace
The workplace can have restorative characteristics that alleviate the demands imposed by the work itself.
Restorative potential may not only reduce stress and improve well-being, it may even directly improve the quality
of the work done, given its potential effect on cognitive capabilities. Research that explicitly mentions restorative
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aspects of the workplace has mainly looked at natural elements: window views with and without nature,
alternatives for views like photographs and paintings, and indoor plants. Views of nature from office windows have
been compared with other views (Shin, 2007) and appeared to have beneficial effects on stress reduction and job
satisfaction. Bringslimark, Hartig, and Patil (2011) have compared offices with and without windows and found that
offices workers without windows brought plants and pictures of nature (p. 453) into the office much more often
than workers with windows, while controlling for office decorations that were meant for personalization and
controlling for type of office. This seems to point to a need for contact with nature that indoor plants can satisfy to
some extent. This need may stem from the need for restoration (Bringslimark, Hartig, & Patil, 2009), as also
suggested by an experiment that showed that participants in offices with plants improved their performance on an
attention-demanding task over trials while participants in the same office without plants did not (Raanaas et al.,
2011).
Museums and Spiritual Environments

There are places designed for services that are intellectual or spiritual, and these may fulfill a need for restoration.
Museums may function as a restorative environment, and religious buildings as well. A study in an art museum
showed that a visit could be restorative but only for those experienced with museum environments, that is, people
accustomed to the facilities, floor plans, communication style, and behavioral codes that apply (Kaplan, Bardwell, &
Slakter, 1993). Others may feel uncomfortable when inexperience inhibits their ability to work the system (Hood,
1993, p. 713). Places that can be restorative for their spiritual function are churches or monasteries, or more
generally, houses of worship. A study on the functions of monasteries (Ouelette, Kaplan, & Kaplan, 2005) showed
that a stay in a monastery was partly motivated by restorative needs, and that visitors felt rested, clearheaded,
competent, and alert at the end of their stay (Ouelette et al., 2005, p.181), experiences indicating attentional
recovery. The effect of a stay in a monastery is of course experienced only by the select group who is attracted to
such a setting and is able to afford and arrange such a stay. These practical restraints do not apply to churches
and it seems that a visit of a church or, more generally, a house of worship, is partly driven by the same set of
motives and has partly the same cluster of outcomes: people visiting a church go there to experience spirituality
and a feeling of being away, which contribute to the ability to focus, feelings of peace, and effective functioning,
which are easily interpreted as signs of recovery (Herzog, Ouelette, Rolens, & Koenigs, 2010). Other results of
both the monastery and the houses of worship study extend the focus of ART, according to the authors.
Hospitals and Rehabilitation Centers

Hospitals and rehabilitation centers are places where restoration is sorely needed, and some attempts documented
by research have been made to increase the restorative quality (e.g., Whitehouse et al., 2001), apart from the
view (Ulrich, 1984). In reflecting on quality of health care Ulrich (2006) argued vehemently for the crucial role that
architecture and interior design play in reducing health risks and stress for patients. Research on factors that
create healing environments is still in its early stages (Dijkstra, Pieterse, & Pruyn, 2006). However, one factor
figuring in recent research is the capacity of natural elements, interior plants and gardens, for recovery of stress
(Dijkstra, Pieterse, & Pruyn, 2008; Hartig & Cooper Marcus, 2006). Positive effects of indoor plants on subjective
well-being were found for patients with lung ailments (Raanaas, Patil, & Hartig, 2010) and earlier research already
provided suggestions that cancer patients after surgery performed better at attention-demanding tasks after nature
walks, compared to a control condition (Cimprich, 1993). In hospital waiting rooms stress of blood donors is
reduced by nature shown on television monitors (Ulrich, Simons, & Miles, 2003). Art containing nature elements in
hospitals for children, although preferred over other types of art, does not seem to have similar restorative effects
as found with adults or in other settings (Eisen et al., 2008).
Favorite Places
Unlike the previous categories described above, favorite places are not defined physically or functionally, but
places evaluatively different from others. A substantial body of research by Korpela and colleagues goes into the
character of the places that are selected and described as favorite. Favorite places are important for selfregulation and reflect place identity (Korpela & Hartig, 1996). Natural places are overrepresented among favorite
places, and a prominent finding in qualitative results of research is that restorative experiences are an important
part of the value attached to these places (Korpela, Hartig, Kaiser, & Fhrer, 2001). Favorite places may also
enhance experienced health and subjective well-being (Korpela & Ylen, 2007, 2009).
Page 9 of 18
Specific Concepts of Interest
Restorative environment research touches many areas of psychology. Its concepts, applications, and links with
related disciplines raise many questions but also offer many new possibilities. A few of these will be discussed in
this paragraph. We will look at perceived restorativeness, the four psycho-environmental determinants of
restorative experiences in ART, some visual characteristics of scenes (p. 454) that may relate to restoration and
to social aspects of restoration.
Perceived Restorativeness
This quality of an environment is the estimation that an individual who is fatigued or stressed will experience
restoration in that environment. This concept is heavily used in research: the experience is considered so
important that an estimate of restorativeness is the dependent variable in many empirical studies. An issue that is
being debated regarding the ratings of restorativeness is whether it is possible to give a valid assessment of this
quality by persons who are not in the environment and who may not be in need of restoration. This is common
practice. The validity of ratings of restorativeness by persons who rely on memory, on verbal descriptions, or on
visual simulations is a question similar to questions raised earlier in the literature, in particular with regard to
preference ratings. The main outcome of research addressing this question is that preference ratings of visual
simulationsstatic or dynamicare strongly (r > .80) correlated with on-site evaluations and with each other
(Stamps, 1990, 2010).
This issue has not been taken up for restorativeness ratings; however, in my own research (Staats et al., 2003,
2010; Staats & Hartig, 2004) perceived likelihood of restoration was not influenced by manipulations that other
dependent variables proved sensitive to. In these studies on mundane leisure situations, participants were asked
whether they had difficulties assessing these characteristics, or difficulties imagining themselves in the situations
depicted. Neither proved to be the case. Another study (Hartig & Staats, 2006) showed that likelihood of
restorativeness ratings for a walk in a forest or an urban setting differed for people attentionally fatigued or not
fatigued: fatigued people rated restoration more likely on a forest walk compared to non-fatigued people, and the
opposite held for the urban walk. So, there may not yet be a definitive answer to this question. The question is
empirical and important, especially given the interest in restorativeness as a characteristic of environments, or
situations more generally, and reflected in the efforts spent to develop measures of restorativeness that provide a
detailed assessment of characteristics that together constitute restorativeness. The most widely used measure is
the Perceived Restorativeness Scale (PRS), developed by Hartig and colleagues (Hartig, Korpela, Evans, & Grling,
1996). This scale has also been the basis for slightly different (Laumann, Grling, & Stormark, 2001) and shortened
versions (Herzog, Maguire, & Nebel, 2003), and versions for children (Bagot, Kuo, & Allen, 2007; see also Collado
& Corraliza, 2011) and zoo attractions (Pals, Steg, Siero, & van der Zee, 2009).
The PRS and any of the other scales are based on the characteristics of a restorative environment as developed
by Kaplan (1995). The scales provide ratings on being away, extent, fascination, and compatibility. Subdimensions
are proposed a priori or found in the factor structure: extent is subdivided in coherence and scope (Hartig et al.
1997; Kaplan, 1995), being away is split into a physical and psychological component (Laumann et al., 2001),
novelty is distinguished (Pals et al., 2009), and compatibility is split in four (Kaplan, 2001) or even six
subdimensions (Herzog et al., 2010). Despite all these distinctions, correlations among the a priori concepts are
high in every study and outcomes of factor analytic procedures suggest that a two-factor or even a one-factor
solution would be the most appropriate interpretation.
This creates the danger that research on the restorative quality of different environments, obtaining findings for
each of the dimensions, essentially shows the same effect on every dimension. On the other hand there is
evidence for the restorative function of compatibility (Herzog, Hayes, Applin, & Weatherly, 2010), for the match
between fascination and effortless processing (Berto, Baroni, Zainaghi, & Bettella, 2010) and for differential effects
of some of the dimensions (Hug et al., 2009). We conclude that explanatory potential for the original concepts and
for the concepts stemming from these are mixed, and that the proliferation of concepts seems to stand in the way
of the need for a general, parsimonious scale of which the components are valid, independent, and sufficient.
Ward and Russell (1981) already pointed out that concepts that reflect environmental meaning can be related
because there is semantic similarity, empirical association, or a cause-and-effect structure. More reflection on the
interrelations of the concepts will be useful.
Page 10 of 18
Fluency and Fractals
Explanations for the restorative quality of nature that start from different concepts, and are somewhat opposed to
the evolutionary-like explanation of the main theories, are being developed. Two of these are fluency and fractals.
Ideas about the fluency of visual stimulation hold that restoration may come from the subjective experience of the
ease with which a certain stimulus organization is perceived (Joye & Van den Berg, 2011). The theory of (p. 455)
fractals is more formal, stating that natural elements are characterized by the recurring of similar shapes at
different scale levels. This recurring pattern is related to judgments of naturalness, which in turn is predictive of
preference (Hagerhall, Purcell, & Taylor, 2004). Both related approaches are in their early stages of theory
development, but they also relate to older theories on environmental aesthetics that emphasize order, visual
richness, coherence, and complexity (see, e.g., Wohlwill, 1976).
Social Context of Restoration

People are social animals, and any transaction with the physical world is imbued with social meaning. It can hardly
be otherwise with restoration and the judgment of places as restorative environments. On this topic there has been
very little research. As we saw above, Wohlwill (1983) already mentioned one social restorative characteristic of
nature: the absence of social feedback. This idea has not been the subject of formal hypothesizing and tests.
However, it seems to be echoed in the results of recent work on the social stress experienced by city dwellers
(Lederbogen et al., 2011). Using fMRI technique, these studies showed that participants who lived or were raised in
cities, as compared to participants living/raised in small towns or rural areas, experienced more stress induced by
negative feedback while working on a cognitive task. Living in high densities comes at a cost, as already
suggested in the early social psychological work on the city (e.g., Milgram, 1970), and the general prediction for
people in need of restoration is therefore that they will have a preference for being alone.
Three examples of studies that do pay attention to the social context of restoration show that social support can
make a situation more restorative and that company, even of people most intimate, can serve multiple functions,
conducive or not conducive to restoration.
The social support that may facilitate restoration is described by researchers on ego depletion (Baumeister, Faber,
& Wallace, 1999). They mention the importance of the ego cast, the support provided by familiar others to
protect a person from demands that he/she is not capable of handling in a state of depletion. A characteristic of the
environment that could create a need for company during restoration is safety. My own research (Staats & Hartig,
2004) showed that the safety needed to access a potentially restorative environment increased the preference for
being with a friend, instead of being alone. Other research (Staats et al., 2010) pointed at potentially other motives
to be with a friend: participants who considered being fatigued while visiting the city center preferred being with a
friend over being alone, in a situation where safety was unlikely to explain this preference. A potential explanation
could be the sociability norm, prescribing that one should not be alone in a public setting (Bourdieu, 1979/1984;
Lofland, 1998).
Closing Remarks, with an Eye to the Future

Looking back at 30 years of research on restorative environments, we see that the theme has received increasing
attention. Progress has been made regarding theory, methods, and applications. But still the expectation is that the
theme can be widened, deepened, and put to use in more ways than is currently being done. Widening implies
looking at connections, with research in work and organizational psychology, where stress is a major research
topic, with leisure research that so far seems to develop almost independent of restorative environment research,
and with research in public health, that may give openings to epidemiological approaches to study large-scale and
long-term effects of restoration and lack of it (see, e.g., Maas et al., 2009). Deepening our research efforts could
be undertaken in many ways, for example, by looking more closely at modes of attention, by making use of
sophisticated techniques such as neuroimaging (Lederbogen et al., 2011; Tae-Hoon et al., 2010), by further
developing the possibilities of virtual environments, and by looking at phenomena that went previously unexplored,
like the analysis of olfactory stimulation in relation to the emerging practice of forest bathing (Lee et al., 2011). Also
the social psychological conditions for restoration merit much more attention than received until now. Already
somewhat advanced is the practice of activities like therapeutic gardening and other programs intended to
Page 11 of 18
contribute to patients health and well-being, by applying insights from restorative environments research. But it is
not only in the clinical practice that insights from restorative environments research can be put to use. People in
everyday environments, from the home to the city center, from allotment gardens to natural parks, can benefit from
the increased effort and creativity that we invest in our research.
Acknowledgements
I thank Silvia Collado and Terry Hartig for their valuable comments on earlier versions of this chapter.
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Notes:
(1.) Recently, the 9th Biennial Conference on Environmental Psychology, September 2628, 2011, in Eindhoven,
The Netherlands, had 6 complete sessions involving 30 papers, 12.5% of all contributions, on restorative
environments. Also, both Environment and Behavior (Hartig, 2001) and the Journal of Environmental Psychology
(Hartig & Staats, 2003) published special issues on restorative environment research.
(2.) The original term used by Berlyne is not categorical but ecological. Because of the different meaning of
ecological in common use, we choose to use a different term that more intuitively grasps the content of the
concept.
Henk Staats
Henk Staats Instituut Psychologie, Sociale en Organisatiepsychologie Leiden University Leiden, The Netherlands
Page 17 of 18
Healthy Physical Activity and Eating: Environmental Supports for Health

Barbara B. Brown and Carol M. Werner
2012

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0025

This chapter addresses how objectively rated macro- and micro-level features of the physical environment and
residents perceptions of the environment support healthy physical activity and eating; these choices in turn relate
to environmental health. Environmental qualities such as density, diversity of destinations, and pedestrian-friendly
design relate to walking and other activities at both macro- and micro-levels. Perceived walkability sometimes
relates to objectively assessed measures but often predicts activity independently as well. Macro environmental
factors, such as agricultural practices and food store locations, have important relationships to food availability.
Microlevel cues, such as the size of food containers, affect food consumption, often without awareness. Both
multiple levels of support and multiple benefits are keys to enabling the macro, micro, and perceptual environments
to work in concert to support health. Understanding such systems requires multidisciplinary teams and diverse
methodologies. Research is needed at key turning points in life, such as relocation, to make healthier choices easy
ones.
Keywords: walkability, physical environment, pedestrian-friendly environment, food environment, health, eating, physical activity, walking
Introduction
Consider a common US rite of passage. A family lives in town in a small duplex with one bathroom, limited kitchen
storage, a one-car garage, and a tiny backyard. The parents save for the American dream of a larger, freestanding
house in the suburbs. Federal tax incentives enable a new home purchase on the suburban fringe, where land is
cheaper, making larger homes more affordable. The children have their own bedrooms and bathrooms, the kitchen
has plenty of storage space, and the backyard is big enough for play and parties. What is less salient in this
American dream scenario is that the residential choice sets off a cascade of other choices outside of the familys
awareness. They will need to purchase private cars for all driving-age family members who need to leave the
neighborhood. Work commutes are time-consuming and stressful, perhaps causing late-arriving parents to give up
their traditional after-work dog walk. The children, who used to walk to the park to meet friends, now have no park
and enlist parents to drive them to more distant planned events, such as soccer games. Parental chauffeur duties
often preclude home-cooked dinner in favor of the quick take-out options from the drive-through fast food
restaurant. Frequent trips to small local grocers give way to infrequent trips to the more distant mega-grocer. The
family buys a larger car for bulk-buy shopping trips and carpooling children to distant events. They buy groceries
for longer shelf life and can store larger amountsthe two-pack refined-flour bread with preservatives, not the
single whole-grain loaf they formerly picked up on the walk home from the transit stop. Over (p. 460) the years,
the family gradually gains weight and gets insufficient physical activity. This fictional family has adopted habits
typical of those in millions of families in the United States and elsewhere. Their subtle alterations in the pattern of
family living carry implications for overall health for the family, society, and the planet.
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A growing multidisciplinary research field is now focused on the potential health threats associated with many
activities that have been considered markers of the good life in US society, such as moving to new suburban
neighborhoods, buying a car for each family member, and having abundant food choices. Historical and ongoing
trends document the increasing prevalence of more sedentary lifestyles and more abundant but unhealthy food
options. The associated problems of obesity and physical inactivity pose threats to people and the planet.
Research also suggests that, like New Years resolutions, typical individually focused efforts to reverse obesity and
inactivity are largely ineffective. But hope is not lost. Researchers from multiple disciplines now scrutinize how
seemingly simple behaviors, such as eating and walking, are in fact complex events involving psychological,
social, policy, and physical environmental aspects. Researchers, policymakers, and design professionals ask how
we might reconfigure settings to support healthier activity and eating choices. We review how both macro- and
micro-scale physical environments and the perceptions of environments relate to walking and eating.
Problems of Obesity and Insufficient Physical Activity

Currently most US adults are insufficiently active and overweight or obese. The 2008 Centers for Disease Control
and Prevention (CDC) physical activity goals require 150 minutes of moderate or 75 minutes of vigorous
physical activity a week (or an equivalent mix) accrued from bouts of 10 minutes. Although 51% of adults in a
recent National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey said they met these CDC guidelines for physical activity,
only 5% actually achieved these levels when they wore accelerometers that provide objective measures of
physical activity duration and intensity (Troiano et al., 2008). Researchers disagree on the exact amounts of
physical activity needed to prevent or reverse obesity (Hill, Wyatt, Reed, & Peters, 2003; Katan & Ludwig, 2010;
Saris et al., 2003), but there is agreement that low physical activity is often related to obesity risk (Haskell et al.,
2007) and has clear dose-response relationships to a variety of other health problems (Haskell, Blair, & Hill, 2009).
Obesity rates are also growing in the United States. National surveys in 1990 showed that in most states, 1014%
of adults were obese. In contrast, less than 20 years later in 2008, 2030% of adults were obese in all but one
state (Colorado had 1519% obesity; Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2008). Obesity is defined as
30 body mass index (BMI), where BMI is defined as weight in kilograms divided by height in meters squared;
overweight is defined as a BMI 25 and <30. Among US adults, 33.8% are obese and 34.2% are overweight
(Flegal, Carroll, Ogden, & Curtin, 2010). As another example, in 1960 the average man was 58, 166 lbs, and 25.1
BMI; by 2000, the average man was 59, 191 lbs, and almost 28 BMI. Women went from 53, 140 lbs, and 24.9 BMI
to 54, 164 lbs, and just over 28 BMI (Ogden, Fryar, Carroll, & Flegal, 2004). As obesity rates grow, so do
associated health risks for cardiovascular disease, type 2 diabetes, and some cancers (Manson & Bassuk, 2003).
We often combat overweight through individually focused diet and exercise programs, which are largely ineffective
and unresponsive to the society-wide scale of the challenge of obesity. A recent meta-analysis of weight loss
clinical trials shows that even the highly motivated individuals who enroll in these trials sustain losses of only 34
kg (6.68.8 lbs) after two years (Catenacci, Hill, & Wyatt, 2009). Any reduction in overweight is good, but this
amount would not reverse the obesity epidemic; for example, an obese 54 woman is at least 34 lbs overweight
and the obese 59 man is at least 41 pounds overweight. Furthermore, the authors noted that sustained weight
loss often required continuing professional support, such as individual counseling, which is both financially
prohibitive and unlikely to be available to most of society. The rapid rise of obesity means that genetic factors
could not have evolved quickly enough to account for the sudden change; likewise, rapid society-wide personality
changes, such as sudden increases in impulsiveness or low willpower, have not been documented. If diet and
exercise regimes have limited effectiveness and neither genes nor individual psychology alone can account for
recent trends, then new approaches and assessments of causes are needed. Comparing current lifestyles in the
United States with lifestyles a half century ago offers useful insights into obesity trends.
(p. 461) Historical Decreases in Physical Activity
An analysis of national trends over time by Brownson and colleagues reveals how our lifestyles have gradually
become more sedentary (Brownson, Boehmer, & Luke, 2005). They noted that suburban living rose in popularity,
from about 22% to about 50% of the population from 1950 to 2000. Suburban neighborhoods often require cars for
individuals to get to necessities such as jobs and stores. As of 2001, US households had more vehicles than
drivers, with only 9.4% of households car-free. From 1950 to 2000, according to state data reported to the Federal
Highway Administration, the daily vehicle miles traveled per person increased by 0.4 miles per year from about 8 to
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27 miles per day. According to a second source, the National Household Transportation Survey, US adults spent
about 55 minutes a day sitting in a vehicle, which precludes healthier activity during that time and pollutes the air.
During this same period, we invented even more reasons to sit. Between 1950 and 2000, sedentary occupations
increased from 23.3%to about 42.0%, while physically active occupations decreased from 30% to 22.6%;
television ownership went from 10% to 98% of households, and household viewing times increased from under 5 to
over 7.5 hours per day for those with sets, which entails more sedentary behavior and more household energy
use.
Consistent with these findings, modern communities that have avoided these lifestyle changes maintain higher
levels of activity. One study of Old Order Amish adults, who are living the equivalent of a rural agricultural lifestyle
from the late 1800s, found they walk on average 18,425 steps per day for men and 14,196 for women and have
low rates (0% for men, 9% for women) of obesity (Bassett, Schneider, & Huntington, 2004). Estimates from other
studies suggest 5,9006,800 steps per day are about average for adults with more modern lifestyles (Tudor-Locke,
Johnson, & Katzmarzyk, 2009). Thus, trends toward obesity are consistent with lifestyles of greater sedentariness.
New Focus: Developing Multiple Supports to Encourage Healthy Weight and Physical Activity
Given the above evidence of the limited effectiveness of diet and exercise programs and increasing sedentariness,
it may be easier to avoid weight and sedentariness problems with two interrelated approaches: healthier behaviors
supported by healthier contexts. First, healthier everyday physical activity and eating behaviors might prevent
overweight and obesity. Calculations suggest that expending or avoiding about 100 calories or per day
achievable by walking 2,000 more steps per day or drinking 8 fewer ounces of sweetened soda a daywould
prevent 90% of US adults from gaining the typical 12 pounds per year that, over time, can result in obesity
(Catenacci et al., 2009). Walking is a particularly healthy way to achieve this goal, given that a recent review
relates walking to lower risk of heart disease and stroke (Boone-Heinonen, Evenson, Taber, & Gordon-Larsen,
2009); even another hour of weekly walking relates to reduced cardiovascular disease risk (Oguma & ShinodaTagawa, 2004). Fewer studies link walking to obesity, but some studies show more walking is associated with
healthier BMI both cross-sectionally (Dunton et al., 2009) and over 15 years (Gordon-Larsen et al., 2009). Thus,
emphasizing prevention through fundamental but simple changes in daily life may be more effective in the long run
than individually focused weight loss programs, although research on this new prevention approach is sparse.
Second, healthier physical activity and eating choices can be encouraged with multiple physical, social, and policy
supports at varied levels of scale. This shifts the search for causes of obesity and inactivity from an exclusive
focus on individual biological or psychological causes to broader patterns of support that can be embedded in
society, settings, and daily lives. At both micro- and macro-levels of environments, multiple influencesmany out
of awarenesshave converged to create obesogenic environments (Swinburn, Egger, & Raza, 1999;
Townshend & Lake, 2009). Researchers from environmental psychology, planning, health, and other fields can
work with policy makers and program directors to consider how to reconfigure environments to make healthier
choices easier and more natural.
Conceptual Overview of Transactional and Ecological Approaches

Research on obesogenic environments is often guided by an ecological (Centers for Disease Control and
Prevention, 2009; Huang, Drewnowski, Kumanyika, & Glass, 2009; Kumanyika et al., 2008; Sallis et al., 2006) or
transactional model (Werner, Brown, & Altman, 2002). Both approaches assume that any target behaviors, such as
healthy eating or (p. 462) activity, are complex events embedded within an individuals milieu, which is
composed of physical, sociocultural, policy, and temporal aspects. A central assumption is that people and setting
are inseparable and mutually defining. This multifaceted idea means that people interpret, choose, conform to, and
create settings. For example, people often bypass stairwells in favor of elevators. But when a stairwell in the CDC
headquarters was improved with paint, artwork, music, and signs encouraging stair use, building users increased
their rate of using stairs, up to about 9% for some of the interventions (Kerr, Yore, Ham, & Dietz, 2004). Thus,
societies can choose to transform former inactive settings to those seen as offering pleasant possibilities for short
physical activity bouts throughout the day. Such stairwell renovations are now becoming popular and while adding
to health decrease the energy load on buildings. Similarly, food sharing is often important, as people dine together,
toast good times, and in other ways make food consumption integral to meaningful social and environmental
events. The transactional view acknowledges the complexity of human-setting relations. It suggests that healthier
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choices are more likely to be adopted and sustained if supported by these multiple aspects of an individuals
holistic milieu.
The transactional model further assumes that aspects of daily life change over time in response to changing
individual desires and societal possibilities. Changing the milieu often creates a cascade of unintended
consequences, some positive and some negative, such as the gradual weight and inactivity creep experienced by
the family described at the beginning of the chapter. Think about the changing milieu over the past years that
normalized what would have been strange behaviors in other decades: consuming16-ounce soft drinks, spending
hours watching a screen, or choosing to spend time typing with ones thumbs onto electronic tablets of various
sizes. Ecological and transactional models lead us to scrutinize the complex web of changes that have
transformed modern lifestylesfrom farm subsidies that support cheap sugared drinks, to bulk shopping stores that
save money, to larger homes that offer more food storage and passive entertainment options, to street standards
that favor cars over pedestrians, to technological inventionsso that overconsumption and inactivity are the norm,
despite their now apparent and undesired consequences.
This chapter focuses on three aspects of settings intrinsic to healthy behaviors: macro physical environments,
micro physical environments, and psycho-social processes that connect us to environments. We focus on studies
of US adults; other reviews pertain more to children (Davison & Lawson, 2006). Although we focus on physical and
social environments, we acknowledge more succinctly the political and economic influences that bring about these
physical environments. We also avoid extensive treatment of topics included elsewhere in this volume.
Ecological and transactional models start with the assumptions that people and settings are mutually defining and
inseparable. Thus, behavior is always embedded within the physical environment and environments are
intrinsically tied to behavior. Macrophysical environmentssuch as street forms and the array of walking
destinations offeredstructure opportunities for eating and physical activity. For example, the presence of mass
transit stops supports walking but many cities will not provide transit stops unless housing or business density
reaches a certain critical mass over a sufficiently large area. Microphysical environments, such as ones kitchen
cupboard or the path to the transit stop, also structure opportunities but are more dynamic, such as the changing
amount of litter or flowers on the block, and are experienced directly by a person on foot, instead of summarizing
large areas, such as census tracts. The two levels may work in concert, as when a microlevel feature of a nice
bench at the transit stop encourages residents to use the macrolevel feature of the transit system. Or they may
work against each other, as when a busy street crossing near the transit stop discourages use of the transit
system opportunity. Psycho-social processes can also work with or against the physical context. Residents do not
use transit stops if they are unaware of them or frightened by them and research shows that people vary in what
they notice and how they interpret environments. Residents who identify as urbanites, for example, may not be
bothered by graffiti at the stop, but other residents may react more strongly to such incivilities and avoid the area
(Fellonneau, 2004).
Transactional models remind researchers to think of behavioral phenomena holistically and to realize that target
behaviors, such as walking or eating, are often achieved within the context of multiple settings and goals. Anontransactional, individualistic approach might encourage healthier physical activity by motivating the individual to
engage in vigorous physical activity at the gym, something few individuals achieve (Troiano et al., 2008). Amore
(p. 463) holistic approach might not start with individual motivation but would instead create a milieu that
supported physical activity. Decreasing parking spaces or enhancing bus service may encourage greater walking
even among individuals who are not motivated to walkbecause walking is an integral part of transit use.
Walking becomes simply one part of everyday activities rather than exercise, which is a separate and timeconsuming obligation. Walking opportunities can be designed ubiquitously into the community fabric; walking is
easy, affordable, and popular (Siegel, Brackbill, & Heath, 1995; Simpson et al., 2003), and brisk walking constitutes
healthy moderate-intensity activity (Ainsworth, 2002). Thus, brisk walking is a good target for holistic approaches
that can benefit health and the environment when walking substitutes for driving.
Environmental Supports for Physical Activity: Macro, Micro, and Perceptual Levels
Environment and Behavior: Selection or Causation
Prior to summarizing research results, it is important to discuss the methodological challenges in this area of
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research. Micro-scale environments can demonstrate causality because they are easy to manipulate and
randomly assignas many clever studies of dinnerware size manipulations attest (Wansink, 2006). But for
macrolevel environments, residents cannot be assigned at random to homes and neighborhoods to detect
directions of effect. Ecological and transactional models also emphasize dynamic processes and mutual influence,
making traditional causal inference challenging. People who enjoy walking may move into walkable neighborhoods,
and the processes of walking and enjoying the neighborhood may encourage them to walk even more. A variety of
statistical techniques assist in ruling out some alternative explanations in correlational models, such as controls for
self-reported selection factors, instrumental variable analyses, and propensity score analyses (Cao, Mokhtarian, &
Handy, 2009; Mokhtarian & Cao, 2008). These studies typically find that environments influence travel and walking
even after controlling for selection. In fact, a recent meta-analysis shows that statistical controls for selection
strengthened those relationships (Ewing & Cervero, 2010), supporting the environment as an influence on physical
activity, though not completely eliminating third variables as threats to internal validity. Unless described otherwise,
most relationships summarized in this chapter are correlational; even if statistical controls for selection are
adopted, there is always the possibility that other factorsnot the physical environmentcaused the observed
behavior.
Macro-Environmental Supports for Physical Activity and Healthy Weight

Macrolevel environmental measures of features such as street forms or land uses are often related to walking or
weight. These analyses, common in disciplines of geography, planning, and public health, involve relating
environmental data from geographic information systems (GIS) to evidence on activity or weight. The geographic
scales of macrolevel tests vary widely. For example, one study related lower BMI to greater land use diversity
within a 1km circle around home (Frank, Andresen, & Schmid, 2004), while another related lower BMI to higher
population density across entire states (Vandegrift & Yoked, 2004). Macrolevel measures are often collected for
purposes unrelated to walking or eating, such as tracking tax payments or counting individuals. Thus, they are
imperfectly related to walkability but have proven useful indicators nonetheless and can be amassed across large
areas.
The focus of many studies is on the 3Ds of macro walkabilitydensity, diversity, and pedestrian-friendly design
(Cervero & Kockelman, 1997; Transportation Research Board, 2005), and much research demonstrates that
walking is more likely in communities designed with these macrolevel supports. High densities and diverse land
uses together bring residents within walking distance of many desirable destinations. In the past it would have been
counterintuitive to posit that having more roads and intersections around your house would create a more
pedestrian-friendly environment. But more road intersectionsintersection densitymakes walks relatively short,
direct, and convenient. More recently researchers have expanded the 3Ds to 5Ds, refining land use diversity
measures to include specific destinations, such as schools or post offices, and including distance to transit, a
destination that especially attracts pedestrian trips (Cervero et al., 2009). This area of research is large and
growing, with one study counting 13 past reviews as well as two reviews of reviews (Ewing & Cervero, 2010).
Our summary of the 5Ds focuses on the Ewing and Cervero (2010) review of relationships among environment,
walking, and transit use because it employs a sophisticated meta-analysis of effect sizes and includes many recent
studies. Findings were (p. 464) included in their meta-analysis only when three or more studies existed using the
same variables; effects were weighted by sample size. Results were reported as elasticities, the ratio of the
percentage change in walkability associated with the percentage change in walking. Thus, elasticities indicate how
much change in a target outcome, such as walking, go with 1% changes in the physical environment. When
restricted to outcomes dealing with walking or transit use, 10 walkability factors were found in 35 separate results,
15 of which controlled for residential selection to increase confidence in environmental influences. The 10
objectively measured macrolevel walkability factors include: 3 density variables (population densities, job
densities, and floor area ratio [FAR]density measures; a FAR of .25 would be a single-story house that takes up
of the land lot while a FAR of 4 might represent a multistory building where the building square footage is four times
the lot size, indicating denser development), 3 diversity variables (land use mix, jobs/housing balance, and
distance from home to stores); 2 design variables (intersection density and percentage of 4-way intersections), 1
destination access variable (jobs within 1 mile), and 1 distance-to-transit variable (distance to nearest transit stop).
Specifically, walking was most strongly related to pedestrian friendliness as indexed by intersection density, where
a 1% increase in intersection density relates to a 0.39% increase in likelihood or rate of walking. An alternative
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pedestrian-friendly street-design measurethe percentage of 4-way intersectionswas weak and opposite the
expected direction (-0.06). They suggest that many 4-way streets may not enhance walkability if the blocks are too
long and that intersection density might provide a better measure of the type of fine-grained street network with
short blocks that pedestrians prefer. Other variables, where effects were 0.15 or greater, included diversity
measures such as proximity to stores (0.25), jobs/housing balance (0.19), and mixed use (0.15). They also
included distances to specific destinations, such as jobs within one mile (0.15), and proximity to nearest transit stop
(0.15). Density variables were not especially powerful (elasticities .07). In general, the results suggest that
walking is encouraged by a fine-grained street network that links desirable destinations such as jobs, homes,
transit stops, and stores.
Similar results emerge from other reviews, despite diverse purposes, samples, measures, and analytic strategies
across reviews. As an example, it is worth comparing the Ewing and Cervero (2010) meta-analysis to a similar
review of the built environment and walking by Saelens and Handy (2008). The latter review synthesized 13 prior
reviews from 2002 to 2006 and summarized newer studies published from 2005 to 2006. It used different selection
criteria than the meta-analysis, such as including participants perceptions of the environment, whereas the metaanalysis was limited to objectively measured environmental features (Saelens & Handy, 2008). Of 170 results for
walking and the built environment summarized by Ewing and Cervero (2010), only 3 were included in the Saelens
and Handy (2008) review. Comparing the two illustrates both how fast-changing the field is, and how reviews
involve different selection criteria.
Despite covering different studies, Saelens and Handys integration largely supported the macro-environmental
features that the Ewing and Cervero meta-analysis identified. Their summary of 13 prior review articles noted that
past reviews often identified 8 types of walkability features, including good environmental aesthetics (n = 6 reviews
identified this walkability feature), proximity to destinations (n= 5), sidewalks (n = 4), safety (n = 4), walkable
neighborhood type or age (n = 3), mixed land use (n = 3), density (n = 3), and street connectivity (n = 3). Thus,
their broad summary measures were fairly similar to the Ewing and Cervero meta-analysis results, except that they
supported density as a correlate of walking while the meta-analysis did not.
The Saelens and Handy review also asserted two important conclusions beyond what the above meta-analysis
discovered. First, micro-environmental features of good environmental aesthetics and safety were related to
walking, but had not been included in the Ewing and Cervero meta-analysis. These features are often not available
in macrolevel databases but can be collected by trained raters assessments of environmental attractiveness,
trees, interesting streetscapes, and the like.
Second, their review of new studies revealed that the environment relates differently to walking for transportation
versus leisure purposes. Walking for transportation related to density, distance to destinations, and land use mix,
with pedestrian-friendly street connectivity having mixed support. For leisure walking, consistent relationships
emerged only for pedestrian-friendly features of sidewalks and other pedestrian infrastructure and good aesthetics.
This suggests we walk to get to places when the destinations are nearby, which is what is achieved by density,
land use diversity, and proximity to destinations, even if routes are not direct and convenient. (p. 465) We walk
for leisure where there are sidewalks and good views that encourage safe access and enjoyment. Both types of
walks are especially popular in ones neighborhood (Giles-Corti et al., 2008; Mathews et al., 2009), suggesting that
neighborhood design is a key to supporting more walking.
The implication of the above reviews is that it is useful to examine both macro-and micro-environmental measures
of walkability, such as aesthetics, which are not readily available in existing databases. Similarly, psycho-social
measures, such as the goal of the walk or the social contacts facilitated by the walk, deserve greater research
attention. Finally, some evidence suggests that people often live in neighborhoods that are less walkable than
desired (Levine & Frank, 2007); enhancing public awareness of walking supports may enable people to demand
better neighborhoods and make better choices for both personal and environmental health. We review both microenvironmental walkability features and their perceptions in the next sections.
Micro-Environmental Supports for Physical Activity and Healthy Weight

Audits provide rich coverage of the broad concept of activity-friendly or pedestrian-friendly design. Audits allow
detailed measures of a wider range of design features, such as distinctive awnings, benches, security bars on
Page 6 of 31

windows, interesting store fronts, and the like. Audit measures are gathered by trained raters and are intended to
assess features of the physical environment that one would encounter directly and that might affect ones choice
to engage in physical activity in that particular place. Thus they measure details of the environment that might
figure into choices to walk, bike, play basketball, or engage in other physical activities. In contrast, macrolevel
measures of pedestrian-friendly design are often limited to intersection density or street connectivity, two
measures that gauge directness and convenience of walking routes.
Microlevel features have been found to be distinct from macrolevel features in several ways. First, macrolevel
assessments can mask substantial internal variation in microlevel walkability. In the same census tract, for
example, we found pathways that were both high and low in walkability according to microlevel measures (Brown,
Werner, Amburgey, & Szalay, 2007). In addition, microlevel features can contradict macrolevel indicators. For
example, in many traditional urban neighborhoods the bones of the neighborhood may be good for walkability:
small blocks provide convenient walks from many residences to assorted daily destinations, providing the 3Ds of
design, density, and diversity. However, any walk in those areas can provide a less walkable experience because
of microlevel conditions, such as lack of repair, graffiti, and evidence of crime and traffic problems (Zhu & Lee,
2008). On the other hand, microlevel features provide opportunities for improving the feel of an area. Many realworld interventions to improve environments have to be done at a small scale due to budget or jurisdictional
boundaries; microlevel audits can provide useful information for low-cost and less disruptive intervention targets
compared to macrolevel reconstructions.
Environmental audits, which had been used for years to assess crime-prone settings (Brown & Altman, 1983;
Raudenbush & Sampson, 1999; Taylor, 2001), are fairly new for measuring physical activity potential. The field has
not answered questions about which measures best relate to physical activity or how extensively to audit the
environment. One particularly challenging issue is how to aggregate data based on blocks or other microgeographic units to characterize walkability over a neighborhood or district. To date, walkability measures are
typically available either for macro-units, such as census tracts, or for micro-units, such as a street segment
between two intersections. People walk on routes that do not conform to macro- or micro-boundaries but average
about 0.62 miles (Agrawal, Schlossberg, & Irvin, 2008). A macro-area, such as a census tract, encompasses many
routes, which may offer both good and poor walkability sections. A micro-area, such as a street segment, is too
short to encompass many natural walking trips. Thus researchers need tools to characterize multi-block pedestrian
routes for these distances, and neither macro- nor microlevels of analysis capture these individual trips. As
research technology improves, with GIS systems and GPS units, micro-measures may be aggregated to these
natural walking routes, but until then researchers face the dilemma of defining the best level of geographic
aggregation in each study.
There are many instruments for measuring microlevel features that might support physical activity. Typically data
are collected for face blocksboth sides of a street between intersectionsor similar geographic units, such as
parks (Boarnet et al., 2006; Ewing et al., 2006; Moudon & Lee, 2003; Pikora et al., 2002). A recent review notes
that 20 different instruments have been developed, containing from 5 to 712 items (Brownson et al., 2009). (p.
466) Some have been developed by expert opinion, such as the Irvine Minnesota Inventory (IMI; Boarnet et al.,
2006), which measures accessibility, traffic, crime, and pleasurability. Others were developed to operationalize
urban design concepts such as imageability, enclosure, human scale, transparency, and complexity (Ewing &
Handy, 2009). Researchers can choose to use the entire instrument, which can add to comparability across sites,
or they can choose to select items, which can allow focused and efficient assessments (see a longer discussion in
Werner, Brown, & Gallimore, 2010). Researchers can add items to capture unique but important features at each
site, such as ratings for perceived disreputability of people seen on a downtown walk, which predicted pedestrian
unfriendliness ratings in one study (Brown et al., 2007).
The IMI is the most comprehensive audit measure for neighborhoods, and has evidence of reliability and validity
(Boarnet et al., 2006; Brown et al., 2007); we therefore review research according to its conceptualization of
walkability. The scale has been validated in two ways. First, when naive students were taken on downtown walks,
their spontaneous verbal descriptions of what they liked and disliked on the walk corresponded to objective ratings
from the IMI for both high- and low-walkability areas (Brown et al., 2007). Second, studies in Minneapolis and St.
Paul showed that some IMI qualities were related to walking or to physical activity, with activity measured by both
self-report and objective accelerometer counts (Boarnet, Forsyth, Day, & Oakes, in press).
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Our review of research relating microlevel environmental features to physical activity follows the framework
proposed for the IMI, which includes four major categories of walkability: accessibility, crime safety, traffic safety,
and pleasurability. To these we have added the quality of the social environment. We first consider research with
objective measures of these characteristics and then research that uses participants perceptions of these
features.
Accessibility Features
This measure in the IMI includes features that contribute to ease of pedestrian access to destinations, such as the
presence and completeness of sidewalks or bike paths (Day, Boarnet, Alfonzo, & Forsyth, 2006). Accessibility also
includes density, measured by density of residential units on the block, and diversity, the number of distinct
destinations possible on the block, such as a school or post office. Accessibility likely requires a complex blend of
features along routes, including well-used origins and destinations, which are often provided by density and
diversity, and good and convenient pathways between the two, which are supported by street connectivity and
pedestrian infrastructure. For example, an apartment complex (density) across a busy arterial from a shopping
center (diversity) provides poor pedestrian accessibility despite high density and diversity. Currently, research has
not tested for the presence of such threshold effects for required combinations of walkability features, although
they are recognized anecdotally as important (Calthorpe, 1993).
Accessibility has been related to reported walking or active travel for a range of specific features. For example,
provision of pedestrian infrastructure such as sidewalks relates to physical activity (Kitamura, Mokhtarian, & Laidet,
1997; Lin & Moudon, 2010; Shay et al., 2009). Similarly, countries with environments that provide more bike paths
and cycling infrastructure have 4 to 29 times the cycling trips as the United States (Pucher & Dijkstra, 2003).
Walking or physical activity also relates to various measures of density (Besser & Dannenberg, 2005; Gauvin et
al., 2005) and land use diversity (Badland & Schofield, 2006; Plaut, 2005) or destinations (Badland & Schofield,
2006; Lin & Moudon, 2010), such as parks (Kaczynski & Henderson, 2007). Diversity and density on ones block
was related to whether a resident would walk to a new light rail stop in the neighborhood (Werner et al., 2010).
Similarly, proximity to bus stops also relates to more walking (Targa & Clifton, 2005).
However, when examining correlations between accelerometer-measured physical activity and accessibility
features, results are mixed. Good sidewalk conditions (present, wide, and well-connected) and crossing aids (stop
signs and lights, pedestrian signs and islands) were associated with more accelerometer-measured steps per day
in Montgomery County, Maryland (Shay et al., 2009). However, Boarnet et al. (in press) found a number of mixed or
counterintuitive relationships in Minneapolis, Minnesota. For example, features that should be related to higher
levels of accessibility and physical activity (colored painted crosswalk lines, pedestrian-activated crosswalk
signals, and bike paths near residents homes) were actually related to lower intensity physical activity as
measured by accelerometry. Similarly, trained observers counted more people walking in areas that had sidewalk
defects (Suminski et al., 2008). Such contradictory results suggest it will be useful to complement accelerometer
measures of (p. 467) activity with GPS measures of where the activity takes place to allow closer examination of
environmental features.
In terms of micro-accessibility features that encourage activity, one particular way in which density supports
activity is that it often includes multistory buildings with stairs. Stairs can offer another opportunity for everyday
physical activity. Consistent with this idea, European evidence shows that men (but not women) living above the
third floor have 0.88 lower BMIs than men living on the first floor (Shenassa, Frye, Braubach, & Daskalakis, 2008).
Lab evidence shows that even short two-minute bouts of stair climbing done regularly will improve cardiovascular
health (Boreham et al., 2005). Results such as these have prompted many health campaigns to encourage stair
use over elevator/escalator use; although benefits are small, combining these with other daily small increases in
physical activity may yield healthy results (Dolan et al., 2006). According to a systematic CDC review, evidence
supports the official recommendation to increase physical activity by providing more everyday physical activity
opportunities (Kahn et al., 2002).
Crime Safety Features

Recent reviews demonstrate that fear of crime is triggered by both environmental incivilities, such as vacant lots
and litter, and social incivilities, such as disreputable-looking individuals (Loukaitou-Sideris, 2006; Loukaitou-
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Sideris, Liggett, & Iseki, 2002). Incivilities relate to a range of health problems, such as cardiovascular disease,
homicides, and premature mortality (Cohen, Farley, & Mason, 2003). Fear of engaging in outdoor physical activity
might provide a causal mechanism connecting environments to health. Similarly, a long history of research on
residential territoriality and defensible space provides evidence that indicators of decay may work in many ways to
impede healthy neighborhood functioning (Newman, 1972). They may indicate that residents, neighbors, and/or
visitors to the neighborhood do not care about its upkeep; that city officials are neglecting basic infrastructure and
maintenance support; and that criminals see the neighborhood as vulnerable to crime without repercussions from
residents. Any of these dynamics might make residents less likely to spend time outside or walk in the
neighborhood, which should reduce actual and/or perceived safety by reducing natural surveillance by residents
who might care to prevent crime.
Studies in support of the idea that incivilities relate to less walking include a study where a multifaceted crime
safety measure (including maintenance/upkeep, lights, and porches) related to walking to work (Craig, Brownson,
Cragg, & Dunn, 2002b). Similarly, residents with more IMI-rated crime safety features on their block reported more
walking to a new light rail stop in the neighborhood (Werner et al., 2010). Other studies related the presence of
incivilitiesgraffiti, litter, and dog messto less physical activity and/or more overweight/obesity (Ellaway,
Macintyre, & Bonnefoy, 2005; Stafford et al., 2007). One national study related crime rate to less walking and more
obesity at the county level, especially for women (Doyle, Kelly-Schwartz, Schlossberg, & Stockard, 2006). A World
Health Organization study of eight European cities found more litter near residents homes related to less sports or
exercise participation (Shenassa, Liebhaber, & Ezeamama, 2006). Thus, although older research has often
focused on relationships between incivilities and crime, newer research reveals that in civilities relationships with
physical activity are important as well.
A review of street lighting showed only 4 of 22 studies of perceived and/or objective street lighting related to
walking, which might reflect generally low rates of walking after dark (Foster & Giles-Corti, 2008). Furthermore,
when observing walking rates on sidewalks, more walking occurred in areas with more graffiti and litter, perhaps
suggesting that graffiti and litter are attracted by high levels of use in some areas and that these features do not
always prevent people from walking (Suminski et al., 2008). Exceptions to these findings exist and might be
explained in future research by distinguishing required from voluntary physical activity bouts. Required physical
activity, such as walking to parking lots from work, will likely occur regardless of the crime safety cues present.
Traffic Safety Features

These features, such as traffic volume or pedestrian safety infrastructure, including sidewalks and crosswalks,
should allow pedestrians actual and perceived safety from traffic. Indeed, self-reported walking trips related to the
presence of street crossing safety features, such as crosswalks (Shay et al., 2009), traffic calming measures, and
sidewalks (Lin & Moudon, 2010). Yet in other cases a combined measure of street safety was unrelated to reported
walking (Hoehner et al., 2005).
Few studies have relied on objective counts of traffic, although this should be a salient traffic safety feature. Areas
that provide especially valued walking (p. 468) routes and destinations may attract both pedestrian and car
traffic, so it is not surprising that in some studies more pedestrians are observed walking in areas with more traffic
(Suminski et al., 2008). Another study showed conflicting results across two communities, leading the authors to
suggest that both high automotive traffic volume and speed might be needed before walking is reduced (McGinn et
al., 2007). Their suggestion is consistent with a review that argues that people are exposed to fewer traffic crashes
in urban areas due to lower speeds as well as microlevel cues on the block, such as narrow streets and street
trees, which suggest to drivers the need to slow down (Ewing & Dumbaugh, 2009).
Although the United States has only recently tried interventions to create better traffic safety on the street, such as
designing in crosswalks or traffic humps in the street to lower traffic speeds, other countries have conducted
interventions that increase physical activity on streets. A Dutch city converted a street to a woonerf, or low-trafficspeed street enhanced by pedestrian amenities, such as circuitous routes for cars, low speed limits, and plantings,
benches, and play equipment for residents. Results showed that the number of residents seen out on the street
increased after the conversion (Eubank-Ahrens, 1987). Similarly traffic-calmed streets show increased pedestrian
uses (Morrison, Thomson, & Petticrew, 2004) and a review of 16 studies where traffic calming features were added
to streets showed that they reduced the number of traffic injuries (Bunn et al., 2003); if residents are aware of
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enhanced safety, that knowledge may also motivate them to use the streets more.
Finally, although this chapter focuses on adults, much research focuses on traffic safety as a special concern for
children and their parents (Napier, Brown, Werner, & Gallimore, 2011) and for older individuals (Cunningham &
Michael, 2004), who may have sensory or walking-speed limitations that make them more vulnerable to crashes
and injuries in traffic. Indeed, one longitudinal study revealed that children who are exposed to more traffic within
150 meters of home from ages 9 to 10 had higher BMIs at age 18 (Jerrett et al., 2010). These concerns have led to
programs including Safe Routes to Schools interventions (Boarnet et al., 2005) and livability standards for
communities tailored to seniors (Pollack, 1999).
Pleasurability Features
Pleasurability features include greenery, nice views, interesting storefronts, and the like, which are implicitly linked
to enjoyable human experience of places. Currently a lot of attention is paid to the health and psychological
benefits of exposure to nature (see Wells, this volume), so views of trees, green spaces, and natural vistas have
been proposed to support walking. One European study has shown that those with more greenery in their
neighborhoods are three times as likely to be physically active and 40% less likely to be overweight or obese
(Ellaway et al., 2005); an Australian study shows that visually interesting features including beaches relate to more
physical activity (Humpel et al., 2004). Other studies show more complex results. In the United States, more
neighborhood greenery did not relate to more physical activity, but did relate to lower BMI when greenery was
present and neighborhood destinations were accessible (Tilt, Unfried, & Roca, 2007).
Other studies focus on a broad range of aesthetic features. When shown a variety of street images for choosing
walking routes, streets with people, awnings, and plantings are related to stated preferences for walking along
those routes (Zacharias, 2001). Lab studies of individuals running on treadmills showed better moods and healthier
blood pressures when viewing pleasant scenes rather than unpleasant scenes (Pretty, Peacock, Sellens, & Griffin,
2005).
Field studies, however, often show that walking or physical activity is relatively unrelated to the aesthetics of the
near home environment, including studies in Minneapolis, Minnesota (Boarnet et al., in press; Dolan et al., 2006),
and Perth, Australia (Giles-Corti & Donovan, 2002a). The Perth finding is difficult to interpret, however, because it
does not involve a pure measure of aesthetics. The composite measure combined tree coverage, a traditional
measure of aesthetics, with street form, a measure of accessibility. The Perth study considered cul-de-sacs to
provide better aesthetics, although more recent research has suggested that low-traffic and poorly connected
streets such as cul-de-sacs actually relate to less walking (Ewing & Cervero, 2010). Future studies should examine
conditions where good aesthetics do not reduce accessibility.
The distinction between walking for leisure or transportation, which differentially relates to the environmental
walkability features discussed by Saelens and Handy, may help explain the mixed results for walking and
aesthetics. For example, aesthetics have been found to be unrelated to both walking to work (Craig, Brownson,
Cragg, & Dunn, 2002a) and transportation walking (Hoehner et al., 2005). (p. 469) Another study also found that
more walking was observed in areas with more automotive traffic, sidewalk defects, graffiti, and litter and less
desirable property aesthetics (Suminski et al., 2008). However, aesthetics have been found to relate to recreational
walking (Hoehner et al., 2005). These conflicting results suggest that people may choose attractive areas when
walking for pleasure but that attractiveness features, just like crime cues reviewed earlier, are not so important
when people need to get to a particular destination.
Social Environmental Indicators

Although Jane Jacobs (1961) long ago claimed that having eyes on the street by shopkeepers or pedestrians
supported urban vitality and safety, the presence of others often has complex relationships with walking. For
example, when taking a guided walk downtown where objective audits had indicated that disreputable-looking
people were present, college students rated the area as less walkable and reported less willingness to return to the
area on their own. In contrast, on a safer, more developed section of the walk, people watching was a favored
activity, especially watching children enjoy a fountain (Brown et al., 2007). In other studies, when more people are
counted walking in the neighborhood, self-reported transportation walking (Hoehner et al., 2005) and total physical
activity (Duncan, Spence, & Mummery, 2005) are higher; these results could reflect the presence of very desirable
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destinations, the effectiveness of social models for walking, or some combination of effects. Few observational
studies exist that link social environmental indicators to walking. However, the presence of social companions,
such as dogs, may relate to the social quality of walks. A review of dog walking shows that dog walkers were
observed to have more interactions than those without dogs on walks (Cutt, Giles-Corti, Knuiman, & Burke, 2007).
These microlevel indicators can be perceived in a variety of ways, as discussed below.
Perceived Environments
Humans perceive environments in ways that relate to their goals and biases, not by simply registering objective
features. Perceptions of accessibility, traffic safety, crime safety, and pleasurability may factor in to decisions to
walk. The Neighborhood Environment Walkability Scale (NEWS) has often been used to measure the perceptual
counterparts of the rated micro-environmental supports for walking. Generally, perceived walkability as assessed
by the NEWS relates to self-reported (Cerin, Saelens, Sallis, & Frank, 2006) and objective (Atkinson et al., 2005)
physical activity measures. Suggested subscales within the NEWS have not been confirmed through factor
analyses, but the individual items appear to measure perceptions related to walkability (Cerin et al., 2009). NEWS
perceptions are sometimes related to objectively rated physical environments (Leslie et al., 2005), although several
studies suggest that both perceived and objective measures add to our understanding and explain unique
variance (Kondo et al., 2009; for grocers, Lin & Moudon, 2010; McGinn et al., 2007).
Perceived Accessibility
Some research has found that perceived access to good walking conditions in the neighborhood converge with the
macro-environmental supports of density, diverse destinations, and pedestrian-friendly design to support activity
(Leslie et al., 2005). Consistent with physical evidence of accessibility, walking has related to the perceived access
to sidewalks (Giles-Corti & Donovan, 2002b) and perceived convenience of walking in the neighborhood (Ball,
Bauman, Leslie, & Owen, 2001). An 11-country study showed that perceived accessibility of sidewalks, transit
stops, shops, bike facilities, and low-cost recreational facilities was related to more physical activity (Sallis et al.,
2009).
Other research compares physical features with residents perceptions of these features and relates these to
physical activity. One study found good relationships between objective measures of diverse land uses, such as
parks, transit stops, and schools and perceptions of their existence within walking distance; these results were
stronger for more physically active individuals, suggesting that those active in the neighborhood were more
accurate in their perceptions of what was in the neighborhood (Adams et al., 2009). Another study showed that
adults living in objectively walkable neighborhoods, but who perceived them to be less walkable than did their
neighbors, were more overweight and walked less in the neighborhood (Gebel, Bauman, & Owen, 2009). Yet
another study found weak relationships between perceived and objective availability of physical activity places
near home, suggesting that both are important to include in future research (Ball et al., 2008).
Perceived Crime Safety

A literature review showed that people report they prefer to walk where they perceive they are (p. 470) safe from
crime (Humpel, Owen, & Leslie, 2002). In a study of multiple neighborhoods, a perceived lack of neighborhood
safety predicted inactivity, even though often there were attractive destinations nearby, such as parks and natural
areas (Giles-Corti & Donovan, 2002a). A similar finding emerged from survey data from five states in the United
States that showed relationships between physical inactivity and low perceived safety (Weinstein et al., 1999).
However, no relationship between activity and crime was found in a meta-analysis, which involved at least five
studies of three different safety perceptions (of crime, unattended dogs, or poor lighting; Duncan et al., 2005). Yet
another study did find less obesity among a national sample of young mothers who lived in neighborhoods that
they perceived to be safer from crime (Burdette, Wadden, & Whitaker, 2006).
Perceived Traffic Safety

Perceived traffic safety as a support to walking has been most thoroughly studied for childrens walks, where it is
often a significant predictor, especially if parent perceptions are assessed (Napier et al., 2011). However, even
among adult residents, a recent meta-analysis demonstrates a link between perceived traffic problems and lower
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physical activity (Duncan et al., 2005); this link had been found to be a modest one, with many null results, in an
earlier review (Humpel, Owen, & Leslie, 2002). Furthermore, when residents believe cars speed too much through
their neighborhoods, they are less likely to succeed at walking intervention programs, suggesting these
perceptions are barriers to walking (King et al., 2006).
With respect to perceived and rated environments among adults, sometimes perceptions of traffic have little
relationship to objective measures (Adams et al., 2009). One review notes that those who use active transportation
more in the neighborhood perceive more traffic; the authors suggested that active transportation users are more
familiar with traffic nuisances, but it may also be that more attractive destinations attract both more cars and more
active transportation users (Panter & Jones, 2010), a suggestion consistent with the pattern of results found for
objectively measured traffic as well.
Perceived Pleasurability
Perceived pleasantness or neighborhood aesthetics are related to more physical activity (Ball et al., 2001;
Brownson et al., 2001; Giles-Corti & Donovan, 2002b; King et al., 2006; McCormack et al., 2004) or more
transportation-related physical activity (Troped et al., 2003). Related research shows obesity is related to poor
aesthetics (Boehmer et al., 2007).
Features of pleasing aesthetics that are related to activity can include more complex scenery (Craig, Brownson,
Cragg, & Dunn, 2002). An Australian study found that higher income neighborhood residents walked more for
transportation than residents from lower income neighborhoods and this relationship was mediated by high-income
neighborhood residents perceiving better aesthetics and greenery (Cerin, Leslie, & Owen, 2009). In an
experimental study of guided walks in low- and high-walkability city areas, participants noted that features such as
trees and flowers felt inviting, which suggests that the environments are not just pretty but seen as appropriate
places to go and to see others enjoying the environment (Duvall, 2011).
Perceived Social Environment

Perceptions that ones social environment supports physical activity relates to more physical activity. Many forms
of support have been investigated, from belief that family or friends approve of physical activity to providing
support by actually engaging in physical activity together. A review found eight studies in which people engaged in
more exercise if they perceived support for walking from family or friends (Trost et al., 2002). Although support
does not universally relate to more physical activity (Nies & Kershaw, 2002), effective social support may work in
other cases by providing norms, a sense of obligation, or more pleasurable occasions. As in the objective
environmental supports for physical activity, some research has found it important to distinguish between leisure
and transportation physical activity. A study that did make this distinction found both friend and family supports
related to leisure, but not transportation-related, physical activity (Troped et al., 2003).
The relationships between perceptions of neighborhood social qualities and walking or weight are especially of
interest to researchers, given that much activity occurs in the neighborhood context. It could be that walking
exposes one to neighbors and that resulting neighborly contacts or sense of community might encourage more
regular walking. Alternatively, neighborly contacts during a walk could interfere with physical activity. Studies have
yielded mixed results in this area. For example, walkable neighborhoods were related to more (p. 471) interaction
with neighbors, but not a greater sense of community in one study (Brown & Cropper, 2001), but the opposite in
another (du Toit, Cerin, Leslie, & Owen, 2007). Another found that leisure walking but not transportation walking
related to sense of community with neighbors (Lund, 2002). In a study from Atlanta, Georgia, that controlled for a
wide range of other variables, both leisurely (but not brisk) walking and seeing ones neighbors when walking
related to higher sense of community (Wood, Frank, & Giles-Corti, 2010). A study of Australian women found more
leisure walks in the neighborhood for those who engaged in a broad range of social activities, but not for those who
simply knew more neighbors (Ball et al., 2010). Another study of older Australian women found greater sense of
neighborhood related to more physical activity for women (Young, Russell, & Powers, 2004). Thus, for this topic,
results differ widely by measures used, for both the measures of the social environment and measures of physical
activity. Even fewer studies relate perceived social environment of the neighborhood to BMI, but one study in Los
Angeles did show that collective efficacy, defined as a combination of social cohesion and informal social control,
related to more weight problems among adolescents (Cohen, Finch, Bower, & Sastry, 2006). No studies have linked
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neighborhood walks and neighborliness to environmental protection, but one can imagine that neighborhood walks
might entail less resource use than other ways to spend time and might expose walkers to neighborhood norms
regarding gardening and other environmental activities.
Summary
In sum, early research that related physical environment features with physical activity focused on the macrolevel,
with GIS and census evidence of high population density, high diversity, and walkable design being related to
leisure and transportation walking. This work has recently been complemented by a small but growing number of
studies with microlevel measures of these same qualities and by survey measures of perceptions of walkability.
Within each of these, we reviewed studies on accessibility (density, diverse destinations, and pedestrian-friendly
design), crime safety, traffic safety, and pleasurability (green spaces, architecture, decor). Despite great variety in
measures of the environment and measures of physical activity (sometimes health or obesity measures, sometimes
leisure walking, transportation walking or other physical activity), research generally supports the idea that
objectively assessed micro-environmental and perceived features of the environment are related to physical
activity. In every subcategory, there were studies that both supported and failed to support relationships between
environmental characteristics and physical activity. The strongest relationships tended to be between physical
activity and accessibility (possibly because infrastructure is essential for walking and biking), and between
physical activity and social relationships as well as with pleasurability. Relations between physical activity and
crime safety or traffic safety were obtained, though not so consistently, possibly because people learn how to
negotiate their sometimes unsafe walking routes. A distinction that may prove useful to retain is the one between
walking for pleasure and walking for instrumental purposes, such as shopping or transit use. In the next section we
examine the relationship between food environments and healthy eating.
Food Environments
Environmental and conservation psychologists often focus on food choices as embedded within the larger context
of concerns about ecology and nature, and tend not to address overeating. Studies have described how shoppers
at cooperative grocers are motivated by low prices and healthy food (Sommer, 1998), and home gardeners are
motivated more by time spent outdoors, observing nature, and relaxation than by the concern for healthy food
(Clayton, 2007). Other studies focus on how micro-setting qualities relate to food choices, such as how we select
restaurants from their facades (Cherulnik, 1991), how classical music increases our restaurant spending (North,
Shilcock, & Hargreaves, 2003), or how well-placed signs speed up fast-food line orders (Foster et al., 1988).
The study of how food environments might relate to healthy or unhealthy food choices is a relatively new and fastgrowing area of research. One review suggests there is less consistency for the food environmentto-obesity
relationship than for the physical activityto-obesity relationship (Black & Macinko, 2008). This may reflect a
variety of differences between the two fields. First, while physical activity can be objectively measured with
pedometers, there is no pedometer to measure food consumption, and self-reports are often unreliable (Long et al.,
2009). Second, although in the United States it is common to achieve physical activity in certain places, such as
neighborhoods, gyms, and playgrounds, there is not comparable academic understanding of the geography of
food consumption. Food is ubiquitous. It is (p. 472) eaten several times a day in an increasing number of settings
(Wansink & Sobal, 2007). Even public schools install vending machines that carry highly caloric food and gas
stations offer hot food. Finally, people engage in few unhealthy physical activities but exploit plenty of unhealthy
food choices. Under this combination of circumstances, it is difficult to track food-related settings, choices within
those settings, and consumption. Recent studies test novel measurement methods, such as cell phone
photographs of food consumed in field settings (Martin et al., 2008); future development of this research to track
both exposure to food opportunities and food consumption choices is needed. As with supports for walking, both
macro- and micro-aspects of food environments are important, as discussed below.
MacroFood Environments
In the United States, post-1950 practices drastically changed food availability and salience. Governmental
subsidies for farms concentrated production of a few crops, such as corn and soybeans, grown in large
monoculture fields, treated with petrochemicals, which may prove unsustainable. Government policies do not
support organic production of a variety of healthy foods, such as fruits and vegetables. Indeed, one calculation
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showed that even if every US resident wanted to eat according to healthy dietary guidelines, US farms do not
produce enough fruits and vegetables to supply them (Jackson et al., 2009). Advertising adds to the allure of
unhealthy foods. Brownson and colleagues noted that food advertisers spend $50 per person in the United States
compared to $1.50 per person spent by the Food and Drug Administration to advertise nutrition standards; children
in the United States are targeted by the $10 billion$12 billion a year spent on snack and drink advertisements on
childrens television (Brownson, Haire-Joshu, & Luke, 2006). Thus, at the macrolevel the United States offers
governmental incentives for an oversupply of heavily marketed food choices that contribute to obesity.
Societal lifestyle changes also contribute to less healthy diets. As women moved into the workforce and incomes
rose, households were more likely to eat out or purchase ready-to-eat foods. Currently, about half of food
expenditures are from eating outdouble the percentage from 1955, according to a recent review (Story,
Kaphingst, Robinson-OBrien, & Glanz, 2008). Both fast-food and full-service restaurants serve foods that are high
in fat and often less healthy than home-cooked meals.
A combination of such changes in society has yielded striking changes in the nature of the community food
environment. Over the past 30 years in the United States, the number of grocery stores has declined but the
number of environmental opportunities for foods that are high in fat and calories have proliferated. As grocers
declined, prepared food outlets doubled (Chou, Grossman, & Saffer, 2002). One study showed that a 10% increase
in the number of restaurants per capita in a state is associated with a 9% increase of obesity (Chou et al., 2002).
Another estimate shows that a McDonalds fast food restaurant is within about 1.5 miles of the average American
(Block, Scribner, & DeSalvo, 2004). More than 90% of schools offer competitive food choices that do not adhere
to healthy guidelines and contain high levels of fat and calories (Story et al., 2008). In the United States, lowincome areas also have more fast food outlets (Powell, Chaloupka, & Bao, 2007), especially in low-income AfricanAmerican neighborhoods (Block et al., 2004). Fast food outlets often serve overly large portions and energy-dense
foods, which may explain the frequent statistical correlations found between eating at fast food places and greater
weight (Jeffery, Baxter, McGuire, & Linde, 2006). In addition, smaller convenience or corner stores offer fewer
healthy foods than supermarkets (Larson, Story, & Nelson, 2009).
A growing area of research examines relationships between access to food outlets and resident health. US adults
with better access to supermarkets or grocery stores often have lower BMIs (Black & Macinko, 2010; Inagami,
Cohen, Brown, & Asch, 2009; Larson et al., 2009; Lopez, 2007; Powell et al., 2007; Rundle et al., 2009), although
some studies have found opposite (Wang et al., 2007) or no relationship (Raja et al., 2010). Living in a
neighborhood with many fast food outlets related to higher BMI in a national sample (Mehta & Chang, 2008); one
study found this was especially true for residents with no cars (Inagami et al., 2009). A recent review notes that
nearby fast food outlets have mixed results with obesity but may relate to decreased fruit and vegetable intake
(Fraser, Edwards, Cade, & Clarke, 2010). For example, both white (Morland, Wing, & Roux, 2002) and black
Americans reported more fruit and vegetable intake if their census tract contained a supermarket (Morland et al.,
2002; Zenk et al., 2005). Pregnant women had better quality diets if they lived closer to a supermarket (Laraia,
Siega-Riz, Kaufman, & Jones, 2004). The mixed results in this area of research suggest the need for future studies
to address how food outlet proximity relates (p. 473) to ones choices of food and food outlets (Sallis & Glanz,
2009).
New studies are becoming more comprehensive by analyzing both healthy eating and activity opportunities in
neighborhoods. For example, combined access to grocers, restaurants, fitness facilities, and commercial land uses
was related to lower obesity rates in New York City across four years (Black & Macinko, 2010). Similarly, in Salt
Lake County, lower BMIs were associated with a combination of macrolevel walkability indicators (older
neighborhoods and neighborhoods where a greater proportion of residents walk to work, which indicates mixed
land uses) and the presence of multiple food choices in the neighborhood (Zick et al., 2009). Finally, a Portland
study showed weight gains among older adults who lived in areas with many fast food restaurants and who
frequently chose fast food meals, but weight losses over time among those who lived in more walkable areas and
chose vigorous activity (Li et al., 2009). More research is needed to focus on the combined roles of food and
physical activity environments in relationship to weight and physical activity. In sum, food has become a more
salient part of our environment and provides more unhealthy temptations than ever; these trends have been
supported by governmental policies, marketplace decisions, and family and lifestyle changes.
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MicroFood Environments
One would think that in a society obsessed with food and dieting, US residents would be especially sensitive to the
temptations of food in our everyday environments. Wansink and Sobals extensive research on the psychology of
food environments shows that we are in fact especially responsive to food cues in the environment and that these
cues are ubiquitous, but that we are often unaware of how our eating relates to the food environment (Wansink,
2010; Wansink & Sobal, 2007). For example, individuals, even trained nutritionists, do not realize that they dish out
and consume larger quantities of calories when provided with larger bowls and spoons than with smaller ones
(Wansink, van Ittersum, & Painter, 2006). The empirically demonstrated micro-environmental supports for more
eating are numerous and include food storage spaces, food within reach, food in larger rather than smaller bowls,
drinks in wider rather than taller drinking glasses, and drinks served without rather than with straws (Wansink &
Sobal, 2007).
Wansink and Sobal identified a variety of psychological qualities that mediate the relationship between foodscapes
and consumption. Humans are poor judges of consumption amounts, which might be especially risky for overeating
in food-abundant environments. Humans also develop norms for consumption amounts from environmental and
social cues. Thus, we eat more when dinner companions eat more, or when the environment provides us with a
wider variety of choices, such as holiday buffets or bowls of multicolored candies.
The micro-environment of food may suggest that overeating is normal. Consider the upward trend in portion sizes.
Portion sizes that are served in grocery containers and restaurants in the United States have all crept up. Studies
have shown that ready-to-eat foods are packaged in portions that are two to five times larger than they were
decades ago and now constitute one-third of our calorie intake (Brownson et al., 2006). Returning to the example
of soft drink consumption, calculations show that the United States went from an annual per capita average of 90
eight-ounce servings of soda in 1942 to 600 annual servings per capita in 2000 (Vartanian, Schwartz, & Brownell,
2007). Fast food restaurants have also grown in number and offered larger servings over time. The health
consequences of McDonalds restaurants selling 100 billion beef burgers compared to vegetarian burgers is
striking: 1.2 billion pounds of more total fat and 1 billion pounds less of fiber (Spencer, Frank, & McIntosh, 2005).
For environmental and conservation psychologists, the additional consumption is concerning for its influence on
the planet as well. Greenhouse gas emissions related to producing beef for the yearly average US residents
consumption is the same as driving a car 1,800 miles. Producing a pound of beef emits the same greenhouse gas
amounts as producing 57 pounds of potatoes; this is just one illustration of the fact that vegetarian diets generally
have lower greenhouse gas consequences (Fiala, 2009).
These additional calories are facilitated by the physical environmentsupersized drinks would be more difficult to
think of as normal if manufacturers did not provide supersized cups. In an analysis of online sales of dinner plates,
US-made plate sizes crept up over time by 22%, from 9.62 inches in 1900 to 11.75 inches in 2010. Even depictions
of the plate sizes in paintings of the Last Supper increased 69% from the year 1000 to the year 2000 (Wansink,
2010). The evolution of housing in the United States suggests more space is devoted to kitchens and food storage
and more kitchens are open plan (Hasell & Peatross, 1990; Wilson & Boehland, 2005). Large open-plan kitchens
allow (p. 474) more visibility of food, as well as greater proximity, if people spend more time in these larger
kitchens. Furthermore, a field experiment showed that stockpiling of convenience foods in kitchens triggers their
consumption (Chandon & Wansink, 2002). Due to the results of these studies, Wansink and Sobal suggested that
researchers should start thinking about the power of kitchenscapes, tablescapes, platescapes, and foodscapes to
encourage overeating (Sobal & Wansink, 2007).
There is limited evidence from one review that providing cues for healthier choices, such as point-of-purchase
nutrition education displays, enhances healthier choices; these effects seem more prevalent in university and
worksite settings rather than grocers where many options are available (Seymour et al., 2004). Wansink felt that
nutrition education alone will not help reverse the trend of overeating, given that people consistently deny that
they are influenced by environmental cueswe believe we eat when we are hungry and stop when we are full.
Similarly, the low effectiveness of individual diets suggests limits to self-regulation of eating unless there is a more
supportive food environment (Wansink, 2010). Wansink instead suggested that providing mindless environmental
changes can help with slow but steady avoidance of extra calories. In support of these ideas are the results of an
online challenge he conducted. He provided volunteers with three monthly tips for weight loss, from a pool of 173
tips that had been associated with at least 12% less consumption in laboratory studies. Of all of these, the advice
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to eat from smaller-than-average 10-inch plates was the most effective, with those using this strategy reporting
1.93 pounds lost in a month. If the environment can mindlessly lead us to overconsume, Wansink suggests we
reengineer our environments so they mindlessly support less consumption (Wansink, 2010).
Conclusion
Our review has shown the importance of macro- and micro-physical environmental supports and barriers to
healthy eating and activity. Macro-environments, from the layout of streets to the provision of food outlets in a
community, make healthier choices more or less difficult. Micro-environmental cues, from trees shading ones walk
to the plate size at the dinner table, also have subtle effects on everyday behaviors, such as walking and eating.
Finally, the perception of environmental supports for activity and eating plays a distinct role in explaining our eating
and activity, demonstrating that perceptions have influences beyond those accounted for by objective measures
of the environment. In addition, the research shows that humans have a tendency to be influenced by
environmental supports and cues but often refuse to acknowledge those influences, whether the influences relate
to more physical activity (Kondo et al., 2009; McGinn et al., 2007) or more food consumption (Wansink, 2010).
Thus future studies can benefit by attending to all three types of social and environmental supports for healthy
behavior and by recognizing that people often deny environmental influences.
Our review also demonstrates the utility of a transactional model, which assumes that relationships between
environments and behaviors of eating and physical activity are multilevel, with influences at a variety of levels of
scale. Consistent with a transactional view, the chapter has underscored the importance of tracking changes over
time in understanding how US residents have become less active and more overweight. Further, because the
influences are multiple and embedded within various sectors of society, reversing unhealthy behaviors requires
understanding where those unhealthy behaviors occur and how to change those settings.
In sum, this review has shown that from the scale of the plate to the scale of the community, over the past 50 years
our physical environment has enabled us to eat more and walk less. This combination is consistent with the
observed increase in obesity and decrease of physical activity. These trends are so strong and alarming that they
have led to the controversial calculation that obesity-related health problems will end the 200 years of life span
increases seen in the United States (Olshansky et al., 2005). The United States has succeeded in other great public
health challenges, such as reducing tobacco use, by reducing the attractiveness of tobacco by altering how it is
treated physically, socially, and economically, and legally across a wide variety of settings (Green et al., 2006).
Thus it is possible the United States will succeed in a similarly holistic focus on creating healthier eating and
physical activity supports. Future growth projections make the challenge of creating health-supportive
environments an urgent one. Nationally, about half the homes and businesses needed by 2030 have not yet been
built (Nelson, 2004). If these new places are designed to encourage physical activity and healthy eating, they will
benefit both planetary and personal health.
(p. 475) Future Directions
Investigate Upstream Choices in Relationship to Health

We suggest it is important to focus on upstream choices, such as housing, that may have multiple downstream
consequences for healthy living. Gardner and Stern made this argument for energy-saving behavior. They argued
that it was more important to foster a one-time high energy-savings behavior than a regular but low energy-savings
behavior. Thus, buying a car with 30.7 versus 20 miles per gallon reduces energy use by 13.7% but turning off the
lights each time one leaves a room reduces energy use by only 4.5% (Gardner & Stern, 2008). The more impactful
and permanent actions, such as insulating ones home, deserve more attention than the smaller daily actions, such
as turning off the lights. Researchers should put their energy where it will have the most impact.
Lets apply this upstream approach to our opening example of the family pursuing the American dream. If the family
chose to buy in an older pre-WWII first-ring suburban or downtown neighborhood, they might gain walkableneighborhood features: small lots that allow density; mixtures of housing types that satisfy all ages and incomes;
stores and services within walking distance; good transit service; and streets laid in pedestrian-friendly grid-like
patterns. These community designs were the norm in many US areas prior to the 1950s, when cars were not such
Page 16 of 31

ubiquitous and powerful drivers of neighborhood design. According to a 10-study review (Saelens, Sallis, & Frank,
2003), residents of more walkable neighborhoods take almost two more weekly walking trips than residents of less
walkable neighborhoods (3.1 vs. 1.4 trips). This additional walking amount could reduce typical annual weight
gains by half. Further, one estimate (Higgins & Higgins, 2005) shows that if we were to walk or bike for an hour a
day instead of using cars, we would not only lose weight but also save 10.9% of US carbon dioxide emissions from
the year 1990 (the year serving as the baseline for greenhouse gas reduction targets). Similarly, a diet book author
claimed that when he purchased an old home he realized the cabinets were too small for modern large plates; his
resulting nine-inch plate diet may not have been noticed as an option without exposure to the older home
(Bogusky & Porter, 2008). These older neighborhoods have often not received the investments of new suburban
areas, despite their good walkable forms, and have deteriorated and are less attractive to home buyers (Hanlon,
2008). New federal initiatives seek to refocus investments in areas where more active transportation and less car
dependence is the norm, which might remove barriers to choosing these neighborhoods (Been, 2010).
In contrast, the hypothetical familys choice of a postwar suburban house puts them in a more sprawling
neighborhood that poses challenges to walking and weight control. These neighborhoods offer low-density
housing, zoning that often separates housing from necessities such as jobs or shopping, and circuitous street
patterns, such as cul-de-sacs (Calthorpe, 1993). Residents of more sprawling areas report less leisure walking and
higher weight (Ewing et al., 2003); residents living in diverse land-use neighborhoods have lower weight (Mobley et
al., 2006). In addition to providing few walkable destinations, suburban neighborhoods also involve longer
commutes than neighborhoods close to urban centers. The longer commutes, in addition to creating known
problems of pollution and cost, also have been linked to higher BMI. One study found that for every extra hour of
time in a car, residents face a 6% increase in the likelihood of obesity (Frank et al., 2004).
It is possible that the upstream choice of health-supportive housing creates a cascade of behavior changes that
may become habitual and, in combination, relate to healthier physical activity and eating. When housing choices
provide walking opportunitiesup the stairs, to the transit stop, or the corner storethen the healthy choice may
become what we have termed stealth exercise, or healthy exertion that is not really noticed or recalled as
exercise (Brown & Werner, 2008). When healthy activity is simply a by-product of doing other things, then even
individuals who are not committed to planned exercise can benefit. The proximal environment also exposes
individuals to the normative behavior of others; perhaps seeing others patronize nearby healthy food outlets or
neighbors walking will influence individuals, even without awareness, a pattern suggested by research in our
review above. Other researchers have also suggested that relocation can involve an opportune time to change
behavior. One study found that when newcomers to a neighborhood are told of transit options and provided a free
ticket, they are more likely to adopt transit-riding habits (Bamberg, 2006). Similarly, compared to students directed
to a standard how to purchase a parking pass site, incoming students were less likely to purchase a parking
pass if they received a postcard encouraging them to select a home near (p. 476) light rail so they could use
light rail for commuting to campus (Mazur, Werner, & Brown, 2010).
In future research it would be useful to examine more closely how the American dream of housing both supports
and thwarts healthy possibilities and how these choices can garner more attention from prospective residents.
There are many consumer-oriented websites for choosing housing, but most focus on interest rates, square
footage, and other commodity aspects of the housing, leaving out important health aspects. Perhaps prospective
residents can be encouraged to make walkability evaluations a routine part of their housing choices. Simple
investigation of online tools such as the popular Walk Score, which measures some macrolevel walkability features,
might enable prospective residents to make health supportiveness an explicit criteria for housing location (Carr,
Dunsiger, & Marcus, 2010). For psychologists, the challenge might be to understand residents hesitancy to make
housing decisions based on expanded criteria, especially given the tendency to want more in housing (Devlin,
2010). Older housing close to downtown holds many advantages for the environment and potentially for individual
health; psychologists could play a key role in understanding and recommending ways to overcome the barriers to
relocating to potentially healthier neighborhoods.
Evaluate Natural Environmental Interventions

Due to the difficulty of manipulating physical environments and reaching internally valid conclusions about causal
relationships, it will be important for researchers to take advantage of natural community interventions when they
happen. Australian researchers are studying large numbers of residents before and after they move to more
Page 17 of 31

walkably designed neighborhoods (Giles-Corti et al., 2008). Small-scale studies have been accomplished
elsewhere, such as those tracking low-income women moving to new urbanist housing (Wells & Yang, 2008), those
receiving new rail stops in the neighborhood (Brown & Werner, 2009), those receiving new bike paths (Cohen et
al., 2008), and those living in new urbanist designed communities (Rodriguez, Khattak, & Evenson, 2006). New
policies also merit evaluation, such as those that entail restaurant menus with calorie information (Roberto et al.,
2010), a moratorium on fast food restaurants in low-income neighborhoods (Sturm & Cohen, 2009), school walking
and biking route improvements (Boarnet et al., 2005), or health impact assessment requirements for new
development (Thomson, Petticrew, & Douglas, 2003).
Explore Multiple Levels of Support for and Benefits of Healthy Behavior

One tenet of a transactional approach with likely appeal to environmental and conservation psychologists is the
idea that a behavior is more likely if supported at multiple levels and if it provides multiple benefits (Werner et al.,
2002). Environmental and conservation psychologists may be especially drawn to research on how healthier
eating and activity choices for individuals are also good for the planet (Frank et al., 2010). When multiple supports,
from policy to social norms to micro- and macro-environmental setting designs support healthy walking and
activity, in many instances they will support healthy environments as well. Researchers may want to highlight how
supports for physical activity and healthy eating work for or against the goals of ecological/environmental wellbeing.
Consider two environmental interventions to increase a persons physical activity: an electronic TV game or a
convenient bus stop. Physical activity may be achieved by both, but playing the TV game just benefits the
individual, the electric company, and the gamemaker. Using the bus stop benefits the individual through the
additional walking and clearly benefits the environment if it substitutes for car use. Research suggests that few
people will adopt transit use just for environmental or health motivations (Elmore-Yalch, 1998). To enable riders to
see the bus trip as an attractive option, psychologists can figure out how to make bus use in general less
stigmatizing (Weitz, 2008); the route planned to be perceived as more predictable, efficient, and less stressful
(Wener, Evans, & Boately, 2005); or the benefits of found time for work more recognized and appreciated (Brown,
Werner, & Kim, 2003). Other motivations might include potential restorative experiences along the walk and
patriotic motives to reduce dependence on foreign oil, but these and other motives have yet to be explored.
Another tenet of a transactional approach is that a behavior is more likely if supported at multiple levels (Werner et
al., 2002). Thus, understanding attitudes alone is unlikely to enhance bus ridership. Instead, healthy behavior will
need to be supported at many levels, which will require understanding of policy and design changes. For example,
working with a (p. 477) university to purchase unlimited passes can enhance ridership (Brown, Hess, & Shoup,
2001), as can more attention to route service frequency (Taylor, Miller, Iseki, & Fink, 2009) and amenities such as
bus stop shelters provided for the comfort of riders (Project for Public Spaces, 1999), and the like.
Adopt a Flexible Range of Team Science Research Techniques

As noted in our review, research techniques of the past cannot capture the ecology of physical activity and eating.
For example, audits of neighborhood feature can show walkability and accelerometers can show how active
residents are, but they cannot tie the physical activity to the neighborhood. The combination of accelerometer and
GPS is needed to fill this gap. An early study, for example, shows how childrens walks to school are fairly direct,
with one-third of the travel minutes to school reaching moderate to vigorous physical activity intensity, compared
to a surprisingly low 10% of their minutes on a playground (Cooper et al., 2010). As yet, no measures provide the
same objective features to enhance insights into food environments and eating. In the future, we expect improved
technology will enable us to better define the natural ecology of physical activity and eating episodes.
Qualitative assessments of individuals experiences with everyday physical activity, such as tape-recording
experiences on guided walks, might allow more insight into the pleasures or barriers to healthy behavior. As noted
above, resident perceptions and objective audits of environments may not agree; indeed extensive literature on
perceived and objectively assessed incivilities show complicated relationships with each other and with outcomes
of interest, such as crime (Brown, Perkins, & Brown, 2004; Sampson & Raudenbush, 2004) shows how crime is
influenced by both objective and subjective factors and similar dynamics are likely to be in play for objectively
rated and perceived food and physical activity environments. Psychologists can investigate how places are seen
Page 18 of 31

as walkable or not, regardless of the physical setting. Researchers can have participants report experiences with
walking routes or other physical activity environments and/or eating environments and occasions throughout the
day using prompted self-reports via experience sampling methodology (Brown, 1992), or use guided walks (Brown
et al., 2007) or tours to inquire about the pleasures or displeasures of the activity (go-along interviews; Carpiano,
2009). Other methods might include participant photography to simply record eating patterns or to reflect upon
eating or physical activity places (photo voice; McIntyre, 2003). Finally, community-oriented maps can be created
by aggregating many individuals contributions that include both physiological monitoring and reflective annotation,
a technique called emotional cartography (Nold, 2009).
To take advantage of the full range of expertise in the area of eating and physical activity, it is important to take
advantage of multidisciplinary teams. For example, few psychologists focus on the 5Ds of walkability although an
increasing number of psychologists are interested in environments for walking or other physical activity. Few
psychologists use technology to photograph eating episodes or map neighborhoods. And few work in conjunction
with state health departments or city transit agencies to implement and evaluate natural community interventions
that are relevant to eating and physical activity. We suggest that multidisciplinary research teams are the future of
this type of work.
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Barbara B. Brown
Barbara B. Brown Department of Psychology University of Utah Salt Lake City, UT
Carol M. Werner
Carol M. Werner Department of Psychology University of Utah Salt Lake City, UT
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Environmental Epiphanies: Theoretical Foundations and Practical Applications

Environmental Epiphanies: Theoretical Foundations and Practical
Applications
Joanne Vining and Melinda S. Merrick
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0026

Meaningful emotional experiences in nature are common occurrences, but are often overlooked in the study of
human-nature interactions. A subset of these experiences, which we identify as environmental epiphanies, or
experiences that shift the fundamental self-nature relationship, can have profound impacts on environmental
values, attitudes, and behavior. In this chapter, we explore the concept of environmental epiphanies in the context
of previous empirical research, practical applications, and potential for future research. We describe findings from
an initial study of this phenomenon, suggesting links to existing literature as well as places to begin future studies.
We specifically highlight land management applications and contend that results from environmental epiphany
studies could have widespread practical applications as well as improve our current understanding of humannature interactions.
Keywords: environmental epiphanies, environmentally responsible behavior, environmental values, emotional experiences in nature, humannature interactions
Introduction
It just seemed I understood sort of my place in the universe and that I am connected intimately to
everything around me. And this whole sense of self and worry and anxiety related to being separate is
really an illusion because there is no distinction. Theres just sort of, I am part of everything and theres no
need to be concerned about. So, thats basically a description of this life-altering epiphany.
Participant interview (Merrick, 2008)
Experiencing an epiphany, an aha moment, or a moment of intense clarity seems to be common to many people,
though occurring only infrequently for each individual. One can observe anecdotal and empirical evidence of
epiphany-like experiences in both ancient and modern writing on the subject. From religious texts, such as the
Bibles description of the conversion of Paul on the road to Damascus (as described in Keltner & Haidt, 2003), to
more modern stories, such as Ballards (2011) collection of over 50 epiphany stories from people of various
backgrounds, it is obvious that many people have experienced epiphanies and that these experiences have
changed their lives in very meaningful ways (see also Jauregui, 2007; Miller & Cde Baca, 2001).
Environmental epiphanies, that is, epiphanies that involve the human-nature relationship, probably occur even
more rarely. However, in our experience talking with members of the public, professionals, and academic groups,
most people have an immediate grasp of what it means to experience an environmental epiphany. We dont know
the exact frequency with which humans have epiphanies or environmental epiphanies, but we know anecdotally
that these experiences have left marked impressions and resulted in drastic behavioral shifts. (p. 486) Study of
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the environmental epiphany phenomenon has great potential to uncover previously unknown links regarding the
human place in nature, and more specifically in terms of long-term behavioral change. In this chapter we will
explore the topic of environmental epiphaniesexperiences in which ones perception of the essential meaning of
his/her relationship to nature shifts in a meaningful manner (definition from Merrick, 2008).
Why Study Environmental Epiphanies?

The relationship between humans and the natural world is an integral component in the struggle to attain
environmental sustainability. It is necessary to understand human perceptions of themselves and nature in order to
comprehend and address the complex issues underlying the current environmental situation. Significant and
meaningful environmental experiences contribute to the perception of ones relationship with nature, which can
have widespread implications for subsequent beliefs and actions.
In this chapter, we explore the concept of environmental epiphanies, one type of significant environmental
experience, from a conservation psychology perspective. Our purposes for this chapter are to ground this concept
within existing theoretical foundations, to explore the potential of studying such experiences, and to provide
practical applications for land management and conservation psychology.
There are at least three reasons to study environmental epiphanies. First, epiphanies are interesting and important
aspects of human experience that have received little attention from empirical social science. As we shall see
below, psychologists have only recently begun conducting empirical studies of emotion, and much of the attention
thus far has been on negative emotions, such as anger and fear. Even though there has been a very recent focus
on positive emotions, the psychological community has not yet fully tackled the emotions of awe and wonder that
are so prevalent in epiphanies.
A second reason for studying environmental epiphanies is that they may have important behavioral and cognitive
outcomes. For example, an environmental epiphany that includes a sense of oneness with nature may facilitate a
positive change in environmental attitudes and behavior. Empirical data (Merrick, 2008) show that there are some
important relationships between environmental epiphanies and outcomes, such as heightened levels of
environmental awareness and long-term changes in environmentally responsible behavior. If social scientists can
show that environmental epiphanies have important social and environmental outcomes, it will be important to
determine how to facilitate such experiences.
A third reason for studying environmental epiphanies is that they may have important resource management
implications. Brandenburg and Carroll (1995) argued that the emotional symbolic, and widely perceived intrinsic
values (p. 382) linked to elements of natural environments are often ignored because of the historical importance
of the economic value of resources. Schroeder (2002) echoed these sentiments, stating that planners and
managers need to be aware of special places (places with high levels of aesthetic and emotional values) to more
effectively treat such places in a way that is consistent with users values. We view these (and other similar)
observations as problem statements that serve to motivate and guide our contention that the study of epiphany-like
experiences is greatly needed.
In this chapter we will first examine theoretical foundations of epiphany experiences, followed by a literature review
of studies of related experiences. We will then report on a study we conducted that pertained to environmental
epiphanies directly. We will finish the chapter with a discussion of management implications and future directions
for research on environmental epiphanies and similar experiences.
Introduction to Our Initial Study of Environmental Epiphanies

Throughout this chapter, we refer to an exploratory study we conducted to further develop the concept of
environmental epiphanies. Although we do not provide a detailed description of results until later in the chapter, we
provide an outline of the methodology here for the readers reference. For a description of the methods, analyses,
and results of the full study, please refer to Merrick (2008).
Purposes and Description

Our purposes for this study were to identify common elements of environmental epiphanies through in-depth
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interviews with people who had purportedly experienced environmental epiphanies. We aimed to explore common
trends in the interview transcripts using qualitative content analysis with a grounded theory approach. Within this
initial data set, we conducted two studies; one explored descriptive data, the development of an environmental
epiphany typology, and the comparison (p. 487) of these types across categorical data, such as age, gender,
and location. The second study focused on the content analysis of participants descriptions of their epiphany
experiences, exploring common characteristics and comparing them across epiphany types. We then applied the
results from both studies to develop a working typology of environmental epiphanies.
Participants
Participants self-selected in response to posters and advertisements soliciting experiences of environmental
epiphanies. The sample comprised 34 adults from three geographical locations. Six were from a small semi-urban
community in the Southeastern United States; 12 were from a midsized Midwestern US college town; and 16 were
from a large metropolitan US urban area. The mean age of participants was 42 with a range from 19 to 72. Female
participants were 65% of the sample, while males were 35%. Participants were mostly white (88%), with Asian (6%)
and Hispanic (6%) populations represented. All participants had completed at least some college-level education,
with 41% having earned a college degree and 35% having earned an advanced degree.
Procedures
Merrick interviewed all participants using a semi-structured interview protocol. This protocol was a derivation of the
protocol used by Miller & Cde Baca (2001) in their study of insights and epiphanies and was used by permission.
Items involving the environmental and place-based elements of epiphanies were added to the existing protocol for
the purposes of this study. Participants answered items within the following categories: epiphany description, time,
beginning, experience, ending/aftereffects, general perspectives, other environmental epiphanies, and conclusion.
Merrick conducted and audio recorded all interviews in private settings, most of which were conference rooms at
academic or public facilities. The entire interview process lasted anywhere from 30 minutes to two hours, with most
lasting roughly one hour.
We transcribed each interview (N = 34) verbatim and initially reviewed each conversation as its own unit of
analysis. We assigned a descriptive title to each environmental epiphany to assist in referring to the stories
throughout the analysis and reporting process. All components of the interviews were entered into the QSR N6
qualitative data software program, with the categorical items (hand recorded at the time of the interviews) entered
into SPSS (Statistical Package for the Social Sciences) as well.
We used the process of content analysis to understand and interpret the results of these interviews. This process
involved both independent and collaborative systematic and repeated reviewing of the transcripts by both
investigators. Throughout this process, we identified emerging, repeated, and meaningful themes within and across
participant transcripts. We used the grounded theory method of analysis, which gives importance to the issues and
themes that the participants value instead of applying preexisting themes that might reflect our own ideas of
important content. Although this is a subjective undertaking, care was taken to ensure that our interpretations of
the transcripts were valid and consistent. One additional external coder (in addition to the two authors) reviewed
the relevant portions of the transcripts, and a coding scheme that reflected our collective interpretations was
devised. We made an effort to incorporate participants own language as much as possible into our coding
scheme, while maintaining the meaningfulness and personal nature of many of these stories.
Theoretical Foundations
The Importance of Emotion

Emotion is a vital part of human thought processes and decision-making practices. Some recent theorists would
view it as an inescapable part of our thinking. In our review of epiphany-like research in the context of established
fields of study, such as place attachment, we found that a common element of these meaningful experiences is the
intense emotionality of the event.
In the early years of the development of psychology as a discipline, psychologists such as William James
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recognized the significance of emotion in human mental processes. This changed gradually as the field turned to
what were considered to be more quantifiable and objective measures of mental processes. Even then, many
psychologists acknowledged that emotion was an important aspect of human experience, but were at a loss as to
how to study it with reliability and validity. Tomkins (1969), for example, observed that decision-making has a
significant emotional component, in addition to the logical component that is more frequently highlighted. To further
develop a theoretical basis for environmental epiphanies, the historical and contemporary relevance of emotion
needs to be considered.
Emotion is a psychological element that has permeated conceptualizations of the human psyche (p. 488) since
the dawn of the disciplines of psychology and philosophy. William James (as cited in Solomon, 2000) was one of
the first to explicitly ask, What is an emotion? in his 1884 essay in Mind. James was perhaps the first psychologist
to discuss emotion as an essential and motivational element of human perception, thought, and behavior. He
envisioned emotion as stemming from physiological components, such as increased heart rate, in response to
stimuli. He believed that our perceptions of these physiological attributes are what we experience as emotions.
According to James, emotion is a process that begins with a stimulus to which the nervous system reacts. Ones
perceptions of that reaction and feelings about those perceptions are experienced as emotions. Therefore, the
action and perceptions precede the emotional component (James, 1884). This theory was drastically different from
any other that had been offered at the time and one that has only recently been treated seriously (e.g., Zajonc,
1980; LeDoux, 1996). In contrast to Jamess formulation of the relationship between emotion and cognition, many
20th-century theorists and researchers believed that emotion was secondary to, and caused by, cognition. The
view that emotion was an entity that occurred separate from cognition and behavior and inferior to cognition was
also common. Emotional processes such as those that are present in many environmental epiphanies (or
epiphanies more generally) were denigrated and considered too fuzzy and irrational to study rigorously.
Even though emotion was often dismissed as an illegitimate component of rational thought throughout history,
many prominent philosophers and psychologists gave consideration to the role of emotions in the human
experience. For example, although Aristotle devalued emotions as non-rational entities, there was a strong
emotional component to Platos writings on ethical concerns (Solomon, 2000). This type of contradictory thought on
emotions is evident from others, such as Descartes, who have written about the place of emotions. For a
comprehensive historical account of emotion in the history of philosophy, see Solomon (2000).
Up until the late 20th century, most attention to emotion from psychological researchers was conceptual. Empirical
studies began in the 1970s and have expanded rapidly since the 1980s. Much of what has dominated the modern
psychological perspective on emotion is the evolutionary psychological approach. This theory approaches the
study of the human mind as it functions to solve adaptive and evolutionary problems. Evolutionary psychologists
view the mind as a complex structure of components, which are all integrated into an overarching cognitive
architecture. When humans are adapting to a situation or environment (i.e., human behavior), there are many
processes that require coordination. According to this theory, emotion is one superordinate program that
coordinates several of these mental components to appropriately respond to the situation at hand (Cosmides &
Tooby, 2000).
In essence, according to Cosmides and Tooby (2000), evolutionary psychology offers a theory that emotions act
as the control mechanisms for almost everything concerning responses to stimuli. This theoretical approach does
not allow the separation of emotion and cognition because cognition describes the brains activities, and emotion is
directing the cognitive activities. This and other cognition-emotion theories provide ample reason to explore the
emotional component of human experience.
Contrary to the historical belief that emotion is disruptive to rational decision-making practices, researchers have
found emotion to be a highly influential and adaptive component of everyday thought processes, memory, and
decision-making practices (Cosmides & Tooby, 2000; Isen, 2000; LeDoux, 1996). Researchers who examine
environmental decision-making have consistently demonstrated that emotions not only play a role in environmental
decisions, but also serve as a motivational and guiding principle of environmental perception and actions (Vining
1987; Vining & Schroeder, 1989a, 1989b; Vining & Tyler, 1999). Emotions that occur during epiphanies may be
powerful motivating factors that spur individuals to become more environmentally aware and involved.
The role played by emotion in environmental perception and decision-making was first investigated systematically
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by Vining (1987) in the early 1980s. At that time, the existence of emotion in environmental decision-making was
disparaged, dismissed, and even forbidden by land and resource managers and planners. Vining and colleagues
(Kennedy & Vining, 2007; Vining, 1987, 1992a, 1992b) showed that negative emotions were associated with
decisions to preserve environments, especially when conflict and scarcity were involved. They also demonstrated
that emotions are common parts of thought processes for both managers and the public (Kennedy & Vining, 2007;
Vining, 1992a). Overall, these studies showed that emotion is a common and even adaptive part of human
relationships with the environment. With emotion taking on a new role (p. 489) in decision-making, the way was
paved for studying the relationships between environmental issues and human perception and decision-making.
Epiphany-like experiences are often associated with positive emotions (Merrick, 2008). Interestingly, Isen (2000)
proposed that positive affect alters the way in which people retrieve memories, experience everyday thought
processes, and process problem-solving strategies. Similar to Cosmides and Tooby (2000), she theorized that
emotion is a structure in which cognitive components of the mind are organized. In her studies and review of the
literature, she found that positive emotion promotes creativity, exploration, cognitive flexibility, organizations of
thoughts, and the motivation to maintain a positively oriented state. The positive emotions associated with
environmental epiphanies, therefore, may enable cognitive changes that enhance the human-nature relationship.
Fortunately, over the past couple of decades, a comprehensive multidisciplinary literature has emerged
concerning emotion (e.g., Davidson, Scherer, & Goldsmith, 2003; Lewis, Haviland-Jones, & Barrett, 2008) that
attempts to examine emotion from a variety of perspectives and disciplinary research efforts. In this emergent
literature, scholars cross-examine various theories of emotion in an effort to legitimize the vital role of emotion in
human experience. The study of emotional experiences such as environmental epiphanies can contribute to the
growing understanding of emotion and its complex interactions with other psychological factors.
Emotions show up regularly in the data sets from which we are drawing examples for this chapter (epiphanies:
Miller & Cde Baca, 2001; environmental epiphanies: Merrick, 2008) and are almost always positive. Miller and Cde
Baca (2001) found evidence of positivity in their exploration of what they called quantum changes in human
experience, and integrated it into their working typology. Over 85% of our participants environmental epiphanies
were associated with positive emotions. Examples of positive emotions found in our study were awe and wonder,
peacefulness, empowerment, gratitude, curiosity, and excitement. One of our participants reported the following:
I just stopped on the trail at that point. Actually, no, I walked a little bit farther just looking at the sun, the
light, the golden sparkles, it just seemed to be sparkling, and stopped just awed just looking at the beauty.
I was into just feeling the beauty when all of a sudden I felt a whole lot more.
Another participant expressed both awe and connectedness in droplets of water as he experienced a new reality:
And it seemed to me, almost instantaneous, there was this realization about my own personal life, I guess
in watching this waterfall and these water droplets. And what occurred to meI guess maybe it was
subconscious coming to my conscious in this moment of aha or realizationwas that the little droplet was
much like myself. Well, this was a significant enough realization that there was an emotional reaction to it
and I guess, therefore, an epiphany perhaps.
Miller and Cde Baca (2001) reported the following statement, which is full of powerful positive emotions:
Its just such an overwhelming experience. Its like giving birth. You never really forget. In essence, I was
giving birth to myself. I felt an energy which is still there. I think once you experience these things they
almost become part of the genetic makeup of your body so you can get back into it, like a dancer can get
back into plis. Youre never the same after youve experienced it. (p. 75)
Another environmental epiphany participant reported happiness in the following comment:
And the first thing Ive noticed in my neighborhood were [sic] the laughter of the children and that was
that was something. It was just some innocent smile, these children were giggling. And Ive heard these
giggles of these neighborhood kids so many number of times, but I didnt realize how precious life was. And
they are going about their business and theyre just laughing and giggling.
A sense of peace and belonging, accompanied with positive emotion was reported by individuals from both of the
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data sets. From Merrick (2008):
And then I hadI justI guess I would call it a shift in consciousness almost. I mean, that means different
things to people, but for me it was a shift and it was feeling. I feltits like my heart opened way up like Ive
never experienced. And I felt what Im seeing is what world peace would feel like for our earth. Its like the
trees were part of it, the sunlight, these beings and I justI started crying. I stood thereI really dont know
how long. Wasnt real real long, but it just made me cry because of the beauty and that there is a potential
for absolute peace and harmony.
(p. 490) One of Miller and Cde Bacas (2001) participants also reported finding peace.
Now Im very comfortable knowing that whatever happens in the future I will be with God eternally, and its
real peaceful to think about that. I dont want to rush it, but I have no fear of death. I guess security is the
word. (p.129)
Negative emotional experiences were reported by a few participants in each of the data sets. For example, one of
our participants reported a near-drowning experience. It should be noted, however, that while this participant was
experiencing fear at the time of the event, she remembered her experience and associated her epiphany with a
positive outcome, a newfound respect for the power of natural forces.
It was really fun to feel overpowered by the ocean. And finally at one point, I realized I needed to go back
in because I started to feel weak. And thats when I realized that if I didnt go in and like try really hard, I
was going to die out therethat it would be possible. So that was my epiphany.
The Need For and Potential of Environmental Epiphany Studies

The need to conduct more studies of experiences such as environmental epiphanies within the greater area of
human-nature experiences is essential in our understanding of the nature-self relationship. Although initial
evidence indicates that the definition of environmental epiphanies is inherently understood by many (Merrick,
2008), the phenomenon has received very little empirical attention. Anecdotal evidence, however, is plentiful and
can be found in popular literature as well as the theoretical musings of researchers. Evidence can also be found in
existing data. In fact, our interest in epiphanies originally arose as we regularly analyzed research participants
descriptions of epiphanies in responses to empirical studies of other topics.
In our initial attempt to explore some of these issues, we found evidence of the phenomenon of environmental
epiphanies in many disciplines, including psychology, philosophy, anthropology, sociology, education, recreation,
environmental studies, and biology. We also found elements of epiphanies present in studies on phenomena such
as peak aesthetic experiences, experiences of awe and wonder, exceptional human experiences, flow
experiences, insight experiences, quantum shifts, experiences of the sacred, synchronicity, transcendent
experiences, diminutive experiences, and moments of savoring. Although we found many similarities between
these experiences and environmental epiphanies, we were unable to locate a proper place within any of these
concepts for the experience that so many discussed as being a fundamental shift in their understanding of the
nature-self relationship. We therefore thought it was important to coin a new term, environmental epiphany, that
fully described the experiences that had such a profound effect on so many of our study participants.
We believe that the potential of empirical research on the various elements of the experience of environmental
epiphanies can have a profound impact on our understanding of the human-nature relationship. We introduce
some possible applications below but contend that future results can inform our understanding of everything from
landscape preferences to environmentally responsible behavior.
Applications
Environmental management is one significant example of where the findings of environmental epiphany research
could be integrated into practical applications. The role of emotion in environmental management and decisionmaking has been explored by Vining and her colleagues (Vining, 1987, 1992a; Vining & Schroeder, 1989a, 1989b;
Vining & Tyler, 1999; Kennedy & Vining, 2007). Vinings (1992a) findings indicated that land managers not only
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experience different emotions than those of the public, but they are often unable to predict or manage the
emotions of the public. Overall, public emotions were more negative than those of the managers, and managers
predicted that public emotions would be more like their own, that is, more positive.
This disconnect occurs despite the fact that many managers indicate that epiphany-like experiences drove their
decisions to become land managers. Since our research indicates that people who experience environmental
epiphanies in hindsight recall mostly positive emotions associated with those experiences, it would be interesting to
explore the emotional components of manager and user epiphany experiences. Findings could improve managers
understanding of the publics emotions toward land management issues as well as the issue of managing the
special places in which epiphanies have occurred (both for managers and the public).
(p. 491) Spiritual dimensions of environmental epiphanies, as well as more mundane experiences with the natural
world, are important considerations for managers as well. We have led a number of workshops for land managers
regarding the emotional components of management, in which many managers have confessed that they dont
know how to manage land that holds emotional and spiritual meaning for its users. Several have indicated that they
themselves have wondered how spirituality related to natural environments can be translated into management
and policy for these lands. Studies of environmental epiphanies, with accompanying emotions, may provide an
empirical justification for specific land management practices, such as preservation of special places and access
of public land to diverse populations.
The study of environmental epiphanies may also have implications for environmental educators. Our research
shows that environmental epiphanies are often place-based and tend to occur when people are engaged in
activities beyond the everyday. Similarly, evidence from the education literature shows that experiential, placebased learning is often a more effective environmental education strategy than traditional classroom techniques
(Uzzell, Rutland, & Whistance, 1995). It follows that the experiences of place-based environmental education and
environmental epiphanies may share many characteristics. In addition, aha moments are very much related to
how one learns new information. Studying these moments of insight can help us to better understand the aha
moment as opposed to incremental learning, where pieces of knowledge are learned stepwise through time. If the
aha moment is the instant that one is able to comprehend a complex idea once a critical amount of information is
studied, environmental educators would greatly benefit from knowledge as to how to better promote and foster this
type of learning.
The educational component of natural environments was also a theme that emerged in our participants
discussions of their epiphanies. Many described discovering the wonders of nature, observing intricate natural
processes that create an ecological environment, and realizing nature is a vital part of their lives. Some
participants, as the quotation below indicates, had new insights regarding formal education as well.
But this trip was enough to sort of trigger something in me that somehow, sort of inexplicably, brought me
new clarity on things in my own life, particularly regarding my education. And then also, it definitely
changed my relationship to nature in that it reminded me how important nature just was to me as an
experience.
This suggests that people in the general populations may be more open to outdoor educational opportunities than
previously thought. It also emphasizes the importance of place-based analyses. In addition, findings from epiphany
studies can inform environmental educators to integrate and encourage the discovery of nature through more
balanced educational programming.
The study of environmental epiphanies is not limited to land management and environmental education
applications. Results from future studies can also inform our concepts of place attachment, experiential
components of spiritual experiences, and motivational aspects of environmentally responsible behavior. We
encourage researchers from multiple disciplines to embrace the study of environmental epiphanies as a way to
create better linkages and a greater understanding of human experiences.
Review of Literature
Psychological Approaches to Epiphany-Like Experiences
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In our review of the literature on this topic, we gathered descriptions, theories, and frameworks from a number of
disciplines. However, the majority of literature concerning epiphany-like experiences emerged from the discipline
of psychology. The writings of James (1902) and Maslow (1964) were probably the most influential in the present
understanding of transformative experiences in general, but were largely theoretical rather than empirical in
nature. Several modern scholars have continued to study the phenomenon of epiphany-like experiences from
various psychological perspectives (e.g., Kaplan & Talbot, 1983; Csikszentmihalyi & LeFevre, 1989; Keltner &
Haidt, 2003; Miller & Cde Baca, 2001; Williams & Harvey, 2001).
In his review of perspectives on the values of natural environments, Schroeder (1996) examined various
psychological approaches to the study of the human relationship with the natural environment. He discussed how
various subdisciplines, such as Jungian psychology, phenomenological psychology, and experiential psychology,
can inform our understandings of the hard-to-define values that characterize human-nature relationships. Although
Schroeders work (1991 , 1996, 2002) emphasized spirituality associated with natural environments, (p. 492) and
the positive emotions therein, he did not specifically address environmental epiphanies. However, many of his
findings regarding human experiences in nature have similar elements to our concept of environmental epiphanies.
Although the discipline of psychology has taken the lead in the empirical study of epiphany-like experiences, it has
become obvious that researchers from several other disciplines, such as recreation and tourism, have much more
than a glancing interest and curiosity about such experiences. Researchers from several disciplines as well as
interdisciplinarians continue to explore transformational experiences in relation to a variety of contexts. Therefore,
we recommend that studies of epiphany-like experiences be approached from an interdisciplinary perspective. The
study of environmental epiphanies is well placed within the field of conservation psychology, which embraces
applied interdisciplinary research.
Empirical Studies of Epiphany-Like Experiences

Although the literary and anecdotal accounts of the importance of meaningful and spiritual experiences regarding
nature are abundant, there are only a small number of empirical studies that explore these aspects of the humannature experience (Schroeder, 1991). Kals, Schumacher, and Montada (1999) contended that although the effects
of emotional experiences in nature and connections to nature are widely discussed, they have rarely been
explored theoretically or empirically. Consequently, although these emotional experiences have played a central
role in peoples perceptions of natural environments, little empirical attention has been given to the details and
intricacies of the processes that contribute to epiphany-like experiences.
There is, however, growing evidence that meaningful, transformative experiences such as epiphanies act as an
inherent (and often assumed) part of human-nature interactions. Several scholars have provided typologies of
such experiences that inevitably contain epiphany-like elements. One of the first scholars to study epiphany-like
experiences was William James. James was interested in the transformative events of religious and social leaders,
and his work can be considered empirical in a qualitative approach, as well as theoretical. In his Varieties of
Religious Experiences (1902 ), he identified human experiences that seem to be closely related to the conception
of environmental epiphanies. James referred to these experiences as mystical; however, he outlined several
gradations of these types of experience that did not necessarily have foundations in religion.
James (1902) identified four characteristics of mystical experiences. The first is ineffability, or an inability to
adequately express the experience in words. He states that to properly understand such experiences, one must
have undergone the experience oneself, and that the communication of such experiences to outsiders is difficult.
Another characteristic is the noetic quality of the experience, in which the experiencer attains new states of
knowledge, insight, significance, and ultimate truth. James states that these first two elements are minimum
requirements for an experience to be classified as mystical. Two additional characteristics are often present:
experiences are often transient, or short-lived, as well as passive, meaning that one has a sense that another
power is at play. His writings on this subject are filled with passages that suggest these states of consciousness are
dominated by intense emotional experiences.
Jamess (1902) typology of mystical experiences included several gradations within the categories, starting with a
simple realization, something that is known for quite some time and suddenly realized or seen in a different way,
which creates a more holistic understanding. James noted that these simple realizations can be brought on by
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words, light, odors, music, and passages. He also defined other types of mystical experiences that grow in
intensity, such as dj-vu, experiences of awe, mystical consciousness, and chemically altered states of
consciousness. The most intense type of mystical experience, according to James, is religious mysticism. Within
this typology of mystical experiences, James described a dreamy state that is very similar to the experience of the
emotion of awe as described by Keltner and Haidt (2003) in their comprehensive exploration of awe. James also
described the sense of awe as seeing the meaning in everything and grasping to develop an understanding of the
truths behind the meanings. He provides examples of each type of mystical experience taken from an extensive
collection of these accounts from several sources (James, 1902).
Although James (1902) did not study environmental epiphanies directly, he stated that certain aspects of nature
seem to have a peculiar power of awakening such mystical moods.Most of the striking cases I have collected
have occurred out of doors (p. 355). This is similar to modern conceptions of the spiritual aspects of nature. For
example, Schroeder (1991) identified the emphasis on natural environments with respect to the spiritual
experiences he examined.
(p. 493) As discussed and corroborated by research compiled in Miller & Cde Bacas (2001) book, Pahnke
(1963) completed an extensive literature review of various typologies of mystical experiences. As a result, he
identified several overarching characteristics of mystical experiences that include, exemplify, and expound upon
Jamess original list. These characteristics included unity (both within oneself and with external objects);
transcendence of time and space (loss of time and space orientation); deeply felt positive mood (intense positive
emotions, such as joy and peace); sense of sacredness (deep sense of special value); objectivity and reality
(knowing without a doubt the experience is meaningful and real); paradoxicality (defying logic); alleged ineffability
(unable to capture with words); transiency (short-lived); and persisting positive changes in attitudes and behavior
(profound and meaningful personal change). This extensive identification of characteristics illustrates the
importance of emotions, especially positive affect, that permeate many accounts of such experiences. They also
speak to the potential of these types of experiences to motivate substantial and persistent changes in
environmental attitudes and behavior, one of the main goals of conservation psychology as a field (Saunders,
2003).
Many previously examined epiphany-like experiences have been referred to as peak experiences. Abraham
Maslow (1964) is well known for his identification of 25 characteristics of peak experiences, which included such
elements as experiencing the universe as a whole, loss of ego, self-actualization, humility, sense of sacredness,
and gratitude. His original peak-experience participants (Maslow, 1962) were professionals, college students, and
others of various backgrounds. He initially conducted 80 interviews, analyzed written responses from 190 college
students, and integrated 50 unsolicited letters regarding peoples peak experiences. They were all responding to
an item similar to those used in our epiphany research and other epiphany-like research, which asked the
participant to recount the most wonderful experience or experiences of your life; happiest moments, ecstatic
moments, moments of rapture, and so on (p. 67). He then asked participants to describe how these moments
made them feel and how the experiences made them different people.
In outlining the many characteristics of these experiences, Maslow (1964) reported such emotions as wonder,
awe, reverence, humility, surrender, and even worship before the greatness of the experience (p. 65). Maslow not
only highlighted the emotional aspects of peak experiences, but also suggested that peak experiences (and
therefore emotion) are directly related to the development of B-values (being values), such as truth, beauty,
wholeness, and aliveness. Thus, Maslows conception of peak experiences is characterized by the union of
emotional intensity, experience, and the development of values.
Maslow (1962) also found peak experiences to be acute identity experiences, indicating that those who have such
experiences subsequently shift their personal identities to become more integrated, engaged, and essentially
better versions of their previous selves. Since Maslow found peak experiences to be related to identity
development, it would follow that environmental epiphany experiences would be related to ones environmental
identity, which is defined as ones perception of his or her connection to the natural environment (Clayton, 2003).
Contemporary scholars have continued the study of emotionally intense epiphany-like experiences. In their study
of epiphanies and sudden insights, Miller and Cde Baca (2001) confirmed and contributed to the typologies posited
by James (1902) and Pahnke (1963). They distinguished between two types of changes that humans encounter,
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similar to the distinction between the incremental gaining of knowledge and the sudden aha moment. They
described type 1 changes as incremental and routine, and type 2 changes as instantaneous or sudden. In their
quest to obtain information from those who had experienced type 2 change, they were featured in a local
newspaper article, where potential participants were recruited by a broad definition of type 2 change. To their
surprise, 89 people initially made contact, resulting in a study of 55 people who had experienced a type 2 change.
They defined type 2 change as quantum change, an out-of-the-ordinary, transformative experience (Miller &
Cde Baca, 2001).
Miller and Cde Baca (2001) identified four elements of quantum change: vividness, surprise, benevolence, and
endurance. They specifically highlighted the importance of emotion within the description of the vividness
characteristic. They emphasized the profound emotional experiences that accompanied quantum change and
stated that the experiences are often deeply moving and tend to lessen chronic negative emotions (p. 14) by
creating a sense of peace. Their participants often reported a feeling that a weight or burden had been lifted after
such experiences. There is also evidence that the emotions experienced during quantum changes are often
positive, as defined by the benevolence category. They described such experiences to (p. 494) be vivid in that
they were very distinct and unique occurrences that were often not sought after by participants and therefore
were surprising. Most of their participants experiences were benevolent with positive outcomes, and enduring with
lasting effects on participants.
Miller and Cde Baca (2001) further distinguished two types of quantum change: insights and epiphanies. Insights
tended to reveal new perspectives and realizations, greater understanding, and were not completely outside the
realm of normal experiences. Epiphanies tended to be more extraordinary, often had mystical elements, and were
more overwhelming and absorbing for participants. Studying the methodology and results of this innovative and
important work has provided us with many tools in which to better conceptualize environmental epiphanies.
Regarding experiences in nature, we have found empirical work involving aesthetic conceptions of nature.
Although the aesthetic experience seems to have different characteristics than epiphany or transformative
experiences, work done in this area can provide important insights regarding epiphany-like experiences.
Chenoweth and Gobster (1990) explored the concept of aesthetic experiences in nature and identified four
components of aesthetic experiences from their review of the aesthetic experience literature. They categorized
the most commonly found elements of aesthetic experiences by their nature (how participants subjectively viewed
their experiences), ecology (temporal and spatial), the object of the experience, and the subjective value of the
experience (psychological components). Using these four components, they analyzed the journal entries of 25
college students who had documented the details of their outdoor aesthetic experiences for a couple of months,
resulting in a total number of 135 aesthetic outdoor experiences.
Chenoweth and Gobsters (1990) results showed that students experiences of aesthetics in outdoor environments
were quite diverse. The most common themes were that participants found the experiences to be memorable,
pleasant, and surprising (not sought out by the participant). Their results echo many themes that have emerged
elsewhere in our literature review, such as feelings of union (Pahnke, 1963; Maslow, 1964; Williams & Harvey,
2001) and a newly perceived awareness (Kaplan & Talbot, 1983).
Chenoweth & Gobster (1990) also specifically discussed the role of emotion as affecting ones aesthetic
experiences in natural environments. They demonstrated the importance of emotions in their findings by integrating
emotion within their content analysis as well as reporting that their data showed frequent (p. 6) emotional
content. Their findings also showed that in 77% of their cases, participants self-reported mood was elevated after
the experience occurred.
The aesthetic appreciation of an outdoor environment has a significant connection to how people experience that
place. After studying peoples special places for a number of years, Schroeder (2002) reported the results of a 15year longitudinal study concerning participants conceptions of special places in six different natural areas.
Participants were recruited in a number of ways (e.g., meeting announcements, local newspapers) and were selfselected. Through analysis of open-ended questionnaires in which participants wrote about each place and their
personal reactions (thoughts, feelings, etc.) to the place, Schroeder identified several meaningful categories of
special places. These included environmental features, the psychological experience of the participants in their
special places, and how special places were managed. He also identified several psychological elements of
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special places, including naturalness, remoteness, gratitude, and the emotions of awe, sense of wonder, and
magic. He also reported the ineffable quality we have seen in other typologies of epiphany-like experiences
(James, 1902; Pahnke, 1963), as well as components of spirituality. Schroeders comprehensive work on the
connection between users psychological attachments to place and land management practices has been a
significant influence on our development of the concept of the importance of environmental epiphanies.
Special places are not necessarily completely wild and in many cases are heavily managed areas. However, it is
also useful to review peoples conceptions of wilderness and the types of experiences that occur in such
environments. Kaplan and Talbot (1983) conducted a longitudinal study of the wilderness experiences of
participants in the Outdoor Challenge Program in Michigan. Participants were exposed to a variety of outdoor
activities, with both group and individual components.
In their analysis of participant questionnaires and journal entries, Kaplan and Talbot (1983) found several instances
of the experiences of emotions such as awe and wonder as well as wilderness having a spiritual meaning for
participants. They found that individuals who had been exposed to wilderness experiences had improved selfesteem, a higher interest in natural processes, and a greater (p. 495) likelihood of self-realization and awareness.
Their participants tended to recall the positive aspects of their wilderness experiences rather than the negative
ones. Another significant finding was the lasting effects of these experiences. Participants developed new ways of
perceiving their surroundings, which translated to their everyday lives after their wilderness experiences. Kaplan
and Talbot (1983) suggested that their results support the potential of such experiences to have long-term shifts in
the self-nature relationship.
Through their many years of exploring the phenomenon of wilderness experiences, Kaplan and Talbot (1983) were
able to suggest themes for restorative environments. These themes were being away, fascination, coherence, and
compatibility. Being away involved the participants getting away from their everyday environments. Fascination
occurred throughout participants wilderness experiences. However, they found that coherence (both pattern and
distance) was more likely to be experienced by participants as time in wilderness environments increased.
Compatibility, often associated with an awe-like connection to the surrounding environment, accompanied the
experiences of participants who had spent the most time in wilderness settings. Kaplan and Talbot (1983) therefore
suggested that there is a psychological progression that people experience related to the duration of time spent in
wilderness environments.
Similarly, Williams and Harvey (2001) explored transcendent experiences in forested environments. The results of
their literature review of the subject uncovered many of the same elements that are present in our review. Their
main list of characteristics of transcendent-like experiences included strong positive affect, empowerment, unity,
absorption, and timelessness. They partly justified their study and corroborated our literature findings by stating
that those who have significantly explored transcendent experiences have identified the importance of the natural
environment. They suggested three approaches to understanding transcendent experiences in natural
environments. The psychodynamic approach deals with the participants mental structures; the sense of place
approach involves the interactions between people and place; and the third approach concerns the involvement
between the participant and the activity in which they are engaged while in these types of environments.
In their study of the written responses of 131 participants who had transcendent-like experiences in Australian
forested environments, Williams and Harvey (2001) identified several types of experiences, two of which they
characterized as transcendent. These findings indicated that those who had highly transcendent experiences in
forests described either a diminutive experience or a deep flow experience, similar to that described by
Csikszentmihalyi (1990). Diminutive experiences were found to be novel, fascinating, and humbling, while deep
flow experiences were absorbing and less novel, but more relaxing.
Williams and Harvey (2001) also found a cluster of experiences that they considered to be nontranscendent since
they scored lower on all of their defining characteristics (fascination, compatibility, novelty, and transcendence).
The remaining types of experiences were aesthetic experiences and restorative experiences. Their findings have
major implications for future research, including the evidence that transcendent experiences have many features
including those discussed above, and that their participants experiences were largely dependent on how they
were interacting with their surrounding space. They concluded with the recommendation that studies such as these
would benefit from the sense of place approach.
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The examples of studies of epiphany-like experiences discussed above are those that we found to be most closely
aligned with our concept of environmental epiphanies. We will explore the application of some of these typologies
in the summary of our environmental epiphany study below. Although this is not an exhaustive list of studies
involving transformative moments, one theme that consistently emerged in our search was the lack of empirical
analysis of this group of experiences. However, in our interactions with the academic, public, and professional
communities regarding this concept, we found widespread interest, enthusiasm, and relatedness. To us, this
observation, coupled with our examination of the literature, provide evidence that the concept of environmental
epiphanies is an important and interesting one to both those who have a connection to the environmental studies
field and those who do not. It therefore seems like a valid concept to explore in much more detail.
Approaches from Place Attachment and Environmental Meaning

Before we discuss the specific study of environmental epiphanies, it is worthwhile to briefly explore some insights
from some of the most emergent themes of our review of epiphany-like studies: place (p. 496) attachment, sense
of place, and environmental meaning (e.g., Williams & Harvey, 2001). In general, place attachment researchers
have suggested that the meaning of a specific place is uniquely experienced and dependent upon many factors,
including past experiences, memories, landscape attributes, symbolic representations, and psychological
orientations.
Bott, Cantrill, and Myers (2003) contended that the term place represents humans subjective experiences and
meanings of the locations they inhabit (p. 100). Cantrill and Senecah (2001) approached the concept of place
through Miles Law, which states that where you stand depends on where you sit and where we sit is framed by
the psychological schema we have for that place called home (p. 186). Low (1992) defined place attachment as
the symbolic relationship formed by people giving culturally shared emotional/affective meanings to a particular
space or piece of land that provides the basis for the individuals and groups understanding of and relation to the
environment (p. 165). Much of the place attachment literature suggests that meaning is constructed by those
attached to or experiencing the place.
There are several studies of place that may inform a conceptual basis for the environmental epiphany
phenomenon . Given the importance of place concepts to the development of the environmental epiphany
concept, it can be useful to examine the difference between the conception of place and ones surrounding space.
Bott, Cantrill, and Myers (2003) specifically defined place as an environment organized from the subjects
viewpoint, and linked to affect (p. 104). They distinguished the concept of place from space, which they defined
as having more of a cognitive foundation, such as the development of a cognitive map. The idea that the
experience of place is emotionally driven has also been proposed and demonstrated by several others (e.g., Low,
1992; Mazumdar & Mazumdar, 1993; Mitchell et al., 1993; Schroeder, 2002).
Several scholars have proposed typologies of place and place attachment. Mazumdar and Mazumdar (1993)
examined the religious component of place attachment in terms of the emotional and spiritual experiences of place.
They included attachment to natural landscapes in their three categories of attachment to sacred spaces, along
with attachment to sacred cities and attachment to architecture. The attachment to natural landscapes involved
the perception of sacredness related to natural entities, such as rivers, trees, and mountains. They argued that in
such places believers experience a sense of continuity with the past and renew their commitment to the future (p.
233). This sense of the sacred is a theme that has emerged in many of the typologies and results of epiphany-like
studies (e.g., Pahnke, 1963) as well as the place attachment literature. Although it is too early to make claims
regarding the spiritual or sacred component of environmental epiphany experiences, there seems to be enough
evidence to suggest that this may be a frequent, if not defining, characteristic of environmental epiphanies.
Bott, Cantrill, and Myers (2003) located the concept of place within three main groupings, including the built versus
natural environments, explanatory versus normative views, and humanistic versus social scientific perspectives of
place. Related to their view of the built versus natural environments of place, they argued that all places that are
significant to the participant are meaningful to study. They described place as a holistic phenomenon that cannot
be separated into individual components and argued that the study of place in built and natural environments may
illuminate the paradoxical perception that nature is defined as free of human interference (see also Vining,
Merrick, & Price, 2008).
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With particular reference to natural environments, place can further be categorized by the ways in which people
experience these environments in terms of recreation and enjoyment. Mitchell et al. (1993) offered a typology for
visitor-environment relationships in their study of special places in the Chiwawa River drainage area in Washington
state. They categorized these relationships by the degree to which visitors were attached to specific places. They
discovered that visitors were either attached or user oriented. Those with the most attachment to place had a deep
emotional bond with the place and described the place as being an entity in and of itself. Schroeder (2002)
reported similar findings regarding the strong emotional attachment to special places. Some of his participants
described their special places as a jewel or treasure or as a heaven or paradise (p. 12), all emotion-laden
descriptors.
These various ways of organizing the concept of place further illustrate that this concept often has drastically
different meanings for different people depending on the particular circumstances surrounding the experience of
place. This demonstrates that a concept such as place must be one in which meaning is constantly transforming
and being reconstructed. For example, certain places might hold more significance after one has had an (p. 497)
emotionally intense experience in that place. We also see evidence of the reconstruction of place when
environmental threats are suddenly present. In these cases, the perception of risk, which inherently includes many
psychological factors, dictates the conception of place. The experience of place attachment and environmental
meaning is one that encompasses the study of several psychological factors, including emotion, perception,
behavior, and valuesall of which are vital to the study of environmental epiphanies as well.
Studying Environmental Epiphanies
Defining Environmental Epiphanies

Even though environmental experiences are unique to each person and encompass a broad spectrum of
interpretations, it is necessary to define the terms of empirical research to make it practically feasible. By creating
a working definition of environmental epiphanies that is based on the extant literature and our own data, we have
attempted to generate a communication tool for fellow scholars and potential participants to use regarding this
subset of environmental experience. Although environmental experience itself is a worthy subject of study, we felt
as though we needed to narrow the concept to these particular types of intense, vivid, and unforgettable
experiences that we refer to as environmental epiphanies.
We developed this concept primarily by the analysis of extensive existing data sets that dealt with human-nature
interactions. We routinely conduct content analyses of narrative data, mostly regarding environmental decisionmaking practices. Through years of analyses, we regularly identified passages in which people described
environmental experiences accompanied by intense emotions, such as awe and wonder. We interpreted some of
these participants narratives as having hints of magical wonderment, spiritual enlightenment, and selfactualization. These participants seemed to have experienced a shift in the way they perceived themselves in
relation to nature or natural environments. We began to talk to others about their experiences of wonder and magic
in relation to environmental experiences and read about related experiences from several disciplinary
backgrounds.
What we found was that these general types of experiences were referred to in many different ways (e.g., peak,
flow, epiphanies, sudden insights, aesthetic, transformative, transcendent) but shared several similar
characteristics. Scholars have been formally discussing (many times anecdotally) this phenomenon for over 100
years (see James, 1902), and probably much longer in terms of religious and spiritual experiences in nature (e.g.,
Cristancho & Vining, 2004; Keltner & Haidt, 2003). In essence, we applied our empirical observations within this
general group of transformative experiences to the concept of human-nature experiences and devised the
concept of environmental epiphanies.
For the purposes of collecting data and recruiting research participants, we chose to communicate the conception
of environmental epiphanies as a very general definition to allow for further clarification by the study participants.
The following was our working definition.
Environmental epiphany: An experience in which ones perception of the essential meaning of their
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relationship to nature shifts in a meaningful manner.
Notice that our definition does not include the words environment or epiphany. We selected the term nature
because previous research (e.g., Vining, Merrick, & Price, 2008) has shown that peoples perceptions of the
nature-self relationship may have implications regarding environmental attitudes and behavior (see also Schultz et
al., 2004). We believed that the term environment could be defined too broadly by participants, which would
result in analyzing a broader group of experiences than those that focused on the nature-self relationship.
However, this definition should be interpreted as a working definition of the concept, to be further defined by
empirical work. The limits of language, meaning, and understanding across various populations and cultural
backgrounds are struggles that all researchers must face when relying upon language to communicate
complicated concepts. It is quite possible that the participants concepts of environmental epiphanies in terms of
environmental meaning may be different than that of the researchers.
Despite previous studies that highlighted the role of emotion in epiphany-like experiences, we did not want to limit
the definition by including the emotional element. We did not wish to exclude potential participants who were not
aware of (or who may not have experienced) emotional elements related to their epiphany experiences. Also, we
wanted to avoid imposing our own concepts of the definition before collecting a large amount of data on this
concept. At this stage in the development of environmental epiphanies, we recommend that studies are designed
to encourage and support the participants discoveries of their own meanings and interpretations of their
environmental experiences.
(p. 498)
The Study of Environmental Epiphanies: Initial Data
The methodology for our study of environmental epiphanies can be found in the introductory section of this
chapter. We outline some of our main findings below.
Descriptive Results
Participants average age at the time of the environmental epiphany was 32 with a range of 3 to 67. The 10-year
gap between the mean age at the time of the epiphany (32) and the mean age at the time of the interview (42)
suggests that these experiences were memorable and had long-lasting impressions. Although the age range is
wide, almost half of the experiences occurred in the teens and 20s. A little over 32% of epiphanies were reported
during the 30s and 40s, while almost 15% occurred in the 50s and 60s.
Environmental epiphanies were reported to occur at all times of day, with 29.4% of participants reporting their
epiphanies lasted as long as they were in their epiphany environment or engaged in their epiphany activity.
Outside of these enduring epiphanies, the most frequent time of day that epiphanies occurred was in the morning
(23.5%), with 11.8% occurring in the afternoon, 8.8% occurring in the evening, and only one occurring at night.
Several participants (11.8%) reported their experiences as occurring in the daytime, with no more specific memory
of the time of day. Over half (52.9%) occurred in the summer, with the next most frequent time of year being the fall
at 20.6%.
It was very difficult for participants to articulate the duration of their experiences. The most frequently reported
situation (29.4%) was one in which the epiphany lasted as long as the participant was in the epiphany place or
engaged in the particular activity that elicited the epiphany. However, a third of epiphany experiences (32.3%)
lasted five minutes or less. The duration of experiences ranged from a fleeting moment, often referred to as an
aha moment, to longer than an hour.
A majority of participants (73.5%) were in locations or engaged in activities that were unusual for them, with 26.5%
of participants reporting that they were engaged in routine activities or located in routine environments. Most
participants (70.6%) were not attempting to have an experience such as an environmental epiphany. However,
26.5% said that they were making an attempt to have this type of experience. Over half of participants (61.8%)
reported that the onset of their experience was sudden and nearly three-quarters of participants were surprised by
their experience. Participants descriptions of the ending of their experiences were almost exactly the opposite of
the onset of their experiences in terms of suddenness. The majority (61.8%) of participants reported experiencing
a gradual ending, while 38.2% reported a sudden ending. The role of others was significant in 41.1% of the stories,
but the majority of participants (58.8%) reported having a solitary experience.
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Over 85% of experiences occurred in the United States, mostly within preserved areas such as national or state
parks, recreation areas, and other natural or restored wilderness areas. Seven environmental epiphanies occurred
in the participants home environments with four occurring indoors and three occurring outdoors in home yards or
neighborhoods. Five occurred outside of the United States while participants were visiting or living abroad. Over
70% of participants stated that the significance of the epiphany place changed after their experiences, with that
particular place becoming more meaningful or special.
Over three-fourths of participants reported having changed their environmental values, attitudes, or behavior as a
result of their environmental epiphanies. Examples of these changes included spending more time in outdoor
venues, recycling more, and using less environmentally destructive chemicals. These changes and others
(education, career, relationships, spiritual) were reported by most (four-fifths) participants as being persistent and
lasting until the time of the interview.
When asked about environmental epiphanies outside of the experience participants were reporting for the study,
only 10 participants had experienced previous environmental epiphanies while over half reported experiencing at
least one since their reported experience. Since the term environmental epiphany had not been previously used,
we asked participants if they would characterize their experience as an environmental epiphany and most
(76.5%) agreed that the term accurately described their experience.
Epiphany Types
One main result of the content analysis of participants epiphany descriptions was the development of a typology
of environmental epiphanies, which included five discrete types of environmental epiphanies: aesthetic,
intellectual, realization, awakening, and connectedness. The aesthetic experiences were characterized by vivid
and awestruck (p. 499) descriptions of place in which participants were recognizing the beauty and aesthetic
value of nature and natural places, as the following quotation illustrates:
So, it was almostI felt like I wasin fact, I wrote down in my journalgoing through a sculpture garden
out herethe natural creativity of those [referring to glaciers]. There was a perfect little circle in one of
them. How do you explain that? We were just surrounded by them and then the snow-covered peaks and
the dark green of the forest coming right down to the water made it just a magical trip.
Intellectual epiphanies were experiences in which participants were exposed to new information (in these cases,
readings) that allowed them to adjust the way they viewed nature and their relationship with nature.
And it was just the most eye-opening life-changing book that Ive ever read. It justto realize that there
were pesticides being used that would persist on the earth for way beyond my lifetime and do horrible
things, killing indiscriminately.
Realization epiphanies were the most frequent in this data set. They were characterized are the realization of a
concept to which participants had been previously exposed. Many participants described these experiences as
the difference between knowing something and realizing something, two qualitatively different concepts to
participants. Realization epiphanies included stories that described a new awareness, an awareness of a different
option(s), a change in perspective, and overcoming the challenges of nature, as the following quotation illustrates.
This particular participant was discussing the challenge of climbing a mountain in Alaska:
And then that, just that feeling of satisfaction when you get the top. And that for sure propelled my feelings
for the rest of it and just kept adding on. And by the end, it was like, this is nothing, lets climb something
higher.
A slightly different and more intense type of epiphany was an awakening experience, in which participants
described feelings of an awakening, clarity, new vividness, a shift of consciousness, an awareness of the way
things should be, and nature as therapeutic and restorative. Many of these experiences were defined as lifechanging, life-affirming, or turning points.
And we were just miles and miles away, but I could see the Acropolis, just crystal clear and there was like a
beam of light coming down on it. And this experience really had nothing to do with the Acropolis; it had to
do with the quality of the light and the air. And I was just so overcome, you know, I was crying. And I just
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thought, you know, this is how it should be every day. And that our air and our mountains and our views
and everything just should be there for us always. And that struck my heart so hard that Ithis wasnt a
radical change in my plans, but it made me decide with a very profound commitment to pursue a career in
environment science.
Finally, connectedness epiphanies were distinguished by feelings of immense connectedness, including
descriptions of the self as part of something, a unification or connection with a larger whole or entity,
interconnectedness, and a universal connectedness. In these experiences, participants described complete
perceptual shifts in their relationships with nature, a higher power, or the universe. Connectedness epiphanies
tended to be very intense and accompanied with positive emotions.
And that was probably the first time I had ever experienced the powerful impact of something I have a hard
time putting into wordsbut just kind of this identitynot just with the physical nature of the world, but with
everythingof a union beyond myself that wasnt necessarily called god, but theres an identity with what
people identify as god. And that naturewhat is. Just felt very free and veryonce again, my experience
was a union with everything that is, not just the water, not just the surroundings, but everything that is.
It should be noted that many participant descriptions included aspects of more than one of these types of
epiphanies, but it was clear through our analysis which type captured each experience most accurately. In some
cases, participant transcripts illustrated both a primary type of environmental epiphany that tended to be at the
forefront of their stories, as well as a secondary type that served as a backdrop or an additional component of their
experiences.
Thematic Trends in Epiphany Descriptions

Our content analysis of epiphany descriptions also allowed us to develop a hierarchical theme-based system of
coding categories that emerged from participants narratives. We first integrated the primary (p. 500) types of
environmental epiphanies into the coding scheme. The other main categories of epiphany descriptions were
emotion, travel, physical activities, objects of interest, connection to other people, spiritual issues, environmental
issues, nature and place-based issues, and consequences of the experience. Under each of these first-degree
categories, several subcategories emerged from the transcripts, which are too numerous to list here. For a detailed
coding scheme and discussion, please refer to Merrick (2008). Each of these first-degree categories is briefly
described below.
Emotions
Most participants (85.2%) reported having positive emotions during their epiphanies, while only 20.5% reported
having negative emotions. There were fewer positive emotions reported by intellectual participants than the other
types. Aesthetic, realization, and connectedness participants reported the highest levels of positive emotions. The
most frequently reported positive emotion was enjoyment and appreciation of beauty. The emotions of
awe/fascination and peacefulness were also frequently reported.
I was just so happy and I guess it made me realize that without areas like that.I mean, I had always had a
respect for nature.
Negative emotions were not experienced by aesthetic and intellectual participants and had lower incidences than
positive emotions within the remaining epiphany types. Most participants who described experiencing negative
emotions described them in comparison to the largely positive emotions that they experienced during the actual
epiphany. The most frequently occurring negative emotions were being upset, sadness, or trauma.
Many participants (65%) described their emotional state throughout their epiphany stories. Aesthetic and
awakening participants discussed an emotional context more than participants who experienced other primary
types of epiphanies. In this category, participants most frequently discussed being in a state of psychological
distress before their epiphany occurred. Thirty-eight percent of participants described being in a state of
psychological distress related to mortality issues, separation issues, or negative life circumstances before the
epiphany occurred. In addition, about one-fifth of participants described experiencing an emotional release or
outpouring of emotion during the actual epiphany experience. A couple of participants discussed the magical
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elements of their experiences and the difficulty of expressing such phenomena.
Travel
Two-thirds of participants described some type of journey or travel related to their epiphanies. Subcategories within
this coding category included being away, separation from the everyday, escape, novel experience, novel places,
adventure, and experiencing different cultures. About half of the participants who discussed travel spoke in terms
of experiencing a novel place or activity, such as in the following quotation:
Ive always been interested in nature and just being outdoors since I was younger, but I think that the point
when I really had an epiphany about itI think I was 16 and I was in Alaska on a backpacking trip.
Physical Activities
During the course of describing their environmental epiphanies, most participants described their physical (bodily)
activities or sensations, generally in regard to activities in which they were engaged at the time of the epiphany.
About 70% of participants reported participating in recreational activities at some point surroundings their
experiences. Two-thirds of the participants who discussed recreational activities were walking, hiking, or jogging;
30% were camping. Realization and awakening participants tended to be more likely to engage in recreational
activities surrounding their environmental epiphanies.
Objects of Interest
Many participants experiences centered on one or more objects of interest. These objects seemed to serve as
focal points, objects that were fascinating or inspiring to participants, or objects that propelled the experience in
some manner. These objects included nature objects (e.g., the sun, trees, water, mountains, glaciers), non-human
living beings (animals, insects), built objects, and celestial objects (see Merrick, 2008, for an exhaustive list). Over
80% of participants described objects of interest that we categorized as objects within nature.
Connection to Other People

In the course of describing their experiences, almost 60% of participants discussed connection to other people in
some capacity. Subcategories within this theme included being unified by a common experience, motivated by
other(s) or an esteemed person, (p. 501) community awareness or responsibility toward others, connection with
significant others or family members, and seeking others with the same values.
Discussions of Spiritual, Environmental, Nature, and Place-Based Issues

A little over one-third of total participants discussed spirituality in their initial epiphany descriptions. Discussions of
spiritual issues included themes such as God speaking through nature, nature as religion, sacredness in nature,
and experiencing a higher power through nature.
I felt like I could reach out and touch God. I felt like I was enveloped or surrounded by God.
Half of all participants mentioned environmental issues in their epiphany descriptions. The highest percentages
were among the aesthetic and intellectual participants, while connectedness participants did not tend to mention
environmental issues in their descriptions. Subcategories within the environmental issues code included preserving
nature, pollution, global warming, and stewardship. Out of those who discussed environmental issues, 41% spoke
about the environment in terms of stewardship, responsibility toward the environment, and concerns for future
generations.
Topics of nature and place-based issues were highly prevalent in participants descriptions of their epiphanies.
Three-fourths of all participants discussed these issues within their epiphany stories. The highest percentage of
those who discussed nature and place-based issues was realization participants, with connectedness participants
closely following. Only a little over half of awakening participants discussed nature and place-based issues,
perhaps because of the internal nature of awakenings as opposed to some of the other types of epiphanies.
Subcategories included nature as art/metaphor, special places, and various elements of the human-nature
relationship.
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Like its something that as humans we have forgotten or weve stopped having that as a part of our lives
though we were evolved to be with nature originally. So, yeah it just felt like it was filling a missing piece
that we were supposed to have, but now with modern civilization weve put ourselves in concrete or
wooden buildings for most of our days.
Consequences of the Experience

Half of the total participants discussed the consequences of their epiphanies during the initial descriptions. Of
those, over half described the epiphany acting as an impetus for change in their lives, whether it was in terms of
creating a higher commitment to an issue, gaining motivation, or as a reminder of something they needed at the
time. Many participants also spoke about their recommitment to spend more time in outdoor environments or other
more environmentally responsible actions after the epiphany occurred.
Discussion of Findings in the Context of Other Epiphany-Like Research

The typology of environmental epiphanies found in our study suggests that there are several types of these
experiences with qualitatively different characteristics. This typology has many similar characteristics to those that
have been suggested by others. In Jamess (1902) gradations of mystical experiences, he described simple
realizations as the subject having known something for some time and suddenly realizing it in a different way,
creating a more holistic understanding. This description is similar to the realization epiphanies that were discussed
by participants in the present study. Miller and Cde Baca (2001) also discovered the experience of one realizing
something that is already known to be true in their study of insights and epiphanies. In addition, James (1902)
contended that these realizations can be brought about by elements such as words, light, odors, music, or
passages. The intellectual epiphanies in the present study reflect that new insights can be brought about by the
reading of texts and passages.
James (1902) wrote about the experience of awe and seeing meaning in everything with which one is surrounded.
This can be seen as translating to some of the aesthetic epiphanies as well as the awakening epiphanies in which
participants were fascinated with their surroundings and made connections that they previously had not. The most
extreme type of mystical experience described by James was pure and simple religious mysticism, which he
described as having the most religious significance. The connectedness types of epiphanies in the present study
had many elements of feeling at one with a universal whole and viewing the human-nature relationship as sacred
and inseparable.
Similarly, in Maslows (1964) characteristics of peak-aesthetic experiences, he listed the experience of the
universe perceived as a united whole, which corresponds directly to the connectedness epiphanies. He also
listed elements such as every person is sacred, world is seen as beautiful, and self-actualization, all
elements that were found (p. 502) within the present typology of environmental epiphanies. Williams and Harvey
(2001) also found the element of union with the universe or higher entity in their study of transcendent
experiences. In addition, Kals et al. (1999) included feelings of oneness toward nature in the scale they developed
for exploring emotional affinity toward nature.
Furthermore, Chenoweth and Gobster (1990) found that the ecology of the experience was significant. This
component included time, space, and relation to the environment. This relates to the present findings in that the
onsets of epiphanies were more sudden than gradual, the duration was fleeting, and the place was significant.
They also discovered that many of their participants had objects in their experiences, similar to the present
findings in which over 80% of participants experiences involved objects of interest in nature.
Miller and Cde Baca (2001) also developed a typology of insights and epiphanies that included many of the same
characteristics found in the study we report here. All of their four characteristics of personal transformation were
corroborated in the environmental epiphany data. Our participants gave vivid accounts of their experiences with
strong emotional content. Most of them were surprised by their experiences, suggesting that the occurrence of the
phenomenon was unprovoked. Environmental epiphany experiences were largely benevolent, as evidenced by
the high content of positive emotions, and included a sense of gratitude. Miller and Cde Baca (2001) also identified
such experiences to be enduring, having a lasting effect on participants. Almost all of our environmental epiphany
participants described sustained changes as a result of their epiphanies.
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There are contradictory findings in the literature as to whether epiphany-like experiences have either social or
interactional components. In their study of aesthetic experiences in natural environments, Chenoweth and Gobster
(1990) concluded that the aesthetic experience appears to be a solitary phenomenon (p. 6). However, Kals et al.
(1999) found that emotional affinity toward nature is stronger when nature is experienced with significant others.
Similarly, Mitchell et al. (1993) found that participants who were emotionally attached to special places in nature
expressed a strong desire to introduce or share with others the place of their affections (p. 33). Although Miller
and Cde Baca (2001) found that quantum changes occurred when participants were alone, the authors
speculated that other people may have an important influence in creating an acceptable social environment before
and/or after the experience occurred.
Although 59% of our participants reported their environmental epiphanies as solitary experiences, many
participants reported having their experiences with significant others or in group settings. Findings related to both
the solitary nature and social dynamics of epiphany-like experiences were strengthened in our study. The type of
environmental epiphany experience may determine the role of others.
The role of a novel or unusual place or activity emerged from our study as well. The place attachment literature
revealed a definite connection between the spiritual values of place and the experience of particular geographic
locations and everyday places. Chenoweth and Gobster (1990) described some of the aesthetic experiences of
their participants as a change in the perception of everyday places. Daitch et al. (1996) also depicted the
experience of everyday places of importance in their examination of personal environmental histories. In most of
their interviews with quantum changers, Miller and Cde Baca (2001) found that their participants epiphanies
occurred in everyday environments. In contrast, Kaplan and Talbot (1983) discussed the element of escape or
being away (along with fascination, coherence, and compatibility) as a critical factor of psychologically restorative
environments. Environmental epiphanies in the present study mainly support the importance of being in a novel
place or participating in a novel activity, although an entire type of environmental epiphany (intellectual) as well as
a quarter of all experiences occurred while participants were in everyday environments.
A Typology of Environmental Epiphanies

The results of our study indicated trends that can be useful in conceptualizing some of the characteristics of each
epiphany type. The following proposed working typology is based upon both the descriptive (quantifiable) and
qualitative descriptions in our data, as well as the review and integration of epiphany-like studies. When
interpreting the characteristics of this typology, please be aware that some listed aspects are based on only a few
participants. However, it can be used as a guide for future research to determine more widespread applicability.
Aesthetic epiphanies. Aesthetic epiphanies are generally elicited by a striking place and tend to occur at a slightly
older age than the other types of epiphanies. An object or objects of interest are present and one is engaged in an
unusual activity (p. 503) or in a novel place. Although one may be searching for this type of experience, it
usually takes him or her by surprise. These experiences tend to be shared with significant others or groups and
last longer than any of the other types of epiphanies. The significance of the epiphany place is an important aspect
of these experiences. One attaches more importance or meaning to the place after the epiphany has occurred.
This type of epiphany elicits discussions of environmental issues and changes in ones environmentally
responsible behavior. The emotional context of the experience is important, with positive emotions playing a
central role. Aesthetic epiphanies are likely to be followed by subsequent epiphanies.
Intellectual epiphanies. Intellectual epiphanies are not necessarily place-based and tend to occur in the home
environment while the participant is engaged in routine activities, such as reading. There is always an object of
interest, in these cases, part of a text or passage within written material. In an intellectual epiphany, one tends to
discuss travel and novel experiences, other living beings, the connection to other people, spiritual issues,
environmental issues, and the consequence of the epiphany. These types of epiphanies occur suddenly, often
giving one an aha or eureka feeling. They produce widespread changes in environmentally responsible
behavior. Intellectual epiphanies tend to be the first experience with environmental epiphanies but dont
necessarily lead to subsequent experiences.
Realization epiphanies. Realization epiphanies may be the most prevalent types of environmental epiphanies.
They occur when one realizes a concept of which one was aware but did not fully grasp. These epiphanies are
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accompanied by positive emotions and occur in unusual settings or when one is engaged in unusual activities,
mostly recreational. Discussions of place-based issues and consequences of the experience are common. They
are likely to last longer than many of the other types of epiphanies. Many of the characteristics (e.g., attempting to
experience an epiphany, onset, and the presence of others) tend to occur at mid-range as compared to the other
epiphany types. This may suggest that realization epiphanies occur in the middle of a continuum of intensity, with
aesthetic epiphanies being the least intense and connectedness epiphanies being the most intense.
Awakening epiphanies. Awakening epiphanies differ from realizations in that one is not necessarily realizing a
concept to which she had previously been exposed, but she experiences a new awakening or vividness as if she
had been asleep before the experience. These tend to be turning points or life-changing events and are
characterized by the importance of ones emotional context. These types of environmental epiphanies always
surprise the recipients. One is more likely to be involved in a recreational activity where physical exertion is
present while experiencing an awakening epiphany. This type of epiphany is also likely to produce a
personification or connection to the object of interest. Although the duration of awakening epiphanies varies, the
ending tends to be more gradual than not. Previous and subsequent epiphanies are equally as likely to be present
in those who experienced awakening epiphanies. These types of epiphanies are also likely to produce changes in
ones perception of the significance of the epiphany place.
Connectedness epiphanies. Connectedness epiphanies are characterized by their mystical and spiritual qualities,
and by the experience of becoming one with nature or a higher power. A connection to an object or objects of
interest is likely to be present in these types of epiphanies and one is somewhat attempting to have such an
experience. They are likely sudden moments and tend to be solitary experiences that are short in duration with
gradual endings. Connectedness epiphanies involve high levels of positive emotions as well as the discussion of
physical exertion. This is the only type of epiphany that involves the discussion of other physical sensations, such
as numbness or tingling. Connectedness participants emphasize spiritual and place-based issues. After
experiencing a connectedness epiphany, one may change his perceptions of the place of occurrence, will likely
change his environmentally responsible behavior, and is very likely to experience subsequent environmental
epiphanies.
We envision this typology of environmental epiphanies to act as a theory-building tool and a guide for the design of
future research regarding this phenomenon. The trends that we presented in the above guide could be used in
research that has a larger and more diverse participant pool, such as large-scale questionnaires. This typology
can act as a foundation on which more comprehensive studies can be based. We designed the trends and
suggestions in the typology to adapt to findings of future studies, which will give us a better grasp of the
phenomenon of environmental epiphanies and epiphany-like experiences in general, but also leave room for the
typology and associated explorations to develop according to future findings.
(p. 504)
Overall Implications of the Initial Study
Some of the most important findings of this study were not reflected in the data analyses. One such finding was the
widespread response we received during the recruitment phase of this project. At one point, over 100 people were
on a waiting list to be interviewed about their environmental epiphanies. These people were from various
backgrounds, lived in two different American states, encompassed a wide range of ages, and were engaged in a
variety of professional activities. This suggests that the environmental epiphany phenomenon is relatively
widespread (at least in our recruitment populations). Our experience with this study, which is the first of its kind to
our knowledge, is that people immediately understand the concept and are grateful that researchers are interested
in a topic that is so personal and meaningful to them.
We also found that people were eager to share their epiphany stories. Many of the participants of this study
reported the feeling of elation and relief that they could finally share their environmental epiphany with someone.
Several participants communicated that they had been uncomfortable sharing their stories with others because of
the fear of rejection or negative reactions to airy fairy stories, filled with magic, wonderment, and serendipity.
Participants also requested that we consider hosting focus groups so that they could share their experiences with
others, as well as gain insights from other epiphany stories. Most important, participants expressed the desire for
their epiphanies to be taken seriously and given some validity.
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One of the main reasons that many participants felt ostracized as a result of their epiphanies was they felt society
in general does not value highly emotional experiences. In our review of the literature, the emotional emphasis of
epiphany-like experiences emerged from existing empirical work as well as from anecdotal evidence. This heavy
prominence of emotions was very much supported in our study. In the content analysis of the descriptions of
peoples experiences, a high percentage of participants (85%) discussed positive emotions, suggesting that
environmental epiphanies are largely positive and very emotional experiences. In fact, several times during the
interview process, participants became choked up, experienced tears in their eyes, or in a few cases began
openly crying while recounting their epiphanies. This calls for not only an academic shift, but also a cultural shift in
which we more fully appreciate the importance of emotionally driven experiences. Other authors who have
explored the concept of epiphanies have called for a similar shift (Jauregui, 2007).
Another main finding of our study was the importance given to nature and place-based themes suggesting that
environmental epiphanies are largely (but not exclusively) a place-based phenomenon. Participants tended to
spend the largest parts of their epiphany descriptions discussing place-based issues. Many participants discussed
wilderness environments and the idea of a lack of civilization or human impacts being prominent in their
experiences. This suggests that the preservation of wilderness areas was valued by participants. However, at the
same time participants spoke about their place in nature and how their epiphanies gave them an understanding of
themselves as a part of nature. This contradiction of defining nature by a lack of human involvement, yet intuitively
knowing that humans are an important part of nature, has been theorized as being an impediment to the success of
conservation efforts (see, e.g., Vining et al., 2008). Realizing that humans are part of nature and that the
preservation of the environment fundamentally involves human civilization could be the key to developing
strategies that increase environmentally responsible behavior.
Themes of traveling or taking a physical or metaphorical journey were also emphasized in environmental epiphany
descriptions. This suggests that being in a novel environment or engaging in a novel activity can increase the
likelihood of having such an experience. Seventy-four percent of epiphanies occurred while people were engaged
in unusual activities or visiting novel environments. Many of the stories of travel involved experiencing an
environment that is outside of the everyday. The importance placed upon engaging in new recreational activities
within these novel environments suggests that traveling to a new place and participating in recreational activities,
such as hiking or camping, may be important precursors to an epiphany experience.
Finally, the permanent impact of environmental epiphanies was very notable. Participants discussed a wide variety
of changes that they made in their lives as a result of their epiphany experiences. These changes took place
mainly in participants relationships, spirituality, educational or career pursuits, and environmentally responsible
behavior. All of the participants in the study described the changes as lasting, with 82% of participants reporting
that the changes had lasted to the present day. Perhaps the changes were permanent because epiphanies were
described as motivating, life-changing, and instigating a turning (p. 505) point in participants lives. The data from
our study show that these experiences were memorable and had long-lasting impressions.
Notable among these changes was the 77% of participants who described having changed their environmental
attitudes, values, or behavior as a result of their experience. Note that we asked participants about many types of
behavioral changes, not just environmentally responsible behavior. We also did not indicate during the recruitment
or informed-consent portions of the study that we were looking for a link between environmental epiphanies and
environmentally responsible behavior. Although these were self-reported changes and should be interpreted with
caution, the potential of environmental epiphanies acting to motivate higher levels of environmentally responsible
behavior is a promising trend that can be explored in future studies.
Applications and Future Directions
The Nature of Environmental Epiphanies

The study of phenomena such as environmental epiphanies calls for an approach to research that embraces
interdisciplinary and mixed methods of inquiry. Since these epiphanies hold the most meaning for the individuals
who experience them, we encourage researchers to utilize participant descriptions and preserve the significance
of such experiences qualitatively. At the same time, it is important to determine the frequency with which
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environmental epiphanies occur in the population. To date, we have limited empirical evidence of the
environmental epiphany phenomenon, and the frequency of their occurrence is unknown. Moreover, invoking
Maslows Hierarchy, are environmental epiphanies the province of relatively wealthy and articulate individuals who
have their basic needs met?
There are a few studies of the outcomes of epiphaniesenvironmental or otherbut overall we understand little of
the consequences of these experiences. Will environmental epiphanies bring people closer to nature? If people
who experience environmental epiphanies are brought closer to nature, will that in turn affect environmentally
conscious attitudes, motives, or behaviors? What percentage of environmental epiphanies include an aha
moment that propels further understanding of the environment in which the epiphany was experienced? Finally,
studies of environmental epiphanies specifically or epiphanies more generally have the potential to help
understand the roles played by emotions such as awe and wonder in cognition and behavior.
Managing Natural Areas for Environmental Epiphanies

Part of the purpose of our exploration of this concept and the initial study was to begin to make recommendations
to public land managers regarding the nature of these types of place-based (mostly outdoor) experiences. We
have many preliminary results that can be further explored in future research regarding the management of
epiphany places.
The importance of preserved natural areas was a major theme that emerged in participant interviews. In fact, 59%
of our participants experiences occurred in US preserved and publicly managed land. This indicates that these
areas are special and meaningful places to the public and should be managed with continued efforts that
emphasize understanding public experiences and input.
We dont yet know what features of the epiphany environment are the most important or meaningful. Certainly the
vast majority of individuals reporting environmental epiphanies experience them in natural environments. Perhaps
an interesting exploration would be to conduct studies in which environmental features are used to predict the
frequency of environmental epiphanies, in a manner similar to that used by Daniel and Boster (1976) and others in
predicting aesthetic quality from measurable features of the landscape. Using environmental epiphanies as an
outcome measure will be difficult until we know more about them, but those who studied aesthetics (and emotions,
for that matter) experienced early inertia before finding relatively simple ways to measure their outcome variables.
The idea that humans possess epiphany-based psychological attachments to certain places is certainly one that
should not be overlooked in planning and managing public land (Schroeder, 2002). In fact, after experiencing
epiphanies in such environments, the majority of our participants reported becoming more concerned with
preservation and proper management. The publics attachment to these places can be used as a tool to engage
more meaningful input regarding important policy changes. If place attachment is enhanced by the experience of
environmental epiphanies, it is in land managers best interest to understand and value the investment that the
public has in such decisions.
Another significant finding that relates to management issues is the diversity in the types of people who experience
these publicly managed lands. Our initial result that publicly managed areas are used by people of all ages and in a
variety of health (p. 506) conditions supports the findings of existing trends in the access and use of public land.
This indicates that public lands should continue to offer opportunities for a variety of users. Those who
experienced environmental epiphanies were certainly not restricted to rugged outdoorsy types of people, and their
experiences were not limited to wilderness, so the importance of facilities that cater to a broader group of users
with diverse needs should not be overlooked.
The emphasis placed by our participants upon recreation activities related to epiphany experiences also has
implications for management, especially in terms of access to wilderness areas and the permitting of recreation
activities such as camping. Thought should be given to populations that are financially constrained or less mobile
by offering a wide range of access points and permitting procedures.
Our findings also indicate the importance of group and guided activities set in novel environments. However, in
group settings, it seems vital that enough flexibility be present to allow for solitary time in nature for people to
experience the environment on their own terms. These results also suggest that creating more opportunities for
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initial exposure to nature contributes to a more invested public commitment to the future of these lands as well as
the likelihood of future visits. It is also notable that at least in this initial study, most experiences of this type
occurred in the summer and fall months.
Many of the authors reporting data on epiphany-like experiences indicated that these events are highly emotional
experiences with mostly positive consequences. Vinings (1987) work on emotions and environmental decisionmaking showed that negative emotions were associated with preservation ideals because participants feared the
loss of pristine environments. If the location of an individuals epiphany is changed or threatened, negative
emotions could motivate protest. This shows a need for land managers to possess an understanding of and respect
for the emotional aspects of nature experiences. This informed understanding can allow managers to better
integrate the role of emotions, both their own and those of the public, into land management policies. In addition, it
can assist in securing the trust and commitment of vital stakeholders, members of interest groups, and the public at
large to create integrated and effective policies.
Future Research Directions

Our study of environmental epiphanies was an exploratory effort that allowed us to examine several elements of
environmental epiphany experiences in a rich data set, but in a limited number of participants. In addition to
collecting data involving as many details as possible regarding the experiences themselves, we also developed a
working typology of environmental epiphanies. We explored the circumstances before, during, and after the
experience and discovered that most epiphanies resulted in persistent life changes.
We would like to see future research support and develop some of the results from our study as well as develop
some more convincing statistical relationships that would be possible with larger numbers of participants. All
empirical studies of epiphany-like experiences to date (and most of those preceding them) employ more of an
idiographic than a nomothetic perspective. We cant assume that everyone has had an environmental epiphany
and research is needed to determine the frequency of these experiences both within and between individuals.
Moreover, there are several variables and relationships between variables that could be further explored in future
research. One issue that seems to emerge from the present literature on epiphany-like experiences involves the
importance, qualities, and characteristics of the places that epiphanies occur. Do those who experience
epiphanies have place attachments before the experience, or does the attachment occur with and/or after the
epiphany experience? Are certain places more likely to elicit epiphany-like experiences? If so, what are the
specific characteristics of these places, and how can they be managed to preserve these qualities to encourage
future environmental epiphanies. What are the social dimensions of these experiences? Are environmental
epiphanies experienced more often when individuals are alone, or in groups?
Another variable that we considered in our initial study was the participants relationship with nature before and
after the experience. Since ones relationship with nature has been a significant source of study within
conservation psychology, we need to ask how exactly those who have experienced an environmental epiphany
shift their perception of their relationship with nature. Can we predict the potential of experiencing an
environmental epiphany from ones existing relationship with nature?
One of the main reasons that we became interested in the topic of environmental epiphanies was the potential of
the consequences of such experience in terms of environmentally responsible behavior. In our study of the
phenomenon, we discovered that there was indeed a connection between experiencing (p. 507) an
environmental epiphany and changing ones environmentally responsible behavior. Not only was the relationship
between these variables present, but the permanence of the self-reported changes in behavior was also quite
notable. Considering the lasting impacts of epiphanies in terms of more responsible environmental attitudes and
behavior, there is tremendous potential regarding environmental education and outreach efforts.
The characteristics of the epiphany and the environment in which it occurs may offer ideas for the design and
management of environments. Large cathedrals seem to stimulate feelings of reverence and joycould our forests
benefit from these same relationships? Does an old-growth forest engender more environmental epiphanies than
one that was harvested 25 years ago? If epiphanies do lead to insight and adoption of environmentally friendly
behavior or attitudes, can zoos and aquariums structure their exhibits expressly to enhance epiphanies?
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Finally, it is vital that more diverse populations are sampled in future studies of environmental epiphanies. Our initial
observations and results are largely based upon Americans with a significant amount of education and privilege. It
is important to determine whether some form of these experiences are indeed universal and if so with what
frequency they tend to occur. Exploring the demographic characteristics of those who have had epiphany
experiences should be a priority in future research. Even further into the future, perhaps there could be
developmental studies that incorporate environmental epiphanies. Overall, there is a wealth of information to be
had about environmental epiphanies in and of themselves, as well as their effects on other psychological variables
and outcomes.
Concluding Statements
Evidence from our development of this concept, our review of the literature, and our empirical study indicates that
environmental epiphanies may be universally understood, widespread, positive experiences with permanent
consequences. These experiences have been described as life-changing, turning points, and highly significant
and meaningful to those who encountered them. The changes experienced from environmental epiphanies
permeated all aspects of life, including relationships, spirituality, career choice, and environmentally responsible
behavior.
Implications from research concerning epiphany-like experiences can serve to inform environmental educators,
conservation psychologists, and land managers. Those interested in recreation, tourism, and environmental design
can also benefit from the insights gained from studying this phenomenon.
Given that environmental epiphanies may be a common type of life experience, it is essential that future research
be conducted to explore the phenomenon in greater detail, on a larger scale, and with more diverse populations.
The study of epiphany-like experiences, especially in relation to the human-nature relationship, is essential in our
understanding of the complex environmental dilemmas that we presently face.
Author note: We are equal coauthors and both participated materially in all phases of the research that is reported
here.
Acknowledgments
This study was funded by the USDA Forest Service Northern Research Station and we are very grateful for their
support. We would also like to express our gratitude to all of the participants of this study as well as our research
assistant for this project, Shannon OLaughlin. Finally, we thank Susan Clayton, the editor of this volume, for her
thoughtful suggestions throughout the writing of this chapter.
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Joanne Vining
Joanne Vining Department of Natural Resources and Environmental Sciences University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
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Champaign, IL
Melinda S. Merrick
Melinda S. Merrick Department of Geography and Environmental Studies Northeastern Illinois University Chicago, IL
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The Natural Environment in Residential Settings: Influences on Human Health and

Function

The Natural Environment in Residential Settings: Influences on Human Health
and Function
Nancy M. Wells and Kimberly A. Rollings
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0027

This chapter examines the influences of the natural environment on human health, function, and well-being. We
focus primarily on the effects of nature within a residential context and consider a range of outcome variables
including physical health and physiological stress; cognitive functioning; psychological or mental health; social
interaction; and physical activity and obesity. We consider evidence related to adults as well as youth. Following a
review of the evidence, we offer a brief methodological critique and suggest directions for future research.
Keywords: nature, human health, restoration, cognitive functioning, mental health, social interaction, physical activity, obesity
Introduction
The enjoyment of scenery employs the mind without fatigue and yet exercises it; tranquilizes it and yet
enlivens it; and thus, through the influence of the mind over the body gives the effect of refreshing rest
and reinvigoration to the whole system. (Olmsted, 1865/1952, p. 21)
For centuries, poets, planners, landscape architects, writers, and physicians have touted the salugenic virtues of
the natural environment. From Thoreau to Wordsworth to Olmsted, the rejuvenating properties of nature have been
praised. The prominence of gardens in hospitals of the 1800s offers further evidence of early beliefs that nature
proffered health benefits (Nightingale, 1860/1996). The importance of nature in residential settings, specifically, has
been a focus in a variety of poetic writings as well as practical proposals. For example, in the 1800s urban planner
Ebenezer Howard proposed garden cities as an alternative to the crowded and unhealthy city, and as a place
where residences would be surrounded by forests, parks, and farmland. In recent decades, empirical evidence has
begun to support the notion that the natural environment has a positive effect on human health (Frumkin, 2001;
Wells & Donofrio, 2011).
In this chapter, we review the evidence linking the natural environment to human health and well-being, with
specific focus on the residential environment. Although an exhaustive review is not possible in the space provided,
we attempt to present an overview of the evidence, focusing on five outcome variables or facets of human health
that have been linked to nature exposure: (1) general physical health, including physiological stress; (2) cognitive
functioning; (3) psychological or mental health; (4) social interaction; and (5) physical activity and obesity. In this
chapter, we do not address environmental preference (for review, see Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989) or the
environmental education literature (for review, see Rickinson, 2001); and, in large part, we do not address
evidence of the benefits of nature within health care settings, workplaces, schools, and other contexts. We do,
however, draw examples from laboratory studies and from these other (p. 510) settings to illustrate the relevance
to the residential environment. We review the empirical evidence as well as key theories and conclude with
suggestions for future research directions.
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Physical Health + Physiological Stress
With centuries of belief suggesting an association between the natural environment and human health, research in
the past four decades has scientifically substantiated these linkages (Frumkin, 2001). In this section, we consider
studies with a variety of physical healthrelated dependent variables, including perceived health, infirmary visits,
physicians records, post-surgery recovery time, psychophysiological recovery following stress, longevity, and
mortality.
Some of the earliest evidence linking nature to health comes from several studies documenting that natural views
from windowssome from institutional residencesare associated with positive health outcomes. Moore (1981)
found that prisoners with natural views from their windows made fewer visits to the infirmary than those with views
of an interior space. West (1986) found similar results in another prison environment. Ulrich (1984) documented
that gallbladder surgery patients with natural views of trees and grass from their hospital rooms made fewer
requests for pain medication, had fewer negative notes from nurses in their files, experienced a speedier recovery
following surgery, and were discharged from the hospital sooner than patients with a view of a brick wall. Verderber
and Reuman (1987) found similar results. These studies have typically been carried out in institutional settings
prisons and hospitalswhere individuals are essentially randomly assigned to rooms. This fact helps to reduce
issues of self-selection, which is a particularly salient threat to internal validity in studies of typical residential
settings, where people choose where they live.
Natural views can be therapeutic and reduce anxiety and stress (Ulrich, 1979). Research suggests that the
benefits of natural views may be greatest for people experiencing stress and anxiety (Ulrich, 1981, 1983). Natural
views have been found to increase positive feelings, hold interest and attention, and potentially reduce stressful
thoughts to encourage restoration (Ulrich, 1986). Mildly stressed rural and urban participants who viewed nature
slides (vs. American city views void of vegetation) reported a decrease in feelings of fear and an increase in
positive emotions such as affection and elation; the urban scenes increased anxiety and feelings of sadness
(Ulrich, 1979). One reason the gallbladder surgery patients previously mentioned benefited from the natural views
in their hospital rooms was that they were stressed and anxious about undergoing surgery (Ulrich, 1984).
Similarly, in Sweden, a study of 18 participants who viewed nature scenes dominated by vegetation, nature scenes
with water, and urban scenes found that natural scenes were associated with sustained attention and interest
(based on cortical activity measured by an EEG) more than urban views. No significant differences in heart rate
were found (based on an EKG), but heart rates were, on average, higher during viewing nature scenes, which is
consistent with increased attention or wakeful relaxation (Ulrich, 1981). Another study examined affective states
(self-rated) and physiological measures of autonomic arousal (muscle tension, heart period, skin conductance, and
pulse transit time) of 120 participants who first viewed a stressful 10-minute video, then watched color videotapes
with sound displaying one of six different natural or urban scenes (Ulrich et al., 1991). Participant recovery from
stress was faster and more complete when viewing natural rather than urban environments. Both the stressful film
and natural scene videos were associated with higher levels of involuntary or automatic attention. A third study of
953 randomly selected participants in Sweden reported a significant inverse association between number of urban
green space visits and self-reported experience of stress. Participants who frequented green spaces more often
reported lower stress levels (Grahn & Stigsdotter, 2003).
Studies based on Roger Ulrichs (1983) psycho-evolutionary theory suggest nature imbues beneficial effects
through physiological and emotional changes that occur in humans when presented with a natural view or nature
stimuli. Ulrich et al. (1991) proposed that immediate, unconsciously triggered and initiated emotional responses
not controlled cognitive responsesplay a central role in the initial level of responding to nature and have major
influences on attention, subsequent cognitive processing, physiological responding and behavior (pp. 207208).
According to Ulrich, stress recovery occurs due to the combined beneficial effects of increased positive emotions,
reduced stressful thoughts, and positive physiological changes related to the stress response. This perspective
assumes an evolutionary basis for human response to nature in that humans are biologically prepared to respond
positively to environments that provide support for survival.
(p. 511)
Large-Scale Epidemiological Studies
In recent years, as more integration has occurred between environmental psychology research and other fields,
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such as public health, several large-scale epidemiological studies, mostly conducted with European and Australian
population samples, have found an association between the amount of nearby nature or open space and general
physical health (de Vries, Verheij, Groenewegen, & Spreeuwenberg, 2003; Ellaway, Macintyre, & Bonnefoy, 2005;
Maas, de Vries, et al., 2009; Maas et al., 2006). For example, a Dutch study of 17,000 people indicated that
residents living in areas with more green space within a 1 km and 3 km radius experienced better general health
based on general practitioner records and patients perceptions of their own physical and mental health over a
two-week period (de Vries et al., 2003). This association was especially significant for housewives, lower
socioeconomic groups, and elder residents. The relationship was not significant for children.
Similarly, Maas and her colleagues (2006) also found that nature within a 1 km and 3 km radius and self-reported
health of 250,000 people in the Netherlands were associated, while controlling for socioeconomic status (SES),
demographics, and urbanity. Where 90% of the areas within a 1 km and 3 km radius of the home were green
space, only 10.2% of residents reported feeling unhealthy, whereas in locations where only 10% of the area was
green, 15.5% of residents felt unhealthy. In a subsequent study, Maas and colleagues (Maas, de Vries, et al., 2009)
found that people with more green space in a 1 km area around their homes had better perceived health, fewer
health complaints, and less self-reported propensity for mental illness.
Access to the natural environment has also been found to moderate the well-documented association between SES
and health. With a sample of more than 40 million British adults, Mitchell and Popham (2008) reported that the
association between income and mortality differed significantly by nature exposure over a four-year period.
Although the income-mortality association exists across levels of greenness exposure, the association was lower
for those with the greatest green space access. This was the case for both all-cause mortality and mortality from
circulatory diseases, while controlling for population density, degree of urbanity, and living environment. Authors
suggested that both the quality as well as the quantity of green space are related to health benefits.
Residential proximity to nature has also been linked to longevity. In a longitudinal study of more than 3,000
Japanese residents born between 1903 and 1918, Takano, Nakamura, and Watanabe (2002) found that the two
strongest predictors of five-year survival were the presence of parks and tree-lined streets and having a nearby
green space for taking a stroll. Although this study adjusted for age, gender, SES, and marital status, it did not
investigate whether the nearby green spaces were actually utilized for walking. This evidence is also correlational;
and similar to other large-scale studies, this study utilized generic indicators of health (e.g., mortality and selfreported perception of health) rather than prevalence of specific ailments or disorders. Another study that
examined the association between stroke mortality and air pollution, income, and greenness in northwest Florida
indicated that residents were at higher risk of stroke mortality in low-income areas with high air pollution levels and
low levels of exposure to green space (Hu, Liebens, & Ranga, 2008).
As with much of the research in this field, most of these large observational population studies employ a crosssectional, non-experimental design, so the evidence is correlational in nature, and causal conclusions cannot be
made. In other words, it is not entirely clear whether nearby green space affects health, or healthier people choose
to move to areas with more green space (i.e., selection effects). In addition, analyses typically do not account for
differences in duration of exposure to nearby nature. Nonetheless, the evidence suggests that there generally is
an association between natural settings and physical health.
Cognitive Functioning (and Attention Restoration Theory)

One of the most robust and enduring areas of research linking the natural environment to human well-being and
function is the work suggesting that views of, or access to, the natural environment bolsters cognitive functioning,
enhancing capacity to focus and concentrate. This work is grounded in attention restoration theory (S. Kaplan,
1995, 2001).

Attention restoration theory (ART), developed by Stephen Kaplan and Rachel Kaplan (S. Kaplan, 1995, 2001;
Kaplan & Kaplan, 1983), is based on the early work of William James (1892), who suggested that attention consists
of two components: voluntary attention and involuntary attention. Voluntary attention, also known as directed
attention (S. Kaplan, 1995, 2001), requires effort to (p. 512) inhibit the urge to respond to potential distraction
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and to focus on a task. With prolonged use, neural inhibitory mechanisms underlying directed attention become
fatigued, resulting in a state known as directed attention fatigue, characterized by difficulty concentrating,
feelings of irritability, and being easily distracted (Kaplan & Kaplan, 1983). Involuntary attention, in contrast, is
captured effortlessly. When involuntary attention is softly engaged (e.g., by a babbling brook or rustling leaves),
then effortful directed attention is able to disengage and can rest and recover.
Kaplan and Kaplan (1983) suggested that four environmental characteristics are needed to facilitate the restoration
of attentional capacity and recovery from directed attention fatigue. Fascination is found in settings that gently
capture involuntary attention, allowing neural inhibitory mechanisms to recover. Being away is the experience of
taking a mini vacation from immediate concerns. This may be a brief experience, such as gazing out a window, or
it may be a longer experience, such as a walk in the forest or a long vacation spent hiking. Extent refers to the
depth or scope of an experience. To be restorative, an environment must have a sense of continuity, so that one is
not required to shift cognitive modes or become vigilant due to threat. Extent, or depth, provides this kind of
continuity. Lastly, compatibility refers to the match between the environment and ones purpose or inclination.
This is a sense of having the wind at ones back (Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989, p. 186). Although there may be nonnatural environments that possess these four characteristics to some degree, nature proves to be the most reliable
source of mentally restorative experiences.
The capacity for nature to provide cognitive restoration has been documented in a variety of studies; a few will be
briefly reviewed. In a study of students living in dormitories, Tennessen and Cimprich (1995) documented that
those with window views of trees and grass performed better on cognitive tasks than those with views of buildings
and streets. Hartig, Mang, and Evans (1991) conducted a pair of studies to examine the effect of nature on
cognitive performance. In the first study, backpackers cognitive performance was compared before and after one
of three activities four to seven days in duration: a wilderness hiking vacation, an urban vacation, or no vacation.
Participants in the wilderness vacation condition showed greater improvement in cognitive function, measured by
proofreading performance, from before to after the trip. In a second study, Hartig and colleagues (1991) induced
cognitive fatigue among participants and then conducted a true experiment by randomly assigning study
participants to take an urban walk, take a nature walk, or quietly sit indoors. Consistent with the first study, those in
the nature condition performed better on a cognitive (proofreading) task in which subjects are asked to find errors
in a page of text. These findings were recently replicated using a within subjects design and the digit span
backward task as a measure of cognitive functioning (Berman, Jonides, & Kaplan, 2008). In a study conducted
within inner-city Chicago public housing, Kuo (2001) found that low-income women with views of grass and trees
from their windows performed better on measures of cognitive functioning (digit span backward) and were more
able to manage major life issues. In addition, Kuo documented that cognitive functioning mediated the relation
between nearby nature and the ability to manage life issues. More recently, Berto (2005) compared students
recovery from induced directed attention fatigue following exposure to either nature images or urban images.
Those exposed to images of nature recovered from the induced fatigue, while those in the urban image condition
did not.
In addition to the evidence linking nature exposure to cognitive functioning, Berman and colleagues (2008)
provided evidence concerning the specific aspects of attention that are affected by nature. Comparing
participants performance when exposed to images of nature or urban scenes, the researchers found that only the
aspect of attention that involves directed attention was affected by naturethat is, executive attention, but not
alerting or orienting, as measured by the Attention Network Test (Fan et al., 2005; Fan et al., 2002).
As with those of adults, studies of children indicate that nature bolsters childrens ability to focus and concentrate.
In one of the few longitudinal studies on this topic, Wells (2000) found that childrens improvements in cognitive
functioning after relocating to a new neighborhood were explained by increased amounts of vegetation near the
home, and not by changes in housing quality. In a study of children living in Chicago public housing, girls living in
apartments with green views performed better than girls with barren, treeless views on concentration, impulse
inhibition, and delay of gratification tasks (Faber Taylor, Kuo, & Sullivan, 2002). Findings did not apply to boys,
possibly because boys typically have a larger territorial range and spend more time away from the home and might
therefore be less affected by the apartment view.
(p. 513) Although not all the studies described examine the amount of nature in the residential context as an
independent variable, all have clear implications for the provision of nature views, trails, and resources within and
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proximate to housing environments.
From a research design standpoint, the true experiments using random assignment (or quasi random
assignment, in the case of public housing studies) to assign participants to conditions help to rule out self-selection
threats to internal validity. Moreover, the few studies that employ a longitudinal (or pre/post comparison) have more
robust internal validityallowing for causal, rather than correlational conclusions.
Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder

Exposure to the natural environment has also been associated with reduced symptoms among children diagnosed
with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). This line of inquiry is based on the notion that ADHD appears
to have fundamental behavioral and possibly physiological parallels with directed attention fatigue (DAF). Both
conditions are characterized by difficulty concentrating, inability to complete tasks, trouble delaying gratification,
and difficulty inhibiting impulses. Surveys administered to parents of children with ADHD suggest that children
function better than usual after activities in green settings compared to activities in non-green settings (Faber
Taylor, Kuo, & Sullivan, 2001; Kuo & Faber Taylor, 2004). More recently, a true experiment was conducted in
which children diagnosed with ADHD were randomly assigned to a nature walk, a neighborhood walk, or a
downtown walk. The findings support those from the survey evidence: cognitive performance following the nature
walk was significantly better than following the downtown or neighborhood walks (Faber Taylor & Kuo, 2009).
Mental Health/Psychological Well-Being

Relatively few studies have explicitly examined the relation between nature and mental health or psychological
well-being. The studies that do examine this domain include varied operationalizations of mental health or
psychological well-being such as self-esteem, self-worth, psychological distress, and effective functioning. In a
study of low-rise apartment complexes in the midwestern United States, Rachel Kaplan (2001) examined the
association of views from apartment windows and various measures of well-being. Apartment views with nature
elements were associated with greater psychological well-being. Views of trees were related to a sense of being
at peace and not being distracted and views of gardens and landscaped areas were related to feeling
effective. While these findings are framed as measures of (psychological) well-being, they also relate to cognitive
functioning, as described in the previous section. A recent study of more than 1,800 Australian adults found a
significant relation between perceived neighborhood greenness and mental health. Moreover, findings suggest that
the association is partially mediated by walking and by social coherence (Sugiyama, Leslie, Giles-Corti, & Owen,
2008). Although nature was not measured objectively, the findings suggest that an association between nature and
mental health exists.
One study examined nature as a moderator, rather than an independent variable affecting mental health. Wells and
Evans (2003) found that nature near the home served as buffer of life stress experienced by children. Specifically,
children whose home had more nearby nature (i.e., whose window views had more natural content, who had more
indoor plants, and whose yard was grass, as opposed to dirt or concrete) experienced less psychological distress
and less detrimental effects on their self-worth as a result of stressful life events, such as being picked on by other
kids, fighting with parents, or being subject to peer pressure. While the Wells and Evans (2003) study revealed the
potential for nature to buffer the effects of stress or adversity, it does not explain the mechanisms underlying the
finding. As we will discuss in subsequent sections, it is plausible that children with more proximate nature form more
social connections and more friendships, which provide social support to buffer the effects of stress. Or children
with more ready access to nature may be more cognitively restored and therefore able to think more clearly and
cope more effectively with the stress they face.
One body of evidence suggests synergistic short and long-term physical and mental health benefits from
simultaneous exposure to nature while exercising, or green exercise (Barton & Pretty, 2010; Pretty, Griffin,
Sellens, & Pretty, 2003; Pretty et al., 2007; Pretty, Peacock, Sellens, & Griffin, 2005). In addition to reducing blood
pressure, viewing images of rural and urban natural landscapes while running on a treadmill in a controlled
laboratory simulation improved mood and increased measures of self-esteem positively associated with mental
health more than when exercising without images or while viewing unpleasant rural and urban images (Pretty et al.,
2005). (p. 514) Another study found that running in a park promoted restoration more than running in an urban
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environment (Bodin & Hartig, 2003). An analysis of 10 case studies focusing on green exercise initiatives that
varied in intensity, duration, number of participants, and environment in the United Kingdom revealed improved
self-esteem and reduced mood disturbances (depression-dejection, anger-hostility, confusion-bewilderment,
tension-anxiety) after green exercise (Pretty et al., 2007). A later study that examined variations in intensity and
duration of the 10 green exercise activities and environments found that short engagements (5 minutes) in green
exercise yielded immediate mental health benefits, positive but diminishing effects for longer green exercise
duration (1060 minutes), and increased benefits for full-day participation (Barton & Pretty, 2010). Mentally ill
participants experienced the greatest improvement in self-esteem. Furthermore, although all green environments
improved self-esteem and mood, the presence of water generated greater effects.
Social Interaction and Social Connection

A variety of social and community benefits have been associated with the presence of or exposure to nearby
nature and urban trees, including empowerment (Westphal, 2003), greater feelings of safety (Groenewegen, van
den Berg, de Vries, & Verheij, 2006; Kuo, Sullivan, & Wiley, 1998), lower rates of crime (Kuo & Sullivan, 2001), and
environmentalism (Wells & Lekies, 2006). In this section, however, we focus specifically on social interaction and
social connections that may be fostered by the natural environment and that form the foundation for the
development of community (Elmendorf, 2008; Perkins et al., 1990).
One of the relatively early studies to examine linkages between the natural environment and social outcomes
examined five-year-old Swiss children. The researcher documented that children who could not easily play
outdoors, due to either parental restrictions or heavy nearby traffic, had fewer playmates and also exhibited poorer
social and behavioral skills than children with easy outdoor access (Httenmoser, 1995). Similarly, the childrens
parents were found to have fewer social contacts as well.
Two closely related areas of research were completed in Robert Taylor Homes (RTH) public housing complex in
Chicago, Illinois. These studies, led by Frances Kuo and William Sullivan, examined both (a) the use of outdoor
space and (b) differences in social connections among residents with more, versus less, nearby nature. By
comparing the use of green, treed outdoor spaces to that of relatively barren spaces, the first group of studies
provides evidence that nearby natural areas are frequently used, facilitate social interaction, and contribute to the
development of social bonds. Coley, Sullivan and Kuo (1997) found that the outdoor public spaces with trees and
vegetation were associated with greater use by both youth and adult residents. Sullivan, Kuo, and DePooter (2004)
replicated these findings. With more than 700 individual observations within 59 outdoor common spaces, they
documented that nearly twice as many people used the green spaces compared to the barren areas and that 83%
more social activities occurred in green versus barren areas. Similarly, with respect to children, Faber Taylor and
her colleagues (1998) found that green spaces were both more supportive of childrens play and that children had
more access to adults in green outdoor settings than in the more barren outdoor spaces. The green spaces
fostered intergenerational interaction, and supported greater contact with family as well as non-family members.
Additional RTH research focused not on the use of outdoor spaces, but on differences in the social connections
among people who live in buildings with, versus without, proximate nature. These investigations took advantage of
a natural experiment that allowed for comparison of residents living in architecturally identical public housing
buildings that differed only in the amount of nearby trees and vegetation. Some buildings were surrounded by
trees, while others stood in a relatively barren landscape. Public housing residents were virtually randomly
assigned to their housing units, eliminating the potential bias of self-selection. In a study of older residents (ages 64
to 91) of the RTH public housing complex, Kweon and colleagues (1998) found that those living in buildings
surrounded by trees and grass had higher levels of social integration than those with little nearby vegetation.
Residents with nearby nature had a greater sense of belonging, they were more familiar with their neighbors, and
they experienced higher levels of social support than those without nearby trees and grass (Kweon et al., 1998). In
addition, Kuo, Sullivan, Coley, and Brunson (1998) studied 145 adult residents of RTH and found that not only did
residents of greener buildings have stronger social ties than residents of the less green buildings, but also that the
relationship between vegetation and neighborhood social ties was mediated by social interaction. Thus, (p. 515)
collectively the Chicago public housing studies document that green spaces are used more than barren spaces,
that green fosters social interaction, and that the increase in use of green space and social interaction can lead to
stronger social ties.
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Consistent with the findings related to children and adults, in a study of adolescents, Eubanks Owens (1988) found
that natural areas are highly valuedparticularly as places to interact with peers. Together the evidence suggests
that green settings serve as a social magnet, drawing people together and facilitating interaction, the development
of friendships, and the formation of neighborhood social ties. However, there are some inconsistencies in the
evidence. In a study of Australian suburbs, Wood and colleagues (2008), for example, found no significant relation
between distance to a park from a residence and social capital.
In addition to social interaction or connectedness being a dependent variable fostered by nature access, social
contacts have been suggested as one of the possible mediating mechanisms linking nature and health (Health
Council of the Netherlands and Dutch Advisory Council for Research on Spatial Planning, 2004; Wells & Evans,
2003). Studying more than 10,000 Dutch residents, Maas and colleagues found support for this idea (Maas, van
Dillen, Verheij, & Groenewegen, 2009). Although contact with friends and neighbors was neither predicted by
nearby green nor predictive of health outcomes, other measures of social contact did show significant relations.
After controlling for socioeconomic and demographic characteristics, feelings of loneliness partially mediated the
relation between the amount of green (within a 1 km radius) and several measures of health (perceived health,
health complaints in the past 14 days, and self-reported propensity toward psychiatric morbidity). In addition,
shortage of social support was also found to partially mediate the relation between nature and health complaints
and completely mediate the relation between nature and propensity for psychiatric morbidity.
The variety of scales employed in studies linking nature to social well-being is noteworthy. The studies conducted
within Chicago public housing by Kuo, Sullivan, and their colleagues deal with very proximate nature at the scale of
the apartment building and areas immediately surrounding the building. Nature is defined by the presence of trees
and grass on the immediate property. In contrast, the research carried out from a more epidemiological
perspective (e.g., by Maas and others) defines greenness as the amount of nature within a 1 km or 3 km radius.
This methodology does not record small natural areas. The methodologies, therefore, frame the question in
substantially different ways, and yet the fact that at least partially converging findings result from investigations at
such different scales enhances the evidence that nature affects social well-being, but also suggests that future
research might shed light on the relevance of scale in such investigations.
Physical Activity and Obesity

The onset of the global obesity epidemic and its associated health risks (e.g., diabetes, cancer, heart disease;
Must et al., 1999; The et al., 2010) has generated a relatively recent interest in examining associations between
proximity to nature, physical activity, and obesity. In the United States, research focused on environmental
influences on physical activity and obesity has been advanced, in part, through the work of the Robert Wood
Johnson Foundations Active Living Research (ALR; www.activelivingresearch.org). ALRs annual conference and
various funding mechanisms have fostered the growth of an interdisciplinary field that merges a variety of
disciplines including environmental psychology, urban planning, natural resources, recreation studies, and public
health. While studies have focused on the effects of policy as well as both the built and natural environment on
physical activity, here we focus on just the natural environment as an independent variable.
Studies examining the relation between the natural environment and physical activity focus primarily on residential
areas for both adults and children, and use objective or subjective (or a combination of both) measures of nearby
nature. In general, evidence suggests that incorporating green space into the built environment (i.e., the amount of
green space within the environment) encourages or increases physical activity participation in both leisure and
non-leisure activities (Handy, Boarnet, Ewing, & Killingsworth, 2002; Parks, Housemann, & Brownson, 2003; Ross,
2000). For example, a study of approximately 7,000 adults living in European cities indicated that among those
living in residential areas with high levels of greenery, the likelihood of being physically active was three times
greater and the likelihood of being overweight or obese was 40% less than for those living in the least green
settings (Ellaway et al., 2005). When compared with non-park users, parkgoers are more likely to achieve
recommended levels of physical activity (Deshpande, Baker, Lovegreen, & Brownson, 2005; Giles-Corti et al.,
2005). Giles-Corti and colleagues (2005) showed that Australians with access to large, attractive public open space
were 50% more likely to achieve high levels of walking and three times more likely to achieve recommended levels
of physical activity than those who did not use the spaces. Elder adults who resided in areas with more parks also
walked more than those who lived in areas with fewer parks (Fisher, Li, Michael, & Cleveland, 2004; Li, Fisher,
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Brownson, & Bosworth, 2005). In addition, a study of several rural Missouri counties found that respondents with
access to walking trails used trails more than those without access. Those respondents using trails were also more
likely to have increased their amount of walking since they began to use the trails (Brownson et al., 2000).
Proximity to parks, green and open space, and recreational spaces and facilities has been associated with higher
rates of park use and both adult and child physical activity (Bedimo-Rung, Mowen, & Cohen, 2005; Cohen et al.,
2007; Kaczynski & Henderson, 2007; Macdonald, 2007; Sallis, Bauman, & Pratt, 1998; Sallis et al., 1997; Sallis,
Prochaska, & Taylor, 2000). Given the practical challenges of conducting a true (or even quasi-) experiment with
respect to residential location, most of the evidence is correlational rather than causal in nature. As mentioned
earlier, senior citizens in Japan who lived near parks and tree-lined streets and places to walk were more likely to
be alive five years later (Takano et al., 2002). Although this study did not explicitly examine mediating
mechanisms, physical activity and maintaining healthy weight are good candidates. Similarly, responses from a
Dutch questionnaire of 1,200 adults between 18 and 24 years of age found that residents with nearby gardens or
green spaces reported being less stressed and experienced a reduced likelihood of obesity (Nielsen & Hansen,
2007). Kaczynski and colleagues (2009) found an association between the amount of park area and the number of
parks within 1 km of where 18- to 34-year-old adults and adults 55 years and older lived, and the likelihood of
obtaining at least 150 minutes of weekly park-based physical activity.
Additional evidence suggests that subjective measures of the natural environment, such as perceived
neighborhood greenness, are associated with physical activity levels, including walking (Sugiyama et al., 2008;
Tilt, Unfried, & Roca, 2007). After adjusting for socio-demographic variables, a survey of 1,895 people in Australia
found that residents who perceived their neighborhood as highly green were more likely to have better physical
and mental health; recreational walking was a potential mediator of the greenness and physical health association
(Sugiyama et al., 2008). Another study of 2,194 people in Australia found that perceived attractiveness, which
included measures of greenery and tree cover, in addition to outdoor recreational facility access and access to
places of interest, was significantly associated with neighborhood street use (e.g., walking) after adjusting for
socio-demographic variables (Sugiyama, Leslie, Giles-Corti, & Owen, 2009). Perceived accessibility to green
spaces has also been associated with physical activity. A study in England found that survey respondents who
lived in deprived areas but close to green space reported poorer perceived accessibility and safety, and used
nearby green spaces less frequently than affluent-area residents within similar proximity to parks. Distance to
nearby parks was only associated with frequency of use among the more affluent area residents. Deprivation
moderated the association between physical activity and perceived accessibility, safety, and frequency of green
space use (Jones, Hillsdon, & Coombes, 2009).
Among children, neighborhood parks and natural areas also play an important role in facilitating physical activity
(Bedimo-Rung et al., 2005). Neighborhoods with a larger proportion of park area were also associated with more
physical activity among 4- to 7-year-olds (Roemmich et al., 2006) and among 8- to 12-year-olds (Roemmich,
Epstein, Raja, & Yin, 2007). Moreover, an absence of nearby parks is associated with fewer walking and bicycling
trips among 10- to 12-year-olds (Timperio, Crawford, Telford, & Salmon, 2004).
Although little research to date has examined the relationship between parks and healthy weight status among
children, one study in Canada found that distance to nearby parks and nature was inversely associated with
healthy weight. Those children who lived within 1 km of a park playground were nearly five times more likely to
have a healthy weight when compared to children without nearby playgrounds (Potwarka, Kaczynski, & Flack,
2008). The use of parks and playgrounds by adolescent boys has been positively linked to physical activity
(Hoefer, McKenzie, Sallis, Marshall, & Conway, 2001). Males were also more likely than females to participate in
higher-intensity physical activity when in urban green spaces (Cohen et al., 2007; Wheeler, Cooper, Page, & Jago,
2010). In another prospective study, a sample of predominantly African-American, economically disadvantaged
children and youth, aged 316 years, living in greener settings were less likely to experience an increase in body
mass index (BMI) over a two-year (p. 517) period when compared to youth living in less green settings (Bell,
Wilson, & Liu, 2008). A recent study of more than 1,200 children in European cities suggested that access to
nature may partially explain the well-established association between SES and obesity. Evans, Jones-Rounds,
Belojevic, and Vermeylen (in press) reported that access to green space partially mediated the relation between
SES and physical activity, which in turn, predicted BMI.
In addition to the research examining the association between parks, open space, physical activity, and obesity,
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some studies have found that time spent outdoors is a consistent and positive predictor of physical activity and
higher energy expenditure (Ferreira et al., 2006; Pellegrini, Horvat, & Huberty, 1998; Sallis et al., 2000). More
recently, a three-year prospective study in Australia of 5- to 6-year-old and 10- to 12-year-old children found that
more time spent outdoors was associated with an increase in physical activity. Children who initially spent more
time outdoors also experienced a 2741% lower prevalence of overweight after three years (Cleland et al., 2010).
Another study of preschool childrens home environments in Australia further revealed that in addition to parental
activity, residential backyard size and the amount of outdoor play equipment were significant correlates of
childrens outdoor play (Spurrier et al., 2008).
Another body of evidence indicates that the design of outdoor play spaces (e.g., site layout, amount and variety of
play settings and equipment, presence of and proximity to vegetation, types of vegetation) at schools and daycare
facilities is associated with childrens physical activity and play-related behavior (Bell & Dyment, 2008; Boldemann
et al., 2006; Cosco, 2006, 2007; Fjortoft, 2001; Moore, 1974). Outdoor settings that include nature facilitate or
afford exploration, which can lead to sustained physical activity (Cosco, 2007). For example, a study of 11
preschools in Sweden found that physical qualities of outdoor environmentssize, presence of trees and shrubs,
and proximity of play equipment to vegetationwere associated with increased physical activity (Boldemann et al.,
2006). Children (ages 46) took a significantly larger number of steps in spacious play environments containing
trees, shrubbery, and broken ground, according to pedometer readings. Similarly, Cosco (2006) found significant
positive effects of outdoor play space design on physical activity. The size and diversity of the play areas were
among the most important predictors of childrens physical activity. Areas that contained vegetation, pathways,
and manufactured items were associated with the most active childrens play when measured using
accelerometry, behavior mapping, and video-tracking (Cosco, 2006). Although most of these studies occurred
within school and daycare settings, findings can be extended to outdoor residential spaces such as front and
backyards, courtyards, neighborhood parks and open spaces, and other available places for childrens play and
physical activity.
Although research findings suggest that nature and parks can encourage physical activity that leads to healthier
weight and that these effects persist across different populations in different settings, there are several limitations.
First, studies using objectively measured predictors of physical activity, such as the amount or proximity of nearby
green space calculated via geographic information systems (GIS), often do not distinguish between natural settings
that encourage physical activity and uninviting, inaccessible, or unused natural settings (Leslie, Sugiyama,
Ierodiaconou, & Kremera, 2010; Sugiyama et al., 2010). Objective and subjective or perceived measures of the
natural environment may assess different aspects of neighborhood greenness. For example, subjective, selfreported, perceived levels of greenery measure greenness from participants point of view at ground level.
Perceptions, however, may be influenced by other factors such as perceived access and safety (Jones et al.,
2009). The amount of nearby nature objectively calculated using GIS, on the other hand, yields a measure of the
amount of greenness visible from an aboveground viewpoint. Depending on the resolution of the images used, the
error for the estimated amount of greenness varies, especially in dense urban areas (ONeil-Dunne, 2008). Also, as
previously stated, no distinction is made between spaces that do and do not encourage physical activity. Objective
measures of nature may be addressing quantity of green space while subjective (perceived) measures reflect
quality of green space (Leslie et al., 2010; Sugiyama et al., 2010).
Second, many studies fail to account for specific attributes and facilities within nature and parks that are likely to
increase physical activity levels. It is important to note that the presence of natural areas, including parks, alone
may not be enough to encourage physical activity. The types of opportunities afforded by these spaces (i.e.,
facilities), such as walking and bike trails, safety, trees, shade, play equipment, water fountains and bathroom
facilities, paved and grassy areas, and athletic fields, may attract park users; having, for example, a basketball
court, may be more important than the distance to (p. 518) a park without a basketball court (Potwarka et al.,
2008). Parents and children may visit parks that are not necessarily nearby their residence to participate in
physical activity opportunities with friends, or to use specific facilities supporting particular physical activities
(Potwarka et al., 2008). Both objective and subjective measures of the quantity and quality of natural settings are
needed to further explore the relationship between the natural environment and physical activity.
Conclusion
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Growing evidence indicates that the natural environment has numerous beneficial effects on human health,
including physical, psychological, and cognitive outcomes as well as health behaviors such as physical activity.
Views of nature as well as access to parks or green space are critical components of the residential setting,
whether located in a rural, suburban, or urban context.
From an evolutionary perspective, neither a connection to nature nor the salugenic effects of nature are surprising.
As Howard Frumkin (2001) noted:
If the last 2 million years of our species history were scaled to a single human lifetime of 70 years, then the
first humans would not have begun settling into villages until 8 months after the 69th birthday. Some people
aboriginal groups in Australia, South America, the Pacific Islands, and elsewherewould remain huntergatherers until a day or two before the 70th birthday. We have broken with long-established patterns of
living rather late in our life as a species. (p. 235)
And yet, despite the intuitive nature of much of the data, there is a need for further research to more clearly
elucidate the relation between the natural environment and human health. Research evidence is valuable both with
respect to policy and in terms of theory. From a policy perspective, additional documentation of the value of nature
helps to build the case for the protection of woodlands; the planting of street trees; and the incorporation of parks,
gardens, and recreation areas within residential communities, whether urban, suburban, or rural. Without evidence
documenting that nature is critical to human health and well-being, unfortunately, natural areas are at risk
vulnerable to pressures for new construction in urban centers, to the sprawl in the suburbs, and to myriad
economic and other pressures in rural and wilderness areas. In terms of theory, further research will allow us to
understand more clearly how and why nature is beneficial, giving us a more in-depth understanding of how we
humans relate to the world around us.
Future Research Directions

Three areas are particularly rife with possibility for further investigation: dose-response relationships, moderators,
and mediators. We will address each of these areas in turn.
Dose-Response Relationships
Figure 27.1 Dose-Response Relations: How Much Nature Yields What Health Outcome?
One of the remaining issues in the study of natures relation to health concerns the amount or dose of nature
required to yield beneficial effects (e.g., Barton & Pretty, 2010) (see Figure 27.1). For example, how proximate must
a residence be to a park or open space for there to be a likely and significant association with physical activity
rates among residents? Similarly, how long or how much nature exposure is needed to enhance cognitive
functioning and recover from directed attention fatigue? Some studies suggest that window views of nature have a
potent influence (e.g., Tennessen & Cimprich, 1995); however, it is not clear whether window view might, in some
cases, be a proxy for the outdoor environment that residents not only view, but also spend time in. Future studies
might assess whether views of nature versus time spent in nature have an impact, and similarly how much time and
what level of engagement yields what outcome. Answers to such questions are important both theoretically and
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practically. Greater precision in our understanding of dose requirements will allow further development of theory
linking various doses to specific physical and physiological outcomes and will also contribute to policy
recommendations (e.g., how much park area is recommended for every 100,000 residents?) and design guidelines
(e.g., how many (p. 519) square feet of nature window views is suggested for an apartment?).
Future investigations of dose-response associations of nature and health will allow a more nuanced understanding
of the connections between the natural environment and human health and function.
Moderators
Figure 27.2 Moderators Influence the Strength of the Relation Between Nature and Health
Moderators, or effect modifiers, can affect the strength or character of the association between nature and
health (Baron & Kenny, 1986). Moderators, might address issues of when there is an effect, in what context
(where) there is an effect, for whom, or under what circumstances is there an effect (see Figure 27.2). Moderators
are also known as interaction effectswhen two independent variables interact to affect the dependent variable.
Moderators are relevant to the study of nature-health linkages in two general ways. First, the influence of nature on
health outcomes may differ according to individuals age, gender, location, SES, or other factors. Thus, it is critical
to note, following the discussion of dose-response relations, that while we are interested in the question of how
(and how much) nature is needed to affect health outcomes, there may not be one-size-fits-all effects or
prescriptions. The association between nature and health may not be the same for young versus old; rich versus
poor; male versus female; or in winter versus summer. Additional empirical study of moderating variables will
enable a more refined understanding of the conditions and circumstances under which nature most effectively
enhances health.
Figure 27.3 Nature Exposure as a Moderator Between Stress or Adversity and Health
A second way to conceptualize moderators in relation to nature-health associations concerns nature exposure as
the moderator (see Figure 27.3). In this case, nature may buffer or mitigate the impact of stress, adversity, or risk
factors on health and function. A few studies have examined the role of nature as a buffer. For example, Mitchell
and Popham (2008) found that in a large sample from the English population, exposure to green space moderated
the relation between poverty and health (specifically mortality from all causes and circulatory disease). Incomerelated inequalities were less pronounced among residents with more nature exposure. Wells and Evans (2003)
found that access to nature moderated the effect of stressful life events on the psychological well-being and global
self-worth of rural youth. Children with more nearby nature were less detrimentally affected by stressors. These
studies examining nature as a moderator or an effect modifier illustrate that views of and access to nature in the
residential environment may function as a resilience resource (Wells, 2012), reducing the detrimental impact of
environmental or social risk factors (Luthar & Cicchetti, 2000).
The examination of moderators (or effect modifiers) is an important facet of future studies examining the linkages
between the natural environment and health. The inclusion of moderators (i.e., interaction effects) can be
considered as strategies to elucidate both how third variables affect the nature-health relation and how exposure
to nature might moderate the relation between other environmental characteristics (e.g., stressors) and health
outcomes.
Mediators or Explanatory Mechanisms
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Figure 27.4 Mediators are Intervening, Explanatory Mechanisms Linking Nature and Health
As growing evidence links residential nature with health outcomes, greater understanding can be reached through
the investigation of mediating mechanisms. Mediators are intervening causal variables that explain why or how one
variable affects another and provide insight concerning the mechanism or pathway (Baron & Kenny, 1986) (see
Figure 27.4). For example, Sugiyama and colleagues (2008) found that recreational walking mediated the relation
between perceived neighborhood greenness and mental health. In her study of women living in poverty, Kuo
(2001) documented that the linkage between proximity to green space and effective functioning was mediated by
reduced mental fatigue. In addition to enhancing our theoretical understanding of how nature affects health,
mediation studies are also very practical. Elucidation of causal mechanisms suggests leverage points that policy or
intervention strategies might also target (p. 520) (in addition to the independent variable) to affect changes in
human health and well-being. For example, if physical activity is one pathway through which proximity to
residential nature affects physical health, then intervention strategies might be multi-pronged, aimed at increasing
nearby nature and directly promoting physical activity.
Integration and Collaboration

As we move forward in the study of nature and health, there are several opportunities for further integration and
collaboration. Clearly the evidence linking the natural environment to human health and well-being is broad and
diverse, ranging from physiological evidence to social outcomes to cognitive effects. Future efforts might work
toward a more holistic, integrated model of the salugenic effects of nature on human health and well-being.
Second, as disciplinary boundaries are increasingly blurred, more integrated, interdisciplinary collaborative teams
will be well-poised for the study of nature-health associations. Third, the study of how and why nature matters to
human well-being can be increasingly integrated with practical policy and design decision-making. By bridging the
gap between research results and the day-to-day decisions that affect both the environment and policy,
environmental psychologists can help to ensure the protection of our natural resources and contribute to thriving
individuals, families, and communities.
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Nancy M. Wells
Nancy M. Wells Department of Design and Environmental Analysis Cornell University Ithaca, NY
Kimberly A. Rollings
Kimberly A. Rollings Department of Design and Environmental Analysis Cornell University Ithaca, NY
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The Development of Conservation Behaviors in Childhood and Youth

Louise Chawla and Victoria Derr
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0028

With a focus on childhood and adolescence, this chapter seeks to understand how people come to act responsibly
on behalf of the environment. It begins with a brief overview of selected theories related to the development of
agency and the motivation to act as a framework for research reviews in three areas of young peoples
experience: informal play and exploration in nature; environmental education programs in schools and in the field;
and wilderness experience programs. The chapter compares research results in these areas with the goal of
understanding the types of experiences that prepare young people to take action for the environment, considers
how these results correspond with processes that would be predicted by developmental theory, and distills
recommendations for the design of school-based programs, wilderness adventure programming, and the design of
communities that facilitate free access to nature. Directions for future research are suggested.
Keywords: children, youth, environmental behavior, environmental education, place-based education, significant life experiences, wilderness
adventure
The Goal of Action for the Environment

To build a body of knowledge in conservation psychology that can be effectively applied to the solution of
environmental problems and the protection of natural areas and biodiversity, it is essential to understand why
people take actions that impact the environment for better or for worse, for it is human action that creates problems
or contributes to solutions. Therefore, this chapter reviews research that investigates how children and youth
develop active care for the environment. It focuses on three areas of young peoples activity where behavior
outcomes have been assessed: informal play in natural areas, environmental education programs, and wilderness
adventures. It seeks to understand the experiences that encourage young people to show care for the natural
world and choose sustainable behaviors.
According to the Tbilisi Declaration of UNESCO (1978), the ultimate objective of environmental education is to
enable students to work toward the solution of environmental problems. Agenda 21, the United Nations blueprint for
sustainable development, gave children and youth the status of major groups who need to be involved in
participatory processes to achieve sustainability (United Nations, 1992). According to the UN Convention on the
Rights of the Child, which defines a child as anyone under 18, childrens basic rights include access to
education for respect for the natural environment and a voice in decisions that impact their liveswhich are
understood to include decisions that impact their environment (United Nations, 1989). In each of these international
agreements, informed action is an essential objective.
Leaders in environmental education and childrens rights have further defined this goal. Echoing Deweys (1938)
emphasis on learning by doing, Hart (1997) observed that children learn democracy (p. 528) by practicing it. He
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argued that they learn most effectively in their local communities, where issues are visible and meaningful, where
they can see the effects of their actions and gain a sense of belonging by feeling valued for their contributions.
Jensen and Schnack (1997) have elaborated the concept of action competence, when young people choose
individual and collective actions after critically investigating the causes of problems and effective solutions. Stapp,
Wals, and Stankorb (1996) advocated similar processes of action research and community problem-solving, which
enable young people to participate in planning, implementing, and evaluating activities to improve their school and
community environments, learning in this way that they can be forces for constructive change.
McLaren and Hammond (2005) noted that education for action can proceed in three ways: learning about action
through simulations, role-plays, case studies, the history of famous conservationists, and the practice of action
skills; learning through action when students undertake projects with tangible outcomes in the real world; and
learning from action when they review their experiences from either of the previous approaches, reflecting on the
meaning for themselves, their roles as citizens, and future strategies to effect change. While all three approaches
complement each other, McLaren and Hammond argued that trying to effect change in the real world, supported by
wise teachers and mentors, provides a level of practical experience and preparation for citizenship that cannot be
gained in any other way.
This chapters focus on action does not mean to imply that knowledge, feelings, and beliefs are unimportant.
Research with adults indicates, however, that the relationship between what people know and feel and what they
do weakens as pro-environmental actions become more costly and difficult (Gardner & Stern, 2002). Twenty years
ago, Hungerford and Volk (1990) took environmental educators to task for assuming that if they conveyed
information about the environment, it would follow that children would develop pro-environmental attitudes and take
responsible actions. The antecedents of action, they noted, are more complicated. Yet when Zint (in press)
prepared her recent review of evaluations of environmental education programs published in peer-reviewed
journals, she found that only 10% of the studies measured behavior. The rest measured knowledge, values,
attitudes, or the acquisition of skills, as if positive gains in these areas were sufficient. Reviews of gardening
programs (Blair, 2009) and wilderness adventure programs (this chapter) for young people show a similar
emphasis on knowledge, attitude, and skill outcomes rather than behavior outcomes.
Part of the explanation for this imbalance may be that knowledge, attitudes, and skills are easier to measure. Ideally
researchers would be able to observe what young people do over timebut very few studies attempt this kind of
longitudinal tracking. Instead, young people are asked to report what they do or whether they intend to take proenvironmental actions, or teachers or parents are asked what they observe young people doing. As well as being
less reliable than direct observations, these measures often fail to include a long-term follow-up, so that there is no
way of knowing how lasting these behaviors may be. Although this review highlights studies that involve direct
observation or long-term assessments, it also addresses this issue by beginning with research that works
backward, identifying adults and youth who exemplify the type of engaged action for the environment that the
Tbilisi Declaration and Agenda 21 advocate, and asking them about their formative experiences. It then compares
the results of these studies with experiences associated with the development of pro-environmental behaviors
through environmental education and wilderness programs. The ages investigated range from early childhood
through late adolescence.
Agency and Motivation for Environmental Action
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Figure 28.1 Factors Associated with Action for the Environment from Chawla (2009).
Figure 28.1, Factors Associated with Action for the Environment, synthesizes the results of studies with both child
and adult samples that identify factors that predict pro-environmental behaviors (adapted from Chawla, 2009).
Influences on action include two forms of knowledge: direct experience through immersion in the natural world or
learning how to protect it through trial and error; and secondhand information about environmental issues and
problem-solving from sources such as books, films, or other peoples instruction and stories. The figure also shows
that a sense of efficacy to achieve valued goals is crucial, which people gain when they discover that they can
have an impact on the world, working either alone or in groups. Just as positive experiences in nature feed a
motivation to protect the natural world, satisfying experiences in the course of taking action fuel engagement.
People are drawn to act because they come to care for intrinsic qualities of nature, particular places, or the wellbeing of people who are affected by the environment, (p. 529) because they internalize social norms of
environmental responsibility, and because they develop an identity of connection to nature.
As a framework for understanding the associations that Figure 28.1 summarizes, this review is guided by principles
of ecological psychology (Heft, 2001, this volume) and social learning theory (Bandura, 1997) related to the
development of agency and motivation. The ecological psychology of James Gibson (1979), Eleanor Gibson and
Anne Pick (2000), and Edward Reed (1996a, 1996b) is a particularly well-suited foundation for the study of
childrens developing relations with the environment, as it directs attention to the qualities of places that children
encounter and the social contexts of their experiences. Grounded in the evolutionary theory of Darwin, it is
consistent with underlying principles of the Tbilisi Declaration and Agenda 21: that human beings depend on wellfunctioning ecosystems for survival; that they can discover the environments resources and limits through direct
perception as well as instruction; and that they can adaptively adjust their behavior. Its concept of affordances
(the potentials for action that the environment provides a living creature relative to its capabilities), as well as a
belief in intrinsic value and meaning in the environment, can be applied to childrens encounters with nature and
help explain why people who take action on the environments behalf often have an early history of free play and
exploration in nature (Chawla, 2007).
Although ecological psychology emphasizes how children learn from direct experiences of the world, Reed
(1996a) described how these encounters are influenced from infancy by other people. A key mechanism is joint
attention, when children turn their attention to features of the world that other people are noticing, and later begin
to control attention themselves by pointing and naming things. In the process children learn what people around
them consider worth noticing and how they appraise it, and they find their own spontaneous interests either
encouraged, reprimanded, or ignored. Thus a nearby natural area can be a place of fascination that a family
explores and appreciates together, a scary place that children are forbidden to enter, or something barely noticed
as children ride by in the family car.
These principles are consistent with the social learning theory of Bandura (1997), who marshals evidence to the
effect that people develop a sense of efficacy most effectively when they have opportunities to practice action to
achieve valued goals, they experience for themselves how the world responds to their efforts, and they taste at
least some measure of success. One reason why play in nature may figure so prominently in the memories of
people who show care for the environment is that natural areas are places where children can set challenges at
levels they choose for themselves and enjoy the effects of their actions: new vistas, for example, as they climb
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higher and higher in a tree or blaze a (p. 530) trail through a woodland; shifting currents of water when they build
and breach a dam across a creek; the snug enclosure of a hut that they construct from branches. Bandura
described how children also learn from people around them when they see others take action and succeed, and
when they are coached and encouraged by othersprocesses elaborated by Vygotsky (1978) in his concept of
the zone of proximal development and by Rogoff (1990, 2003) in her work on apprenticeship. As Heft and
Chawla (2006) and Chawla and Cushing (2007) showed, this basic research on the development of competence
and a sense of efficacy not only helps explain why children value nature play but also how they learn the skills and
strategies of environmental citizenship. It is consistent with a study of Swedish teenagers and young adults by
Ojala (2011) that found that pro-environmental behavior is associated with constructive hope that includes trust
in ones own ability to influence environmental problems in a positive direction and trust in other social actors.
Building on the work of Bandura (1997), Eccles and Wigfield (2002) have elaborated an expectancy-value model of
achievement motivation, which can be applied to childrens developing motivation to care for the environment
(Chawla, 2009). It identifies social interactions and cultural contexts that influence how children experience the
world and how they integrate values and goals into their identity, with due recognition that childrens individual
characteristics and capabilities impact how they interpret experiences and interact with other people. In the
sections that follow, this chapter reviews what research shows about how children and youth learn to take action
for the environment in different settings of their lives: in natural areas for free play and in schools, communities,
nature centers, and wilderness programs. A concluding section synthesizes this research in the context of these
theories of human development, seeking to create a coherent account of the conditions under which motivated
action to care for the environment begins.
Play in Nature as a Foundation for Environmental Action

According to principles of ecological psychology, the environment contains so much information that we learn what
to notice selectively and how to respond, guided in part by innate drives, such as hunger and thirst, but also by the
examples and instruction of other people. Reeds (1996a) concepts of fields of free action, promoted action, and
constrained action are useful lenses for examining how social contexts create the conditions for childrens
experience of nature. When children head outdoors on their own to dig in the dirt, wade in creeks, or climb trees,
they are enjoying fields of free action where they pursue their curiosity, learning in the process about values
inherent in the environment. At the same time, they learn their own capacities for action. They may enjoy these
adventures with their parents blessing, or because their parents are preoccupied with other matters and dont
have time or inclination to control where their children are or what they are doing. When home life is stressful,
taking off for the woods may be a way to escape the adult worldbut once there, a refuge full of intrinsic
fascination.
When parents and other adults actively encourage outdoor play and make natural areas accessible, children
operate in fields of promoted action. Family outings to a park, the gift of a butterfly identification book, permission
to play in a wooded area during school recess: such forms of facilitation suggest to children that adults around
them value nature. Fields of promoted action often combine independent discovery with social learning, including
the type of joint exploring that Rachel Carson (1956) advocated in her book The Sense of Wonder, when a child
and adult venture out together to look up at the sky, listen to the wind, feel rain on their faces, or observe the
changing seasons. Although these outings provide opportunities to teach facts about biology, astronomy, or
geology, Carson argued that the feelings attached to objects of discovery are the most important learning, whether
they involve a sense of the beautiful, the excitement of the unknown, a feeling of sympathy, pity, admiration or
love (p. 45). Similar shared learning can happen when children explore nature with playmates.
In his book Last Child in the Woods, Louv (2008) raised the alarm that, increasingly, children live in fields of
constrained action, confined indoors and knowing nature secondhand, if at all, through images on a screen.
Increasingly, they live in built-up urban areas. Under these conditions, nature becomes a socially mediated
abstraction. As a Houston fifth grader explained when he was asked to draw a picture of nature and answer
questions about it:
Nature, its out there where the lions be. Its out in the open. And lions be out there. Zebras. And all other
things cause I seen it on TV. Channel 8. They showed nature and thats all.
Page 4 of 32

Do you ever see nature yourself when its not on TV?
Not really. Umm, not really.
(p. 531) In this random sample of 50 students from five Houston schools, when students were given paper,
crayons, and colored pencils and asked to draw nature, only 18% drew places in nature that they had
personally encountered (Aaron & Witt, 2011). It may be that 82% drew imaginary places or said that they had no
knowledge of nature because they had been taught that nature is not the cityand therefore not part of their
personal experiencebut these results are consistent with studies that indicate that contemporary children are
contained indoors or within narrow outdoor ranges of free movement to a degree rare in previous generations
(Clements, 2004; England Marketing, 2009; Karsten, 2005; Wridt, 2004).
Reed (1996b) advocated the necessity of experience: opportunities to engage with the world directly with
firsthand, full-bodied encounters. These primary experiences enable children to make discoveries for themselves,
and in the natural world, children encounter a dynamic, multisensory flow of information that is essentially infinite in
its depth, diversity, and potential for discovery. It is a world of recurring patterns, yet one where nothing ever
happens exactly the same way twice, so that every time children go out in the woods or down to a stream, they
find a place that is reassuringly the same yet inexhaustibly new (Chawla, 2007). What is also unique about this
world is that their human bodies evolved among these natural elements, which still form the foundation on which
human existence depends.
A growing body of research indicates that free play outdoors and contact with nature can support childrens
healthy development, including increased physical activity, more creative and collaborative play, better balance
and coordination, better concentration and impulse control, and better coping with stressful events (Charles &
Senauer, 2010). These are important reasons to ensure that children have access to nature, but if we think of
healthy environments as interdependent systems that foster human well-being and, in turn, require human action to
protect ecosystems and biodiversity, then access to nature should be evaluated for its impact on the development
of environmental stewardship as well as its benefits for childrens health. The studies reviewed in the following
section suggest that opportunities for free play and discovery in nature motivate pro-environmental behaviors, but
they also suggest the importance of the social context in which these experiences occur. In Reeds (1996a,
1996b) terms, they indicate the importance of primary experiences in fields of both free and promoted action.
Significant Life Experiences of Environmentally Active Citizens

Associations between early experiences of nature and stewardship behaviors in later life have been investigated
through three main research approaches: fixed-response surveys with random or representative samples, openended questionnaires, and long interviews. Although there are limitations to each approach, general consistency
among results suggests that positive nature experiences in childhood are significantly associated with later caring
action for the environment. The purpose of these studies was articulated by Tanner (1980), who reasoned that if
citizen participation is essential to maintain a varied, beautiful, and resource-rich planet for future generations (p.
20), then it is important to understand the types of experiences that produce citizens who are committed to this
goal.
An Extended Mixed-Method Research Program

This review begins with a set of studies that combine all three research approaches. To understand experiences
that motivate environmental activism in eastern Taiwan, where rich biodiversity has been threatened by rapid
economic growth, Hsu (2009) began by mailing questionnaires to activists to collect their memories of significant
environmental experiences. A year later he conducted semi-structured interviews with the same subjects. He
found a high degree of consistency between the two sets of responses. On this basis, he constructed a
questionnaire that asked a new sample of respondents about the type of environmental actions that they engaged
in and their frequency, and then asked them to write about experiences that have affected you to take action to
protect the environment and to indicate their age at the time of events occurrence. He distributed this instrument
to 40 educators and civil servants known for high levels of political activism on behalf of the environment. From
their responses, he refined 17 categories of experiences that showed high inter-coder reliability. Peoples most
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frequent response was experiences of nature in childhood (65% of the sample), followed by participation in
environmental organizations, the loss of beloved natural places, the influence of friends, and experiences of
nature in adulthood.
Hsu (2009) then created a fixed response survey with questions about these experiences and peoples (p. 532)
environmental behaviors, and sent it to a random sample of 430 Taiwanese educators and civil servants.
Independent t-tests showed significant differences between respondents with high versus low scores for
environmental action. Environmental activists were significantly more likely to report many experiences of nature in
childhood, their college years, and adulthood, as well as more likely to identify books or environmental
organizations as influences that impacted their understanding of the environment and how to protect it. Hsus work
is notable for the way that he progressed from open-ended questionnaires and interviews with purposive samples
of activists, to a large fixed-response survey with a random sample of citizens with similar demographics, using
careful checks on the reliability of his methods and analysis.
Surveys of Significant Experiences

The largest survey that compared childhood experiences with conservation behaviors in adulthood involved a
random sample of 2004 respondents in the United States (Wells & Lekies, 2006). It asked four questions related to
environmental choices: whether respondents recycled, participated in environmental activities like Earth Day,
voted green, or preferred to go outdoors for recreation. The strongest predictor of positive responses was
whether people also stated that they engaged with nature before the age of 11 through hiking, camping, hunting,
fishing, or playing in the woods or natural areas. Domestic activities associated with gardening were also
positively related to pro-environmental behaviors, though not as strongly. (Respondents were not asked whether
they had nature experiences after age 11.) Whether respondents said they were outside alone or with others as
children was not predictive. This outcome is to be expected, because as ecological psychology observes, children
learn about the environment both alone and with other people, and others can communicate appreciative,
destructive, fearful, or neglectful ways of responding to the world (Gibson & Pick, 2000; Reed, 1996a).
In Germany, a survey of 1,243 10- to 18-year-olds compared students active in nature and environmental groups
with students who were not. It found that the strongest predictors of a stated intention to protect nature, in order of
influence, were the environmental behavior of parents, the behavior of peers, nature experiences, action-specific
knowledge, and environmental knowledge from media (Bgeholz,1999, cited in Bgeholz, 2006). In a Swiss survey
of a representative sample of 1,004 adults, people who said that they took action for the environment through
recycling, voting, signing petitions, and civic engagement at the local level were also likely to report a history of
nature experiences and to say that they had these experiences before the age of 20 (Finger, 1993, 1994). In a
mail survey of 822 randomly selected Iowa farmers, those who enhanced wildlife habitat on their land, compared to
those who did not, were much more likely to say that in childhood they had a wild place where they went to be
alone, hunted with family or friends, fished, and read nature books (Pease, 1992).
Using a measure of environmental sensitivity that asked people whether they had experiences of hunting,
fishing, hiking, camping, or family vacations in outdoor settings sometime before the end of high school, as well as
whether they engaged in these activities as adults, two mail surveys in the United States found a positive
association between higher levels of environmental sensitivity and more self-reported action for the environment.
This was the case when Sia, Hungerford, and Tomera (1985 /1986) compared Sierra Club members and elder
hostel participants who scored either high or low on self-reports of responsible environmental behaviors, and when
Sivek and Hungerford (1989/1990) did random surveys of members of the Sierra Club, Trout Unlimited, and the
Wisconsin Trappers Association.
Kals, Schumacher, and Montada (1999) proposed that people are more likely to state a willingness to commit to
pro-environmental behaviors if they have developed an emotional affinity toward nature, in the sense of a love for
nature and feelings of safety and oneness in it, as well as an interest in nature and feeling of indignation at its
inadequate protection. Their hypothesis was confirmed by a survey of 200 men and women who were
representative of the general population of Germany and 80 active members of nature protection organizations.
The survey also showed that affinity, interest, and indignation were all predicted by more frequent time spent in
nature in the present and the past, as well as the accompaniment of significant companions. In childhood,
significant companions in nature were family members. Having past experiences in nature with family members was
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positively correlated with a willingness to commit to private behaviors on behalf of nature, such as installing solar
panels or water flow regulators at home.
To understand the importance of contact with nature for young people themselves, Mller, Kals, and Pansa (2009)
used similar measures with 403 (p. 533) 15- to 19-year-olds in Germany and Lithuania. Each sample was divided
between urban and rural environments. Only emotional affinity toward nature and awareness of environmental risks
predicted a willingness to commit to protecting the environment, but contact with nature correlated significantly
with each of these measures. Given the strength of the association between emotional affinity with nature and a
stated willingness to commit to its protection, the researchers concluded that it is important to promote experiences
that contribute to this sense of affinity, including frequent positive contacts with nature that begin in childhood and
youth.
Open-Ended Questionnaires and Interviews

In addition to fixed-response surveys that examine relationships between childhood experiences and adult
behaviors or feelings, there are a number of retrospective studies that use open-ended questionnaires or
interviews to ask people about the sources of their decision to choose conservation work or environmental
science, their dedication to the field of environmental education, their practical concern for the environment,
environmental sensitivity, environmental interests, or commitment to protect the environment. A strength of
these studies is that they involve people with demonstrated records of commitment to environmental protection,
evident through environmental careers or a personal history of activism. These objective records are a stronger
and more valid measure of behavior than the self-reported actions or intention to act on which surveys typically
rely.
Two studies of this kind involved comparison groups. One contrasted 51 people engaged in environmental
professions or the study of natural history with 10 people who stated that they had no interest in the outdoors or
environmental activities (James, Bixler & Vadala, 2010; Vadala, Bixler & James, 2007). The environmental group
reported playing as children in wild areas or interstitial places like woodlands and waterways near home,
exploring the outdoors, building forts and play houses, and having parents and peers who encouraged their
interest in nature. All 10 people in the contrasting group reported either no significant outdoor experiences in
childhood or negative experiences. A study in Japan contrasted 188 directors of Nature Game groups, which seek
to increase public knowledge and awareness about the environment, with 25 ordinary citizens in a Tokyo
community center (Furihata et al., 2007). In workshops, people independently filled out open-ended questionnaires
about their environmental behaviors and experiences that influenced their environmental attitudes or actions. The
Nature Game directors were significantly more likely than the community center members to say that they were
influenced by nature experiences and to say that these experiences occurred in childhood, although they
reported many influential nature experiences in adulthood as well. When 12 respondents who were particularly
involved in civic action for the environment were selected for follow-up interviews, all 12 described extensive
nature experiences in childhood, followed by adult experiences that triggered or progressively deepened their
activism. On this basis, Furihata and colleagues distinguished fundamental experiences of nature in childhood
from direct influences on action in later life.
Most retrospective studies lack comparison groups and simply ask conservationists, environmental educators or
environmental scientists to identify life experiences that have led to their vocation. Studies of this kind began when
Tanner (1980) sent staff at conservation organizations in the United States a mail survey with an open-ended
question about influences that led them to their choice of work. Out of the 45 who responded, all but one described
positive childhood experiences in natural habitats. Other frequent responses were parents, teachers, books, and
witnessing the loss of nature and wilderness. Interviews or open-ended surveys with conservationists,
environmental activists, and environmental scientists in North America, Central America, and Scandinavia (Chawla,
1998, 1999; Farmer, 2011; Horwitz, 1996; Sward, 1999; Wright & Wyatt, 2008) echo these findings, with
experiences of nature in childhood and youth the most common response, often with mentors like family members
or teachers. When Edmondson (2006) interviewed 20 African Americans who showed a strong connection to
wilderness areas and their preservation, results were similar. All 20 talked about extended or intense experiences
of nature in childhood or youth, and 13 also described mentors, most often a parent or grandparent.
Young people who are already active in environmental groups give similar responses. When high school students
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in Wisconsin were asked why they joined environmental action clubs or conferences, 14 out of 20 focus group
participants and 61 out of 64 survey respondents referred to regular time spent in natural areas around their
homes or schools (Sivek, 2002). They also identified role (p. 534) modelsmost often teachers or relativesand
the impact of witnessing environmental destruction. Twelve 16- to 19-year-olds in Nova Scotia who showed
environmental leadership were asked how and why they became leaders (Arnold, Cohen, & Warner, 2009). All 12
described time in nature, and all 12 said that their parents were open to their interests. Other sources of social
support were friends, teachers, leaders of camps or environmental programs, and peers in environmentally themed
youth groups and gatherings. When 63 adolescents who volunteered in a wildlife education program were
interviewed, the majority said that their concern for wildlife arose from experiences of animals in early childhood,
supported by adults who acted as role models or who showed approval for their interest in animals, and by
instruction in wildlife care (Kidd & Kidd, 1997).
Working with 42 10- to 13-year-olds at an International Childrens Environment Conference in Canada, BlanchetCohen (2008) used drawings and interviews to understand the basis of their commitment to the environment and
how they expressed it in action. Although she didnt quantify results, she reported that almost all of the children
spoke about experiences of wonder in special places, such as a boulder, a tree, or a beach. The children
expressed their concern in a variety of ways, not only through initiating or joining the type of action projects that
research has typically assessed, but also through art and writing, questioning existing practices, and maintaining
their connection to their special place.
Peterson and Hungerford (1981) initiated studies that asked environmental educators how they developed their
environmental sensitivity, interest, or concern. Among 22 environmental educators Peterson (1982) interviewed, 20
attributed their sensitivity to the environment to outdoor experiences in childhood and youth: outdoor play, family
vacations, camping, hiking, hunting, fishing. Eighteen discussed role models, such as family members, teachers,
and friends. Nineteen said that the interests that they formed during these early experiences led them to study the
environment in college and seek environmentally related work. When James (1995) interviewed 50 environmental
educators of African-American, Asian-American, Native American, Latino, and multiracial backgrounds about the
steps that led to their career choice, these educators identified similar early influences. So did 24 volunteer marine
docents interviewed by Peters-Grant (1986, reanalyzed by Chawla, 1998).
Palmer (1993) created a mail survey for environmental educators that included an open-ended question about
experiences that led to their practical concern for the environment. When Palmer and colleagues used versions
of this survey with environmental educators in nine countries, childhood experiences of nature were identified as a
significant influence by more than half the respondents in the United Kingdom (Palmer, 1993), Canada, Australia
(Palmer et al., 1999), and South Africa (Palmer et al., 1998). Experiences of nature either in childhood or adulthood
were mentioned by at least half of the respondents in all countries except Hong Kong and Slovenia (Palmer et al.,
1998). Other important influences were people, education, work, andespecially in Greece, Slovenia, Hong Kong,
Sri Lanka, and Ugandanegative experiences such as pollution and tree clearing (Palmer et al., 1998).
These studies that lack comparison groups cannot determine whether experiences that characterize
conservationists and environmental educators distinguish them from other people who are apathetic or opposed to
environmental protection. It is noteworthy, however, that their results are consistent with studies that compare
people with different levels of environmental engagement. Most studies indicate the importance of direct
experiences of nature and environmental mentors in childhood and youth, but the results from Slovenia, Greece,
Hong Kong, Uganda, and Sri Lanka (Palmer et al., 1998) suggest that in some cultures and contexts, other
experiences such as witnessing environmental degradation may be stronger influences.
Processes of Development Through Significant Experiences

An advantage of open-ended surveys and interviews is that they can afford a view of what happens during
formative experiences. When Chawla (2007) examined the accounts of environmental activists in Norway and
Kentucky, she found that role models in childhood only occasionally gave direct instruction about the importance
of protecting nature, but as Carson (1956) proposed, often expressed emotions of fascination and pleasure in
nature or disapproval when nature was harmed. This is consistent with the way that young environmental leaders
in Nova Scotia described their parents, as supportive of their interests but not explicit teachers (Arnold, Cohen, &
Warner, 2009).
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Chawla (1999), Horwitz (1996), Furihata and colleagues (2007), Hsu (2009), and Wright and Wyatt (2008)
distinguished influences associated (p. 535) with different stages of the life span. Life paths varied in different
contexts, but all five studies found that experiences of natural areas and family members were major influences in
childhood and adolescence. Other factors mentioned during this period were teachers, peers, youth organizations,
and witnessing environmental destruction. During the university years and early adulthood, education, books,
films, travel, student organizations, and friends helped solidify environmental interests and activism. In later
adulthood, people increased their knowledge about issues and strategies for action through work or volunteer
activities. In both early and later adulthood, nature experiences remained important, including the loss of valued
habitats.
In their study of emerging natural history interests and vocations, James, Bixler, and Vadala (2010) proposed a
model of environmental socialization. It begins with direct, socially facilitated experiences of nature during
childhood play and exploration, and proceeds to environmental knowledge, skills, and hobbies that people begin to
learn in more formal ways in middle childhood. In adolescence and early adulthood, people prepare for
environmental work and volunteering. Together these experiences lead to the formation of an environmental
identity that crystallizes in advanced education and skills, and in affiliation with other committed environmental
professionals, amateurs, or volunteers. This sequence of experiences is consistent with Figure 28.1, Factors
Associated with Action for the Environment. It exemplifies a developing knowledge of nature that begins with
informal childhood experiences and proceeds to more formal learning about the environment and environmental
skills and strategies. This combination of informal and formal learning is associated with both a motivation to protect
the environment and a sense of efficacy to do soconditions that contribute to an environmental identity.
Opportunities to experience nature freely in childhood figure prominently in this model and almost all of the
preceding studiessuggesting that concern over childrens diminishing contact with nature is justified.
Nevertheless, two further observations are evident. If people fail to have outdoor experiences in nature in early or
middle childhood, all is not lost. Intense experiences of nature, inspiring mentors, supportive friends, and engaging
organizations in adolescence not only reinforce early experiences but also appear to be able to compensate for
missed experiences of early free play in nature, for the purposes of action. What emerges are different paths into
environmental action, although all involve direct experiences of nature in some way, at some time, as well as some
form of social support. As a demonstration that childhood experience of nature may not be sufficient in itself if a
supportive social context is lacking, Bixler, Floyd, and Hammitt (2002) surveyed 1,787 middle and high school
students in the United States and found that wildland play in childhood was sometimes associated with a
preference for consumptive activities like riding off-road vehicles rather than nature appreciation.
With the exception of witnessing environmental degradation or the loss of a favorite place, the nature experiences
that motivate action in all of these studies are positive. But Bixler and colleagues (1994) have documented that not
all young people respond to nature positively. When they asked interpreters at urban nature centers to recall
student fears during field trips, the interpreters described hundreds of reactions of fear and disgust. When
Bgeholz and Rter (2004, cited in Bgeholz, 2006) compared the impact of positively and negatively perceived
nature experiences on intentions to take environmental action in a sample of 265 German 11- to 18-year-olds,
negative experiences like nettles, mosquitoes, spiders, and snakes weakened the intention to take action. This
impact was less, however, than the intention-promoting impact of positive experiences. These studies underscore
the importance of role models who can show children how to use natural areas safely and move beyond reactions
of fear or disgust.
In the literature on significant experiences, two studies stand out for their methodology of longitudinal observations
and interviews. Blizard and Schuster (2004) documented childrens reactions to the loss of a natural area near
their elementary school in upstate New York. For many years, children at the school had the opportunity to play
during recess in an adjacent natural landscape of woods and fields as well as conventional school grounds, and
they used the natural areas intensively for fort building and creative play. A researcher was documenting these
activities when one morning everyone arrived at school to discover that the owner of the adjoining land was
having it cleared. The children were visibly affected, some bursting into tears and some becoming angry. The
researcher explored their feelings in focus groups. Children talked about favorite activities and places that were
lost, including favorite trees and rocks, and complained that now recess was boring and there was nothing to (p.
536) do. Observations showed that the children were not, in fact, doing nothing during recessbut now they were
more often chasing and wrestling each other. Highly imaginative, constructive play was lost with the woodland. The
Page 9 of 32

feelings of attachment to the woods and sense of loss that these children expressed may shed light on why
subjects in other studies often remember a favorite childhood place in nature and loss of a beloved habitat as
formative experiences.
Also working with young children, Owens (2005) did drawings and interviews at the beginning and end of the
school year with first-year students in a village school and two urban schools, interviewed staff, and observed
school practices, with a focus on the childrens environmental experiences. She also did a case study of an ecoschool. She found that students remembered and valued activities such as gathering autumn leaves, looking for
animals, and planting a willow shelter, and when these memories were reinforced by a school ethos of care for the
environment, the children expressed their concern to conserve the environment. Older students in the eco-school
shared memories of positive experiences in nature with supportive practitioners, with memories extending back to
their first year of school.
Strengths and Weaknesses of Significant Life Experience Research

Gough (1999) has charged that most studies of significant life experiences are irrelevant because they involve
older generations, whereas contemporary young people have incomparable experiences and responses. As a
consequence, she claimed, Tanners (1980) original goal for these studiesthat they may indicate how to foster
an informed citizenry who will work actively for the protection of the environmenthas no validity. Chawla (2001)
defended the value of these studies, which now span several generations of respondents, noting that whether
there are generational differences is an empirical question, and if they are occurring, it is important to document
them and understand what may be lost and what may be gained as the conditions of childrens lives change. In
fact, empirical studies with young people yield responses similar to results with adult samples, although young
people now talk about environmental youth groups that were not available to previous generations (Arnold, Cohen,
& Warner, 2009; Bgeholz, 1999, cited in Bgeholz, 2006; Kidd & Kidd, 1997; Mller, Kals, & Pansa, 2009; Sivek,
2002). These studies with youth samples suggest that direct encounters with nature, supportive family members,
teachers, other mentors, and opportunities to participate in environmental organizations are experiences that
remain influential.
Another caution related to this field of research is that it is composed of surveys, questionnaires, and interviews
that rely on memory, and memory is fallible. Memory research shows that people are indeed often inaccurate about
details of life events, but these studies of environmental experiences tap into the type of memories that are most
likely to be valid: general accounts of events of personal importance that people describe under conditions of free
recall, which were either routine (such as outdoor play in a special childhood place) or distinctive (such as a family
camping trip to the Grand Canyon), and which are associated with emotions (Howes, 2007). Although people may
misrepresent some details of these experiences, they are unlikely to falsely recall that they did these things.
Methods that compare peoples accounts with objective records or that cross-check their stories with family
members or friends could address this issue. Background information gathered in this way, in turn, could be shared
to prompt more fully developed memories.
A more fundamental issue is that people with different environmental values may reconstruct memories differently.
People who have come to believe that the environment needs protection may be more likely to recall positive
experiences in nature, role models of nature appreciation, and the other types of experiences that recur in study
findings. People who ignore environmental problems or oppose environmental protection may forget if they had
experiences of these kinds or discount their significance. To address this issue, longitudinal studies are needed
that track environmental experiences and behaviors over time. Experiments could also be designed to expose
young people to different experiences and then monitor their behavior.
This concern for what Neisser (1988) called the verity or accuracy of memory is legitimate, but it misses a
special dimension of open-ended questionnaires and interviews: they seek to understand peoples own construal
of the experiences that motivate their actions. Neisser calls this the utility of memory as people interpret the past
to apply it to the present and prepare for the future. It is, he claimed, memorys most important function. To
understand how people construct the meaning of memories as they explain to themselves, as well as to others, the
sources of their commitment to environmental (p. 537) protection, this type of introspection is an appropriate
approach.
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In the Classroom and into the Field: Behavior Outcomes from Formal Programs for Environmental
Learning
In research on significant life experiences, people mention teachers, school, or education as an influence
on their environmental concern or choice of work in proportions that range from 6% among leaders of Nature
Game groups in Japan (Furihata et al., 2007) to 59% among environmental educators in the United Kingdom
(Palmer, 1993). In 15 out of 19 study samples that report this data, at least 20% of the respondents say that their
actions for the environment were influenced by education in some way. This proportion is notable, but many more
respondents mention positive experiences of nature outside of school. In the six studies that involved
environmental activists, 65% to 100% say that they were influenced by outdoor play and recreation in nature
(Arnold et al., 2009; Chawla, 1999; Hsu, 2009; Sivek, 2002; Sward, 1999; Tanner, 1980). Overall, the influence of
formal education is small relative to all the categories of free-choice learning outside of school (Falk, 2005) that
people refer to, including nature play and discovery, the shock of witnessing environmental destruction, outdoor
interactions with family members and friends, participation in environmental organizations, and nature books or
films. Nevertheless, formal education plays an important though qualified role in environmental learning, and
according to the Tbilisi Declaration (UNESCO, 1978) on environmental education, its ultimate goal is to prepare the
type of engaged citizens that people in these studies represent. Therefore, this section will review environmental
education research with the goal of identifying the characteristics of programs that encourage conservation
behaviors.
There has been a running debate in environmental education about whether, and how, education should influence
behavior, most of it centered on whether behavior goals should be determined by curriculum designers and
teachers and then shaped through behavior modification, or chosen autonomously by students. Authors such as
Stapp, Wals, and Stankorb (1996), Hart (1997), Jensen and Schnack (1997), and Short (2010) have argued that
societies require citizens who can independently analyze problems, make pro-environmental choices even when
doing so challenges social norms, and work collaboratively to find solutions. Therefore, education should cultivate
autonomous decision-making as well as collective problem-solving. This ideal for education is consistent with the
Tbilisi Declaration, Agenda 21, the Convention on the Rights of the Child, and the theoretical foundation that this
chapter has adopted as its framework.
Earlier Reviews of Environmental Education Research

There have been several comprehensive reviews of outcomes associated with environmental education that this
chapter can build on, by Leeming, Dwyer, Porter, and Coburn (1993), Zelezny (1999), Rickinson (2001), and Zint
(in press). Together they cover peer-reviewed published articles from 1971 through 2008. Leeming et al. (1993)
examined 34 studies published from 1974 through 1991 that evaluated changes in environmental attitudes,
knowledge, or behavior associated with educational programs in classrooms, camps, parks, or nature centers. Out
of the 27 studies that involved young people through grade 12 (age 17), only 4 evaluated behavior. When Zelezny
(1999) searched publications from 1971 through 1996 for studies of the effect of educational interventions on
environmental behaviors, 8 of the 18 studies she reviewed involved children and adolescents. For the period 1993
through 1999, Rickinson (2001) reviewed articles, books, project reports, and government documents that
evaluated school-based environmental education, examining evidence of impacts on student knowledge, attitudes,
behavior, perceptions of nature, experiences of learning, and ability to influence parents and communities. He
identified five studies that related school programs to behavior. Like Zelezny (1999), Zint (in press) focused on
evaluations of behavior change, covering articles in peer-reviewed journals from 1975 through 2009. Eight of the
10 articles she reviewed involved students below college age.
One striking observation about these successive reviews is that few studies have investigated the impact of
school-based programs on young peoples environmental behaviors. Given the overlapping periods covered, the
reviews identify a total of only 17 distinct studies that associate environmental education interventions in primary
and secondary school with behavior outcomes. In their initial review, Leeming et al. (1993) noted the
disproportionate research emphasis on student knowledge or attitudes rather than behavior, concluding that this
trend is most unfortunate because it is ultimately behavior change that is required to preserve (p. 538)
environmental quality (p. 19). In her recent review, Zint (in press) calculated that out of the 64 outcome
evaluations she identified, only 10% evaluated behavior. Another 10% measured changes in skill levels, with 80%
focusing on knowledge, values, or attitudes.
Page 11 of 32

Only one of these 17 studies documented observed behavior versus self-reported or intended behavior. The
difficulty of measuring behavior may partly explain why researchers emphasize easier-to-measure knowledge,
attitudes, and values. An early study by Asch and Shore (1975), however, demonstrated that behavior
observations can be creatively designed. The study observed the behaviors of 24 randomly selected fifth-grade
boys during a weekend visit to a nature center, comparing 12 who had two years of environmental education with
12 from another visiting class. Trained raters who were unfamiliar with the nature of the study noted whether the
boys treated the environment responsibly or destructively while they were building a small shelter, making changes
to a creek, fishing in a small pond, and planting a vegetable garden. On every task, the experimental group
showed significantly more conserving behaviors and the control group significantly more destructive behaviors.
The study did not control for possible confounding group effects, such as differences between schools, but it
demonstrated that behaviors can be feasibly observed in settings that have ecological validity.
Leeming et al. (1993) noted other common methodological weaknesses in environmental education research, in
addition to rare attempts to observe behavior directly or to control for group effects. Many studies used
measurement instruments constructed specifically for one study, which makes comparisons across studies difficult,
or instruments without established reliability and validity, and few studies controlled for experimenter expectancy
effects by having a neutral person carry out the outcome measures, or by including long-term follow-up measures.
Not only do long-term assessments lessen the likelihood that students will say what they expect experimenters or
teachers want to hear, but they also determine whether experiences have a lasting impact.
Zint (in press) noted that some researchers responded to the review by Leeming et al. (1993) by using established
valid and reliable measures, collecting follow-up data, and controlling for group effects. For future research, she
recommended more mixed-method strategies that report both quantitative and qualitative data, more case studies,
and collaboration with stakeholders such as teachers, school administrators, or nature center staff to define
outcome objectives that most relevantly reflect students experiences and program goals, increasing the likelihood
that research results will be applied. She also cautioned that it is critical to document how programs are
implemented, noting that in two cases where this was assessed, teachers did not carry out all of the intended
program activities and this information helped explain the low rates of change in student behavior.
In a similar vein, Rickinson (2001) observed that very few studies have closely examined actual processes of
learning as they relate to outcomes. He recommended that learners be viewed as active agents rather than as
passive subjects of educational treatments, and that in addition to understanding how students respond to different
teaching approaches, researchers need to theorize the learning processes that take place. He pointed to theories
of participatory learning, such as the work by Rogoff (1990) on learning through observation and participation in
meaningful tasks. As noted before, Rogoffs work on learning through apprenticeship fits well within the
theoretical framework of ecological psychology that guides this chapter.
Within the context of these observations about the existing research base, what do these reviews suggest about
the characteristics of programs that are most likely to promote pro-environmental behavior? Zelezny (1999),
Rickinson (2001), and Zint (in press) concluded that programs of long duration are more effective than short
programs. Programs associated with increased pro-environmental behaviors range from a weekend of activities
(Padua & Jacobson, 1993) to two years of environmental education instruction (Asch & Shore, 1975), with most
programs lasting a week or more. Rickinson (2001) noted the importance of in-class preparation and reinforcement
before and after fieldwork. In-class work extends the duration of a program as well as helping students integrate
experiences. Students are also likely to report more environmental behaviors when they are actively involved in
the learning process rather than passively receiving information (Leeming et al., 1993; Zelezny, 1999; Zint, in
press). Successful programs include experiential learning during service projects, field trips, or the investigation of
local issues. The following sections describe educational processes associated with positive behavior outcomes, in
studies covered by these reviews and in more recent work.
(p. 539)
Classroom-Based Curricula
What distinguishes the studies described in this section is that students work through a predetermined curriculum
that is delivered primarily within school wallsalthough in successful programs associated with increases in proenvironmental behavior, in-class instruction is combined with activities that extend beyond the classroom. A water
conservation unit evaluated by Aird and Tomera (1977), for example, gave sixth-grade students two weeks of
Page 12 of 32

instruction about water resources and the threat of pollution, at the same time as students were asked to monitor
their own water consumption, report back to the class, and discuss how they could conserve water. At the
beginning and end of the unit, students in this class and a control group listed what they believed they should do to
conserve water and then underlined what they felt they really would do. Students who worked through the unit
showed a significantly greater increase in intended conservation behaviors than the control group. Because the
post-test was delivered right at the end of instruction, students may have been influenced by teacher
expectations.
An evaluation of a similar but more extended curriculum by Hanson (1993) suggested that a combination of
instruction and activities can have a long-term effect. Hanson compared 1,349 sixth-grade students who had
worked through different numbers of units of an energy curriculum for kindergarten through sixth grade, which
included a booklet of activities to do at home. Even six years after students completed a unit, the program showed
a positive impact on students energy knowledge, interest, and conservation behaviors. When Bogner (1999)
assessed a year-long conservation education program for Swiss secondary schools that combined classroom
instruction about the natural history of a local endangered bird with outdoor observations of the bird, constructing
nesting boxes, and writing letters to Senegal, where the bird migrated for the winter, questionnaires administered a
week before and four weeks after the curriculum showed that program students expressed a greater increase in
their enjoyment of nature and intention to act in environmentally conscious ways than a control group.
Several curriculum evaluations show limited impacts on behavior. When Covitt, Gomez-Schmidt, and Zint (2005)
compared 535 high school students in the United States who were in an environmental risk curriculum with 305
students in a control group, students who completed the curriculum were more likely to say that they intended to
take individual actions to reduce environmental risks. The curriculum had less impact on their intention to
participate in collective actions, but a review of the teacher logs revealed that only 3 of the 28 classes enrolled in
the curriculum had participated in all of the recommended activities, including a group action project. Thus the
potential impact of the curriculum was not fully tested. Kumler (2011) found a similar failure to implement group
actions in her assessment of a land use curriculum of about three weeks duration in Michigan high schools. Under
these conditions, the curriculum failed to affect how many environmental actions students said they had taken or
could take, and with few exceptions, students listed what they did as individuals, such as recycling or picking up
litter, rather than political actions or information sharing. Rovira (2000) compared students in Spanish primary and
secondary schools that were more and less engaged in a global environmental education program. She found that
primary school students were more likely to report pro-environmental behaviors than secondary school students,
but overall, students levels of self-report were determined more by whether they came from working-class or
middle-class families than by their schools level of engagement. These results are similar to those found by Negev
and colleagues (2008) when they evaluated environmental education curricula for 6th- and 12th-grade students in
Israel. Sixth graders were more likely to report pro-environmental behaviors than 12th graders, but the curriculum
had a modest effect on behavior relative to the students social class and whether students reported having role
models of pro-environmental behavior.
Issue Investigation and Action Training

The Issue Investigation and Action Training (IIAT) approach to environmental education comes out of the
Department of Curriculum and Instruction at Southern Illinois University (Hungerford et al., 2003). It also combines
classroom instruction with activities, but students often have autonomy in identifying the environmental issues that
they want to investigate and address. The approach is grounded in a meta-analysis of factors associated with proenvironmental behavior (Hines, Hungerford, & Tomera, 1986/1987; Hungerford & Volk, 1990), which suggests that
people are more likely to take action for the environment if they take ownership of an issue, gather knowledge
about it, know action strategies that could address (p. 540) it, and feel confident that they have the necessary
action skills. Consistent with this model, students in an IIAT curriculum study environmental issues in depth and
design responsive actions. The curriculum exemplifies a process for learning about action, in the terms of McLaren
and Hammond (2005). It recommends implementing an action plan, but this is not a required part of the curriculum.
As an illustration of the IIAT approach and its assessment, Ramsey, Hungerford, and Tomera (1981) compared the
effects on eighth graders of environmental action training with simple instruction for environmental awareness. The
action class identified environmental problems and the value positions implicit in them, investigated the problems,
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learned problem-solving skills, and developed strategies to address two local problems in their school and
community. Their teacher got actively involved in the process, encouraging the students individual and collective
problem-solving. The awareness class engaged in case studies of environmental problems such as endangered
species or water management, investigated underlying issues and values, and identified potential solutions, but did
not learn action skills or address real problems. Their teacher delivered instruction and information through
conventional lectures and demonstrations. A control class had textbook-based science instruction. An open-ended
questionnaire asked students to list actions that they thought they could use to help solve environmental problems,
and then to list actions they themselves had taken.
The three groups did not differ on a pretest, nor did the awareness and control groups differ on a post-test at the
end of seven months of instruction. In contrast, on the post-test the group that received action training showed
significantly more knowledge of environmental action skills and significantly more self-reported pro-environmental
behaviors than either of the other two groups. When parents were sent a questionnaire two months later that asked
them to report environmental actions their children had taken during and after instruction, children in the
awareness group were reported to take more actions for the environment than the control group, but the action
group showed more pro-environmental behaviors than either of the other two groups. According to Hungerford and
Volk (1990), Ramsey conducted an unpublished follow-up three years later by sending interviewers to the high
school where the original study participants had transferred. Without knowing students instructional group, the
interviewers found that members of the action group still reported more environmentally appropriate behaviors.
A number of other evaluations of this approach have used similar pre-post designs. Jordan, Hungerford, and
Tomera (1986) compared high school students who were in either action groups or awareness groups in six-day
residential workshops in a nature camp and found that training in environmental action strategies resulted in
significantly higher levels of knowledge about potential actions as well as self-reported action. Simpson (1989)
found similar differences between fifth and sixth graders who engaged in a 10- to 13-week case study of Canada
geese and their habitats, which included IIAT elements, versus a group that received typical science instruction.
Working with seventh graders in three states, Ramsey and Hungerford (1989) compared four control groups that
received conventional science instruction with four experimental groups that received the IIAT curriculum, using a
larger battery of measures that included individual and group locus of control, knowledge of potential
environmental actions, self-perceived skill to use environmental actions, and self-reported environmental
behaviors. There were no significant differences between groups on pretests, but the IIAT groups performed
significantly higher on each measure at the end of the 18-week study period. Ramsey (1993) obtained similar
results when he compared eighth graders with 18 weeks of IIAT instruction with a control group that had equally
long instruction in physical science. In Illinois and Missouri, Culen and Volk (2000) compared three groups: six
classes of seventh and eighth graders who received IIAT instruction during an extended case study of wetlands;
four classes with instruction in environmental knowledge and awareness only; and five classes receiving typical
science instruction. Pretests revealed no significant differences among the groups, but both experimental groups
reported significantly greater knowledge of environmental action skills, self-perceived ability to use skills, and selfreported pro-environmental behavior than the control group, and the group with action instruction reported
significantly more pro-environmental behavior than the awareness group.
These evaluations are impressive for their consistency in methods, measures, and results, and because they
compare students independent investigations of environmental issues and processes of planning for action with
more conventional approaches to environmental education that simply seek to increase knowledge and
awareness. These studies (p. 541) limitations are that the behavior measures are based almost exclusively on
student self-reports and they lack long-term follow-up assessments, with the exception of the study by Ramsey,
Hungerford, and Tomera (1981), which included parents reports of their childrens behaviors two months after
instruction ended. In this case, it is notable that the parent reports were consistent with the student self-reports. As
Rickinson (2001) and Zint (in press) recommended, it would be valuable to supplement such experimental designs
with qualitative measures to understand students experiences of different learning processes.
The most recent published evaluation of this curriculum addresses these recommendations, and in the process
highlights potential discrepancies in outcome results, depending on the measurements used. Volk and Cheak
(2003) compared fifth- and sixth-grade students in an IIAT program with an action component on the island of
Molokai, Hawaii, with classes that followed a traditional curriculum. In fifth grade, students learned how to analyze
local environmental issues and conduct independent research, working under the guidance of more experienced
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sixth graders. In sixth grade, they mentored fifth graders and organized a public symposium to promote
environmental problem-solving to create a more sustainable Molokai. On a fixed-response survey that limited
respondents to reporting whether they took discrete environmental actions, such as planting a tree or talking to
friends about the environment, students in the traditional curriculum scored higher than the IIAT students on the
post-test. When students created their own survey, IIAT students reported more environmental actions, and when
students, teachers, parents, and community members were interviewed about IIAT students accomplishments,
they all described high levels of achievement, such as testifying before the state legislature, setting up a recycling
program, organizing their families to recycle, and writing editorials for the local paper (actions that were not listed
on the standardized behavior survey).
Place-Based Education
Place-based education makes the walls between a school and its community permeable by using the local
community and environment as an integrating context to teach subjects across the curriculum (Powers, 2004;
Sobel, 2005). The school invites resource people from the community into classrooms and sends students out to
work on local issues. It is not a new idea: Dewey (1938) recommended experiential learning and many progressive
schools have practiced it. Since a 40-school study by Lieberman and Hoody (1998) demonstrated that placebased education increases student engagement in learning, raises student grades and scores on standardized
tests, and improves attendance and behavior, there has been a resurgence of interest in this approach. The IIAT
curriculum has elements of place-based education when it involves students in investigating local issues, but as a
movement, place-based education goes beyond single classrooms and subjects to involve whole schools in the
interdisciplinary study of local environments and in projects to improve the school itself or the community.
According to a qualitative evaluation of the Jaegerpris Project in Denmark, a form of place-based education that
created school-community partnerships to solve local environmental problems, students identified three aspects of
this approach as most important: authenticity, as it involves real issues; their participation in forming action plans
and making decisions; and their ability to take meaningful actions (Jensen, Kofoed, Uhrenholdt, & Vognsen, 1995).
In his portrait of a high school in Oregon where students learn by creating and implementing action plans related to
five domains of sustainability, Smith (2011) observed that this approach cultivates a sense of community, care for
individuals and the environment, and students confidence that they can make a positive difference in the world.
Implemented in this way, place-based education exemplifies learning through as well as from action (McLaren &
Hammond, 2005).
Duffin, Powers, Tremblay, and PEER Associates (2004 ) examined outcomes for schools across New England that
belonged to a Place-based Education Evaluation Collaborative (PEEC). Students engaged in activities such as
community mapping, creating sustainable schools, studying local forests, and improving local environments. The
evaluation was guided by a dose response measurement strategy on the premise that the more that schools
trained teachers in this approach and offered place-based activities to students, the greater the impacts would be.
As predicted, there was a positive correlation between teachers level of training and engagement and student
outcomes, including civic engagement and stewardship behaviors. Students with more engaged teachers were
more likely to say that in the past two months they had done something to take care of their neighborhood or
community, either with classmates or on their own time. Duffin et al. (2004) (p. 542) also found that there appears
to be a tipping point when place-based learning becomes integrated into the school culture and new teachers
adopt it as the school norm. (Survey sample sizes, with some variation per question, were approximately 300 for
teachers and 1,400 for students.)
A need for time to embed place-based learning in school practices may partly explain the limited outcomes
associated with the first year of the introduction of a Green Schools project in western Quebec (Legault & Pelletier,
2000). Schools that joined the project integrated ecological topics across subject areas and involved students in
initiatives such as recycling, composting, and energy conservation on the school site. In pre- and post-test
comparisons between 85 sixth-grade students in Green Schools versus 99 students in classes that lacked any
formal ecological program, students in Green Schools were significantly less likely to say that they engaged in
ecological behaviors for extrinsic motives, but otherwise they did not report more pro-environmental behaviors.
The Green Schools and PEEC evaluations reflect different goals and measures. Like studies of classroom-based
curricula and the IIAT approach that came before them, Legault and Pelletier (2000) surveyed students
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performance of discrete environmental behaviors, such as asking for reusable lunch containers or recycled paper.
These are similar to measures in many past studies (turning out unneeded lights, turning off the water while
brushing teeth, refraining from littering, etc,), which constitute what Stern (2000) called private sphere actions for
the environment. Important as these individual choices are, Stern argued that they should not be privileged above
other spheres of action that are also vital for the protection of the environment: collective political action and
institutional change. In contrast, PEEC adopted a utilization-focused evaluation process that involved schools and
community partners in identifying goals and outcome measures (Powers, 2004). The result was a focus on
students civic engagement and community participation in addition to individual stewardship behaviors.
Recent research on sustainable schools (reviewed in Barratt-Hacking, Scott, & Lee, 2010) takes as a given that
when students are involved in discussions, decision-making, and action to improve their school and community
environments, they are demonstrating the type of responsible citizenship that constitutes both process and
outcome measures. This is the principle underlying a case study of a Colorado high school that reduced its
electrical energy consumption by half over a six year period (Schelly et al., 2012). The school achieved its shift to
a culture of conservation by communicating and modeling sustainable behaviors through its facilities and
operations, participatory school governance, and role models such as the principal, teachers, staff, and student
leaders. As Volk and Cheaks (2003) evaluation of the IIAT program on the island of Molokai demonstrated, student
behaviors may appear very different through the lens of surveys that offer limited fixed choices of behaviors,
open-ended interviews that allow respondents to describe what students have done, or objective measures of what
students accomplish.
A critical question for future research is whether students in place-based education programs remain
environmentally and civically active later in life. Beane, Turner, Jones, and Lipka (1981) showed the potential of a
retrospective approach when they assessed the influence of a high school social studies teacher in Pennsylvania
who involved his senior classes for four years in assisting the city planning commission in preparing a master plan
for anticipated growth. Students assignment to his class was effectively random. Thirty years later, Beane and
colleagues tracked down alumni from these classes and compared them to high school students who were not part
of the planning project but were otherwise similar. Over the intervening 30 years, members of the planning class
were four times more likely than nonmembers to have belonged to volunteer civic and service organizations and
twice as likely to have been organization officers. This study design could be adapted to evaluate the impacts of
place-based education on a range of environmental behaviors over varying intervals of time.
Environmental Service Learning

Like place-based education, service learning is commonly community based, and many place-based projects
include elements of service. Service learning targets a range of needs that are often social rather than
environmental, and it can be the focus of a single class or out-of-school program rather than a whole-school
approach. Consistent with assessments of place-based education, evaluations of service learning often show gains
in service leadership, defined in terms of awareness of community issues, capacity to develop a project, and
commitment to trying to make a difference (Melchior & Bailis, 2002). When it puts social and environmental goals
together by preparing young people for sustainable livelihoods that benefit natural habitats and endangered
species, it represents a model for (p. 543) environmental education that is especially relevant for low- and
middle-income nations.
These goals are exemplified by the Roots and Shoots program founded by Jane Goodall, which engages youth in
community-centered conservation initiatives, such as sustainable agriculture, to reduce pressure on wildlife
habitats. Johnson-Pynn and Johnson (2010) worked with 487 youth, most between the ages of 14 and 20, who were
randomly selected from active participants of Roots and Shoots clubs in Tanzania and Wildlife Clubs in Uganda.
The clubs were typically school based. Whereas the Wildlife Clubs of Uganda were created by the government to
instill pride in the nations wildlife and raise awareness about sustainable development, the mission of Roots and
Shoots is to encourage young peoples self-determination and community service. The researchers compared
outcomes across different program settings, using a Service Experiences Survey and measures of a sense of
efficacy and hope, as well as civic attitudes, actions, and skills. Young people also answered open-ended
questions about their program activities and involvement. Consistent with their programs mission, Roots and
Shoots members scored significantly higher than Wildlife Club members for service involvement and civic action,
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and generally reported higher perceptions of self-efficacy and collective efficacy, but youth in both programs gave
themselves high ratings for civic action and expressed high levels of satisfaction with their program experiences.
In Baja California Sur, Mexico, Schneller (2008) evaluated a year-long secondary school class that sought to
engage students as catalysts for community change. Students learned about the regions environmental problems,
explored the local environment, practiced pro-environmental behaviors, and performed public service and
outreach, such as cleaning beaches and creeks, talking to people about beach protection, and helping to release
newly hatched sea turtles into the ocean. Using a retrospective panel design, Schneller conducted pre- and postclass interviews with 21 students who were selected to participate, as well as post-class interviews with 15
students from the previous cohort who volunteered to enroll when the class was initiated two years earlier. He also
interviewed teachers, community leaders, and a convenience sample of parents. Three-quarters of the new
graduates from the class said that they had adopted at least one or two new behaviors, such as recycling,
composting, water conservation, or not eating sea turtles, and most of the students who were in the class two
years earlier reported that they were still practicing new behaviors that they had learned. Of equal importance,
more than 70% of each group said that they had talked with their families, with high rates of success in changing
family practices, and parents confirmed that these changes occurred. Engaging young people as catalysts for
change in their communities is an important element of the environmental service learning model.
Learning at Nature Centers and Forest Schools

In some schools, environmental education is concentrated in field trips to parks and nature centers. Several
studies suggest that programs that immerse students in extended field experiences can lead to behavior change.
Asch and Shore (1975) evaluated a two-year program in Montreal that combined classroom instruction with outdoor
experiences at a nature center. An introductory year of classroom-based instruction about the environment
included discussions about what the students heard and felt related to environmental problems and research in
small groups on environmental issues of their choice. During the subsequent summer and school year, students
took field trips to a nature center in different seasons, where they had chances to observe wildlife and take part in
soil conservation experiments. As previously noted, boys who had been through this program demonstrated
stewardship behaviors in a series of tasks, in contrast to boys in a control group.
In an evaluation of nature center programs in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee, Stern, Powell,
and Ardoin (2008) gathered students self-reports of their sense of connection to nature, interest in learning and
discovery, knowledge about the park and biodiversity, and environmental stewardship attitudes and behaviors.
Fourth- through seventh-grade students who visited the residential nature center completed these measures at
three points in time: immediately on arrival in the park, immediately following the last park activity, and back in the
classroom three months later. Ten students from each of 20 different school groups were randomly selected to
complete the measures, divided between participants who attended for three days or five days. Students explored
issues related to biodiversity conservation and invasive species firsthand and participated in competitions to
reduce food waste. At the end of the program, students showed significant gains in all measures. In the follow-up
assessment, they retained significant (p. 544) gains in environmental knowledge and stewardship behaviors,
although mean scores for these outcomes declined during the three-month period. In the follow-up, students in the
five-day program differed from students in the three-day program only in the area of greater environmental
knowledge.
In a similar evaluation of a five-day residential program on the Chesapeake Bay, Stern, Powell, and Ardoin (2011)
tailored pre- and post-surveys to the characteristics of students, who included large samples from low-income
families in urban Baltimore, by focusing on a sense of environmental responsibility for home environments and
communities. Students were asked whether they were interested in working to make their community a better place
and whether they intended to work as a volunteer in their community (immediate post-test) or currently volunteered
(three-month follow-up). In two successive years of use, students showed significant gains in a sense of
environmental responsibility in the immediate post-test, with significant gains retained three months later only in the
second year, after the program made adaptations to more tightly connect program activities to students home
lives. Gains were especially strong among the urban students, compared to suburban and rural students.
In another evaluation of Chesapeake Bay programs, Zint, Kraemer, Northway, and Lim (2002) compared the effects
of one-day, three-day, and two-week field trips to the bay, an in-class curriculum, and a curriculum that involved
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the experiential component of raising juvenile shad in a tank and then releasing them in a local waterway. On
adjusted post-test scores, all of the student groups in the experiential programs scored significantly higher than
students in the in-class curriculum for their perceived knowledge or skill to take action for the environment or their
intention to act. The study included questionnaires sent to former participants in field trips and the in-class
curriculum. Former field trip participants were more likely to report knowing how to take action for the environment
if they engaged in longer field trips or a combination of field trips, and as a group, former field trip participants were
significantly more likely to report taking actions to protect the bay than respondents who had the in-class
curriculum. In another assessment of field trip effects, Bogner (1998) compared a one-day and a five-day outdoor
ecology program for German secondary school students in a national park. He found that both versions of the
program improved environmental knowledge and attitudes, but only the five-day program was associated with
increases in students stated willingness to plan and take action for the environment. In the five-day group, this
gain was still evident in a six-month follow-up. Bogner (1998) and Zint et al. (2002) recommended longer, more indepth field experiences or multiple experiences over time.
A study of 255 sixth-grade students who attended three outdoor science schools in California also found gains in
knowledge and pro-environmental behaviors, as measured by science scores and parents reports of their
childrens home behaviors 6 to 10 weeks after the week-long residential program ended (American Institutes for
Research, 2005). A delayed treatment design compared half of the group, who attended the program in the fall,
with the half who were not going to attend until the following spring. Fifty-six percent of the treatment group, who
were mostly Hispanic students from low-income families, stated that they had never spent time in a natural setting
before.
The principle of immersion in nature is fully realized in forest kindergartens: mixed-age schools where children
(typically ages three to six) are outside in a forested setting for all or part of every school day. After developing in
Scandinavia, Germany, and the United Kingdom, they have recently been established in the United States. In these
settings, children use nature as a home, for eating, sleeping, and playing; as a classroom, for learning and
exploring nature; and as a fairyland, for imagination and creative play (nggrd 2010). One of the most relevant
findings from research with low-income British children in these settings is that forest kindergartens produced a
ripple effect, as children and their families who did not previously have much exposure to nature began to seek
out nature experiences similar to those in school (Knight, 2009, Murray, 2004, Murray & OBrien, 2005). Research
has not yet examined effects of these programs on stewardship behaviors in early childhood or long term.
Ingredients of Effective Environmental Education Programs

Looking back over these evaluations of formal education, it is apparent that despite the relative neglect of research
on behavior outcomes, a body of evidence has accumulated that suggests that well-designed programs can
increase pro-environmental behaviors among students. Given the limitation that few studies include follow-up
measures and that when they do, the assessments are usually made within three months after a program ends,
little is known about long-term effects. Nevertheless, the (p. 545) fact that some studies have found behavior
change after one year (Schneller, 2008), six years (Hanson, 1993), and 30 years (Beane et al., 1981) gives hope
that education can successfully introduce lasting habits of action. More research is needed to understand the
conditions under which young people learn and maintain active care for the environment.
Three key ingredients are repeatedly evident in effective programs. As Zelezny (1999), Rickinson (2001), and Zint
(in press) noted in their reviews, and as this chapter also finds, one ingredient of a programs effectiveness
appears to be an extended duration. The programs that Beane et al. (1981) and Schneller (2008) evaluated
involved year-long curricula that combined work in the classroom with activities in the community, and the program
that Hanson (1993) assessed distributed curriculum units on energy across kindergarten through sixth grade, with
activities to be carried out both at school and at home. Other programs that show behavior change either involve a
term or more of instruction or total immersion in field trip experiences for several days. In addition to an extended
duration or at least intense immersion in field experiences, these programs share a second key ingredient: they
connect learning to the real worlds of students homes, communities, or regions.
As Leeming et al. (1993), Zelezny (1999), and Zint (in press) also noted, successful programs involve students
actively. Evaluations of the IIAT curriculum that compared students investigation of local environmental issues and
training in action skills with curricula that only emphasized science instruction or environmental knowledge and
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awareness have repeatedly shown that if pro-environmental behaviors are a goal, students need opportunities to
learn action skills (Culen & Volk, 2000; Jordan, Hungerford, & Tomera, 1986; Ramsey, 1993; Ramsey &
Hungerford, 1989; Ramsey, Hungerford, & Tomera, 1981; Simpson, 1989; Volk & Cheak, 2003). When students
take action at school, at home, in their local environment, or during field work in a natural setting, they can see
issues for themselves and the effects of their efforts.
For these reasons, place-based education is especially promising, as it is a whole-school approach that seeks to
involve students in study and service in the local environment as part of every subject area and in every grade. It
embodies the extended duration, investigation of meaningful local issues, and opportunities to practice action that
have been associated with effectiveness, and according to the evaluation by Duffin et al. (2004), it is associated
with increased stewardship and civic service. The environmental service learning models assessed by Schneller
(2008) and Johnson-Pynn and Johnson (2010) demonstrate that in regions characterized by poverty as well as
threats to the environment, meaningful action can address social and environmental issues simultaneously.
Stewardship Outcomes from Wilderness Experience Programs

Wilderness adventure programs began in the 1940s in Asia and in the 1960s in the United States. These programs
have shown growing popularity at the turn of the 21st century, with a burgeoning number of programs that provide
challenge, adventure, therapy, and sometimes reflection or stewardship (Dawson et al., 1998; Ewert, 1987; Gasner
& Russell, 2008). In 2000, Ewert and McAvoy estimated that more than 700 wilderness organizations provide some
form of wilderness experience, with this number growing at a rate of approximately 15% per year. These programs
have been categorized as adventure education, wilderness therapy, outdoor experiential education, wilderness
experience, and wilderness challenge (Dawson et al., 1998). Most programs are rooted in the philosophy of John
Dewey (1938), who believed that all education should come from experience, reflection, and practical skills. These
programs typically serve youth ranging from 14 to 25 years in age, in a wilderness setting that provides for
interpersonal and intrapersonal growth coupled with any number of additional foci, including intervention,
education, leadership, and therapy, as well as personal or technical skills (Friese, 1996). Well-known wilderness
programs include Outward Bound, the National Outdoor Leadership School, the Wilderness Education Association,
and the Student Conservation Association. Additionally, some Youth Conservation Corps programs provide similar
wilderness experiences, typically with a stewardship focus.
Programs generally run a minimum of 5 days, and typically 10 or more days. Most programs provide some
education about minimizing human impacts on the wilderness area used for the program. These experiences allow
for a variety of social and psychological benefits including interpersonal relationships (e.g., group problem-solving
and communication), personal development (e.g., self-esteem, self-concept, autonomy, self-awareness, locus of
control, spiritual growth), and technical skills development. These benefits of engagement with nature are well
documented (Daniel, 2003; Driver et al., 1987; (p. 546) Ewert et al., 2007; Ewert & McAvoy, 2000; Faber Taylor
& Kuo, 2006; Gass et al., 2002; Gillett et al., 1991; Hazelworth & Wilson, 1990; Kellert & Derr, 1998; Schuster et
al., 2005). Actual benefits of these programs depend on specific program goals (such as therapy, education, or
personal growth). Importantly, only those with an educational focus have the goal of influencing environmental
knowledge, skills, positive environmental attitudes, or pro-environmental behaviors (Friese, 1996).
Less understood is the impact of wilderness experiences on environmental awareness, knowledge, attitudes, and
behaviors. It is assumed that wilderness experiences will promote positive environmental attitudes, awareness, and
behaviors, yet this has not been well documented (Ewert et al., 2007). Even more limited is our understanding of
how youth might apply wilderness experiences and the values and attitudes they gain to their everyday lived
experiences (Haluza-Delay, 2001). The limited evidence that does exist suggests that these can be powerful
experiences for adolescents; for some, they are considered among the most influential and worthwhile
experiences in a lifetime (Daniel, 2003; Kellert & Derr, 1998).
As with the evaluations of formal environmental education, more studies of wilderness experiences have focused
on the effects of programs on attitudes, knowledge, and intention to act rather than on actual pro-environmental
behaviors. While heightened appreciation for nature and increased knowledge are integral factors associated with
action for the environment (Figure 28.1), research on wilderness programs frequently does not take into account
the sense of efficacy necessary to take action, or measure actual changes in behavior.
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A handful of studies have evaluated the impact of wilderness experiences on behavior change. These studies all
report similar findings, which are that participants show an increase in pro-environmental behavior, and that
program influences diminish over time (Hammit et al., 1995; Kellert & Derr, 1998; Mazze, 2006; Morrison, 2010).
Most of these studies record impacts within the first year following programs, and some also examine longer-term
effects through retrospective studies.
Daniel (2003) conducted retrospective studies with 210 participants of a wilderness expedition offered by Montreat
College in North Carolina. Subjects participated in the program anywhere from 1 to 25 years prior to the time of the
study. Daniel found that 20% of participants were working in a field related to outdoor education, and that of these,
87% had participated in multiple wilderness experiences, including the program being investigated. Many stated
that it was the accumulation of these experiences that contributed to their choice of profession. Because of their
repeated experiences in wilderness programs, they did not attribute explicit significance to any one wilderness
program in shaping their career path.
Morrison (2010) conducted in-depth interviews with 20 alumni from the Wild Rockies Field Institute (WRFI), an
outdoor education program that combines wilderness experience with field courses. His research found that the
program did result in perceived behavior changes, such as academic or career goals, lifestyle choices, and
political involvement. Participants reported significant changes in their environmental awareness and ability to
reduce their environmental impact.
Haluza-Delay (2001) and Morrison (2010) both touched on the inability of many participants to transfer proenvironmental behaviors learned in a wilderness experience to lived experiences at home:
Despite the emphasis on sustainable living, WRFI courses are a product that is consumed. Hence,
participants may have a great time on a WRFI course, but do not necessarily walk away with core
behaviors changed because they viewed the experience as just a good time in the woods. (Morrison,
2010, p. 114)
This disconnect was the focus of Haluza-Delays (2001) research with eight youth, ages 14 to 16, who participated
in a 12-day wilderness program in Alberta, Canada. Haluza-Delay attended the program as a participant observer
and then used semi-structured interviews two weeks and six months following the program to assess how
participants responded to nature at home. Most of the teens showed environmental concern and awareness but did
not see a link to environmentally responsible behavior back at home. Many youth said they wanted wilderness
areas to be preserved but did not see anything natural in their home community and therefore did not engage in
any environmental behaviors.
Mazze (2006) considered this question in depth when she considered the transference of skills to everyday lived
experiences among students of the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS). Mazze interviewed 9 NOLS
students before, immediately after, and several months following program experiences as well as 10 NOLS alumni
who had participated in the program anywhere from 3 to (p. 547) 28 years prior. Mazze found that all subjects
were able to transfer some skills to their behaviors at home, with the majority of longitudinal subjects and about half
of the retrospective subjects attributing their pro-environmental behaviors directly to the wilderness experience.
Changes in behaviors included reducing consumption of goods, electricity, or water; increasing alternative
transportation and organic food purchases; and participating in environmentally active groups. Interestingly, prior
to the program experience, most longitudinal subjects attributed pro-environmental behaviors to their parents while
retrospective subjects attributed their behaviors to other factors, such as NOLS, career choices, and place of
residence. Though many alumni said NOLS was one of the most influential events in their lives, only 2 of the 10
subjects attributed their pro-environmental behaviors to their NOLS experience. However, many alumni did state
that NOLS was an important catalyst for their current pro-environmental behaviors, and all 19 subjects said that
NOLS increased their sense of responsibility toward the environment.
Subjects ascribed their motivation to care for the environment to a variety of factors, including the beauty of
wilderness areas, the experience of living minimally in the wilderness, the amount of time they spent in the
wilderness, increased knowledge and skills in general, and the programs explicit focus on transferring skills to
home. In addition, those alumni who practiced only a few pro-environmental behaviors attributed this not to a lack
of desire or concern for doing more, but to constraints in their current setting. Some of the longitudinal subjects
thought the experience might influence college curriculum choices or careers; however, this was not measured
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due to the limited length of the longitudinal study. In general, the wilderness experience provided by NOLS
significantly influenced participants motivation for pro-environmental behaviors, with greater impact during the
short-term experiences of longitudinal subjects than across the long-term experiences of alumni.
Kellert and Derr (1998) also found this trend in their comprehensive study of participants of National Outdoor
Leadership School, Outward Bound, and Student Conservation Association (SCA) programs. They conducted
longitudinal research with 296 participants before, immediately after, and six months after the wilderness
experience, as well as retrospective research with 450 individuals who had participated anywhere from one to six
or more years ago. Both the longitudinal and retrospective research involved structured, semi-structured, and indepth interviews to evaluate program effects on attitudes, knowledge, and pro-environment behaviors.
Both forms of research found that wilderness experience programs had a significant impact on environmental
attitudes (with more than 80% expressing increased connection to and affinity for nature). In addition, 72% of
retrospective subjects felt the experience had made them more environmentally responsible. Many participants
reported elevated feelings of awareness and connection, as exemplified below:
After five weeks, I realized that the world is my home, the stars are my roof, the dirt, my floor. I can no
longer isolate building life (urban life) from the rest. I know that everything we do affects everything else.
The great web. (Kellert & Derr, 1998, p. 19)Before the program my feelings of ethical responsibility and
stewardship were just ideals. Through the program, I gained confidence and incentive to actually act on
these feelings. Ever since, I have felt a connection with the environment and a desire to continue that
stewardship. (Kellert & Derr, 1998, p. 21)
Yet when the study asked participants to report their environmental behaviors, only 1530% of participants in the
retrospective study reported increased behaviors in recycling or avoiding products that are environmentally
detrimental. Retrospective participants membership in conservation or environmental organizations was higher, at
4060%. Program influence on activist behaviors, such as writing letters, attending meetings, working with citizen
groups, or volunteering on behalf of the environment, were low among the retrospective study participants, with
most of these behaviors increasing 27%. These changes also diminished over time, with those who participated 6
or more years ago showing fewer program influences on behavior than more recent participants. Among
organizations, SCA participants reported more significant program impacts on various conservation activities,
including interest in community service, volunteering, and environmental education and careers. This is likely due
to the stewardship activities and conservation focus of many SCA programs (Kellert & Derr, 1998), and perhaps to
a self-selecting bias of those who chose SCA programs over those with different experiential goals. Indeed, part of
SCAs mission statement is to build the next generation of conservation leaders and inspire lifelong stewardship
(Hoffman, 2004).
(p. 548) These findings correlate with the analysis by Dawson and colleagues (1998), which identified varying
goals associated with wilderness experience programs. Their analysis revealed that while the majority of programs
seek to provide opportunities for personal growth and the transfer of skills learned during the experience to
everyday life, only the programs with an educational focus seek to develop responsible behaviors and advocacy
for the environment (Friese, 1996; Dawson et al., 1998; Adkins & Simmons, 2002). Even for wilderness experience
programs that do have a primary focus of education, significant differences exist in the extent to which these
programs identify increases in responsible behaviors as an explicit program goal (Dawson et al., 1998). Programs
that emphasize stewardship behaviors during the program experience have greater long-term impacts on behavior
change at home, as Kellert and Derr (1998) found for SCA programs and Mazze (2006) found for NOLS.
While many programs have the goal of transferring skills to home life, the emphasis largely has been on
transferring personal and social skills rather than pro-environmental behaviors (Dawson et al., 1998). In their
analysis, Dawson and colleagues (1998) further found that wilderness (defined as areas with conditions
consistent with those set forth in the 1964 Federal Wilderness Act) is an essential component in successful
wilderness experience programs, and that regardless of whether a program had an explicit educational focus, the
remote and wild characteristics of wilderness that allow youth to get away from everyday life create an inherent
disconnect when youth return back home. That youth connect to the essential nature of wilderness without
necessarily gaining transferable skills leads to an important question: Will youth come to see nature as a medium to
be used for personal growth and benefit, or will it also be respected and cared for? As Morrison (2010)
Page 21 of 32

emphasized, though a program may include sustainable living in its ideals, participants more frequently may come
away from an experience as a good time in the woods rather than with any lasting change in core behaviors.
Wilderness, then, becomes a product for consumption, a means to personal growth and benefit, rather than
something to be responsible for through everyday actions. This is a potentially significant shortcoming in program
execution. Wilderness programs with an educational focus might do more to bridge this disconnect between the
wilderness experience and the ability to act on behalf of the environment once at home. As Mazzes (2006)
research showed, an explicit emphasis on transferability can be a powerful motivation for behavior change. For
research, the implication is that transferability to home life constitutes one of the most significant and least
understood aspects of wilderness program evaluation. Research that considers the transferability of experience,
the impact of single programs versus repeated experiences, and influences on sustaining long-term changes in
pro-environmental behaviors would help address this important aspect of conservation psychology.
Implications for Research and Practice

This concluding section asks the questions: What do the different bodies of research that have been reviewed in
this chapter tell us that can be applied to promote the development of active care for the environment? What are
their implications for different fields of practice that shape childrens experience of the environment? How can
further research enable us to answer these questions more effectively?
Implications for Education, Planning, and Design

Existing research suggests that if societies seek to achieve a sustainable world where not only will people act to
protect the biosphere today but also future generations will value this goal and work for its achievement, then
children need to be provided with regular access to nature. Research has linked a background of childhood play in
nature with every form of care for the environment: informed citizen action, volunteerism, public support for proenvironmental policies, environmental career choices, and private-sphere behaviors like buying green products,
conserving energy, and recycling. For the fields of planning, architecture, landscape architecture, real estate
development, parks and recreation, wilderness management, and education, this means weaving natural areas for
play, exploration, and experiential learning into the fabric of childrens lives at every scale: from housing sites and
the yards of child care centers and nursery schools, to naturalized schoolyards and gardens, to greenways where
children can travel safely to school and other community resources, to networks of parks, to opportunities for
wilderness adventure. This recommendation is consistent with biophilic design principles, which seek to connect
people to nature and their local landscapes (Kellert, Heerwagen, & Mador, 2008; Moore & Cooper Marcus, 2008).
This recommendation assumes places of graduated risk, where challenges in the environment (p. 549) match
childrens developing capabilities to identify and negotiate risks. As Tovey (2007) noted, children gain competence
and autonomy by learning to understand and overcome challenges. Ironically, while parents and school
administrators often try to prevent children from taking risks such as climbing trees, accident data show that
children are much more likely to be seriously hurt or killed in the built environments of the home, in cars, and on
local streets with traffic (Centers for Disease Control, 2011). Risks that children cannot manage include those they
cannot see, such as toxins in soil, air and water. Childrens developing bodies, for example, are especially
vulnerable to the herbicides and insecticides often used on lawns and gardens (American Academy of Pediatrics
Committee on Environmental Health, 2003; Presidents Cancer Panel, 2010; Steingraber, 2011). Access to nature
needs to allow for appropriate challenges while protecting children from unmanageable and invisible risks.
Along with regular access to nature, the research reviewed in this chapter indicates the importance of social
support for the development of care for the environment. Research on formative experiences of environmentally
active adolescents and adults repeatedly shows the role of parents and other family members who model care for
nature and encourage their childs interests, as well as friends, teachers, and mentors in environmental clubs or
organizations. James, Bixler, and Vadala (2010) observed that while an interest in nature and a commitment to its
protection may begin with direct, socially facilitated experiences of nature through free play and discovery, in
middle childhood and adolescence young people need opportunities to extend their environmental knowledge and
skills in more formal ways. In addition to a tapestry of nature in different spaces of their lives, children need people
who can help them appreciate and understand what they find there.
Page 22 of 32

Evaluations of formal programs for environmental education and wilderness programs for youth also point to these
conclusions. They indicate the importance of immersion in nature through field trips to parks or nature centers,
excursions beyond school walls through place-based education or environmental service learning, and wilderness
adventures. Research on wilderness programs for youth also indicates the importance of repeated, accumulated
experiences and opportunities for young people to transfer what they learn in distant places to responsible
environmental practices when they return home. Bixler, James, and Vadala (2011) gave detailed recommendations
for how interpretive naturalists can apply research findings to have the greatest possible impact on children and
youth in their programsand their suggestions can be applied to other domains of work with children as well.
Another research conclusion is that it is important to give young people opportunities to learn about, through, and
from action (McLaren & Hammond, 2005). As this chapters review of evaluations of the IIAT approach to
environmental education showed, conventional teaching about science and environmental problems is not
sufficient to promote environmentally responsible behaviors: students need opportunities to learn action skills.
They also need opportunities to apply these skills to issues that they find personally relevant. Place-based
education, environmental service learning, nature centers, and wilderness programs can engage young people in
activities that form both process and goal: enabling young people to exercise active citizenship as they encounter
and address environmental issues firsthand.
Directions for Future Research

These research results are consistent with the theories of child and youth development that form the framework for
this chapter. Ecological psychology helps explain the significance of free play in nature in childhood as well as the
importance of processes of joint attention when children explore nature with family members, friends, teachers, or
other guides (Chawla, 2007). The social learning theory of Bandura (1997), which identifies key processes that
contribute to childrens sense of competence, can be applied to competence in environmental care and problemsolving (Chawla, 2009; Heft & Chawla, 2006). The model of achievement motivation of Eccles and Wigfield (2002)
is relevant to the development of an environmental identity, which includes a feeling of connection to nature and
may include care for the environment as part of a persons goals and self-definition (Chawla, 2009; Clayton, 2003).
Rickinson (2001) and Zint (in press) noted that research about young peoples environmental learning and
behavior needs to be guided by a theoretical framework to build coherent narratives that can be meaningfully
applied in practice. These theories are offered as an appropriate framework. By showing how knowledge, feelings,
values, and action are connected, they suggest how to bring more balance to environmental education research,
which has been dominated by a focus on (p. 550) knowledge, values, and attitudes at the expense of behavior.
Consistent with the need for a theoretical structure, Rickinson (2001) and Zint (in press) also recommended more
qualitative studies that can provide insight into processes of learning and how young people themselves interpret
experiences. If increased care for the environment is associated with a particular program in a school, nature
center, or wilderness expedition, what happens that makes the difference? Do program activities embody the
processes that theories would predict? What experiences do children, teachers, program leaders, and parents
consider most formative and why? According to young people themselves, how do they develop a sense of affinity
with nature and learn to express it in action? To answer these questions, observations, interviews, and qualitative
methods, such as photography, drawing, journaling, and program logs, can complement quantitative measures of
behavior change. These methods can also serve as a means to verify which program goals and curriculum plans
are actually implemented in practice. Three studies by Rickinson, Lundholm, and Hopwood (2009) demonstrated
the importance of hearing students own perspectives of environmental learning experiences.
Ideally, qualitative and quantitative measures progress together, as Hsu (2009) demonstrated when he used
interviews and open-ended questions to identify key items for a fixed-response survey with a larger population.
When statistically significant differences emerge between groups that exhibit greater or less care for the
environment, qualitative research can be used again to better understand experiences that explain these
differences.
Not only are observational methods integral to qualitative descriptions of young peoples environmental learning,
but they also can address a current weakness of most research in this field, which is its primary reliance on selfreport or reports by parents or teachers about young peoples behavior. As the quasi-experimental design by Asch
and Shore (1975) demonstrated, and as Camargo and Shavelson (2009) suggested, situations can be created
Page 23 of 32

where it is practical to directly observe young peoples treatment of the environment. As Blizard and Schuster
(2004) showed, case studies can include repeated observations that follow how children respond to events in the
environment over time.
Future research also needs to include more long-term, longitudinal, and retrospective assessments. Through their
account of Ramseys work, Hungerford and Volk (1990) suggested how students can be tracked longitudinally as
they move through grades. Another approach is a panel design, such as Schneller (2008) used to compare
different cohorts of young people. Retrospective pretests can ask young people what they believe their level of
action was before embarking on a programa method with demonstrated validity (Pratt, McGuigan, & Katzev,
2000). Long-term assessments are necessary to understand whether behavior changes are lasting, to compare
the effects of a single program experience versus repeated experiences, and to determine whether young people
can transfer conservation practices learned in a special setting like the wilderness or a nature center back to
everyday life when they return home.
As Beane and colleagues (1981) have shown, sometimes it is possible to contact people years after they
experienced a special environmental program in childhood or youth to determine whether they became more
environmentally or civically engaged than others in their cohort. Similarly, Zint and colleagues (2002) used
questionnaires to compare former participants in Chesapeake Bay field trips with former students in an in-class
curriculum. Wells and Lekies (2006) have used survey data to connect adult levels of pro-environmental behaviors
with childhood experiences, including free play in nature. More retrospective and correlational studies like these
are needed to understand experiences that encourage pro-environmental behaviors over time.
Given concerns that many children no longer experience nature directly, it is important to understand the impact of
vicarious experiences of nature through media. When do images of nature leave children with feelings of fear and
powerlessness, or a sense of connection with nature and a motivation to conserve it? Can media augment
childrens skills for taking action? Kahn (2010) suggested in his book Technological Nature that (media)ted
nature may not substitute for direct experience but may encourage care for nature nonetheless, but how this can
be achieved is an area for future research. In an increasingly urban world, how can media and opportunities to
experience nature directly in schoolyards and urban parks be used together to reduce the feelings of fear and
discomfort in nature that urban children often express?
Finally, the research covered in this chapter has been largely limited to high-income countries in North America,
Western Europe, and Asia Pacific. Although high levels of consumption in these regions of the world have a
disproportionate impact on the (p. 551) environment and it is important for young people in these regions to
become environmentally aware and engaged, most population growth is occurring in low- and middle-income
countries of Asia, Africa, and Latin America, where many hot spots of threatened biodiversity are located. It is
critical to invest more research in these parts of the world. As the studies by Johnson-Pynn and Johnson (2010) in
Tanzania and Uganda and by Schneller (2008) in Mexico have demonstrated, environmental service learning is an
approach that can simultaneously address environmental protection and peoples needs for livelihoods. How to
most effectively support youth initiatives to develop sustainable livelihoods should be a future research emphasis.
The theme of this chapter has been how children learn to act for the benefit of the environment. In closing, it is
possible to observe that providing the conditions for this learning is a win-win objective. One condition for the
development of care for the environment is access to nature, but as the beginning of this chapter noted, contact
with nature has the windfall benefit of supporting childrens physical and mental health and positive social
relations. Creating a mosaic of green spaces around homes, schools, and communities can not only provide young
people with grounds for environmental learning but also offer restorative spaces for children and adults and
habitats for diverse species. A second condition for learning care for the environment is to enable children and
youth to take action for the environment through their schools or programs for service learning or wilderness
adventure. These opportunities for action can not only increase young peoples sense of competence and feeling
of value in the context of meaningful action, but yield tangible gains for their communities. Creating conditions for
children to learn to care for the environment has the potential to benefit not only children but all ages and all other
living things as well.
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Page 24 of 32

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Louise Chawla
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Victoria Derr
Victoria Derr College of Architecture and Planning University of Colorado Boulder, CO
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Promoting Pro-Environmental Behavior

P. Wesley Schultz and Florian G. Kaiser
2012

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0029

AbstractAchieving a sustainable future will require changes in behavior, and recent analyses have shown the
importance of a behavioral perspective in addressing environmental issues. This chapter reviews the large and
rapidly growing body of psychological research aimed at understanding and promoting pro-environmental
behavior. The behavior change research is organized into approaches that focus on the person and those that
focus on the context. Person-level approaches include information campaigns, along with approaches that target
egoistic, social-altruistic, and biospheric motivational bases of behavior. Context-level approaches have generally
focused on convenience and structural barriers, but new research is examining the role of contextual variables in
activating or enhancing personal motivations. The chapter concludes with a discussion of practical considerations,
including behavior selection, rebound effects, and spillover.
Keywords: pro-environmental behavior, conservation, behavior change, person-level approaches, context-level approaches, environmental
education, social marketing
Introduction
Humans stand at the tipping point, brought about by our unsustainable use of natural resources. While human
activity has always affected the local natural environment, these effects are magnified by the number of people
living on the planet, and by the technology used to support our lifestyles.
Fortunately, people can change. Behavior can change. Technology can change. Given the link between
environmental problems and human behavior, any solution will require that people do things differently. While
solutions will take a variety of pathwaysfrom political, technological, community-based programs, or individual
choicesany solution to environmental problems will require changes in behavior (Midden, Kaiser, & McCalley,
2007).
This chapter summarizes the theories and research findings from more than 40 years of work on pro-environmental
behavior. Our aim in this chapter is not to advocate for a specific approach, but rather to provide a broad overview
of the various approaches, theoretical foundations, and limitations. We begin by making a case for the importance
of a behavioral perspective in understanding and solving environmental problems. While this is probably not an
issue for most readers of this volume, it is certainly a major issue outside of psychology (Kazdin, 2009). Following
this brief introduction, we then proceed to summarize the major approaches that have been used to understand
and promote pro-environmental behavior. In organizing these models, we differentiate between approaches that
focus on the person, and those that focus on the context.
The Behavioral Wedge
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Given the complexity and scale of environmental problems, what can we reasonably expect to achieve with a
behavioral perspective? Several previous (p. 557) papers have highlighted the importance of policy changes,
changes in corporate practices, or advances in technology in promoting large-scale changes in pro-environmental
behavior (Midden, Kaiser, & McCalley, 2007; Oskamp, 2000; Stern, 2000a). So what can we reasonably expect to
achieve by focusing on the individual?
In their analysis of various approaches to curtail carbon emissions, Dietz et al. (2009) concluded that behavioral
interventions in the United States could save an estimated 123 million metric tons of carbon per year, which
corresponds to 20% of residential emissions and 7.4% of US national emissions. Their analysis focused on 17
specific household actions, in five behavioral categories. The five behavioral domains include weatherization,
utilizing more efficient modes of transportation and residential equipment, maintaining residential equipment,
adjusting residential equipment, and modifying daily use practices (WEMAD). For each of the 17 specific
household actions, they estimated the plasticitythat is, likelihood that the behavior can be changed. The
plasticity estimates were derived from a review of the empirical literature on each behavior, from which they
selected the best practice. By combining estimates for the carbon emissions, linked with each of the 17 behaviors
and estimated plasticity derived from their review of the existing behavioral research, the authors were able to
calculate realistically achievable emissions reductions (RAER) in both metric tons of carbon emitted per year and
relative percentage. The categories and results are summarized in Table 29.1.
The bottom-line message is that behavior matters. In terms of total carbon emissions, behavior represents a
substantial portion (i.e., the wedge of the carbon pie). Importantly, these realistically achievable emissions
reductions can come about quickly, without the need for new policies or technologies, which can take years to
develop and implement. Furthermore, these changes can be brought about with little or no reduction in household
well-being.
What Do We Mean by Pro-Environmental Behavior?

Throughout this chapter, we have chosen to use the term pro-environmental behavior. And while the term may
be intuitively clear, the literature is replete with similar terms and emphases: conservation, sustainability,
efficiency, environmental protection, and preservation, to name a few. Indeed, defining the types of behaviors that
are considered pro-environmental has proven quite difficult. First, there are changing standards for what is proenvironmental, and behaviors that are considered pro-environmental today could potentially be considered
environmentally harmful in the future. So in this regard, pro-environmental behavior is culturally and historically
prescribed. Second, the impact of a behavior on the natural environment must be considered in relation to other
actions, and pro-environmental is therefore a relative term. All human behavior exerts some impact on the natural
environment, but some actions have a bigger impact than others. Breathing emits carbon dioxide, as does riding a
bus, or driving a car. But walking to work emits less carbon than does riding the bus, which in turn emits less
carbon per person than driving a car. But even driving a car could be considered pro-environmental compared
with taking a private jet. The point here is that what is considered pro-environmental must be considered in
relationship to other possible actions, and there is no absolute standard for determining what is pro-environmental.
An Impact-Oriented Approach
Two dominant approaches have been used to study pro-environmental behavior: one focused on impact, and a
second focused on intention (Stern, 2000b). On the one hand, pro-environmental behavior can be approached
from an impact orientation perspective (Steg & Vlek, 2009). From this perspective, the term pro-environmental
refers to behaviors that contribute to the sustainability of the natural environment. For example, pro-environmental
behavior can include conservation of resources such as water or energy, or reductions in pollution. The definition
emphasizes the outcome of the behavior, rather than the motivation behind it. From this perspective, a persons
intentions can often deviate from reality, and while a person may aim to engage in a pro-environmental behavior,
they often fail to engage in actions that have an environmentally significant consequence (Whitmarsh, 2009).
The impact-oriented approach makes no assumptions about underlying motivations, such that a person can
engage in a pro-environmental behavior for non-environmental reasons. In addition, the approach is relative, in
that these are behaviors that contribute to environmental protection. As pointed out above, there is no absolute
standard for determining whether a behavior has a large or small environmental impact, so the emphasis for
Page 2 of 31

impact-oriented researchers is on behaviors that move the individual in the direction of a smaller impact. (p. 558)
Table 29.1
Behavior
change
Category*
Potential emissions
reduction (MtC)
Behavioral
plasticity (%)
RAER
(MtC)
RAER
(%I/H)
Weatherization
25.2
90
21.2
3.39
HVAC equipment
12.2
80
10.7
1.72
Low-flow
showerheads
1.4
80
1.1
0.18
Efficient water
heater
6.7
80
5.4
0.86
Appliances
14.7
80
11.7
1.87
Low-rollingresistance tires
7.4
80
6.5
1.05
Fuel-efficient
vehicle
56.3
50
31.4
5.02
Change HVAC air

filters
8.7
30
3.7
0.59
Tune up AC
3.0
30
1.4
0.22
Routine auto
maintenance
8.6
30
4.1
0.66
Laundry
temperature
0.5
35
0.2
0.04
Water heater
temperature
2.9
35
1.0
0.17
Standby electricity
9.2
35
3.2
0.52
Thermostat
setbacks
10.1
35
4.5
0.71
Line drying
6.0
35
2.2
0.35
Driving behavior
24.1
25
7.7
1.23
Carpooling and
trip-chaining
36.1
15
6.4
1.02
123
20
Totals
233
Page 3 of 31

(*) See text for definitions of categories W, E, M, A, and D.
() Effect of change from the current level of penetration to 100% penetration, corrected for double counting.
Measured in millions of metric tons of carbon (MtC).
() Percentage of the relevant population that has not yet adopted an action that will adopt it by year 10 with the
most effective interventions.
() Reduction in national CO2 emissions at year 10 due to the behavioral change from plasticity, expressed in
MtC/year saved and as a percentage of total US individual/household sector emissions (%I/H). Both estimates
are corrected for double counting.
Source: Dietz et al. (2009)
And finally, the approach embraces the term sustainability, which refers to the ability of the natural environment
to continue in its present form for an indefinite period of time. While sustainability is certainly a philosophical
impossibility (only the future can determine whether an action is indeed sustainable), it is used in this context as a
goal for evaluating the relative impact of different behaviors (Schmuck & Schultz, 2002).
Intention-Orientation
The second approach for studying pro-environmental behavior has taken an intention-orientation, and thereby
defined it as the degree to which the person wants to produce a positive environmental outcome (Kaiser, 1998).
From this perspective, what is important is the underlying motivational basis for a persons actions (Kaiser &
Wilson, 2000, 2004). In their goal-directed theory of behavior, Kaiser et al., (2007) suggested that proenvironmental behaviors can be arrayed along a single motivational dimension, ranging from easy to difficult. At
the core is a persons motivation to protect the natural environment, which can be deduced from his or her actions
(Kaiser et al., 2010). The more strongly motivated the person is to protect the environment, the more (p. 559)
barriers he or she will overcome in an attempt to achieve this goal. A pro-environmental behavior is thus defined
from this perspective as: a behavior intended to contribute toward the sustainability of the natural environment.
Domains of Pro-Environmental Behavior

As a starting point to understanding pro-environmental behavior, it is useful to provide a classification of the many
behavioral domains. Such domains can range from actions in the political arena, or environmental activism, to
private-sphere behaviors, and behaviors at work or within an organizational structure (Stern, 2000b). Our focus in
this chapter will be on the behaviors most frequently studied in psychological research on pro-environmental
behavior, including personal use, purchase, or disposal of products. Importantly, this focus reflects the research
that has been conducted by behavioral scientists over the past 40 years and is not exhaustive of the many
environmental problems that we face. Indeed, its likely that new issues and behaviors will emerge in the future.
Under the umbrella heading of pro-environmental behavior, it is useful to differentiate between two classes:
curtailment and efficiency (Gardner & Stern, 1996; Stern & Gardner, 1981). Curtailment behaviors involve changes
in routine; they are recurring behaviors that can produce a reduction in consumption. Examples include turning off
lights when leaving a room, turning town the home heating system at night, recycling newspapers, or using
nontoxic household cleaning products. Efficiency behaviors, on the other hand, refer to one-time actions that
result in reduced consumption. Examples include choosing to reside in a community near your place of
employment to avoid driving a private vehicle every day, installing extra home insulation, or purchasing a more
efficient automobile. While efficiency behaviors generally occur only once, they often have a large proenvironmental effect. Indeed, installing a more efficient home washing machine is likely to produce greater
reductions in electricity use than maximizing ones use of a less efficient appliance. However, it is also important to
point out that just installing more efficient technologies does not guarantee a pro-environmental outcome (see
section below on rebound effects).
Psychological research on pro-environmental behavior has examined a range of specific behaviors. Table 29.2
shows a list of some of the many behaviors that have been studied, classified into different domains. As noted
above, these represent only behaviors in the private sphere, and while psychological research has examined
Page 4 of 31

other behavioral domains, these are not the focus of the current chapter.
The Person or the Context?

In recent years, the field of environmental psychology has devoted an increasing amount of attention to the
behavioral aspects of environmental problems (Giuliani & Scopelliti, 2009). While certainly there has been a longstanding interest among environmental psychologists in pro-environmental behavior (Altman & Rogoff, 1987;
Darley & Gilbert, 1985), the past 10 years have witnessed a dramatic growth in research on environmental
problems (Winkel, Saegert, & Evans, 2009). The growing interest in the role of human behavior in understanding
and solving these problems has prompted a resurgent interest in the field.
But what is surprising about this resurgence is its disconnect with traditional views of environmental psychology as
the scientific study of the interplay between human behaviour and its environmental settings (Craik, 1973, p.
403). The important contribution of classic environmental psychology is the role of physical context in determining
behavior. That is, environmental psychology arose in response to a broader psychological discipline that
overemphasized person-level variables, and underestimated (or excluded entirely) contextual level variables.
While social psychologists emphasized the interpersonal context of behavior, environmental psychologists
emphasized the physical contextboth built and natural (but primarily built).
Given the traditional emphasis of environmental psychology on physical environments, the study of proenvironmental behavior was not an easy fit. Studies of natural experiences, zoos, or environmental hazards fit
easily with the boundaries of environmental psychology, but understanding and promoting pro-environmental
behavior did not fit so easily. Today the study of pro-environmental behavior has become a core area within
environmental psychology, and the leading journals and volumes regularly publish articles in this area. While the
physical context of these behaviors is certainly important, equally important are the individual-level attitudes,
beliefs, and motivations. Research on these topics has drawn heavily on social psychological theories and
methods, and blurred the boundaries between social and environmental psychology (Clayton & Brook, 2005).
This handbook represents the melding of these research traditionsit is about environmental (p. 560)
Table 29.2 Environmentally Relevant Behaviors
Waste Disposal
Litter and littering
Recycling (paper, plastic, metals, glass, green waste)
Hazardous waste disposal (batteries, electronic, paint, household cleansers, medicines)
Composting
Reusing items
Residential Resource Conservation
Electricity use
Home heating and cooling
Water use
Installing solar panels
Consumption
Page 5 of 31

Consumption
Purchasing recycled content
Nontoxic household products (cleansers, pesticides, fertilizers)
Purchasing efficient appliances
Food choices, including growing own food, eating lower on the food chain, purchasing locally grown food
Purchasing more sustainable products (e.g., produced locally, organic, or made from renewable materials)
Transportation
Automobile use
Carpooling
Mass transit
Walking, biking
Air travel
Lifestyle choices
Choosing where to live
Yard and home characteristics
Family size
psychology (in the traditional sense) and conservation psychology with its focus on pro-environmental attitudes
and behavior. In the sections that follow, we examine psychological research aimed at promoting proenvironmental behavior. Our emphasis is on specific theoretical models and research findings, and we organize
this work into person-oriented and context-oriented approaches. In many ways, this tension between personoriented and context-oriented perspectives has a long history in environmental psychology (Magnusson, 1981;
Craik, 1981). Most of the behavioral work on environmental problems conducted to date has taken a personoriented approach, emphasizing the role of values, attitudes, beliefs, and motives in promoting pro-environmental
behavior. However, we also see a growing interest in the context-oriented approach, in which pro-environmental
behavior is seen as largely a product of the physical environment in which it occurs.
Promoting Pro-Environmental BehaviorThe Person

By far, the most common psychological approach to promoting pro-environmental behavior focuses on changing
the person. In the public arena, such approaches are referred to as campaigns, raising awareness,
outreach, or education. The fundamental premise behind this approach is that individuals fail to engage in proenvironmental behavior because they lack sufficient knowledge and motivation. They just dont care, arent aware
of the harmful consequences of their actions, dont know what to do, or arent sufficiently motivated to take action.
Information Campaigns
From the earliest days of the environmental movement, environmental psychologists have been skeptical that
factual information would be sufficient to change behavior. Indeed, evidence from 40 years of research has clearly
Page 6 of 31

shown that information alone generally fails to promote changes in pro-environmental behavior (Abrahamse et al.,
2005; Geller, 2002; McKenzie-Mohr, 2000; Skinner, 1987). Fact-based messages about the severity of a problem,
announcements about the availability of a program, or lists of the easy ways that individuals can help are
unlikely to produce substantial changes in behavior. In essence, these types of messages do little to alter the
underlying motivational basis for engaging in the behavior. As Joule, Girandola, and Bernard (2007) put it,
Information and persuasion arenot sufficient on their own to change behavior (p. 494).
As an illustration of this point, Schultz (2002) reviewed studies using a knowledge-deficit model to promote proenvironmental behavior. The (flawed) assumption behind this model is that lack of behavior results from a lack of
knowledge: if people only knew better, they would surely engage in the desired behavior. The existing research
suggests that fact-based messages generally do result in an increase in (p. 561) knowledge; that is, people know
more about the topic after receiving the information. In addition, individuals who are more knowledgeable about the
topic are more likely to engage in the desired behavior; that is, knowledge and behavior are correlated. However,
the experimental evidence suggests that changing knowledge generally does not produce changes in behavior.
Exceptions to this basic finding can be found for new issues or programs, or when there is evidence that a target
population is generally not familiar with an issue or program (McKenzie-Mohr, 2011; McKenzie-Mohr et al., 2012).
Unfortunately, there are many notable examples of information-based campaigns that have failed to produce
substantial changes in behavior. For example, a $200 million advertising campaign in California was launched to
encourage residents to install energy-efficient devices in their homes and to adopt curtailment behaviors, such as
closing window blinds on sunny days. Yet despite the large budget, the campaign failed to produce meaningful
changes in behavior (Hirst, 1984). Similar evidence comes from a number of other large-scale campaigns (Brown,
2009). As a case in point, California conducted a 10-year FlexYourPower campaign from 2001 through 2010.
Funded at approximately $50 million per year, the campaign aimed to educate California businesses and residents
through marketing and outreach. Despite political accolades, the data suggest that it generated very little in the
way of behavior change (Opinion Dynamics, 2008, 2010). Similar results have been reported for other outreach
campaigns, such as Canadas national One Tonne Challenge campaign (Environment Canada, 2006). While such
media campaigns are generally effective at raising awareness, or increasing knowledge, they rarely result in
durable behavior changes. Even when such information is framed to highlight the financial savings of an activity,
the results are disappointing (Costanzo et al., 1986; to clarify, this example refers to the framing of a behavior as
financially beneficial. See below for examples of effectively changing behavior by offering financial incentives).
There is also evidence that even when information-based messages are effective at changing behavior, the effects
tend to diminish over time. For example, Joireman et al., (2009) conducted a series of lab-based studies on the
impact of messages warning about the depletion of a natural resource. Such warnings are not uncommon in the
media, and they are generally intended to spur conservation. The issue is found especially in water conservation
messages in locations where freshwater is in short supply. Using a resource dilemma framework in which
individuals choose to harvest from a shared resource across multiple trials, the researchers presented participants
with a warning that the common resource was running out. Such messages produced a short-term reduction in
consumption, and the effect was particularly strong under conditions where the participants were told the
resources would last for only a short period of time. Unfortunately, across the trials, the harvesting quickly returned
to pre-alarm levels, as the warning about a dwindling resource began to wear off.
Egoistic, Social-Altruistic, and Biospheric Motivations

In the preceding section, we have suggested that information-based campaigns are generally not effective at
promoting pro-environmental behavior. Even when such messages are tied to warnings that a natural resource is
about to be exhausted, or with information framing the behavior in terms of cost savings, information alone is
generally not sufficient to motivate changes in behavior. Consider the case of information about energy
consumption at home. Providing residents with information that using their air conditioner on a hot day could cost
them 36 cents per hour might be motivational for a few low-income households, but for most households in the
United States this message is not motivational (Schultz, 2010; there is even some evidence that this type of
financial framing can produce unintended increases in consumption; see below).
Fortunately, there are a number of strategies that have been shown to produce significant changes in behavior
(Osbaldiston & Schott, 2012). In the sections that follow, we organize these approaches according to their
Page 7 of 31

motivational basis: egoistic, social-altruistic, or biospheric (Stern, 2000b). Previous studies have suggested that
each of these can provide a motivational foundation for environmental concern and pro-environmental behavior,
and the motivations have been integrated into a broader value-belief-norm model (Stern, 2000b). An egoistic
motivational basis is grounded in self-interest, and behavior is motivated by the personal pursuit of reinforcement
or the avoidance of an aversive consequence. Social-altruistic motivation reflects the social embeddedness of the
person, and the desire to engage in socially responsible actions. Finally, the biospheric motivation reflects a desire
to engage in actions that protect the natural environment (Schultz, 2001; Schultz et al., 2005). According to (p.
562) the value-belief-norm model, each of these motivational bases can lead to pro-environmental behavior
under the right conditions (Steg, Dreijerink, & Abrahamse, 2005).
Egoistic Approaches to Promoting Pro-Environmental Behavior: Self-Interest

Behavior analysis is one of the most widely usedand most effectiveapproaches to promoting pro-environmental
behavior. Behavior analysis is rooted in the principles of operant conditioning, and traces its origins to the work of
B. F. Skinner (1958, 1971). The approach has been used widely across many domains of applied psychology,
including efforts to promote pro-environmental behavior. As Geller (2002) summarized the approach:
The behavior-based approach focuses on observing what people do, analyzes why they do it, and then
applies a research-supported intervention strategy to improve what people do. (p. 527)
The behavior analytic approach to changing behavior emphasizes observable actions and contextual variables
that can be manipulated to promote changes in behavior (Geller, 1987). It is about acting people into thinking
differently (Geller, 2002, p. 528). Behavior analysis focuses on three aspects of behavior: activator, behavior, and
consequence.
Activator: Activators are events that precede the behavior; that is, they are antecedent factors. Examples of
activators include instructional interventions, prompts, posted informational messages, or motivational
messages.
Behavior: An observable response.
Consequence: An extrinsic stimulus that occurs in response to a behavior. These are the events that
motivate or dissuade behavior. Examples include discount coupons, raffle tickets, public recognition, and even
monetary rewards.
While behavior analysis provides a broad framework from which to approach behavior change, it is the
consequence that clearly distinguishes it from other approaches. Drawing on an operant conditioning framework,
consequences are viewed as contingencies. Contingencies can be pleasant or unpleasant, and they can be
applied or removed. Table 29.3 below summarizes the four major types of contingencies, along with examples of
each. In the short sections below, we briefly summarize two specific behavior analytic approaches: prompts and
contingencies.
Prompts
Prompting is an antecedent approach. Antecedent approaches like prompts occur before the behavior. Prompts
can be printed, verbal, or auditory messages that designate desirable behaviors. Examples would include a
message to Please turn out the lights posted on an office door, Only rain in the drain stenciled on a city storm
water drain, or Recycle your bottles posted near a trash can in a food court.
Prompts have been used effectively across a number of environmental domains, including energy conservation
(Oceja & Berenguer, 2009; Winett, 1978), litter prevention (Durdan, Reeder, & Hecht, 1985; de Kort, McCalley, &
Midden, 2008), and recycling (Austin et al., 1993). In summarizing the studies on prompts, Geller (1982) suggested
that prompts are most effective when the behavior is relatively simple, clearly defined, and placed in close
proximity to where the behavior will occur. There is also some evidence to suggest that prompts should be worded
positivelyfor example, Recyclables here rather than the negative Dont litter. In addition, politely worded
prompts tend to produce better responses than do direct or commanding prompts. Further, work by Werner et al.,
(1998) suggests that prompts should work to activate an existing schema for a desirable behavior or override a
schema for an undesirable behavior.
Page 8 of 31

In an interesting extension of prompting, Duffy and Verges (2009) used specially fitted lids on public recycling
containers to cue individuals about the proper material for each bin. All bins were labeled with a prompt about
the appropriate material: trash, aluminum, glass, plastic, paper. But half of the bins were fitted with a lid that
specified the shape of the appropriate material: round hole for the aluminum, glass, and plastic; slotted top for
paper. Results showed that compared to the generic bins, fitted lids increased the volume of material collected by
34%, and decreased the amount of inappropriate material by 95%.
Contingencies
Whereas prompting is an antecedent strategy to changing behavior, contingencies occur after the behavior.
Contingencies can be based on a specific action or tied to an outcome, and they involve administering a
consequence to the individualeither a reward or a punishment. In the environmental arena, punishments include
various forms of disincentives and penalties, such as fines for littering, large cost increases for electricity use
above (p. 563)
Table 29.3 Four Types of Consequence Strategies in Behavior Analysis
Nature of Consequence
Apply
Action with
Consequence
Remove
Pleasant
Unpleasant
Positive PunishmentA quarter for

boarding the Red Star bus
(response based)
Positive ReinforcementName of potential

carpooler is listed on Gas Waster poster
when observed driving to work alone
(response based)
One raffle coupon per 5%

reduction in weekly vehicle miles
traveled (outcome based)
Truckers call fellow employee a gas

guzzler when his truck shows a decrease
in mpg on feedback chart (outcome based)
Negative Reinforcement
Negative Punishment
Three-month suspension of
license for driving 80 mph
(response based)
Loss of company van avoided by finding

sixth carpooler (response based)
Worker loses preferential parking

privilege after showing an
increase in vehicle miles traveled
(outcome based)
Loss of gasoline credit card avoided by

showing increase in miles per gallon
(outcome based)
Adapted from Geller (1987, p. 373).

an allotted amount, or social sanctions for watering lawns during hot daily hours. Such consequences are used to
decrease the frequency of a behavior. In contrast, reward strategies are used to increase the frequency of a
desired behaviorfor example, monetary rebates for purchasing an energy-efficient appliance, or raffle tickets to
win prizes.
There are two basic types of contingencies. Response-based contingencies are connected to an individuals
actions; for example, offering $50 to replace an inefficient water heater with a more energy-efficient one. In this
case, the contingency is tied to the behaviorinstalling a new water heater. In contrast, outcome-based
contingencies are connected to consumption, rather than specific behaviors. For example, a car readout showing
miles per gallon (in aggregate), or a monetary reward for reducing home energy consumption by 10% over the
previous year. In both cases, the specific behaviors are not isolated, but rather the reinforcement is tied to
achieving a goal.
Page 9 of 31
The efficacy of behavior analysis (and especially contingency strategies) at promoting pro-environmental behavior
has been well documented, and readers are referred to other more comprehensive reviews of this material (Dwyer
et al., 1993; Geller, 1987, 2002; Lehman & Geller, 2004; Porter et al., 1995). The research shows that offering a
reward following a desired behavior generally increases its frequency. Providing a punishment following a behavior
generally decreases its frequency. We highlight three examples below to illustrate the point.
1. Gasoline prices. In the United States, the cost of gasoline is relatively cheap. Compared to Europe, gas prices
generally run about 50% less in the United States; as a result, Americans drive more compared to, for example,
their British counterparts (7,753 average miles per year, compared with 3,406 miles per year; OBrien & Zoumbaris,
1993). In 2003, the average retail price for a gallon of gasoline in the United States was $1.50 (about 40 cents per
liter). But during 2007, gasoline prices rose dramatically to exceed $3/gallon on a national average (in some states,
such as California, the price exceeded $5/gallon). Unlike the shortages in the 1970s, the crisis in 2007 was one
of cost and not of availability. Gasoline was in plentiful supply, but the uncertainty introduced by international
conflicts and political discourse resulted in skyrocketing prices.
The behavioral response to the increasing price was clear. Consistent with behavior analysis, the changing
contingency resulted in reductions in consumption. The average number of miles driven by motorists decreased;
motorists made fewer trips by car; carpooling and ride sharing increased, as did use of mass transit; and
purchasing patterns shifted toward more fuel-efficient vehicles (Congressional Budget Office, 2008).
2. Bottle bills. In many countries around the world, there is an added charge attached to the purchase of
beverage containers. These deposits are then refunded to the customer upon return of the container, thereby
providing a contingency for the behavior. (p. 564) While such bottle bills are politically contentious, the
behavioral research is clearin areas with a bottle bill, recycling rates are higher and littering rates are lower
(Institute for Applied Research, 1980; Levitt & Leventhal, 1986; Shireman, 1993). In some instances, the return rate
for bottles in locations with a deposit exceeds 90% (R3 Consulting Group, 2009).
3. Variable fees improve efficiency of trash collection. Trash collection is an important service offered to
residents. But often there is little incentive to reduce the amount of refuse that is put out for collection. The cost is
fixed, regardless of the volume. A promising alternative can be found in pay-as-you-throw programs, whereby
recycling is collected for free, but trash is charged by the volume or weight. In one such program, the City of
Seattle introduced a program whereby residents were charged per can that was placed out for collection
(recycling was collected for free). The results showed that in the ensuing years, the amount of trash collected
decreased dramatically, while the amount of recyclables increased. Prior to the start of the program, the average
household used 3.5 cans of trash per week; after several years with the program in place, the average had
dropped to only 1 can per household (Cuthbert, 1994; Shireman, 1993).
Limitations. Given the clear results for the efficacy of behavior analysis to promote pro-environmental behavior,
the reader might wonder why such strategies are not used more extensively. In this short section, we summarize
some of the limitations with the approach. Our focus is on direct financial incentives, both response-contingent and
outcome-contingent, although similar critiques have been leveled at other forms of contingencies (Deci, Koestner,
& Ryan, 1999).
1. Cost. One of the most apparent limitations with the behavior analytic approach is cost. While the approach can
clearly provide large-scale changes in behavior, the funds required to monitor and then incentivize these changes
are often prohibitive. As an example, consider the case of residential energy-efficiency programs. There is
abundant evidence that homes in the United States and worldwide could be much more energy efficient. Oftentimes
simple one-time actions, such as adding extra attic insulation or installing more efficient water heaters, can
produce large aggregated reduction in residential energy use. But for a variety of reasons, home owners are
reluctant to make these investments (Stern & Aronson, 1984).
An example of a very effective, but costly, program can be found in the Hood River project (Hirst, 1987, 1988). The
program involved two steps: a home energy audit, which resulted in a series of recommended retrofit actions,
coupled with direct financial incentives up to $4,000 per household to complete the work. Whereas typical
residential retrofit programs have participation rates below 10%, the Hood River project was able to motivate 85%
of residents within a geographic region to complete one or more major home-retrofit activities. The authors
Page 10 of 31

estimated that the changes resulted in a 15% reduction in home energy usage. A more recent example of a
successful, but costly, financial incentive is the cash-for-clunkers program, launched as part of the American
Recovery and Reinvest Act of 2009. Under this program, consumers were given $4,000 in direct rebates for
returning an older car and purchasing a new onewith very little in the way of restrictions on the condition of the
older car.
To be fair, behavior analysis is more than just financial incentives, and there are many examples of behavior
analytic approaches to behavior change that do not require financial incentives (Geller, 1989). In addition, the cost
of a program needs to be considered in broader context, and the approach is a demonstrated success. Contrast
this with information campaigns, which also come with a high price tag but typically fail to produce behavioral
changes. Nevertheless, in considering a behavior analytic approach, particularly one that involves material forms
of positive reinforcement, cost is an important consideration.
2. Behavioral specificity. A second limitation with the behavior analysis approach is the focus on specific
actions. Particularly for response-contingencies, the approach will lead to specific behavioral changes. But
because the contingency is external to the individual, the motivation to engage in the behavior is disaggregated
from the behavioral domain. As a result, the success is limited to a specific action, or at most to a specific outcome.
To illustrate the limitation, consider the bottle bill programs mentioned in the preceding section. The results are
clear in showing that offering a financial incentive for returning beverage containers increases recycling rates. But
the effect is generally limited to those items to which a deposit is attached. Since no financial incentive is attached
to other containers (for example, milk cartons or pickle jars), recycling rates for these containers are likely to be
unaffected by the bottle bill. This behavioral specificity is inversely related to spillover (discussed below). Because
the behavior analysis approach isolates specific actions instead of targeting an underlying behavioral (p. 565)
domain, any change in behavior is unlikely to spillover into related but unincentivized actions.
The specificity limitation is also relevant to outcome contingencies. Consider the pay-as-you-throw example
discussed in the preceding section, where residents are offered a financial incentive to reduce their volume of
trash. While the results are clear in showing that the approach can achieve the desired outcome, it is unlikely that
the change will manifest in other related behavioral domains. For example, we would not expect to find an increase
in recycling rates for small pieces of electronic waste, such as batteries or old cell phones. Because these items
are unlikely to substantially affect volume of trash, there is no incentive to engage in the behavior. In addition, we
might expect to find an increase in improper disposal of materials, and abandoned items in nearby open spaces.
Because the motivational basis for engaging in the recycling behavior is financial, rather than social or
environmental (see below), we would expect no change in other environmental-protection-related behavioral
domains.
3. Overjustification. A final limitation with behavioral analysis builds on the underlying motivational basis for the
behavior. When a behavior is incentivized, particularly instances of financial incentive and positive reinforcement,
it has the potential to undermine intrinsic motivation for the action (Anderson, Manoogian, & Renick, 1976; Deci,
Koestner, & Ryan, 2001; Lepper, Greene, & Nesbitt, 1973). That is, when we induce environmental protection by
offering financial incentives, these incentives have the potential to become the sole reason for the behavior. As
such, the person is motivated to engage in the behavior, but only as long as the incentive remains in place.
Without a more enduring, intrinsic motivational basis, the behavior becomes entirely dependent on the reward.
To illustrate this point, consider the case of gas prices in the United States. As noted in the previous section, gas
prices increased dramatically over a two-year period from 2007 to 2008, and during this time we also observed a
corresponding change in driving patterns. But what happens when the cost decreases? Since driving behavior was
altered because of the contingency, it will likely return to pre-increase levels. Or worse, motorists might now
compensate for the curtailed behavior, and driving behaviors may now exceed the original levels. Provided that
the incentives remain in place, as is the case with bottle bills, the behavior change will be durable. But if the
contingency changes, there is the potential for the incentive to undermine a persons intrinsic motivation for the
behavior.
Social-Altruistic Approaches to Promoting Pro-Environmental Behavior
Page 11 of 31

Humans are by nature social creatures, and as a result, we are sensitive to group pressure and social processes.
We generally see actions that benefit others as desirable, and we are motivated to conform to the standards and
norms of the group. The social-altruistic approach to promoting pro-environmental behavior leverages these
tendencies in an effort to change behaviors. Examples include public commitments, social norms messages, and
approaches that build on a social dilemmas framework.
Public Commitments
A number of studies have tested public commitments as a strategy for promoting pro-environmental behavior
(DeLeon & Faqua, 1995; Mathies, Klckner, & Preissner, 2006; Katzev & Wang, 1994). To illustrate, Wang and
Katzev (1990) obtained a written commitment to recycle paper from residents in a retirement home. The
commitment read:
We, the residents of the 2nd floor, are willing to participate in the paper recycling project sponsored by the
Reed College Environmental Group. It is understood that any recyclable paper can be placed in the
RECYCLE garbage can. We commit ourselves to participating in this recycling project for the next four
weeks. (p. 267)
Results showed a 47% increase in the amount of material recycled in the four weeks following the commitment, and
the increase persisted across an additional four-week follow-up.
In a second study, Katzev and Wang (1994) extended the approach to students living in a campus dormitory.
Using a similar pledge, the students signed a commitment form stating, We commit ourselves to participating in this
recycling project for the next 4 weeks. The forms were signed either individually or in a group context during the
monthly hall meeting, and the recycling volumes were compared to a control group (information only) and an
incentive group (coupons from local businesses in exchange for participation). During the four-week intervention
phase, participants in all three treatment groups recycled more frequently and more material than participants in
the control condition. However, during a four-week follow-up phase after the treatment was discontinued, (p. 566)
participation rates and recycling volume dropped for the incentive condition and the group commitment condition,
although the rates remained higher than the control (see also Burn & Oskamp, 1986).
Similar evidence comes from a study by Matthies et al., (2006). The behavioral focus was on transportation mode,
and the researchers tested the efficacy of a commitment intervention at promoting bicycling and mass transit use.
In the commitment condition residents were asked to sign a pledge to engage in specific actions. Although
residents had a choice in which actions they selected, all were related to climate-saving activitiesfor example, I
commit to use public transportation at least one time during the next two weeks for my regular trip. The
intervention began with a series of telephone interviews to assess attitudes and beliefs, followed by a free ticket to
use the transit system, and then in the third phase a request for a commitment. Results showed that the
commitment was effective at changing transit mode, but the impact was particularly strong for participants who had
previously indicated during the interview that they felt a personal moral obligation to engage in climate-saving
activities (see also Menses & Palacio, 2007).
Another remaining question is a persons willingness to make a commitment. In the studies cited above,
commitments were shown to produce an aggregated effect, and most participants were willing to make the
commitment. But what about individuals who choose not to make the commitment? And what variables predict
willingness to commit? Some initial data on this topic were provided by Lokhorst, van Dijk, and Staats (2009). Their
results showed that willingness to commit is a function of dispositional and situational factors. In two studies, they
found that individuals who are more trusting (dispositionally) showed the strongest tendency to make a
commitment, but only when there was little social support for the initiative. When there was high social support, less
trusting individuals showed the strongest tendency to commit.
Taken together, the results suggest that making a commitment to engage in a behavior increases the likelihood of
doing it. However, ambiguities remain around the nature of the commitment (private versus public), the durability of
the behavior change, and the requisite boundary conditions that can enhance or detract from the effect.
Social Norms
Page 12 of 31

In recent years, the social norms approach has emerged as a promising strategy for promoting pro-environmental
behavior. In the psychological research tradition, social norms refer to an individuals beliefs about the common or
accepted behaviors within a group (Cialdini & Trost, 1998). Such beliefs are differentiated from a personal norm,
which refers to an individuals beliefs about his or her own moral obligation to engage in a behavior (Harland,
Staats, & Wilke, 2007; Stern, 2000b). Within the social norms literature, researchers have distinguished between
descriptive norms and injunctive norms. Descriptive norms are an individuals beliefs about the level of a behavior
within a groupthat is, what is common. In contrast, injunctive norms refer to an individuals beliefs about the
approval for a specific behavior among group members. While the two normative beliefs are often positively
correlated, there is evidence that they exert independent influences on behavior (Cialdini, 2003).
Researchers have used normative messages to promote pro-environmental behavior across several domains,
including recycling, energy, transportation, habitat protection, and litter (Chen et al., 2009; Schultz, Khazian, &
Zaleski, 2008; Schultz, Tabanico, & Rendn, 2008). In one study, Schultz (1999) provided residents with
descriptive normative information about the recycling behavior of other households in their community. The
messages were delivered weekly with information about the percentages of households in their neighborhood that
participated in the recycling program that week. Results showed that in the four weeks after the messages were
discontinued, participation rates and the amount of material recycled increased from baseline and exceeded that
of a randomized control group.
Normative messages have also been used to promote reductions in residential energy conservation (Nolan et al.,
2008; Schultz et al., 2007). In one study, Schultz et al., (2007) provided residents with personalized normative
feedback through which they received weekly information about home electricity use, coupled with a descriptive
normative message about the average electricity use during the same period by other households in the
community. Results for the four weeks after the message discontinued showed a small (1%) reduction in
consumption. However, the aggregated effect masked an intriguing interaction: for households that were above the
descriptive norm (i.e., the high users), energy consumption dropped by 6%. But for households that were below
the descriptive norm (i.e., low users), consumption increased by 8%. Fortunately, in a second set of conditions, (p.
567) this boomerang effect observed among low users was mitigated by adding an injunctive norm to the
messagea smiley face emoticon conveying the social approval for low energy use. Combining the high- and lowconsuming groups that received the descriptive norm message and the injunctive emoticon resulted in a 4%
aggregated reduction in electricity consumption.
This 4% aggregated result has attracted considerable attention among industry groups interested in reducing
consumption and developing interventions aimed at curbing carbon emissions (Hallet & Kavazovic, 2010; Hunt &
Mullainathan, 2010). Hunt (2010) reported an analysis of a large-scale application of the technique to
approximately 80,000 homes in Minnesota. Half of the households were randomly assigned to receive a mailed
normative feedback message, and the remaining homes were randomly assigned to a no-treatment control
condition. An example of the normative feedback is shown in Figure 29.1. Results from monthly electricity usage
over the subsequent year showed a 2.4% reduction in electricity use for treatment households, compared to
control. As of 2010, the approach was being tested at 23 utilities across the United States, with more than 1 million
participating homes (Hunt, 2010), and plans were under way to integrate the approach into the forthcoming smart
meter infrastructure. Across all 23 of the utilities utilizing the normative feedback approach, results show
statistically significant reductions in residential energy use, consistent with the 2.4% estimate from the Minnesota
evaluation. See www.opower.com for more information about the approach.
Social Dilemmas
A social dilemma is a situation in which the interests of the individual are at odds with the interests of the group. For
each individual, acting in ways that maximize their personal interest has a detrimental effect on the group (for a
review, see Kramer, Tenbrunsel, & Bazerman, 2010). Consider the case of cigarette butt disposal for a smoker in
an outdoor public location. For the individual, it is often easiest not to use an ashtray. The effort, cognitive
resources, and time required to find an ashtray for proper disposal are typically more extensive than simply
throwing the butt on the ground. But not properly disposing has harmful effects on the environment, and in
aggregate, has deleterious consequences for the group. In a social dilemmas framework, acting in the best interest
of the collective is termed cooperation and acting in ones personal interest is termed defection (Gibson &
Murnighan, 2010; Komorita & Parks, 1996).
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The commons dilemma is one type of social dilemma that is particularly relevant to environmental problems. In a
commons dilemma, the individual is engaging in an action that draws resources from a common pool (Hardin,
1968). For example, harvesting trees from a forest; using water at home; electricity usage from the public grid; or
driving a private car all consume a shared resource. In such situations, it is often in the best interest of the
individual to use more resources (in terms of comfort or convenience), yet such consumption is at odds with the
collective interest (Gifford & Hine, 1997; Hine et al., 2009; Joireman et al., 2001; Vlek, 2000).

Figure 29.1 OPOWERs Home Energy Reports, Social Comparison Module
Psychological research on social dilemmas has explored a number of variables that predict whether a person will
choose to cooperate. These include personal qualities such as moral integrity, values, and social value orientation
(Kramer et al., 1986; Van Lange, 1999). Research has also identified strategic responses that can lead to
cooperation, and for example, individuals are more likely to cooperate after others who are harvesting from the
pool first choose (p. 568) to cooperate. And finally, social dilemmas research has explored structural solutions
that can facilitate cooperation, including privatization, establishing a managing authority, incentivizing
conservation, and punishments for overharvesting (Dawes & Messick, 2000; Gifford, 2008; Jost & Kay, 2010).
While social dilemmas provide a useful framework for understanding pro-environmental behavior, very few studies
have used the framework to promote behavior change in a real-world context. In summarizing the existing
research, Van Vugt (2009) offered guidance for behavior change interventions utilizing a commons dilemmas
framework. He suggested four important considerations, with each based on a core motivation: information,
identity, institutions, and incentives (see Table 29.4).
Information. One of the persistent features of a commons dilemma is uncertainty. The size of the shared
resource and the level of consumption by others within the group are often unknown. Thus, providing
individuals with accurate information can play an important role in promoting pro-environmental behavior. For
example, Van Vugt and Samuelson (1999) found that during a water shortage, individuals who believed that the
problem was caused by overconsumption were less likely to conserve than individuals who attributed the water
shortage to weather.
Identity. Individuals who feel a stronger connection to and identity with their group are more likely to engage
in cooperative behaviors, and there is even evidence that high-identifying group members will attempt to
compensate for overconsumption by other group members (Brewer & Kramer, 1986). In a recent example,
Sanna et al., (2009) showed that when primed to think about superordinate collective identities, participants
cooperated in a commons dilemma (harvesting fish) more often than did participants primed to think about selfinterest.
Trust in institutions. In commons dilemmas, overconsumption is often the result of unrestricted harvesting
by individuals. But in many instances, governmental, corporate, or community groups can serve to buffer
individual actions by imposing rules and limits. But a key element in the effectiveness of these institutions is their
perceived trustworthiness. The extent to which an individual has confidence in the institutional controls plays an
important role in his or her decisions to cooperate. Particularly relevant are perceptions of fairness, credibility,
and enforcement.
Incentives. Commons dilemmas result from individuals pursuing their personal interests, to the detriment of
the group. But through the use of incentives, it is often possible to align personal and collective interests. For
example, offering rebates for energy-efficient products, or subsidies for installing solar panels can motivate
individuals to take actions that benefit the group (Dietz et al., 2003). Data from Van Vugt and Samuelson (1999)
showed that during a water shortage, households with individual meters who were financially
Page 14 of 31
Table 29.4 Four Is: Core Motives and Foci of Interventions for Successful Commons Resource Management
and Potential Constraints
Focus of
Intervention
Core Motive
Description
Aim of intervention
Potential constraint
Information
Understanding
The need to
understand the
physical and social
environment
Reducing
environmental and
social uncertainty
Global environmental
problems are inherently
uncertain.
Identity
Belonging
The need for positive

social identity
Improving and
broadening ones
sense of community
Resource competition
between communities
increases overuse.
Institutions
Trusting
The need to build

trusting relationships
Increasing
acceptance of
commons rules and
institutions
Authorities are not

always seen as
legitimate and fair.
Incentives
SelfEnhancing
The need to improve

oneself and increase
ones resources
Punishing overuse
and rewarding
responsible use
Economic incentives
undermine intrinsic
motivations to
conserve.
Source: Adapted from Van Vugt (2009).

(p. 569) affected by a large increase in price reduced their water usage more than households
without an individual meter.
Biospheric Approaches to Promoting Pro-Environmental Behavior

A third class of strategies for promoting pro-environmental behaviors draws on appeals to environmental
protection. Public opinion data are clear in showing that individuals around the world are concerned about
environmental problems (Leiserowitz, Kates, & Parris, 2005) and that they express a desire to act in ways that
benefit the natural environment. Despite a downturn in public support for environmental protection since 2001,
concern and motivation remain high (Dunlap, 2002; 2010). For example, a 2010 public opinion poll of US residents
conducted by the Gallup organization found that 61% of respondents were either active participants in the
environmental movement (19%) or sympathetic toward the movement (42%). And when it comes to
environmental actions, an overwhelming majority report engaging in pro-environmental behaviors, such as
recycling (90%), reducing household energy use (85%), and making environmental purchases (76%). Indeed, in a
recent telephone survey, Nolan et al., (2008) found that California residents cited environmental protection as the
primary reason for conserving energy at home.
Predicting Pro-Environmental Behavior

While the focus of this chapter is on promoting pro-environmental behavior, it is useful to briefly mention
correlational studies that attempt to predict behavior, both observed and self-reported.
Environmental attitudes. One of the most frequently studied predictors of pro-environmental behavior over
the past 40 years has been environmental attitudes. The term environmental attitude is quite broad and
generally refers to a persons positive or negative evaluation of environmentally related activities or issues. This
would include concerns about the biospheric consequences of environmental problems, along with specific
attitudes toward programs or activities. Despite long-standing criticisms of the attitude construct, studies have
Page 15 of 31

consistently shown that attitudes about environmental issues are positively correlated with pro-environmental
behavior (Bamberg & Mser, 2007; Hines, Hungerford, & Tomera, 1986/1987).
Personal norms. A second consistent predictor of pro-environmental behavior is a personal normthat is, a
moral obligation to engage in behaviors that protect the natural environment. The stronger that individuals hold
this moral obligation, the more likely they are to engage in pro-environmental behaviors (Bamberg, Hunecke, &
Blbaum, 2007). There is some research to suggest that personal norms are especially strong predictors of
behavior when activated (Schultz et al., 2005; Schwartz & Howard, 1980), although other data suggest a more
direct pathway in which personal norms lead to directly pro-environmental behavior (De Groot & Steg, 2009;
Stern et al., 1999).
Values. A third consistent predictor of pro-environmental behavior is a persons values. Values are defined
as a persons life goalsbroad sets of personal goals that individuals identify as guiding principles in their lives.
Research has shown that individuals who hold more self-transcendent valuessuch as broad-minded, equality,
a world at peace, inner harmony, and meaning in lifeare more likely to engage in pro-environmental behavior
(Hansla et al., 2008; Lopez & Cuervo-Arango, 2008; Milfont & Gouveia, 2006; Nordlund & Garvill, 2002; Schultz
& Zelezny, 1999).
Combined, these findings illustrate the connection between pro-environmental behavior and environmental
attitudes, moral obligations to protect the environment, and personal values. We return now to our focus on
biospheric approaches for promoting pro-environmental behavior.
Given the broad level of support for environmental protection and the consistent correlation between
environmental attitudes, values, and personal norms, it seems likely that framing a behavior as pro-environmental
would spur individuals to take action. Yet surprisingly, the existing research has generally not shown this framing
effect. As discussed above, there is some evidence to suggest that individuals who hold biospheric environmental
concerns are more likely to engage in pro-environmental behavior (De Groot & Steg, 2010; Milfont, Duckitt, &
Cameron, 2006; Schultz et al., 2005; Steg, 2011, Steg & De Groot, 2012), although the link between stated
attitudes and behavior has long been a contentious issue for environmental psychologists (Vining & Ebreo, 2002).
In several experimental studies aimed at promoting pro-environmental behaviors (e.g., household energy
consumption, participation in curbside recycling), (p. 570) messages highlighting the environmental benefits of
the behavior failed to produce significant changes in behavior relative to a control condition (Nolan et al., 2008;
Schultz, 1999; see also Goldstein, Cialdini, & Griskevicius, 2008).
So here we have a conundrum. Individuals are stating that environmental protection is the primary reason for proenvironmental behavior, yet messages about the environmental benefits of a behavior fail to spur action. A
potential resolution for this discrepancy can be found in research using the Campbell paradigm (Kaiser, Byrka, &
Hartig, 2010; Kaiser, Oerke & Bogner, 2007; named after Donald Campbell, 1963). This conceptual model takes an
intention orientation to pro-environmental behavior and argues that a persons motivation to engage in proenvironmental behaviors can be inferred from his or her actions. Research has identified a class of behaviors that
individuals engage in for pro-environmental reasons (e.g., Kaiser & Wilson, 2004). While pro-environmental
behaviors vary in their level of difficulty (e.g., recycling is generally easy; installing photovoltaic solar panels on
ones home is generally hard), there is evidence for a single underlying motivational basis. Note that because the
approach is intention-oriented rather than outcome-oriented, the behavioral domain is defined by beliefs individuals
hold about the consequences of a behavior, and not the actual impact of the action (Tanner, Kaiser, & Wlfing,
2004; see Kaiser, Doka, Hofstetter, & Ranney, 2003, for study linking intention to impact). The behaviors within this
domain range from easy to difficult, and the more motivated a person is, the more he or she engages in these proenvironmental actions. An individual who is more motivated to act will overcome more barriers and engage in more
difficult behaviors. But even a person who is relatively low in pro-environmental motivation will occasionally engage
in a pro-environmental behavior if the barriers are low enough.
The Campbell paradigm provides a useful framework for promoting pro-environmental behavior and for
understanding the finding that framing a behavior as pro-environmental generally fails to change it. Particularly
useful is the quantification of motivational and contextual aspects of pro-environmental behavior. As such, efforts
to promote pro-environmental behavior can focus on increasing the motivation of individuals within a target
population, or alternatively on modifying the contextual factors to reduce the difficulty of a behavior. From this
perspective, studies that attempt to change a behavior by framing it as environmental are neither increasing
Page 16 of 31

motivation nor decreasing contextual behavioral difficulty. As a result, they are generally not effective at promoting
behavior change. The model further specifies the importance of segmenting a target population with respect to
motivation.
Kaiser, Midden, and Cervinka (2008) provided an example in which districts within a large residential region are
described by their average levels of motivation. Some regions have a higher motivational level, and some lower.
The graphical motivational map showing the different levels across the many districts in the region can provide
important data about the spatial distribution of pro-environmental motivation and about fruitful target groups. Kaiser,
Midden, and Cervinka (2008) argued that a motivational campaign is most likely to produce changes in behavior for
segments of the population who are low in motivation, whereas structural changes are best suited to promote
difficult by crucial behaviors.
Another biospheric approach to promoting pro-environmental behavior emphasizes the importance of education.
Importantly, environmental education is more than just presenting factual information about what to do or how to do
it (see previous section on the limitation of the knowledge-deficit approach to promoting behavior change). At a
general level, environmental education refers to formal and informal learning activities designed to teach
individuals about ecosystems and natural environments, the connection between human activities and natural
processes, and ultimately to encourage individuals to engage in pro-environmental behaviors (Palmer, 1998).
While there has been some disagreement about the relative emphasis on knowledge versus lifestyle choices, the
focus on promoting new patterns of behavior has been central to environmental education from its inception
(Bogner, 1998; Heimlich & Ardoin, 2008; UNESCO, 1978). Over the past 30 years, environmental education has
developed into its own field, with involvement from educators, biologists, policy makers, and social scientists.
Environmental education involves both formal and informal learning. Formal environments are primarily classrooms,
and there are a number of widely used curricular modules and materials developed for different age groups. In
fact, environmental education is an officially recognized curricular theme in many countries around the world, with
(p. 571) clearly explicated learning objectives (Palmer & Neal, 1994). In addition to classroom-based curricular
activities, environmental educational activities can also take place outside of the classroom in informal learning
environments, often as an extension to a recreational activity. Examples would include national parks, exhibits and
activities at zoos, aquariums, or museums, and even movies or media campaigns. As an illustration of such
informal learning environments, Bogner (1999, 2002) has shown how programs offered at national parks or field
centers can affect knowledge and attitudes among visitors.
The field of environmental education has grown steadily over the past 30 years, and the area is characterized by a
wide range of approaches and research methodologies. Yet reviews of the research consistently find that
educational activities can impact pro-environmental behavior (Leeming, Dwyer, Porter, & Cobern, 1993; Zelezny,
1999). In their review and synthesis of existing studies, Hart and Nolan (1999) concluded that:
The most obvious conclusion that emerges from these quantitative studies of environmental knowledge,
attitudes, and behaviour is a change toward more positive environmental attitudes among people of all
ages after exposure to some form, almost any form, of environment-related or even in-class environmental
education experience whether short or longer term. (p. 7)
In her meta-analysis examining the impact of environmental education activities on pro-environmental behavior,
Zelezny (1999) reported that both classroom-based activities and educational activities conducted in
nontraditional environments affected subsequent behavior. The effects were stronger for classroom-based
activities, and for interventions with younger participants.
Promoting Pro-Environmental BehaviorThe Context

The goal of this chapter is to summarize some of the many approaches that have been used to promote proenvironmental behavior. In the previous section, we reviewed research findings from an egoistic, social-altruistic,
and biospheric perspective. All of these studies focused on changing the person, or in aligning appeals for proenvironmental behavior with an individuals motivational basis.
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But another approach is to focus on the context, rather than the individual. Such structural interventions modify the
physical context to change the availability, cost, or benefits associated with a pro-environmental behavior. In many
ways, this approach resonates quite strongly with an environmental perspective that emphasizes the role of
physical context in behavior (Craik, 1973). As described in the introduction of this chapter, the field of
environmental psychology emerged as a counterpoint to a mainstream psychological perspective that treated
behavior as largely a manifestation of person-level variables (e.g., attitudes, beliefs, motivation). Yet surprisingly,
given its prominence within environmental psychology, few psychological studies of environmental issues have
focused on the role of physical context in promoting pro-environmental behavior.
The existing studies on structural approaches to promoting pro-environmental behavior are clear in showing that
physical context plays an important role in both individual-level and group-level behavioral patterns. As Steg and
Vlek (2009) pointed out, contextual variables can affect pro-environmental behavior in four ways. First, they can
exert a direct influence, as in the availability or convenience of a program. Second, contextual variables may be
mediated by psychological process. For example, introducing a new curbside recycling program may promote
normative beliefs that other people in the neighborhood are recycling, and thereby produce changes in behavior.
Third, psychological variables can moderate contextual variables. For example, individuals with a strong personal
norm toward residential energy conservation may respond more favorably to a new smart metering system than
individuals without a strong personal norm. And fourth, contextual variables may frame behaviors in different ways,
thereby activating different motivational bases for the behavior.
The existing psychological studies of structural interventions have primarily adopted the first of these pathways,
emphasizing direct effects. In addition, the studies have primarily adopted an egoistic perspective, whereby
structural interventions aim to reduce costs or increase the benefits of acting in a pro-environmental way. Consider
the case of carpooling. In the United States, and in many countries around the world, most vehicles are driven by a
single occupant. In studies of work-trip commutes, the average vehicle in the United States averages just 1.09
occupants, and the trend has been declining since 1970 (National Research Council, 1998). One proenvironmental alternative is to carpool, where several individuals who live and work in a similar location ride
together. But such activities require effort to coordinate, they limit a persons (p. 572) freedom while at work, and
carpooling often means a longer commute time. A structural intervention to promote carpooling might involve a
special carpool lane on the highway that is less prone to traffic congestion, thereby reducing the commute time.
Such a structural change might be combined with a work-based program to dramatically subsidize vehicle cost and
maintenance for vehicles used for carpooling to work.
While it is tempting to classify structural interventions as an egoistic strategy, there simply are not enough data to
clearly establish that contextual changes operate solely through egoistic means. Drawing on the process outlined
by Steg and Vlek (2009), it seems clear that multiple motivational bases can be involved with a structural
intervention. For example, consider the case of labeling on household appliances. In recent years, many countries
have introduced labeling programs that alert customers to the energy consumption associated with different
brands and models. One such program widely used in North America is the EPAs ENERGY STAR label. While the
effect of such labels might be moderated by a persons desire to save energy (an egoistic motivation), they would
seem equally likely to be moderated by a persons desire to limit carbon emissions in an effort to protect against
global climate change (a more biospheric orientation).
In the short section below, we highlight several areas where contextual variables have been used to promote proenvironmental behavior.
1. Transportation. Several studies have examined structural variables that affect the use of public
transportation, including subways, trains, and public buses (Joireman et al., 2001). While the availability and
accessibility of public transit options certainly affect ridership, the behavioral responses and transportation
decisions of riders are often complex, with many documented unanticipated responses (Stopher, 2004). In addition,
psychological research suggests that introducing new transit options can result in changed social boundaries and
personal identities, which can affect their actions (Gatersleben et al., 2007).
Another transportation issue is driving speed, whereby driving faster tends to result in reduced fuel efficiency, as
does accelerating faster. Some structural variables that have been studied in this context include roadside
landscapes (Antonson et al., 2009), radar-controlled traffic areas with visual feedback about speed, and traffic-
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calming infrastructure, such as speed humps (Transportation Research Board, 1998). To illustrate, consider the
use of posted messages showing a visual display of a vehicle speed. Studies have shown that a large majority of
motorists who are exceeding the speed limit slow down when presented with such feedback, and the slower
speeds tend to persist for several miles (Casey & Lund, 1990; Hamalainen & Hassel, 1990). However, the effects
are observed only while the feedback technology is in place, and once removed, speeds in these areas return to
their baseline levels. It also seems likely that motorists driving below the posted speed limit may increase their
speed in response to the feedback.
2. Walkability. Related to the topic of public transit described above, studies have also examined the contextual
variables that affect an individuals decision to choose walking as a mode of transit. While defining the physical
features that make a community walkable has proven difficult (Saelens et al., 2003), there is evidence that
specific featuressuch as sidewalks and crosswalkspromote walking among residents. Werner, Brown, and
Gallimore (2010) found that residents living in a neighborhood with fewer barriers to walking were more likely to
utilize a new light rail transit system. Similarly, Borst and colleagues (2009) identified specific street characteristics
in different communities that predicted walking among elderly.
3. Recycling. Another area where physical context has been studied is recycling programs. While the availability
of the program is an important first step, studies have shown that more convenient programs generate more
material. For example, curbside collection programs whereby recyclables are collected at the street garner higher
participation rates and generate substantially more material than do specialized drop-off locations (Folz, 1991).
Similarly, within a curbside collection program, eliminating the need for sorting materials through a commingled
system produces more materials (Gamba & Oskamp, 1994; Oskamp et al., 1996). These same structural principles
of eliminating barriers have been applied to range of other recycling programs, including electronic waste, paint,
and used motor oil (Cabaniss, 2008).
4. Habit discontinuity. In the previous sections, contextual variables have been viewed from a largely egoistic
perspectivethat is, changing the physical environment in such a way that the target behavior becomes easier or
more rewarding for the individual. Another perspective on the role of physical context in promoting proenvironmental behavior can be found in the habit discontinuity model (Verplanken et al., 2008; Wood & Neal,
2007). Many behaviors (p. 573) related to environmental issues are habitual, and occur without active reflection
or cognitive elaboration (Wood, Tam, & Guerrero Witt, 2005). But a change in the physical context can disrupt a
persons habit and induce an elaborate decision-making process. As Verplanken and colleagues (2008) stated,
Context change enhances the likelihood that important values and related beliefs are activated and thus guide
behavior. In an analysis of transit mode choice, Verplanken and colleagues (2008) showed that individuals who
recently moved to an area made transit mode choices that were more in line with their environmental attitudes.
Among recently moved residents, those with stronger environmental attitudes were more likely to utilize public
transit and less likely to drive a personal vehicle, compared to individuals with weaker environmental attitudes.
Practical Considerations
In the preceding sections, we have summarized the research findings across a range of different approaches to
promoting pro-environmental behavior. In this final section, we take a more applied perspective and discuss
several practical considerations related to these behavior-change strategies.
Which Behaviors to Target?

In conducting applied research designed to develop or test strategies that can promote pro-environmental
behavior, it is important to consider which behaviors to target. While environmental psychologists have examined a
range of topics (see Table 29.2), most have relied on behaviors of convenience or on behaviors of crisis. Among
studies with behaviors of convenience are many in social psychology in which the behavior is chosen without
consideration of its environmental impact. Rather, the focus is on a broad theoretical model, and nearly any
behavior from a class of behaviors will suffice; it just happens by chance that a certain pro-environmental behavior
is selected. On the other side are studies that are reactionary, whereby the behavior of interest reflects an
immediate crisis or social issue, typically brought about by a disruption in supply (e.g., various energy crises in
the United States, or water shortages in Australia).
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Here we focus on three sets of considerations, offered by psychological researchers for selecting a target
behavior: high impact, specificity, and potential to change.
1. High impact. A first consideration is the environmental impact of the behavior (Geller, 2002; Stern, 2000b). As
Steg and Vlek (2009) stated:
From a practical point of view, environmental psychologists should study behaviours that significantly
affect environmental quality. (p. 309)
For example, in the United States, direct energy consumption is divided among households and individuals
(21.7%), industries (32.4%), commercial (17.8%), and transportation (28.1% across all forms). But within each of
these categories is a range of specific actions. For example, home energy use falls into space heating (18.8%), air
conditioning (6.2%), water heating (6.5%), lighting (6.1%), and computers (0.6%; data reported by Gardner &
Stern, 2008). So developing a program to encourage residents to turn off their computers when not in use is
unlikely to produce substantial energy savings, compared with a program targeting a reduction in space heating or
lighting. This is not to say that computer use is unimportant, but rather that programs aimed at reducing overall
consumption would be better served by targeting a more important behavioral domain, such as space heating.
2. Specificity. A second consideration in selecting a target behavior is the level of specificity. That is, to what
extent should environmental psychologists focus on single actions versus behavior domains? On the one hand are
recommendations to focus on specific actions, rather than on classes of behavior or goals (McKenzie-Mohr, 2000,
2011). For example, when developing a program to promote reductions in residential water use, McKenzie-Mohr
(2008) recommended focusing on a specific action, such as install a low-flow showerhead or water your lawn
only once per week. Such specific behaviors stand in contrast to more general appeals to use less water or be
water wise.
As McKenzie-Mohr (2008, 2011) has argued, behaviors that are selected as a target for intervention should be
nondivisible, end-state behaviors. By nondivisible, he means an action that cannot be reduced to a more specific
behavior. For example, installing a low-flow showerhead could be performed by the home owner, by a relative, or
by a plumber. This makes it a divisible action. Asking a home owner to personally install the showerhead would
make it nondivisible. By end-state, he means the final desired outcome. For example, requesting a home energy
audit is not an end-state behavior because it does not mean that the specific energy-efficiency actions will be
taken. In contrast, installing extra attic insulation is an end-state behavior.
While some researchers have recommended focusing on specific actions, others have suggested (p. 574)
focusing instead on behavior domains (Kaiser, Midden, & Cervinka, 2008; Midden, Kaiser, & McCalley, 2007). From
this perspective, the probability that an individual will engage in a specific behavior is determined by the difficulty
of the behavior and by an individuals intention to realize a particular goal, for example, environmental
conservation (i.e., ones personal pro-environmental motivation). In each behavior domain, there are a large
number of possible actions, arrayed along a difficulty continuum, with which one can realize a personal motivation
level. Increasing a persons intention or motivation within that domain will inevitably result in changes across
several behaviors, and the specific behavioral outcome will to a certain extent vary by person. Thus, researchers
taking such a motivation or goal-orientation recommend focusing on increasing motivation levels, rather than
reducing the behavioral difficulty of a single action.
3. Potential to change. A final consideration in selecting a target behavior is to focus on actions (or market
segments) where change is possible. This concept is glaringly simple, yet widely overlooked. First, targeting
individuals who already engage in the desired pro-environmental behavior will do little more than what they already
do to contribute to environmental conservation. While such individualswith their actual behavioral engagement
have already shown to be receptive to the message, any further commitment apparently is unrealistic for them
and, thus, unlikely to realize. Rather, it is better to target individuals (or market segments) that are not already
doing what seems possible and sensible within a certain population. Kaiser et al. (2008) referred to these market
segments as motivational sinks.
While targeting behaviors and market segments with room for change, it is also important to consider the likelihood
that the behavior can be changedthat is, its amount of behavioral plasticity (Dietz et al., 2009). Determining the
level of plasticity for a behavior can be quite challenging, and to date there is no established procedure for
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assessing likelihood of change. Dietz et al. (2009) reported an approach that involves a review of existing
literature, identifying the best practice, and then extracting from the best practice a measure of effect size. While
such an approach is based on several fundamental assumptions about the representativeness of the samples and
generalizability of the findings, it provides a more reliable approach, compared with self-report approaches that ask
respondents to rate their likelihood of change (for an alternative approach involving the systematic cross-cultural
search for behavior relevant contextual factors, see Kaiser et al., 2008; Scheuthle et al., 2005).
Rebound Effects
New technologies offer exciting possibilities for promoting conservation. More efficient devices offer equal or
enhanced performance while using fewer natural resources. For example, CFC and LED lightbulbs use less energy
than traditional incandescent bulbs, while providing comparable lighting performance. Given this increased
efficiency, if a homeowner replaced all of the 100-watt lightbulbs in his home with 15-watt CFC bulbs, we would
expect an 85% reduction in energy used for lighting. Unfortunately, this rarely happens, and the realized energy
savings often fall short of projected technical estimates (Sorrell, 2007). In economics, this effect is referred to as
the Jevons paradox, named after the 19th-century scholar who first reported this effect in an analysis of coal
consumption during the industrial revolution in England. Jevons noted that as industries developed more efficient
ways to use coal, the demand increased rather than decreased (see also Alcott, 2008, and Madlener & Alcott,
2008).
In an individual-level analysis (as compared to an economic perspective), psychologists refer to this as a rebound
effect. The discrepancy between the projected and actual resource savings occurs because of changes in
behavioral patterns. In many instances, the individual realizes the added savings that result from the more efficient
technology and subsequently compensates by using it more often. A person who realizes that the CFC bulb is
using less energy might be less likely to turn it off when leaving a room. This direct rebound effect accounts for a
substantial portion of the discrepancy between projected and realized savings. Sorrell (2007) estimated
approximately 1030% in direct rebound effects, although the effect size varies across behavioral domain. In
addition, an indirect rebound effect has also been documented, whereby an individual engages in a more harmful
action in one domain after engaging in a pro-environmental behavior in another (cf., Mazar & Zhong, 2010). These
indirect rebound effects are also referred to as negative spillover (see below).
Behavioral Spillover?
In recent years, environmental psychologists have begun to examine spillover. That is, does engaging in one proenvironmental behavior increase the (p. 575) probability that the person will engage in similar behaviors? For
example, if we can persuade a person to install CFC lightbulbs, will that person then be more likely to engage in
other behaviors, such as purchasing energy-efficient appliances or even recycling? This research question builds
on the broader social psychological phenomenon of the foot-in-the-door effect (Burger, 1999). The data available
to date are mixed.
In a series of analyses, Thgersen (1999) and Thgersen and lander (2003) explored the possibility of behavioral
spillover. In the 2003 study, data are reported from a sample of 300 consumers measured annually over three
years. The design allowed the researchers to examine patterns of behavior over time and, using a cross-lagged
panel design, to test directly for behavioral spillover. The results provide some evidence for spillover, but also
suggest a more complicated pattern. First, their results show that three classes of behavior (recycling, buying
organic, and using public transit) remained relatively stable over time. However, with regard to spillover, the data
show evidence for both positive and negative spillover. That is, in some cases, engaging in a pro-environmental
behavior led to subsequent decreases in other pro-environmental behaviors. Finally, their analyses also show
evidence for moderated effects, such that individuals who are high in environmental values (operationalized with
Schwartzs measure of universalism) exhibited a greater likelihood of positive spillover, while participants with low
universalism tended to exhibit more evidence for negative spillover.
Several recent studies have explored negative spillover effects in more detail. Merritt, Effron, and Monin (2010)
described the process of moral self-licensing, whereby engaging in a virtuous behavior affords an individual more
latitude to engage in undesirable behaviors. For example, Effron, Cameron, and Monin (2009) showed that after
expressing support for presidential candidate Barack Obama, individuals were more likely to make discriminatory
Page 21 of 31

statements in a subsequent task. In the environmental domain, Ohta and Fujii (under review) showed that after
purchasing a car that they considered eco-friendly, Japanese motorists drove more miles than motorists who
purchased a car that they did not consider eco-friendly. The effect was particularly strong for motorists who
believed that their car purchase could help to solve environmental problems.
As evidenced by our discussion in this section, there are a number of practical considerations that should be
considered in efforts to promote pro-environmental behavior. Of particular importance is the choice of which
behavior to target, and the consideration of unintended consequences, such as rebound effects and negative
spillover.
Conclusions
Research on pro-environmental behavior has a long history in environmental psychology. Across 40 years of
research and hundreds of empirical studies, one finding is clear: behavior can be changed. This chapter
summarizes these research findings, organized around behavior change strategies that target the person and
those that target the context. In organizing the research, the chapter categorizes these studies into egoistic,
social-altruistic, and biospheric approaches. The chapter also highlights the importance of contextual-level
variables in promoting pro-environmental behavior, and summarizes several lines of work in this vein. Finally, we
conclude with a discussion of practical considerations, including which behaviors to target, spillover, and the
potential for rebound effects.
Psychological research on pro-environmental behavior has uncovered a number of effective strategies for
promoting behavior change. As environmental issues continue to attract public and political attention, we foresee
many opportunities for psychological research to inform efforts to promote change. Rather than lamenting the fact
that human activity is causing environmental problems, or focusing exclusively on theoretical models that can
document or describe behavioral pattern, research by environmental psychologists offers a positive message.
Drawing on a solid empirical foundation, environmental psychologists can offer behavioral solutions for change.
While personal, societal, and global shifts toward more sustainable behavior patterns will certainly require changes
at multiple levels, psychologists have an important perspective to offer, and an important role to play in promoting
change.
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P. Wesley Schultz
P. Wesley Schultz Department of Psychology California State University, San Marcos San Marcos, CA
Florian G. Kaiser
Florian G. Kaiser Department of Social Psychology Otto-von-Guericke University Magdeburg, Germany
Page 31 of 31
Protecting Natural Resources: Psychological and Contextual Determinants of

Freshwater Conservation

Protecting Natural Resources: Psychological and Contextual Determinants
of Freshwater Conservation
Vctor Corral-Verdugo, Martha Fras-Armenta, Csar O. Tapia-Fonllem, and Blanca S. Fraijo-Sing
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0030

Water is one of the most valuable natural resources for humankind and other forms of life on earth, and this
chapter addresses the topic of its conservation. Environmental psychology (EP) investigates the dispositional and
contextual factors that incite both water waste/contamination and conservation. It also studies the psychological
positive consequences that result from engaging in water conservationist practices. The obtained information has
let us know the individual characteristics that promote water conservation behaviors, the extrinsic and intrinsic
consequences that maintain those behaviors, and the situations that make people use water in a sustainable way.
EP also participates in the design of interventional strategies aimed at the instauration of conservationist uses of
freshwater, including water conservation campaigns, environmental education programs, and experiments
intended to shift wasteful and contaminating water uses toward more sustainable water-consuming behaviors. A
model integrating the knowledge on freshwater conservation determinants and its consequences is presented and
future directions for research and interventions are outlined.
Keywords: water conservation, antecedents, consequences, contextual factors, interventions
Introduction
Freshwater is one of the most precious and limited resources for humankind, and its integrity is seriously
endangered by a series of human factors, namely water overconsumption and contamination. Thus, in the past few
decades, issues related to the quantity and quality of freshwater resources have been a focus of political action,
scientific research, and public opinion (Carrus et al., 2010). Human use and a number of psychological processes
related to freshwater are among the main priorities in the current environmental agenda. This agenda includes
biophysical and human-social sciences activities as well as political action. According to experts, the depletion of
water resources is one of the most serious changes affecting our global environment (Brown & Flavin, 1999;
Rosegrant, Cai, & Cline, 2003). Currently about 1.4 billion people in the world do not have free access to
freshwater. According to the previsions of intergovernmental bodies, the entire world population in 2025 will be
over 8 billion, and 3 billion will be without available freshwater (UNESCO-WWAP, 2003). Humans consume more
than half of the worlds available freshwater, affecting the availability of the resource for wildlife and the integrity of
ecosystems everywhere (Prasanna, 2010). The gravity and complexity of this environmental problem require the
participation of all scientific disciplines, psychology included. Environmental psychology has dealt with issues
concerning water problems for several decades and, though no ultimate solution has been offered, we now
possess a clearer view of the psychological processes involved in water overconsumption and contamination that
have caused those environmental problems. With such information, interventional (p. 582) strategies intended at
changing nonsustainable water consumption practices can be developed and implemented.
Page 1 of 20

The Psychology of Water Problems
Water problems, as most environmental dilemmas, include a behavioral and social component. Individual and
group behaviors are responsible for the depletion of aquifers and the growing water contamination. Thus, in solving
these problems, the assumption of a perspective exclusively centered on the natural sciences (physics, chemistry,
and biology) and their derivate engineering represents an enterprise condemned to fail. To face integrally and
effectively such problems, it is necessary to investigate the behavioral and social determinants of freshwater
consumption, in addition to using the perspective of the hard sciences (Somerville & Briscoe, 2001). This implies
studying perceptions, beliefs, attitudes, skills, motives, values, and all kinds of psychological and social
predispositions developed by people in their contact with water. It also implies the investigation of the
psychological consequences that an individual obtains from his/her consuming/saving water, since everybody
engages in actions that produce positive benefits and avoids behaviors resulting in unpleasant consequences
(Stern, 2002). Very importantly, the study of freshwater consumption requires the knowledge of how people
interact with situational factors, including both physical (weather, drought, water abundance, availability of
technology, etc.) and social (values, water-related norms and prescriptions, etc.) contexts, and how those
situational factors affect psychological processes (representations, perceptions, beliefs) and water-consumption
behaviors (Moser, Ratiu, & de Vanssay, 2004).
Therefore, psycho-environmental research focuses mainly on the psychological and contextual antecedents of
freshwater use, and also studies the positive psychological consequences of a more sustainable use of this natural
resource. The aim of this chapter is to present a general perspective of research results in environmental
psychology related to water problems and solutions.
Overview
The second part of this chapter describes the situation of freshwater throughout the world, emphasizing the
challenges faced by the most water-deprived regions of the planet, as well as their perspective for the short and
long terms. In this part, the two most serious water problems are mentionedfreshwater depletion and
contaminationand the main human sources of these problems are also described.
In the following section, the psychological antecedents of freshwater depletion and contamination are discussed.
These include individual dispositional variables, as well as contextual (physical and social) factors. Briefly, the
section reviews a series of psychological and social theories that might explain why people overconsume and
contaminate water.
Subsequently, we define water conservation as a series of deliberate actions resulting in the conservation of such
a natural resource. This conservation implies a reduced consumption and the maintenance of freshwater
availability for further use (i.e., a noncontaminating consumption). A description of water conservationist behaviors
is included and the use of research instruments assessing these behaviors is discussed.
Then a section that deals with the personal and contextual antecedents of freshwater conservation and with the
psychological consequences of such conservation is presented. Although there is no research specifically
oriented toward studying the psychological consequences of water conservation, a series of reports dealing with
general ecological behaviors (freshwater conservation included) reveals that conservationist people are more
likely to experience positive psychological states. These reports are discussed.
The final sections integrate all the previous information. An explanatory model of water conservation, including its
contextual and psychological determinants, the behaviors defining freshwater conservation, and its positive
psychological consequences, is outlined. Next, prospective research lines on water conservation are discussed,
by mentioning what is necessary to investigate and what possible outcomes from such research might result in
terms of new knowledge and interventional strategies to effectively deal with water problems.
A Thirsty World
Freshwater scarcity is a crude reality in several regions of the planet. According to Gardner (2009), water
scarcity has diverse meanings. Physical water scarcity means that available water is insufficient to meet demand.
Page 2 of 20

This kind of scarcity is present in parts of the southwestern United States, northern Mexico, North Africa, the Middle
East, Central Asia, northern China, and southeastern Australia. Alternatively, economic water scarcity occurs when
water is available but inaccessible because of a lack of investment in water provision or poor management (p.
583) and regulation of water resources. Water scarcity of sub-Saharan Africa falls into this category.
Humans already consume 54% of all the accessible freshwater of rivers, lakes, and underground aquifers. If the
freshwater stored in the form of polar ice caps and glaciers is excluded, about 97% of the worlds freshwater exists
underground in groundwater aquifers (Prasanna, 2010). This source of water is being dramatically depleted as the
population increases and the satisfaction of their needs also grows. Since humans share water with plants and
animals, a water shortage is also a crisis for wildlife.
According to experts forecasts, climate change will impact water scarcity during the next decades. By the middle
of the 21st century, the earths area subject to greater water stress due to climate change will be twice as large as
the area experiencing decreased-water stress. Less rainfall is expected in already arid areas, including the
Mediterranean basin, western United States, northern Mexico, southern Africa, and northeastern Brazil, where
runoff is expected to decrease by 1030%, and loss of snowpack will remove a natural, off-season water reservoir
in many regions (Gardner, 2009). In addition, large river basins are already overburdened by housing, industrial,
logging, and/or farming activities; these result in an accelerated rundown of water and decreased water quality,
which will continue if appropriate measures are not implemented (Schmuck & Vlek, 2003). As Lehman and Geller
(2004) pointed out, pesticides, fertilizers, industrial chemicals and wastes, fossil fuel emissions, and residential
runoff have polluted much of our freshwater supply. They cited data from the US Environmental Protection Agency
(EPA) indicating that 33% of the lake acreage and 15% of the total river miles in the United States are contaminated
with mercury, polychlorinated biphenyl (PCBs), and other chemicals in levels that make some or all species unsafe
to eat.
Therefore, the two most serious water problems are freshwater depletion and water contamination. Water depletion
has to do with global warming, and with growing human consumption. The main human source of water
consumption is agriculture, which globally represents 70% of the liquid consumption. Livestock farming is also an
important contributor to water depletion: producing one ton of grain requires 1,000 tons of water, but producing
one ton of beef requires 15,000 tons of the liquid. Industrial use represents 20% of global consumption, while urban
and domestic uses contribute the rest of water consumption.
The primary causes of water contamination include urbanization impacts (residential sanitation, solid waste
disposal); industrial and mining development; agricultural impacts including leaching of nutrients and use of
pesticides; salinity, and waste water use for agricultural irrigation. One major urban pollutant is sewage, which is
particularly serious in poorer countries that lack adequate sanitation systems (Prasanna, 2010).
Most research on conservation psychology has focused on residential water consumption and conservation, while
water contamination practices and their remedies are rarely considered as research subjects in this area of the
behavioral sciences.
Psychological Antecedents and Consequences of Water Depletion and Contamination

As is true for the rest of environmentally relevant behaviors, water use (and abuse) is determined by psychological
and contextual antecedents. Psychological antecedents are studied as dispositional variables, which constitute
behavioral capacities, tendencies, and inclinations that predispose water consumption. Attitudes, beliefs, values,
and skills are among those dispositional variables. Contextual antecedents include discriminative stimuli,
affordances, and situational factors (weather, economic affluence, social ideals, technology, etc.) that induce
water misuse. Those contextual factors affect water consumption behaviors through psychological mediators, such
as perceptions and emotions, that might induce freshwater overconsumption or contamination.
Psychological Determinants of Water Misuse

Motivation is a potent instigator of water consumption and contamination. People overconsume and pollute water
because its consumption provides pleasure and status that reinforce egoistic tendencies (Wilk, 2006; Hrnig,
1983). Acording to Biel and Grling (1995), egoistic motives are determinants of the misuse of this natural
Page 3 of 20

resource; therefore, individuals have to restrain themselves, imposing constraints on their individualistic motives.
Some personality traits are also mentioned as variables predisposing people to misuse water. Antisocial traits are
among them. In a study conducted in Mexico, Corral-Verdugo, Frias, and Gonzlez (2003) found that water waste
(assessed as water consumption above the expected) was positively associated with tolerance of general
antisocial behavior (hitting someone, stealing, cheating, etc.); (p. 584) the more the tolerance of socially deviant
actions, the more the water consumption. A subsequent study by these authors (Corral-Verdugo, Fras, Fraijo, &
Tapia, 2006) revealed that risk-taking and lack of self-control, two antisocial personality traits, negatively
correlated with pro-environmental behavior, assessed as water conservation actions. Corral-Verdugo and Fras
(2006) complemented these results, showing a positive and significant correlation between antisocial behaviors
(fighting others, painting graffiti at public places, breaking others objects, etc.) and water waste.
One more personality trait seemingly related to water consumption, and to antisociality, is the so-called
present-time perspective (PTP). Corral-Verdugo, Fraijo, & Pinheiro (2006) assessed individual water consumption
and PTP, which is common in people who are prone to enjoy here-and-now situations, without concern for the
past or the future or, alternatively, to live the present at the expense of fate or others will (Zimbardo & Boyd,
2008). They found that the more present-oriented a person was, the higher was his/her water consumption.
Perception of a low involvement of others in water conservation actions affects ones conservationist effort. CorralVerdugo et al. (2002) attempted to measure the social trap created by the perception of others water misuse.
They reported that perceiving that other individuals waste water negatively affected the motivation to conserve the
liquid. As a consequence of such decreased motivation, water consumption increased.
Utilitarian water beliefs seem to lead to water misuse. These beliefs encourage people to conceive the resource as
unlimited and to see humans as having the right to use as much water as they want. Corral-Verdugo, Bechtel, and
Fraijo (2003) found a significant influence of those beliefs on the consumption of the liquid.
The role that indifference regarding the status of freshwater availability plays has also been investigated, at least in
one study. Carrus et al. (2010) found that such indifference negatively impacted the effort of water conservation.
Contextual Factors
Facilitating conditions of physical, demographic, and normative nature exist that promote water overconsumption.
One of the most important contextual factors influencing water consumption is the size of the household, which of
course correlates with economic income. Affluent households consume much more water than low-income
households, regardless of family size and other demographic controls (Corral-Verdugo, 2002; Vickers, 2001).
Richer families also save less water when asked to conserve (De Oliver, 1999). According to Harlan, Yabiku,
Larsen, and Brazel (2009), excessive consumption by high-class residential users is very likely to increase class
inequality in basic human needs and access to a healthy environment. These authors claimed that the size of the
house is the most important intervening mechanism between household income and domestic water consumption,
which, they suggested, is associated with the number and size of water-intensive possessions in residences.
Larger households contain more indoor water amenities (spas, fountains, aquariums, and icemakers) and more
plumbing that is susceptible to leakage, and are more likely to engage in a careless use of water. In those homes
there are also more guests and entertainment, as well as more to clean and less concern for the water bill.
Although richer people are more educated than the poor, and education positively impacts environmentally friendly
attitudes (Guerin, Crete, & Mercier, 2001), these environmental attitudes are not always closely linked to water
conservation behavior (Gregory & Di Leo, 2003); besides, affluent individuals consume more goods and services
(Harlan et al., 2009).
Aitken, McMahon, Wearing, and Finlayson (1994), in Australia, found that water consumption mainly depends on
family size and the value of the household. In fact, Tinker, Bame, Burt, and Speed (2005), in the United States,
found that the appraised value of the household positively correlated with water consumption more than any other
socioeconomic variable. Families with larger number of members, and those living in more expensive households,
waste more water. Hanke and de Mare (1982) also reported those results in Sweden. In addition, Syme, Thomas,
and Salerian (1983) found that the value of home owners private gardens, the perception of such a value, and
economic income were important predictors of water consumption.
Page 4 of 20

In the United States, the Energy Policy Act of 1992 mandated the manufacturing of indoor plumbing fixtures that
increased water conservation in new built homes (General Accounting Office, 2000). However, as Harlan et al.
(2009) established, between 1979 and 2004, the size of new single-family homes increased 57% in that country,
and the percentage of households with three or more bathrooms increased from almost zero to 24%.
In related, terms, Harlan et al. (2009) argued that choices of house size, appointments, and (p. 585) landscaping
are indicative of a preference for either a water-intensive or a water-saving lifestyle. In their study, household
income had a positive and significant effect on consumption that was mediated by house size. Irrigable lot size and
landscape type also have significant effects on consumption (Yabiku, Casagrande, & Farley-Metzger, 2008).
A number of scholars (Gottdeiner, 2000; Harlan et al., 2009; Wilk, 2006) interested in explaining the drivers of
consumption maintain the idea that under conditions of economic affluence, the use value of consumer goods
freshwater includedis supplanted by ever-increasing demand for those goods. Such a demand is stimulated by
emotional needs for self-identity and symbolic social competition for status (Harlan et al., 2009). It is likely that this
situation explains, at least partly, why people in richer countries, which have higher levels of human development,
consume significantly more water than individuals living in poorer regions of the world, where there is a lower level
of human development (Carrus et al., 2010).
Psychological Explanatory Theories of Water Misuse

General psychological and social theories have served the purpose of explaining why people waste and
contaminate freshwater. Behaviorism, evolutionary psychology, the theory of affordances, and the tragedy of the
commons are among the most prominent.
Behaviorists were perhaps the first psychologists investigating why people overconsume and contaminate water
and other natural resources. According to the classical behaviorist framework, a discriminative stimulus indicates
the occasion for a behavior to be produced, which is followed by a consequence that could be either reinforcing, if
this increases the likelihood that such behavior will occur again, or punitive, if it decreases the likelihood that that
behavior will appear in the future. Cone and Hayes (1980) adapted this model to the explanation of environmental
problems. According to these authors, anti-environmental behaviors, such as freshwater overconsumption and
contamination, occur because there are positive reinforcers maintaining those behaviors and discriminative stimuli
inciting environmentally depredatory responses. Positive reinforcersthe consequences of using natural
resourcesprovide satisfaction to human needs, as well as pleasure, status, and prominence to those
experiencing such reinforcers (Geller, 2002).
Cone and Hayes (1980) acknowledged long-term consequences of anti-environmental behaviors, and according to
the theory, those consequences negatively affect (by punishing) people. Water waste in the long term results in its
depletion, which is bad for the user. Unfortunately, short-term consequences of water consumptionpleasure,
status, satisfaction of needshave a larger effect on behavior, so that their control determines that antienvironmental behavior would be more likely to occur than the pro-environmental one. Environmental risks such as
drought or water scarcity are perceived as long-term contingencies, and people do not respond immediately to
those signals warning their possible occurrence (Gattig & Hendrickx, 2007). The lapse between human actions and
their notorious effect on the environment is frequently assessed in years or decades, while the learning or
modification of a behavior occurs in intervals of hours (Uzzell, 2000); this makes a difference when attempting to
administer interventional programs for freshwater conservation based upon behavioral contingencies. Yet, the
strategies using short-term negative consequences for water waste seem to function appropriately. For instance,
Agras, Jacob, and Ledebeck (1980), in the United States, confirmed that linking punishment (fines) to excessive
consumption of freshwater produced a decreased use of the liquid.
Evolutionary psychology considers that the overexploitation of water and other natural resources is stimulated by
evolved adaptive tendencies. Psychological processes (preferences, aptitudes, motivations, perceptions) that
evolved to solve problems faced by humans in the early environment are still involved in the production of present
behaviors and institutions (Crawford, 2004). Evolutionary psychology assumes that the human psyche is
biologically conditioned and that peoples present behavior is strongly influenced by their evolved heritage. Such
heritage leads us to the search for, monopolization, and overuse of natural resources, such as water, even if we
can do without them in the current conditions or if their accumulation is not necessary for our survival.
Page 5 of 20

Consumerism has an evolutionary basis that led to the selection of behavioral patterns of resources accumulation
because they made possible individuals survival and their obtaining sexual mates (Wright, 1994). Consumerism is
associated with prosperity, so that the latter makes more likely the manifestation of the evolved behavioral patterns
of waste of resources.
Since prosperity creates opportunity, there appears a universal human drive to raise the standard of living, which
manifests as the acquisition and expansion of private possessions. In the case of water (p. 586) consumption,
these possessions include large households, pools, spas, fountains, aquariums, and furniture and devices that use
the liquid. Richer people create higher standards for meeting basic needs as well as setting trends in fashionable
lifestyles (Wilk, 2006). They also strive for the psychological satisfaction of outperforming others in competition for
social status (Hrnig, 1983).
The theory of affordances (Gibson, 1979) has also been utilized to explain overconsumption of water and other
natural resources. An affordance is a property of stimulant objects or situations that induces effective responses,
and those responses may lead to overexploitation of resources. According to Kurz (2002), the concept of
affordances includes the idea that people may perceive the utility of an object in their environment in many
possible ways. Harlan et al. (2009), in conceiving water affordances as utilities, suggested that people who have
unlimited access to water are attuned to multiple affordances (utilities) of their water-consuming possessions
(furniture, gardens, etc.) and, as a consequence of such attunement, they waste and contaminate water. In their
words, Beyond meeting basic needs, water enables the satisfaction of running a clean, attractive, and recreationcentered home that provides visible indicators of social status. In choosing to live in large houses with high wateruse profiles, people reveal that they are attuned to waters affordance as a good that enables them to achieve a
desired lifestyle (pp. 693694). Unfortunately, fewer such people are attuned to waters affordance as a valuable,
scarce natural resource. One of the most likely explanations for differences in water consumption is that water
carries important aesthetic, social status, and recreational affordances, which are deeply ingrained in uppermiddle-class lifestyles (Harlan et al., 2009). Thus, these authors proposed better models of social organization that
encourage affluent householders to be more attuned to the water affordances that result in pro-environmental
lifestyles.
Water misuse is also conceived as a tragedy of the commons, one additional theory that explains antienvironmental behaviors. According to Hardin (1968), a tragedy of the commons starts when someone takes more
than his or her pro rata part of a resource, to the detriment of the common good (s)he shares with other individuals.
Water, as a common good, is misused by individuals who deplete and contaminate such a resource at the expense
of harm for others (and ultimately for themselves). The exploiter does not realize that the rest of the people may
rationalize the situation and, consequently, may respond in a similar manner, producing a social trap. As this
abusive conduct becomes a norm, commons such as water are depleted because they are consumed (and/or
contaminated) faster than they are replaced. This explanation has been empirically tested by Corral-Verdugo et al.
(2002), who reported a decreased motivation to conserve water in people who perceived that others waste water.
In their study, these authors found that individuals who suspected that their neighbors, the government, and
owners of industries overconsumed water presented lower levels of motivation to engage in water conservation,
and as a consequence, their conservationist actions also decreased.
Water Conservation Behavior

Water conservation can be defined as the set of effective and deliberate actions that result in the protection of
water resources, avoiding its waste and contamination. In this sense, water conservation fits into the more general
category of sustainable or conservation behaviors, which are defined as intentional and effective practices aimed
at protecting the socio-physical environment (Corral-Verdugo, Fras, & Garca, 2010). Freshwater conservation is
effective, because it implies the display of skilled or competent actions (i.e., waste-avoiding and problem-solving
behaviors; see Geller, 2002, and Fraijo, Corral-Verdugo, Tapia, & Gonzlez, 2010) in response to personal and/or
social requirements (Corral-Verdugo, 2002). The increasing unavailability of the resource, plus the social
awareness regarding water problems and other conservationist predispositions, constitutes a fundamental
component of such requirements, which ask people for a careful use of the liquid. In turn, its efficient utilization,
along with the possession of the necessary skills for conserving water, represents the effective element of water
conservation (Fraijo et al., 2010). When those conservationist skills are displayed in response to conservationist
Page 6 of 20

requirements, a water conservation competency appears (Corral-Verdugo, 2002).
Moreover, to be pro-environmental, water conservation should be deliberate, according to a number of authors,
which means that individuals have to consciously direct their behavioral efforts to the purpose of freshwater
conservation. Although the deliberative (and conscious) component of water conservation behaviors is accepted
by most environmental psychologists and educators (Emmons, 1997; Staats, Harland, & Wilke, 2004, Stern, 2000),
others are comfortable with the idea that water conservationand the rest of pro-environmental (p. 587)
behaviorsmight be unconscious, as manifested in habits (Geller, 2002; Gregory & di Leo, 2003). This distinction
might be significant, according to some authors (e.g., Fraijo et al., 2010), because deliberation and consciousness
are critical processes in the induction of versatile pro-environmental skills (i.e., changing skilled behaviors in
response to changes in environmental conditions and problems), and versatility is a key feature of proenvironmental competency (Corral-Verdugo, 2002).
Water Conservation Practices

There are a number of actions practiced by people aimed at conserving water, and they are the focus of psychoenvironmental research. At a residential level, the use of the toilet represents around a third of water consumption;
that is why the installation of water-efficient toilets is considered an important conservationist action. Decreasing
time for taking a shower (five minutes, at the most, is recommended) is another water-conservation strategy.
Recycling water from the laundry, sink, and bathroom (gray water) to gardens and/or toilets is also a recommended
practice (Lazarova, Hills, & Birks, 2003). Control of leakage is included within water conservation practices as well;
this implies locating and repairing leaks in the distribution network, supply pipes, and household (Gray, 2008).
Recently, rainwater harvesting has begun to be implemented in public buildings and households; in some places
where rain is frequent, new buildings rely on rainwater as a primary water source for consumption (Gray, 2008).
Additional measures include using buckets instead of hoses for car-washing, watering plants and gardens at night,
using water-efficient technologies (besides the ones for the toilet) for saving the liquid, brushing ones teeth without
water running from the faucet (Corral-Verdugo, 2002), planting vegetation other than grass or water-intensive
consuming plants, especially in arid regions, and avoiding the use of pools and spas, among many others (Yabiku
et al., 2008; Harlan et al., 2009). Efficient irrigation systems, industrial processes that avoid water waste and
contamination, and livestock farming systems that conserve water also have to be considered within these types of
pro-environmental behaviors.
Methods for Studying Water Conservation Behaviors

A number of research methods for assessing water consumption practices have been used by environmental
psychologists and extensively reported in the literature. They include self-reports of water consumption and
conservation, water consumption metering, archive analysis, and direct observations of water use.
Self-Reports
Questionnaires and interviews are two types of self-reports commonly used to obtain information regarding the
intensity or frequency of freshwater consumption behaviors. People express whether they engage in water-waste
behaviors (Kaiser, 1998; Middlestadt et al., 2001) and whether their consumption is excessive, moderate, or low, or
very frequent or infrequent (Bustos, 2004; Vaske & Kobrin, 2001); they can also indicate, by using numbers, how
many times they get involved in water consumption actions during a specific interval (Corral-Verdugo & Fras,
2006). Self-reports of freshwater use have a number of advantages over alternative assessment methods: they are
reliable and easy to administer, and allow gathering wide information with regard to environmental practices. A
disadvantage is their limited validity; Corral-Verdugo (2000) found low and nonsignificant correlations between
water conservation self-reports and the conservation registered through direct observations, as well as very low
correlations between the self-reports and water consumption recorded in water meters.
Water Consumption Metering

Perhaps the most valid indicator of water consumption is obtained through water consumption billings. These
include not only the money to pay for the consumption but also the exact amount of consumed water in cubic
meters or gallons. Several researchers have used this technique in their studies: Tinker and Woods (2001) utilized
Page 7 of 20

water billing to assess outdoor residential consumption, such as car-washing and garden watering. Corral-Verdugo
(2002) and Corral-Verdugo et al. (2003) used this strategy to calculate total consumption, both outdoor and indoor,
contrasting this result with those of using alternative measurement techniques. Their findings reveal that water
metering produces outcomes more closely related to those obtained from direct observations than those obtained
from self-reports of freshwater consumption. Although water metering is highly valid (even more than the direct
observations), it has an inconvenience: water billings do not reflect individual consumption but rather the collective
use of water that results from the liquids consumption by all the members of a household. If the aim of a study is to
investigate the (p. 588) individual characteristics determining water waste, water billing will not be very useful
because it does not accurately indicate how much water a particular person consumes. Individual differences
within the same family are expected, as research reports indicate (see, e.g., Corral-Verdugo et al., 2003).
Archival Analysis
It is possible to obtain relevant data for psycho-environmental research through the analysis of files containing
historical recordings of individual or collective behaviors. Information regarding the affiliation of people with
ecologist groups, or the record of products or natural resources consumptionwater includedof a social group
may be obtained. In regard to our topic, De Oliver (1999) studied the records of water consumption of San Antonio,
Texas, and Harlan et al. (2009) obtained records of consumption in a specific area of Phoenix, Arizona, which
allowed them to estimate residential consumption. As in the case of water billings, the measures these authors
utilized were valid for estimating group consumption. Yet, this validity decreases when attempts to calculate
individual behavior are made, since those archives refer to household water use.
Direct Observations
The validity of direct observations of behavior is acknowledged by psychological researchers (Bechtel, 1990).
Using this method, pro- or anti-environmental actions resulting in water waste or conservation may be recorded.
The first step implies the selection of the target behaviors. For instance, it can be decided to investigate behaviors
such as washing cars, watering plants, or washing clothes. Later, a recording sheet is designed in which the
observations will be annotated, and finally those observations and recordings are conducted. Corral-Verdugo
(2002) and Corral-Verdugo et al. (2003) reported examples of the use of this technique. Its validity is one of its
advantages; the difficulty of conducting the observation as well as the reactivity that may produce (when a
participant is aware of being observed) and a possible violation of the participants privacy are disadvantages
(Bechtel, 1990).
Antecedents and Positive Psychological Consequences of Water Conservation

As in the case of water waste and contamination, antecedent and consequent factors that promote water
conservation can be detected. This section reviews the most studied of those factors.
Antecedent Variables: Awareness, Knowledge, Skills, and Competence

Awareness and knowledge of water problems are two evident candidates to function as positive antecedents of
freshwater conservation. It has been claimed that because of the apparent success of media campaigns,
interventional strategies should be devoted to better educating the public and to promoting water conservation
behavior (Connelly, Buchanan, Forster, & Cow, 1992). Nevertheless, not all media campaigns have proved
successful. In one study seeking specifically to evaluate a water conservation campaign, Penman (1988)
described the results of a two-month multimedia campaign that included information regarding the need to
conserve water. Television was the most effective medium promoting an awareness of the campaign. Yet, despite
this awareness, the campaign did not appear to contribute to peoples knowledge of water conservation issues, nor
was it successful in changing water consumption behavior. In spite of this, Gregory and di Leo (2003) found that
greater awareness of water conservation issues correlates with a lower water usage.
Knowledge, operationalized as the information an individual possesses regarding water problems and their
solutions, seems to have a significantalthough not much salienteffect on water conservation. Yet, its
importance lies on the fact that knowledge is a prerequisite for developing pro-environmental skills, which are
direct determinants of freshwater conservation behavior (Corral-Verdugo, 2002). Moore, Murphy, and Watson
Page 8 of 20

(1994) examined knowledge and reported water conservation behavior over a three-year period. They found that
a reduced consumption of water correlated positively with knowledge. Middlestadt et al. (2001), in turn, suggested
that providing high school students with specific behavioral knowledge regarding water may lead them to
conserve the liquid.
As mentioned, skills are important and direct determinants of water conservation. Corral-Verdugo (2002) found that
water-saving skills (assessed through the observation of problem-solving situations) were indicators of proenvironmental competency, a factor directly and significantly influencing water conservation. Bustos (2004), in
turn, reported that freshwater conservation in personal cleaning and meal preparation results, to a large extent,
from conservationist skills, while Fraijo et al. (2010) modeled those skills as indicators of pro-environmental
competency in children, demonstrating that the higher the competency, the more reduced the consumption of
water.
(p. 589)
Beliefs and Perceptions
According to Berk et al. (1980), at least five personal belief factors exist that enhance conservation and
consequently reduce the demand for water: (1) a belief that a water shortage exists and constitutes a problem for
a group with which an individual identifies; (2) a moral commitment to produce fair contributions to group welfare;
(3) a belief in the efficacy of personal efforts to achieve a collective solution; (4) a belief that the personal cost of
inconvenience resulting from conservation efforts will not be great; and (5) a belief that others in the relevant
group will also conserve. Dziegielewski (1994) confirmed that the belief in the seriousness of a water shortage is a
predictor of household water conservation. Similarly, Bruvold (1979) reported that perceived seriousness of a
drought predicted both per capita water consumption and water conservation behaviors.
Pro-ecological beliefs may also be significant determinants of freshwater conservation. In their paper, CorralVerdugo, Bechtel, and Fraijo (2003) reported that the general environmental beliefs of the new environmental
paradigm (Dunlap & Van Liere, 1978) had a positive effect on specific beliefs regarding water, which conceive it as
a valuable, exhaustible resource that requires conservation. Such specific beliefs, in turn, positively and directly
influenced water conservation. Fraijo et al. (2010), in studying Mexican children, found that those specific water
beliefs are a component of a pro-environmental competency of water conservation, while Martinportugus, Canto,
Garca and Hidalgo (2002) reported an effect of water beliefs on water conservation in Spanish teenagers. In
recent reports, Corral-Verdugo et al. (2008) and Carrus et al. (2010) found that general beliefs of a new human
interdependence paradigm (i.e., the idea that the physical environment might be preserved by humans and that
people need nature in order to survive) directly predict the self-report of water conservation.
In regard to perceptual factors, Hirose and Kitada (1987), in Japan, found that the perceived efficacy of
governmental water conservation (i.e., how much individuals believe that their government conserves water)
becomes a determinant of residential water conservation in a drought situation. Dziegielewskis (1994) findings
suggest that the perception that conservation measures are equitable predicts the support of household water
conservation. Also, the trust people confer upon their authorities leads them to accept measures of water
conservation, such as the installation of water-recycling plants (Bridgeman, 2004).
Behavioral Intentions
Most environmental psychologists consider conservationist behaviors to be deliberative responses. Stern (2000),
for instance, defined environmentalism in behavioral terms as the propensity to take actions with proenvironmental intent (p. 411). This means that water conservation actions should be guided by intentions to act,
to be considered pro-environmental. The theory of planned behavior (TPB) is the explanatory model that best
incorporates the deliberative component of conservationism. In short, the TPB posits that the immediate antecedent
of behavior is intention to act, which in turn is predicted by an attitude toward the given behavior (ACT), subjective
norm (SN), and perceived behavioral control (PBC). According to the TPB, attitudes are an individuals overall
evaluation of a given behavior and subjective norms as a persons belief about whether significant people (friends,
neighbors, or relatives) think he or she should engage in the specified behavior. PBC measures an individuals
perception of how easy or difficult a given behavior is to perform (Ajzen, 1991).
Trumbo and OKeefe (2001) used the TPB to predict water conservation intention and behavior in three US
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communities. In their study they included socio-demographics, environmental values, and information effects in
addition to the TPB variables. Their model accounted for 27% of the variance in behavioral intention, with the core
TPB variables making up 67% of that total. Lam (1999) used a modified TPB model to separately predict intention to
reduce water usage and intention to install water-saving appliances in Taiwan. The author included perceived
moral obligation and perceived water rights in his model. The TPB explained 41% of the variance in intention to
reduce water consumption and 24% of the variance in intention to install water-saving appliances. Clark and Finley
(2007) found that the TPB variables significantly predicted water conservation intention. They also found that
awareness of climate change and global warming was a significant predictor of intention to implement water
conservation measures.
Personal Norms, Values, and Future Orientation

Norms may affect pro-environmental actions in a positive way (Kalgreen, Reno, & Cialdini, 2000; see also the
section regarding behavioral (p. 590) interventions in this chapter) and these conventions are assumed by
individuals as normative attitudes. Social normative attitudes are an understanding of the behaviors of others
(Schultz, 2002, p. 73), including what other people do or should be doing, while a personal norm is manifested as
a feeling of obligation to act in a particular manner in specific situations (Schultz, 2002, p. 74). In a study
conducted in Mexico, Corral-Verdugo and Fras (2006) found that personal normative beliefs about water
conservation had a direct and significant influence on the self-report of a pro-environmental use of that resource.
In addition, environmental values have been studied as predictors of water use. Values are a dispositional factor
that guides behavior; Schwartz (1992) saw them as universal and proposed a classification of values in two big
dimensions: self-transcendence (oriented toward altruism or concern for others and the environment) and selfenhancement (oriented toward achieving personal well-being). Thus, environmental values are included within selftranscendent values. Trumbo and OKeefe (2001) found that environmental values had a significant, yet weak,
effect on the freshwater conservation effort, while the study by Schultz and Zelezny (1998) revealed a positive
relationship between self-transcendence values (especially the environment-oriented ones) and pro-environmental
behaviors that included water conservation.
Future orientationa personality traitis also a determinant of a responsible use of water. This orientation
characterizes individuals who like to plan strategies and meet their long-term obligations. These individuals tend to
avoid risky situations and behaviors, and to visualize and formulate future goals that influence their present
decisions and judgments. They are also conscious, self-controlled, organized, creative, reliable, and responsible
(Zimbardo & Boyd, 2008). Studies conducted by Corral-Verdugo and Pinheiro (2006), Corral-Verdugo, Fraijo, and
Pinheiro (2006), and Pinheiro and Corral-Verdugo (2010) revealed that water conservation is practiced more by
future-oriented people than by present- or past-oriented individuals.
Situational Factors
Physical situations may be powerful inductors or facilitators of pro-environmental behaviors. For instance, living in
an environment with temperate weather makes easier the adoption of water conservation practices, as opposed to
living in a hot climate, which requires a more intensive consumption of the liquid to survive (Harlan et al., 2009). A
limited availability of water is also a significant inducer of water-saving behaviors. In Mexico, Corral-Verdugo (2002)
investigated the effect of a reduced supply of water on its consumption. His findings suggest that water scarcity is
one of the most important situational factors positively influencing the conservationist effort.
Having access to water-saving technologies also works in the effort of conserving the liquid. In the United States,
Geller, Erickson, and Buttram (1983) found that the use of water-saving devices was significantly effective as a
strategy for reducing the liquids consumption. Harlan et al. (2009) suggested that it is easier to require developers
to install water-saving technologies in new homes than to enforce new regulations on homeowners. The
technologies they mention include smart irrigation and gray-water recycling systems, community pools or smaller
pools, and pool covers.
Normative situational factors such as social norms and legal regulations may also induce water conservation, in
addition to the physical situations above mentioned. Harlan et al. (2009) indicated that cash or tax incentives to
convert yards to drier landscapes, purchase water-saving technologies, or reduce water usage are likely to work
Page 10 of 20

for home owners.
A number of studies include water price as a determinant of domestic water consumption and conservation (see
Terrebonne, 2005, for a review). In general, most researchers indicate that water demand is quite inelastic
(Dalhuisen, Florax, de Groot, & Nijkamp, 2003). Water is inexpensive in most countries because it is considered
essential for all human activities (Clark & Finley, 2007). People pay for the service of delivering water and not the
resource itself (Corral-Verdugo et al., 2003). An increase in the price of the liquid and progressive block rate
structures should be effective if public water agencies do not buffer consumers from paying the full cost of the
liquid (Clark & Finley, 2007). This is especially true in the case of richer people, since their water bill is a negligible
cost.
Behavioral Interventions
Kantola, Syme, and Nesdale (1983) used behavioral intention as an indirect measure of water conservation. They
found that those people who had seen a persuasive film about water conservation produced conservation
intentions superior to those of a control group that did not see the film.
Thompson and Stoutmeyer (1991) combined educational information with commitment and (p. 591) found that a
message focusing on the long-term environmental consequences of water conservation was a better strategy in
promoting a decreased water consumption than a message that stressed only the economic benefits that could
result from conservation. Southwell (2001) taught water conservation lessons to a group of students and measured
their impact on water conservation at home, with positive results. Fraijo et al. (2010) also used environmental
education to promote water conservation in children. They found that a 40-hour educational program resulted in a
decreased consumption of the liquid, as well as in increased conservationist motivation, skills, and beliefs.
Prompts and feedback are also used as strategies to promote freshwater conservation. Prompts including signs
reading Turn off tap when not in use can be effective in reducing water consumption, as McKenzie-Mohr (1999)
suggested and Aronson (1982) demonstrated three decades ago. To be more effective, these signs should be
obtrusive, although people consider them annoying, as Aronsons (1982) study suggested. Feedback has been
shown to produce sustained behavior change across a range of conservation behaviors. A study conducted in
Australia (Geller, Winett, & Everett, 1982) found that water consumption decreased around 30% as a consequence
of daily feedback on water use and a rebate proportionate to demand reduction.
Punishmentin the form of finesof excessive water consumption also decreases the waste of this resource, as
Agras et al. (1980) found in their quasi-experiment in California. Positive reinforcements such as jackpots could
also be employed to reward water conservation, as Pryor (1999) has established.
Based on these results, Foxall (1995) recommended a combination of three behavioral interventions aimed at
reducing water consumption: (1) punishment, especially in the form of fines for excessive consumption or
contamination; (2) metering, to provide an association between behavior and its contingencies as well as
consumption feedback; and (3) closing the setting by reducing the range of times and places during which water
can be consumed.
Positive Psychological Consequences of Water Conservation

The sustainable management of water resources supposedly, at minimum, includes the triple levels of social,
economic, and environmental analysis. Syme and Nancarrow (2008) criticized the fact that there is relatively little
emphasis on the social dimension of water conservation, including the social consequences of a sustainable use of
the liquid. We would add that there is much less emphasis on the psychological consequences of conserving such
a natural resource. The major discourse appears to be between the economic and environmental consequences.
Hoekstra, Savenije, and Chapagain (2001) analyzed some aspects of water value, at the catchment scale in the
context of an African river. They concluded that if a cubic meter of water provides some sort of ecological or
economic benefit, water should be viewed not only at that point in space and time, but also in its previous stages in
its journey through the catchment. That is, in economic terms the same drop of water has many often related
values, and the total value of water depends on its context or place in the hydrological cycle. A similar observation
was made by Syme and Nancarrow (2008) from a social perspective. According to them, water can provide for
Page 11 of 20

both health and recreation, and these social values can accumulate. As these authors posited, water benefit is not
the quantity of water itself (i.e., the economic or environmental benefit). People may obtain positive consequences
from consuming water in the form of refreshment, the feeling of enjoyment of a vase of flowers, or as a spiritual
experience. Therefore, there is also a positive psychological consequence of water consumption.
Of course, negative psychological consequences of lacking water have to be taken in account as well. Water
scarcity may result in negative psychological consequences, as Coelho, Adair, and Mocellin (2004) demonstrated,
by showing that people get anxious and emotionally distressed when experiencing the effects of drought. That is
why it is so important to assess how satisfied (and/or happy) people feel with the alternative benefits that water
allocation and consumption imply. Moreover, it would also be important to assess the psychological consequences
that engaging in water conservation produce on individuals.
There is not much information on those consequences, yet the literature mentions that practicing environmental
conservation and other sustainable actions results in psychological benefits for people. Indeed, since the origin of
conservation psychology, its behaviorist practitioners have reported that externally provided positive
consequences (i.e., receiving benefits such as material rewards or social recognition) increase freshwater
conservation. The effect of such reinforcement on conservation behavior is so salient that Schmuck and Vlek
(2003) were (p. 592) compelled to state that behaviorism implies that human behavior may be changed by
forcing choices via physical and social incentives that cannot (or can hardly) be evaded (p. 70). The problem
with external consequences is that they represent a cost that sometimes overpasses the benefit of the intended
environmental conservation. One more problem is that the withdrawal of the consequence leads to the extinction of
that conservation behavior (Lehman & Geller, 2004).
But there is more than externally positive consequences that incites the practice of pro-environmental behaviors.
Intrinsic consequences (i.e., the natural and automatic consequence of a behavior), such as the satisfaction that
results from being conservationist (De Young, 1991; Iwata, 2001), motivation competence (De Young, 1996),
psychological restoration (Hartig, Kaiser, & Bowler, 2001), happiness (Brown & Kasser, 2005), and personal wellbeing (Corral-Verdugo et al., 2011), have been reported to appear in people as a consequence of their proenvironmental actions.
In regard to freshwater use, one study by Bechtel and Corral-Verdugo (2010) found higher levels of happiness in
American and Mexican undergraduates who self-reported pro-ecological behaviors, including water conservation.
Interestingly, the association between being conservationist and happiness was three times larger in the Mexicans
than in the Americans. One more study (Corral-Verdugo et al., 2011) revealed that the feelings of personal wellbeing significantly correlated with the self-reported practice of pro-ecological behaviors, which also include
freshwater conservation actions. The area of research on the positive psychological consequences of water
conservation is still incipient. Environmental psychologists need to know much more about these positive
consequences to design effective interventional programs aimed at promoting a sustainable lifestyle of water
consumption.
Conclusion
As in other areas of conservation psychology, a growing body of research indicates that, depending upon the
circumstances and their personal history, people might be compelled to either waste or conserve freshwater.
Economic affluence, human development levels, water accessibility, extreme weather, social-status values,
egoistic and antisocial tendencies, present time-orientation, indifference toward the state of water, and
suspiciousness regarding others waste of water are among the most important factors promoting water
overconsumption and contamination. Alternatively, awareness and knowledge of water problems and solutions,
pro-environmental skills and competency, pro-ecological beliefs, perceptions of equity, trust of authorities,
intentions to conserve water, personal environmental norms, environmental and self-transcendence values, and
future-time orientation are psychological dispositional variables that induce freshwater conservation. Temperate
weather, water scarcity, access to water-saving technologies, water prices, social norms, and legal regulations are
situational factors that also promote the conservation of that natural resource, as do a series of behavioral
interventions, including environmental education and water conservation campaigns.
These results suggest actions and human-group targets to consider when implementing interventional programs.
Page 12 of 20

For instance, richer nations and affluent individuals have to be specially considered when designing such
programs (Carrus et al., 2010); a more equitable distribution of the resource has to be guaranteed. In addition,
people need to perceive others effort in conserving freshwater to feel compelled to engage in protecting the
resource (De Oliver, 1999; Dziegielewski, 1994); one way to achieve this is through legal regulation and
enforcement of water conservation measures (Corral-Verdugo and Fras, 2006); environmental education may also
significantly contribute (Fraijo et al., 2010). The access to water-saving technologies has to be guaranteed (Geller
et al., 1983), and prices that discourage overconsumption (Terrebonne, 2005) as well as sanctions for
contaminating the resource are necessary. As for environmental education, this strategy should include the
promotion of freshwater conservation activities along with the instauration of their corresponding dispositional
variables: knowledge, water ecological beliefs, values, norms, and motives, functioning as water-conservation
requirements, which combined with water conservation skills constitute a pro-environmental competency for the
solution of water problems (Corral-Verdugo, 2002; Fraijo et al., 2010).
One area of special interest is the investigation of the psychological consequences that might result from
conserving freshwater. For the past several decades, behaviorists have indicated that a responsible use of water
might be followed by external positive consequences (monetary rebates, social recognition, etc.), which in turn
make more likely further engagement in freshwater conservation. Taking this approach within conservationist
campaigns is a fruitful strategy, for instance, by providing rebates in (p. 593) water bills to people who reduce
their consumption and maintain it below a certain level. Unfortunately, the means for providing external
consequences are not always at hand, and consumers return to previous levels of water use if the positive
consequence is withdrawn or absent. Therefore, the promotion of intrinsic consequences has to be considered,
since these consequences result naturally and automatically from just engaging in a due behavior. Although, as
Lehman and Geller (2004) indicated, intrinsic consequences that support pro-environmental behavior are not
always available, the literature in this area provides evidence that sustainable behaviors are usually accompanied
by satisfaction, happiness, competence motivation, personal well-being, andlikelypsychological restoration,
which are intrinsic contingencies resulting from the simple act of conserving natural resources. If this applies to
water conservation, as suggested by a number of findings (Bechtel & Corral-Verdugo, 2010; Corral-Verdugo et al.,
2011), asking people to conserve water while also anticipating or prompting them with the consequences of such
actions should result in at least some of the intrinsic consequences of water conservation. Since this is an area of
research practically unexplored, there is a need for studies investigating those intrinsic consequences and the
way people might get attuned to them (as in the case of conservationist affordances).
Future Directions
Most psycho-environmental studies on freshwater conservation are aimed at studying residential uses of water.
Although this is an importantand growingtype of consumption, there are other areas to pay attention to, since
their effects on water depletion and contamination are fundamental. More investigation of the psychological
determinants and consequences of water waste in the agricultural, livestock farming, and industrial sectors is
needed, since these sectors represent more than 90% of water consumption. Their impact on human and natural
ecosystems is huge. A study by Carlos (2004), for instance, showed that almost 80% of the variance in family and
social problems of an agricultural community was explained by only two factors: agriculture mono-cultivation and
wasteful irrigation systems. The study of the psychological factors that inhibit water contamination is also
necessary, since most research is devoted to analyzing variables related to avoiding water depletion. This should
lead to studying the situational and psychological antecedents of water conservation in agricultural, industrial, and
livestock farming activities, as well as the consequences that might maintain a sustainable use of water in these
sectors.
Figure 30.1attempts to integrate the (known and to-investigate) factors that promote freshwater conservation. The
factors on the left represent the physical and normative situations that induce a responsible and noncontaminating
use of the liquid. These factors exert their influence on water conservation through the development of
dispositional and perceptual variables. The mediator role of perceptions is understandable since one necessarily
must perceive situations to be affected by them (Gaspar de Carvalho, Palma, & Corral-Verdugo, 2010). The
availability of (both physical and social) conditions facilitating water conservation makes possible the acquisition of
conservationist knowledge, skills, values, norms, and the development of pro-ecological beliefs and intentions to
conserve freshwater (Corral-Verdugo, 2002). Being exposed to propitiating situations also results in the display of
Page 13 of 20

emotions toward nature and the conservation of its resources (Kals, Schumacher, & Montada, 1999), water
included. Some social contexts promote altruistic and equitable tendencies that allow a reduced consumption of
natural resources so that they could be accessible to other persons (Ohnuma et al., 2005). Water conservation is
depicted in the model as constituted by responsible (i.e., nonwasteful and noncontaminating) uses of the resource
in agriculture, livestock farming, industry, and residential scenarios. Such conservation would be reinforced by
positive consequences, either extrinsic (material or social reinforcement) or intrinsic (satisfaction, happiness,
competence motivation, psychological restoration, personal well-being). Since the study of the intrinsic
consequences of water conservation is markedly scarce, the water-conservation research area will benefit from
further investigation of those consequences.

Figure 30.1 Model of Water Conservation Explained by Contextual and Psychological Antecedents and Its
Positive Consequences
In addition, the relationship between some of the dispositional factors included in the model and water conservation
has not been investigated or has been studied but not intensively. Research regarding the effect of emotions
toward nature on water consumption, the influence of environmental values on the conservation of the liquid, and
the impact of altruistic, frugal, and equitable tendencies on water-saving behaviors is not found in the literature or
has been barely considered. Also, most studies are nonexperimental, to the detriment of interventional or
experimental strategies, which guarantee higher levels of internal validity (i.e., certitude of a causal relationship (p.
594) between water conservation and its determinants), thus, more experimental studies are needed.
Although the model of Figure 30.1 intends to be integrative, its contents are not necessarily theoretically driven by
a particular explanatory framework. It includes pieces of behaviorism, evolutionary psychology, social-norms
theory, and the theories of affordance and commons dilemma, which have attempted to explain why people
conserve natural resources, with varying degrees of success. Yet, few of those theories have devoted their
attention to specifically addressing why some people are conservationists in their uses of freshwater. This means
that more theorization in this area is required, and such theorization should lead to the design of research models
and implementation.
Freshwater conservation is crucial for the survival of our species and other forms of life on earth. Since
environmental psychology comprises the study of the reciprocal relation between human behavior and the sociophysical environment, this scientific area is specially committed to provide information regarding the factors that
facilitate a responsible use of freshwater. Thus, a special and continued effort in conducting nonexperimental and
interventional studies on water conservation should be manifested by environmental psychologists in the close
future. Understanding the psychological and contextual factors that underlie water conservation would
undoubtedly be helpful in guaranteeing the endurance of life as we know it on this planet.
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Vctor Corral-Verdugo
Vctor Corral-Verdugo Division de Ciencias Sociales University of Sonora at Hermosillo, Los Portales Hermosillo, Mexico
Martha Fras-Armenta
Martha Fras-Armenta, Division de Ciencias Sociales, University of Sonora at Hermosillo, Los Portales Hermosillo, Mexico
Csar O. Tapia-Fonllem
Csar O. Tapia-Fonllem, Division de Ciencias Sociales, University of Sonora at Hermosillo, Los Portales Hermosillo, Mexico
Blanca S. Fraijo-Sing
Blanca S. Fraijo-Sing Division de Ciencias Sociales University of Sonora at Hermosillo Los Portales Hermosillo, Mexico
Page 20 of 20
Collaborative Processes in Ecosystem Management

Charles D. Samuelson and Clare L. Barratt
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0031

This chapter reviews current literature on the use of collaborative processes in ecosystem management. Relevant
theoretical frameworks for understanding environmental conflict resolution (ECR) collaborative processes and
stakeholder partnership success are reviewed from political science, sociology, alternative dispute resolution
(ADR), and systems engineering. The chapter provides an overview of existing and emerging models, techniques,
and governance institutions for implementing public involvement processes (e.g., policy dialogues, collaborative
learning). Conceptual progress in developing evaluation criteria for assessment of these collaborative processes
and programs is summarized, followed by a narrative review of relevant empirical evaluation studies. The chapter
concludes with commentary on prevailing trends in the literature and promising directions for future research.
Keywords: alternative dispute resolution, ADR, collaborative processes, collaborative learning, environmental conflict resolution, ECR, ecosystem
management, public involvement, stakeholder partnerships
Introduction
The past 40 years have witnessed a quiet revolution in the way environmental policy conflicts and local disputes
are handled in the United States. New attitudes and beliefs have emerged in American society since the early
1970s about the value of public participation and collaboration in ecosystem management (Koontz & Thomas,
2006; Sabatier, Weible, & Ficker, 2005; Wondolleck & Yaffee, 2000; Yaffee et al., 1996). There has been a steady
progression in the practice of environmental dispute resolution (e.g., Bacow & Wheeler, 1984; Bingham, 1986;
Dukes, 1996; OLeary, 1995; Susskind & Ozawa, 1983), from the first documented use of mediation over
construction of a flood-control dam in the Snoqualmie River valley of Washington state (Cormick & McCarthy, 1974)
to the consensus-based environmental conflict resolution (ECR) processes used today (e.g., Beierle & Cayford,
2002; Dukes, 2004; Emerson, Nabatchi, OLeary, & Stephens, 2003; Susskind, McKearnan, & Thomas-Larmer,
1999).
DEstree, Dukes, and Navarrete-Romero (2002) introduced the history of the ECR field and existing theory and
research on downstream conflict resolution methods, such as mediation and other quasi-judicial processes
(Emerson et al., 2003). Our focus in this chapter is on recent developments in public conflict resolution (Dukes,
1996) involving the use of collaborative processes in upstream conflict situations (Emerson et al., 2003): those in
which environmental policies are discussed and debated by members of diverse stakeholder groups (e.g.,
government agencies, commercial and business interests, community citizen groups, environmental groups).1 We
believe there are promising research (p. 599) opportunities in this arena for environmental psychologists and
researchers from allied disciplines. One major goal of this review is to shine a light on where those research
problems and questions reside.
San Francisco Estuary Project
Page 1 of 35

We begin with a case example of the application of collaborative processes in a complex, upstream environmental
conflict situation. The San Francisco Estuary Project provides an excellent example of the full range of ECR
collaborative processes applied to a common problem in ecosystem management: development of a consensusbased restoration management plan for a coastal estuary (Innes, Gruber, Neumann, & Thompson, 1994; Innes &
Connick, 1999).
The San Francisco Bay/SacramentoSan Joaquin Delta Estuary is home to a unique ecosystem containing
numerous endangered species. In this estuary, saltwater from the Pacific Ocean mixes with freshwater from the
Sacramento and San Joaquin Rivers to create a vital salt gradient to support aquatic life. Although its unique
existence and balance was not fully understood, many stakeholders within the region recognized that water quality
and flows in the estuary needed protection. The San Francisco Estuary Project (SFEP), part of the larger National
Estuary Program (NEP) established in 1987 by federal Clean Water Act amendments, was designed to achieve this
objective. Its goals were to determine the state of the estuary and design a plan for restoration and management.
To do so, all stakeholders in the estuarine system needed to work together and attempt to reach consensual
agreement on a comprehensive management plan.
This was particularly challenging for the San Francisco Estuary because of the number and variety of stakeholders
involved, problem complexity, technical knowledge required, political and economic forces, and the sheer size of
the estuary region. This estuary encompasses over 1,600 square miles and is one of the largest on the West Coast
of the United States. The problem was not simply a water quality or habitat conservation issue, but also one
involving water use. Water from the estuary is diverted throughout California for urban and agricultural use.
Consequently, numerous interest groups and agencies, each responsible for different aspects of water rights
decisions and protection, had to negotiate the water quality standard and water use issues. Given the legendary
battles over water in California since the early 20th century (Reisner, 1993), the conflicts between these parties
were deep-seated and emotional. Environmentalists, municipal water users, agricultural users, and
business/development interest groups had been arguing bitterly for years, never mind working together at the
same conference table.
Due to the complexity of California water politics, Governor George Deukmejian had reservations about the
nomination of the San Francisco Estuary for the NEP in 1987. Aware of the states hesitation, the US Environmental
Protection Agency (EPA) provided support for the organization and personnel, but shared sponsorship with the
state. The NEP directed that a management conference be convened with three primary objectives: (1)
assessment of trends in the bay/delta estuary, (2) data collection and characterization of the current state of the
estuary, and (3) development of a comprehensive conservation and management plan (CCMP).
Four committees were formed by the EPA. A management committee was created, composed of federal, state,
regional, and local agencies, including other organized interest groups.2 A public advisory committee and
technical advisory committee were also created to assist the management committee in its decision-making. The
public advisory committee consisted of local citizens who wanted to be actively involved in the process so their
voices could be heard. The technical advisory committees main task was to act as the technical and scientific
authority of the project with principal responsibility for assessing the state of the estuary. Overall, approximately
120 stakeholders participated, with membership distributed across numerous committees to ensure adequate
representation.
From the beginning the SFEP process faced numerous obstacles. Due to the size and complexity of the problem,
stakeholders disagreed about the projects scope and what issues should be addressed. It took the three
committees close to a year to agree on these questions about scope and specific issues, at which time they were
assigned to subcommittees. Initially six subcommittees were established to address aquatic resources and wildlife,
land use, wetlands, pollutants, dredging, and local government. For three years the subcommittees discussed and
investigated these issues extensively, sharing their experiences, interests, and concerns. This process allowed
stakeholders to build knowledge leading to greater understanding and consensus. Once consensus was reached
on each issue, a report was written to the management committee, including an assessment of the estuarys
current state and recommended actions for the final CCMP.
(p. 600) Establishing formal consensus within the management committee required 100% agreement. However,
the facilitator used a six-finger voting rule to allow members to indicate their evaluations of a specific proposal,
3
Page 2 of 35

where fewer fingers indicated greater agreement.3 While this voting system was effective in reaching agreement, it
did allow for consensus when members of the committee did not approve but were unwilling to block the idea.
This led to some dissatisfaction, but minority reports were permitted in the final CCMP when committee members
could not support the majoritys reports and recommended actions.
Although the subcommittees eventually reached agreement, the overall consensus-building process had varying
levels of success depending on the issue being addressed. Agreements were reached on pollution, dredging, and
aquatic resources. However, the wetlands and land use subcommittees experienced significant problems with the
consensus decision rule. While the wetlands subcommittee ultimately reached agreement without the aid of a
facilitator, the land use subcommittee struggled over policy implementation and regional government issues.
Following two meetings with a facilitator, consensus was finally reached and the land use status report was written.
More important, participants in this group left more satisfied with the process and their report and recommendations
were adopted unanimously by the management committee. Beyond the subcommittee reports, however, loomed
the more pressing five-year NEP deadline for completion of the CCMP. To reach agreement on the final CCMP and
write the report by the deadline, two facilitators were hired to manage the final meetings. They helped keep the
management committee on a strict time schedule and moved the process forward, ensuring that agreement was
reached when possible. The management committee finally adopted the CCMP in 1993.
Implementation of the CCMP was beset with uncertainties. While some stakeholders did not feel they addressed how
the plan should be implemented, others questioned whether the plan could be implemented at all. Others worried it
had not gained sufficient political support. Despite such initial criticisms and doubts, the CCMP was officially
approved by Governor Pete Wilson in 1993 with several additional stipulations.4 According to Innes and Connick
(1999), the CCMP made significant changes in how stakeholders in the estuary communicate to accomplish their
goals. They continued to coordinate actions to implement the CCMPs recommended actions. An important water
quality measure (isohaline index) proved to be an enduring mark of impact. Scientists agreed upon a 2 parts-per1,000 salinity index that was later accepted by the EPA and other agencies as a valid water quality indicator.
Beyond environmental impact, the CCMP had lasting impact on learning and collaboration (Innes & Connick, 1999).
Both stakeholders and the public at large gained greater insight into others perspectives, the estuarys
importance, and the role of communication in managing conflict. The working relationships built over the five-year
project have been influential in addressing concerns beyond the SFEP. The learning that occurred during the
consensus-building process has inspired further collaboration. Several spin-off organizations (e.g., San Francisco
Estuary Partnership, Friends of the Estuary, San Francisco Estuary Institute) represent tangible evidence of the
human and social capital created by the SFEP process (Innes & Connick, 1999).
Chapter Goals and Organization

We have several objectives in this review. First, theoretical frameworks dealing with collaboration in ECR contexts
are widely scattered across academic disciplines. Thus, we aim to bring together some leading conceptual
approaches to understanding collaborative partnership formation, development, and policy/social outcomes.
Second, new collaborative methods and processes have been devised and implemented by ECR researchers and
practitioners over the past two decades. Hence, we review some important recent developments in the methods of
collaboration and public involvement for upstream ECR conflicts. Third, a major concern in the past decade has
been the question of how to evaluate success in collaborative ECR processes and programs (dEstree & Colby,
2004; Innes, 1999; OLeary & Bingham, 2003). We provide a brief overview of conceptual progress on this critical
issue and then review recent empirical studies that assess both processes and outcomes of ECR
interventions/programs. Finally, we draw several conclusions about prevailing trends in the literature and discuss
new research questions that merit further investigation.
Theoretical Approaches to Collaborative Partnership Formation and Success

Political scientists have long been interested in the emergence and dynamics of governance institutions for
managing natural resources and the (p. 601) associated policy-making processes. Sabatier, Leach, Lubell, and
Pelkey (2005) presented an excellent overview of several theoretical frameworks from political science and
sociology relevant to understanding collaborative partnership success in watershed management. Following their
Page 3 of 35

discussion, we review three theoretical approaches to the policy process that may apply to a wider range of ECR
cases in ecosystem management: (1) institutional analysis and development framework (Kiser & Ostrom, 1982;
Ostrom, 2007), (2) social capital theory (Coleman, 1988; Putnam, 2000), and (3) advocacy coalition framework
(Sabatier & Jenkins-Smith, 1988, 1999; Sabatier & Weible, 2007).
Institutional Analysis and Development Framework

Elinor Ostrom has been the guiding intellectual force behind the institutional analysis and development (IAD)
framework for analyzing the formation, maintenance, and change of governance institutions (Kiser & Ostrom, 1982;
Ostrom, 1990, 2005, 2007; Ostrom, Gardner, & Walker, 1994). The specific focus in her research program has
been the development of a theory of common-pool resources (CPRs). Specifically, she has presented substantial
empirical evidence from numerous international case studies that local communities can devise effective
institutional arrangements for preserving small-scale CPRs, such as alpine meadows, irrigation systems, fisheries,
and groundwater basins (Ostrom, 1990). The IAD framework was created to provide a common metatheoretical
language to describe and explain how governance institutions emerge to manage CPRs in local communities
(Ostrom, 2007). This framework reflects the institutional rational choice approach, emphasizing how institutional
rules shape the behavior of self-interested actors operating under bounded rationality (Sabatier, 2007; Simon,
1955). Figure 31.1 displays the key IAD variables and their interrelationships.
At the center of Figure 31.1 is the action arena, which contains a set of actors in an action situation. Ostrom
(2007) defined an action arena as the social space where actors interact, exchange goods and services, solve
problems, dominate one another, or fight (p. 28). Three classes of variables are proposed to influence action
arena structure: institutional rules-in-use that govern relationships and behaviors of actors, biophysical resource
characteristics, and community attributes. The IAD framework further analyzes action situations into the following
seven components: (1) participants, (2) specific positions, (3) permissible behaviors and resulting outcomes, (4)
possible action-outcome linkages, (5) actors control over choices, (6) information, and (7) costs and benefits (to
actors) from specific actions and outcomes.
Figure 31.1 A Framework for Institutional Analysis.

Source: Adapted from Ostrom, Gardner, and Walker (1994, p. 37)
The IAD framework predicts that actors will weigh the costs and benefits of possible future actions and choose to
collaborate with other actors to establish rules and governance institutions when long-term benefits of cooperation
exceed short-term rewards for noncooperative behavior. According to Sabatier, Leach et al. (2005), the IAD
framework predicts that collaborative partnerships are more likely to form under the following situational conditions:
(1) environmental problems are diverse and diffused geographically (e.g., nonpoint source pollution); (2)
environmental problems are severe (p. 602) (or perceived severe by most actors); (3) scientific knowledge about
environmental problems is extensive; (4) existing institutions are not taking action to deal with environmental
problems; (5) community has high existing levels of human and social capital; and (6) community consists of
stakeholders with low discount rates (i.e., preference for short-term costs in exchange for long-term benefits).
Another important theoretical insight of the IAD framework is that the emergence of governance institutions to
manage natural resources operates at multiple levels of analysis (Ostrom, 2007). The three levels of analysis are
constitutional choice, collective choice, and operational choice. Sabatier, Leach et al. (2005) suggested that
collaborative partnerships actually function at the collective choice level, while the management plans and actions
implemented by these collaborative institutions represent operational rules governing how resources are managed
in a specific watershed.
Page 4 of 35

Social Capital Theory
Sociologist James Coleman (1988) introduced the concept of social capital to the broader social science
community. Coleman (1988) argued that social action is best described and explained by viewing the actor as
socialized and action as governed by social norms, rules, and obligations. He distinguished clearly between human
capital and social capital. Human capital is created by changes in persons that bring about skills and capabilities
that make them able to act in new ways. Social capital, however, comes about through changes in the relations
among persons that facilitate action (p. S100). Three forms of social capital were identified: obligations and
expectations, information-flow capabilities of social networks, and norms accompanied by sanctions.
Coleman (1988) proposed that social capital is a resource that can be used to increase productivity of both
individuals and groups. This resource function allows the integration of social capital within the classic rational
actor framework. He also noted that social capital is a public good, which means it is vulnerable to self-interested
free-riding behavior resulting in its underproduction. Social capital is greatly enhanced, however, when there is
closure in social networks, enabling actors to sanction norm violators efficiently (Coleman, 1988).
Popular interest in social capital theory received a major boost with the publication of Robert Putnams (2000)
influential book, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. He traced the decline of civic
engagement in the United States over the last third of the 20th century to the concomitant loss of social capital in
local communities. According to Putnam (2000), social capital is composed of three interdependent components:
reciprocity norms, trust, and social networks. The touchstone of social capital is the principle of generalized
reciprocityIll do this for you now, without expecting anything immediately in return and perhaps without even
knowing you, confident that down the road you or someone else will return the favor (p. 134). His concept of thin
trust suggests that people hold expectations that others can be trusted because of this generalized reciprocity
norm in dense and varied social networks.
Putnams (2000) distinction between bonding and bridging social capital is most relevant to the potential benefits of
collaborative institutions for managing ecosystem resources. The bridging form of social capital refers to
connections between people across different groups of homogeneous composition (e.g., socioeconomic status,
ethnicity), whereas bonding social capital develops through connections between actors within such groups.
Presumably, collaborative institutions for ecosystem management should help build the bridging form of social
capital, which in turn should facilitate cooperation between stakeholders from different interest groups. Thus, social
capital theory predicts that collaborative partnerships (e.g., watershed management) should be more likely to
reach consensus-based agreements and implement project plans when relationships between stakeholders are
characterized by high trust, established reciprocity norms, and overlapping social networks (Sabatier, Leach et al.,
2005).
Advocacy Coalition Framework

The advocacy coalition framework (ACF; Sabatier & Jenkins-Smith, 1988, 1999; Sabatier & Weible, 2007) takes an
alternative approach, combining theoretical ideas from political science and social psychology. The ACF views the
policy process as a competition between different advocacy groups, experiencing conflict over goals and
technical issues, to control policy outcomes of the collaborative process. The policy process is shaped by
specialists from interest groups, agencies, legislatures, or research organizations that attempt to influence policy
within a particular policy subsystem (e.g., water quality, land use, flood control). Figure 31.2 presents an overview
of the ACF.
Page 5 of 35

Figure 31.2 2005 Diagram of the Advocacy Coalition Framework. From Sabatier & Weible (2007). Reprinted
with permission of Westview Press.
(p. 603) The ACF focus is the analysis of belief systems of different advocacy coalition members and how these
beliefs change through collaborative processes of discussion, deliberation, and negotiation (Sabatier, Leach et al.,
2005). These beliefs are categorized into three types: (1) deep core beliefs, (2) policy core beliefs, and (3)
secondary beliefs. Deep core beliefs (e.g., liberal-conservative) refer to general views of human nature, the role of
government versus markets, and the relative importance of core values, such as liberty and equality. Policy core
beliefs represent the application of deep core beliefs to issues within a specific policy subsystem. Secondary
beliefs are more limited in scope, such as the severity and causes of environmental problems in a particular
geographic area, specific rules and budgetary program constraints, or rules for public participation dictated by
state or federal legislation. The ACF presumes that both deep core and policy core beliefs are most resistant to
change, while secondary beliefs may change from policy-related learning in collaborative institutions (Sabatier,
Leach et al., 2005).
The ACF assumes that formidable barriers to cooperation exist, such as resistance of deep core and core policy
beliefs to change within advocacy coalitions due to the perceptual filtering of information that perpetuates these
beliefs (Sabatier & Weible, 2007). A devil shift is assumed to motivate actors within advocacy coalitions to view
members of opposing groups as more powerful, more evil, and less trustworthy (Sabatier, Hunter, & McLaughlin,
1987). This phenomenon is closely linked to the ingroup-outgroup bias (Brewer, 1979), documented extensively in
social psychology research on intergroup relations (e.g., Sherif et al., 1961; Tajfel & Turner, 1979).
Sabatier and Weible (2007) incorporated concepts from alternative dispute resolution (Carpenter & Kennedy,
1988) concerning conditions under which negotiated agreements are more likely to emerge. Hypotheses are
proposed by Sabatier and Weible (2007) about the facilitative effects of full representation of relevant stakeholders
at group meetings, the common experience of a hurting stalemate, neutral and skilled leadership by respected
professionals, use of consensus decision rules, development of trust among stakeholders, extended commitment of
stakeholders over time to the collaborative process, and low BATNAs (best alternative to negotiated agreement;
Fisher & Ury, 1981) for advocacy coalitions in conflict. The ACF also predicts that negotiated agreements are less
likely when high levels of policy core conflict exist across coalitions, and more likely when: (1) a collaborative
forum exists allowing for resolution of (p. 604) technical disputes over empirical issues between different coalition
experts, and (2) stakeholders give serious consideration to information received from opposing coalition members
(Sabatier, Leach et al., 2005).
Theoretical Foundations of ECR Process Implementation
ADR and Consensus Building Theory

One important theoretical foundation for the field of alternative dispute resolution (ADR) is the seminal work of
Roger Fisher and William Ury in their book, Getting to YES (1981 ). They introduced a new conceptual framework
for negotiation called principled negotiation. This perspective ushered in a new era for ADR theory in which the
notion of interest-based negotiation replaced the traditional positional bargaining view from industrial-labor
relations. Principled negotiation introduced new terminology, such as integrative solutions, bridging, singletext procedure, and BATNA. These concepts were soon adopted as core normative principles for mutual-gain
Page 6 of 35

public sector negotiations using consensus-building methods (Susskind & Cruikshank, 1987; Susskind & Ozawa,
1983; Susskind et al., 1999).
Another influential contribution to ADR theory was Howard Raiffas (1982) classic book, The Art and Science of
Negotiation. He applied the tools of formal decision theory to show how value could be created during the
negotiation process through identification of integrative solutions that maximized benefits to both parties.
Applications of the distinction between creating value versus claiming value (i.e., integrative vs. distributive
bargaining) to business negotiations in the private sector were further developed by Lax and Sebenius (1986).
These analyses extended Fisher and Urys (1981) principled negotiation framework by revealing how quantitative
decision analysis could derive similar normative principles for optimizing negotiation outcomes between parties.
Finally, thorough treatments by Carpenter and Kennedy (1988) and Gray (1989) moved ADR theory and practice
forward by consolidating existing knowledge about multiparty collaboration in public disputes. The culmination of
this scholarship was the publication of the Consensus Building Handbook by Susskind et al. (1999). This
comprehensive guidebook presented best practices in consensus-building methods to a broad audience:
essentially anyone who must solve problems in ad hoc or permanent groups. The theoretical footprints of Fisher
and Ury (1981) and Raiffa (1982) were unmistakable in the prescriptive advice about how to structure and facilitate
consensus-based agreements among multiple stakeholders. Lawrence Susskind and his colleagues have been
influential in expanding and integrating these theoretical ideas into workable procedures for mediating multi-party
public sector negotiations. Their applications of consensus-building theory and methods have addressed a wide
range of environmental and community disputes over land use, affordable urban housing, public health, and
restoration of polluted marine ecosystems (Susskind et al., 1999).
Soft Systems Methodology

There is a sizable literature in systems engineering on soft systems methodology (Checkland, 1981; Checkland &
Scoles, 1990) that has potential application to ECR collaborative processes. Soft systems methodology (SSM)
adopts a holistic view by using systems thinking concepts to analyze and manage fuzzy, ill-defined problem
situations. SSM has yet to penetrate into the mainstream ECR literature, possibly because its published applications
focused more on problem-solving within formal business and government organizations (Checkland & Scoles,
1990). However, Wilson and Morren (1990) demonstrated its relevance and value as a tool for managing
sustainability-related problems in agriculture and natural resource management (e.g., soil erosion, water resource
shortages, nonpoint source water pollution, land use planning).
Following Checkland and Scoles (1990), the primary entity for soft systems analysis is the human activity system.
They noted that a common thread in all problem situations is human beings in social roles trying to take purposeful
action (Checkland & Scoles, p. 24). A human activity system is formally defined as a set of activities so
connected as to make purposeful whole, constructed to meet the requirements of the core system image
(emergent properties, layered structure, processes of communication and control) (Checkland & Scoles, p. 26).
SSM users build conceptual models of human activity systems for comparison to the real-world problem situation.
The mnemonic CATWOE identifies the six elements of any human activity system: customers, actors,
transformations, worldviews, owners, and environmental constraints (Checkland, 1981). SSM assumes that multiple
worldviews (i.e., assumptions, values) often produce different versions of these conceptual models.
(p. 605) Wilson and Morren (1990) proposed an elaborated version of Checklands (1981) original seven-step
process of SSM inquiry. Figure 31.3 presents this problem-solving process in clockwise, circular form. In stage 1,
participants discuss their perceptions of the current situation, describing specific areas where problems exist. The
goal in stage 2 is to record these collected facts and perceptions about the situation in written form. In stages 3
and 4, participants engage in model building of alternative human activity systems using Checklands (1981)
CATWOE process. Stage 5 begins the group process of comparing these models to problem situation reality. In
stage 6, participants discuss, debate, and deliberate about possible systemically desirable and culturally
feasible improvements (Checkland, 1981) to the current situation. Finally, stage 7 involves implementation of
suggestions for improvement agreed to in stage 6. The learning cycle then repeats itself iteratively as changes are
monitored relative to desired goals.
Wilson and Morrens (1990) model of SSM inquiry serves as a design blueprint for Daniels and Walkers (2001)
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collaborative learning activities within a cyclical learning process. Two important features in Wilson and Morrens
(1990) model are the integration of Kolbs (1984) experiential learning styles (diverging, assimilating, converging,
accommodating) within each quadrant of Figure 31.3 and the labeling of the X- and Y-axes in terms of the
prehension (active experimentation [AE]reflective observation [RO]) and transformation (concrete experience
[CE]abstract conceptualization [AC]) dimensions, respectively. These two dimensions are key components of
Kolbs (1984) experiential learning-cycle model, with theoretical roots in the writings of Dewey (1910), Piaget
(1970), and Lewin (1951).5
Models of ECR Collaborative Processes and Stakeholder Partnerships

In this section, we review established ECR processes such as policy dialogues, along with several newer
approaches to structuring collaborative processes. Due to space constraints, we focus on developments in the
literature within the past 15 years. For excellent previous reviews of these ECR methods, see Bingham (1986), Gray
(1989), and Dukes (1996). This section is organized according to the duration of the collaborative process: (1)
short-term collaborative engagement processes and (2) long-term collaborative stakeholder partnerships (e.g.,
SFEP case).
Collaborative Engagement Processes

Policy Dialogues
Figure 31.3 The Process of Soft Systems Inquiry as an Application of the Learning Cycle (after Checkland,
1981, modified). From Wilson & Morren (1990). Reprinted with permission of Macmillan Publishers Ltd.
Policy dialogues originated in the mid-1970s as experiments in bringing together leaders from the business and
environmental communities (p. 606) for constructive discussion of the major issues dividing them (Bingham,
1986). According to Gray (1989), The purpose of policy dialogues is largely to open up discussion among the
parties, to identify and promote increased understanding of the issues that may be subject to debate, and to
assess the extent of the controversy that exists (p. 200). Policy dialogues are not typically designed with the goal
of reaching a consensus decision among participants. Bingham (1986) reported that of 33 policy dialogues in her
database, only 4 were focused on reaching a consensus decision, while the remaining 29 were conducted with the
objective of reaching agreement on a set of recommendations.
The policy dialogue process normally consists of the following three phases: entry, design/planning the
intervention, and intervention implementation (Ehrmann & Lesnick, 1988). During entry, an advisory committee
identifies issues for dialogue and selects participants (ranging from 12 to 50 or more) based on criteria such as
scientific credentials, political credibility, or representation of particular interest groups relevant to the policy
issues. Parties are usually asked to represent themselves, rather than their institutional affiliations, to encourage
open discussion and lessen constituency advocacy concerns. Dialogue process design includes decisions on
location, agenda and scheduling, process ground rules, and the role of third-party facilitators (Dukes, 1996).
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Early applications often did not insist that government agency officials with formal decision-making authority be
present at the dialogue table (Bingham, 1986). It was initially believed that their presence could inhibit discussion
among stakeholders from business and environmental groups. It was assumed that agencies did not need
representation because they were primarily interested in policy options that received widespread support from key
stakeholders (Dukes, 1996). However, this practice has changed in recent years because of implementation
problems from weak linkages between the policy dialogue process and formal policy-making structures (Dukes,
1996). It is advisable to have appropriate government agency decision makers involved directly in the dialogue
process from the outset (Bingham, 1986; Gray, 1989).
Policy dialogues continue to be popular in ECR today (Brogden, 2003). Wade (2004) described a recent version
called intentional, values-based dialogue used in complex public policy disputes by the Aspen Institute. The
basic assumption of this approach is that conflict should be regarded as a resource that serves as a springboard
to new ways of thinking. Its key components include values, intention (i.e., commitment to dialogue process), and
education (Wade, 2004). The Aspen Institute sponsors three categories of policy dialogues: educational,
informational, and convergent. Wade (2004) summarized the convergent form, in which the ultimate goal of the
dialogue group is to issue recommendations or guidelines.
Both sufficient time and proximity are important for the parties to develop relationships, learn each others values,
and gain mutual respect through informal interactions (Wade, 2004). Success requires the facilitator to conduct a
thorough scoping process by gathering information from potential participants, representing the conflict
assessment phase in consensus-building processes (Susskind & Thomas-Larmer, 1999). The number of meetings
varies, ranging from two or three sessions over 12 to 18 months to eight or more meetings over two to three years.
The Aspen Institute retains authority to make final decisions about participants in these policy dialogues. Invitations
state that participants represent only themselves, not their organizations (Wade, 2004).
Strict adherence to process ground rules and use of effective dialogue skills are emphasized at the outset of the
convergent dialogue process (Wade, 2004). Facilitators serve as role models for active listening and
communication skills, reinforcing these competencies as learning opportunities arise. A key activity of facilitators in
this method is to coach participants in collaborative dialogue skills (Wade, 2004). The representation dilemma is
handled delicately: all final recommendations are authored by the group, but there are no individual signatures on
final documents or minority reports. Moreover, the cardinal rule of the convergent dialogue is nonattribution,
which requires that no formal meeting minutes be kept, nothing said in meetings can be repeated, and no
substitutes or outside observers are permitted in meetings (Wade, 2004).
Analysis and Deliberation

Another framework with direct normative implications for structuring collaborative processes, analysis and
deliberation (A&D), was proposed by the National Research Council panel on risk characterization (National
Research Council, 1996). The NRC panel was motivated by serious deficiencies in the prevailing Red Book view
of risk characterization in the US government (National Research Council, 1983), which defined risk
characterization (p. 607) as a summary or translation of the results of technical analysis for the use of a
decision maker (National Research Council, 1996, p. 1). The 1996 NRC report pinpointed the crucial flaws in this
initial conceptualization:
An often overlooked danger to risk decision making is a fundamental misconception about how risk
characterization should relate to the overall process of comprehending and dealing with risk.We
envision a process in which the characterization of risk emerges from a combination of analysis and
deliberation.The aim of risk characterization, and therefore of the analytic-deliberative process on which
it is based, is to describe a potentially hazardous situation in as accurate, thorough, and decision-relevant
a manner as possible, addressing the significant concerns of interested and affected parties, and to make
this information understandable and accessible to public officials and to the parties. A risk
characterization that fails to address their questions is likely to be criticized as irrelevant or incompetent,
regardless of how carefully it addresses the questions it selects for attention. (pp. 12)
The NRC committee further highlighted the central role of risk characterization and the critical attributes of the A&D
approach:
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Risk characterization must be seen as an integral part of the entire process of risk decision making: what is
needed for successful characterization of risk must be considered at the very beginning of the process
and must to a great extent drive risk analysis. If a risk characterization is to fulfill its purpose, it must (1) be
decision driven, (2) recognize all significant concerns, (3) reflect both analysis and deliberation, with
appropriate input from the interested and affected parties, and (4) be appropriate to the decision. (p. 16)
One may perhaps question the relevance of the NRCs risk characterization focus to the collaborative processes
used in ecosystem management today. However, we agree with the NRC committees (1996 ) conclusion that these
issues are relevant whether the goal is to understand the risk of cancer to humans, noncancer health risks, or
risks to ecological, social, or political systems (p. 13). This A&D framework developed in response to the negative
experiences of risk management experts dealing with a hostile public (e.g., NIMBY [Not in My Backyard] syndrome)
on controversial issues such as radioactive waste disposal, toxic chemical exposure, and siting of hazardous
industrial facilities (Kunreuther, Fitzgerald, & Aarts, 1993; Slovic, 1993).
The NRC report was clear that use of the idealized A&D process must be based on a skilled diagnosis of the
specific risk characterization situation. The NRC panel did not advocate use of these costly and effortful public
participation procedures in all risk characterization situations. For example, many repetitive risk decisions will be
routine and standard risk characterization protocols are often sufficient (e.g., renewals of pollutant discharge
permits to industrial facilities). However, in novel, complex, or highly controversial risk situationswhich involve
questions about major potential impacts and the equity of the distribution of risks and benefitsroutines are likely
not to be satisfactory (National Research Council, 1996, p. 22). These are the types of risk characterization
situations in which an elaborated A&D process would be warranted.6
The NRC committee was deliberately mute on specific procedures to implement the recursive analytic-deliberative
process. The general process reveals that practitioners and researchers must interpolate many details to construct
workable processes for facilitating an A&D process in a particular ECR situation. Subsequent work, however, is
plugging this gap.7 For example, Webler and Tuler (1999) adapted the A&D framework as a design template for
regional watershed management planning. They described five essential steps in a watershed management
planning process that will naturally involve analysis and deliberation, such as problem formulation, process design,
selecting options, information gathering, and synthesis. The SFEP case exemplifies the type of A&D planning
process that Webler and Tuler (1999) envisioned. Problem formulation required a years worth of analysis and
deliberation among members of the management, technical advisory, and public advisory committees. Once these
specific issues were identified, each of the subcommittees engaged in analytic-deliberative processes for three
additional years.
Collaborative Learning
More recently, Daniels and Walker (2001) have proposed an innovative, integrated approach to public deliberation
in ecosystem management called collaborative learning (CL). They argued that new methods of public
participation are urgently needed to deal with the fundamental paradox of effective policy formation: finding
ways to increase the quality of technical expertise, while simultaneously increasing the inclusivity of decision
processes (p. 608) (Daniels & Walker, 1995, p. 31). This orientation to collaboration can be considered a hybrid
set of methods, combining ideas from three distinct areas of study: systems theory, learning theory, and conflict
management (Daniels & Walker, 2001).
According to Daniels and Walker (2001), CL is based on five assumptions. First, it assumes that conflict is
ubiquitous in modern life. Second, it asserts that conflict is unresolvable, but manageable (Daniels & Walker,
2001, p. 14). This is a core CL principle: the presumption that conflict is something to be resolved is replaced with
the more modest goal of managing conflict so that its destructive effects are mitigated. Third, it assumes that
wicked problems (Rittel & Webber, 1973) in formulating public policy regarding ecosystem management are
usually replete with systems complexity. Fourth, the CL orientation asserts that collaborative processes derive
much of their value from the learning opportunities provided to participants. Finally, CL assumes that the best way
to improve decisions in highly complex situations is to understand decision making as a learning process (Daniels
& Walker, 2001, p. 14).
A comprehensive CL project can be subdivided into five phases (Daniels & Walker, 2001). Figure 31.4 presents
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these phases (outer circle) in graphic form along with the nine stages of activities composing the CL process core
(inner circle). Moving clockwise around the outer circle, the five basic phases include assessment, training, design,
implementation/facilitation, and evaluation. The CL project begins with a careful situation assessment conducted
by the facilitators (Susskind & Thomas-Larmer, 1999). Participants then receive a brief training session to
familiarize them with collaboration and specific CL guidelines (e.g., communication competence in active listening
and collaborative dialogue/argument). In the third phase, facilitators develop a set of meaningful activities that are
situationally appropriate for participants in a specific CL project. The fourth stage consists of actual implementation
of the CL process design. Finally, the fifth phase involves an evaluation in which data is collected from participants
regarding their experiences with the CL process and suggestions for improvement.
Figure 31.4 Collaborative Learning Project Phases and Process Stages. From Daniels & Walker (2001).
Reprinted with permission of ABC-CLIO Praeger.
The inner circle of Figure 31.4 shows the series of activities associated with the implementation phase, usually
involving meetings, workshops, or field trips (Daniels & Walker, 2001). Stage 1 begins by introducing the CL
process to participants, moving then to stages 2 and 3 (identifying the problem situation and describing it using
system models), and then proceeds directly to stage 4 (participants engage in direct dialogue about their interests
and concerns in problem situation). In stage 5, transformative system models are used to identify possible (p. 609)
improvements to the problem situation. This stage often requires the assistance of specialists in systems analysis
working with participants in small groups. Stage 6 continues the analytical process by having participants compare
alternative system models to the reality of the current situation. Stage 7 involves thoughtful deliberation and
collaborative debate among participants about which of the suggested improvements from stages 5 and 6
represent both desirable and feasible changes to the current situation. Finally, stage 8 concludes with
implementation of the suggested improvements that participants have committed to during stage 7. The entire CL
core process is iterative, provided that sufficient time, resources, and motivation are available to continue the
project beyond the initial phase of implementation (stage 9).8
In comparison with existing ECR collaborative processes, the CL approach parts company on several key issues.
For example, Daniels and Walker (2001) did not believe the term resolution should be the primary focus of the CL
effort. Instead, they emphasized the notion of situation improvement as the principal goal of the collaborative
learning process. Another difference concerns their skepticism about the abundance assumption that underlies the
mutual gains approach to negotiation, typical of many ECR consensus-based processes (e.g., mediation). Daniels
and Walker (2001) contended that this presumption of an enlarged pie is often unjustified in many natural
resource or environmental conflict settings. Finally, they suggested that process outcomes such as positive
relationship change among stakeholders are not assured by CL, nor may such changes be required for significant
situation improvements to occur. Thus, while CL incorporates many key principles from ADR and consensusbuilding theory, it is not identical to more established ECR collaborative processes. The clear emphasis on social
learning differentiates the CL orientation from previous collaborative methods.9
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Collaborative Stakeholder Partnerships
Western Watershed Partnerships
Another important form of collaboration observed in the past two decades is the watershed partnership. Kenney,
McAllister, Caile, and Peckham (2000) defined a watershed partnership as:
a primarily self-directed and locally focused collection of parties, usually featuring both private and
intergovernmental representatives, organized to jointly address water-related issues at the watershed
level, or a similarly relevant physical scale, normally operating outside of traditional governmental
processes or forums, and typically reliant on collaborative mechanisms of group interaction characterized
by open debate, creativity in problem and solution definition, consensus decision-making, and voluntary
action. (p. 2)
Leach, Pelkey, and Sabatier (2002) analyzed western stakeholder partnerships in California and Washington state
and identified several common features. According to their inclusion criteria, a watershed partnership must: (1)
meet at least four times per year, (2) manage one or more streams, rivers, or watersheds, (3) include at least one
federal or state official, one local government representative (city, county, special district), and at least two
opposing interests, such as resource users and either a regulating agency or environmentalist (Leach et al.,
2002, p. 648). They reported that most participants in these watershed partnerships consisted of resource users,
environmentalists, or agency officials.
Another important distinguishing feature of watershed partnerships is their longer life span, often lasting three to
five years, or indefinitely. This characteristic is theoretically relevant because it affects the relative likelihood of
social capital being created through new working relationships among parties characterized by high trust,
reciprocity norms, and interconnected social networks (Coleman, 1988; Putnam, 2000). For example, Leach et al.
(2002) reported that it often takes up to 48 months for these partnerships to achieve their primary objectives in the
form of formal agreements and implementation of monitoring and restoration projects.
Coastal Estuary Partnerships

A specific type of stakeholder partnership is illustrated by the SFEP case. According to Lubell (2004), the NEP is a
collaborative institution created by the EPA to resolve conflict and facilitate cooperation between the diverse
stakeholders in a particular estuary, while at the same time making environmental policy with a watershed focus
(p. 677). The management conference involves a three- to five-year collaborative planning process that
culminates in a comprehensive conservation management plan that details specific actions to address pressing
estuary problems.
Lubell and Leach (2005) reviewed the defining characteristics of these NEP coastal estuary partnerships. Most use
consensus decision-making rules, professional neutral facilitators, and watershed (p. 610) coordinators. Lubell
and Leach (2005) noted that estuary partnerships focus on two primary issues: water quality and nonpoint source
pollution (from urban and agricultural runoff), and habitat degradation/preservation. These estuary partnerships
differ (in some cases) from the western watershed partnerships sampled in Leach et al.s (2002) study because
they may be larger in geographic scope and membership, more highly structured (due to NEP procedural
guidelines), and supported by more financial resources and staff because of EPA sponsorship. In summary, an
important characteristic of these watershed partnerships (both western and NEP estuary) is their variability in
management structure, membership, geographic scale, funding, and presence of coordinators and/or facilitators
(Clark, Burkardt, & King, 2005).
Evaluation Criteria and Research on ECR Collaborative Processes and Stakeholder Partnerships
Innes (1999) provided an influential review of the primary issues and challenges in evaluating consensus-building
processes. A novel contribution was her conceptualization of consensus-building processes as self-organizing
systems (Innes & Booher, 1999). Using theoretical concepts from complexity science (Holland, 1995; Kauffman,
1995; Waldrop, 1992), Innes (1999) identified fundamental processes and outcomes that provide a new evaluation
framework for consensus-building processes. This systems view has gained momentum in recent years, and its
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heuristic value for guiding future work of ECR researchers and practitioners is recognized.
Innes (1999) identified both process and outcome criteria that should be considered. Table 31.1 presents a
summary of these criteria. She further noted that any given consensus building process would not likely meet all
eight process criteria, but the more that can be satisfied, the more successful the collaborative process. No
consensus-building process could realistically meet all of Inness (1999) process and outcome criteria in practice
because situational constraints will affect their relative importance or feasibility. Nevertheless, the value of her
comprehensive list lies in the theoretical framework of self-organizing systems that inspired this evaluation
approach.
An important book edited by OLeary and Bingham (2003) further developed the evaluation agenda, emphasizing
the pressing need for large-scale, systematic data collection efforts in the ECR field. Bingham, Fairman, Fiorino, and
OLeary (2003) were optimistic about Inness (1999) proposal to apply theory from complexity science to improve
our understanding of ECR processes that extend over time. They concluded, Much work remains to be done at
the systemic level. Until such systems research is available, we cannot adequately understand the dynamics of
protracted environmental conflicts as complex systems (Bingham et al., 2003, p. 340). This was a prescient
conclusion, given the state of the field in 2003 when complexity science theory was just beginning to permeate the
ADR and conflict management literature. Indeed, significant conceptual and methodological progress on this issue
is occurring in the conflict management field (e.g., Coleman, Vallacher, Nowak, & Bui-Wrzosinska, 2007; Nowak et
al., 2010; Vallacher, Coleman, Nowak, & Bui-Wrzosinska, 2010).
A number of contributors to the OLeary and Bingham (2003) volume made important observations related to
evaluating success in ECR processes. For example, Coglianese (2003) warned strongly against the common
practice of relying exclusively on satisfaction measures collected only from participants. Beierle and Cayford
(2003) examined ECR success in terms of the social goals to be accomplished with public participation (Beierle,
1999). They highlighted the trade-off that often occurs between achieving specific social goals (e.g., educating the
public, including public values in decisions, resolving conflict) for a relatively small group of unrepresentative
participants in a consensus-building process versus accomplishing these goals for a larger, more diverse group of
stakeholders. On a positive note, Rowe (2003) concluded that while there are unique challenges in evaluating ECR
programs, they are not insurmountable. He suggested that additional resources for applied research to collect
missing cost/benefit information would permit more rigorous ECR program evaluation.
DEstree and Colby (2004) proposed a comprehensive evaluation framework that consists of 28 criteria, classified
into six basic categories: (1) outcome reached, (2) process quality, (3) outcome quality, (4) relationship of parties
to outcome, (5) relationship quality, and (6) social capital. They applied and assessed this evaluation framework
using four case studies on water management conflicts in the western United States. DEstree and Colbys (2004)
evaluation framework is a major step forward by synthesizing the existing literature into a concrete and practical
approach to evaluation for both ECR practitioners and researchers. (p. 611)
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Table 31.1 Overview of ECR Process and Outcome Criteria

Process
Full representation of all relevant and interested stakeholders
Guided by practical and shared purpose
Self-organizing (i.e., participants own and direct process)
Obeys rules of civil discourse
Accurate, current information established by joint fact-finding
Participants free to question assumptions & propose innovative ideas
Participants remain engaged in active learning process
Consensus sought only after full discussion of relevant issues & interests
Outcome
Produces high-quality agreement (i.e., meets basic interests of all parties)
Ends stalemate between parties
Generates feasible and practical proposals that solve problem(s)
Fosters innovative ideas to resolve problems & promote learning
Enhances knowledge and understanding of issues and others views
Creates new informal & working relationships (social-political capital)
Produces new information & conclusions that stakeholders endorse
Shares learning & knowledge with others in community/organization
Triggers second-order effects beyond formal agreements (e.g., changes in attitudes, norms, behaviors;
new collaborative partnerships)
Results in flexible and networked practices/institutions that permit rapid adaptation to change in ecological
& social environment
Produces outcomes viewed as just by stakeholders and society at large
Yields outcomes that serve common good or public interest
Generates outcomes that promote sustainability of social & natural systems
Note: Adapted from Innes, 1999, pp. 647654.
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More recently, Orr, Emerson, and Keyes (2008) proposed an ECR evaluation framework resulting from a multi-year
collaboration among the US Institute for Environmental Conflict Resolution, the Policy Consensus Initiative, and a
coalition of federal and state agencies.10 Orr et al. (2008) bounded the ECR domain by three conditions: (1) deals
with environmental, natural resource, or public land issues and conflicts (including energy, transportation, landuse), (2) independent, third-party facilitator or mediator involved, and (3) process intention of reaching
agreement (p. 287). Figure 31.5 shows the four basic components of the framework (i.e., desired process
conditions, expected process dynamics, outcomes, impacts) and their hypothesized relationships.

Figure 31.5 The Conceptual Design of the ECR Evaluation Framework. From Orr, Emerson, & Keyes (2008).
Reprinted with permission of Conflict Resolution Quarterly.
Of particular interest is Orr et al.s (2008) specification of outcomes and impacts, judged from the dual perspectives
of independent accomplishments and relative merits (p. 288). Independent accomplishments refer to what
actually happens within the group after ECR processes are used (e.g., agreements reached, process satisfaction
of stakeholders, better working relationships). Relative merits refer (p. 612) to comparing these outcomes to
what might have occurred if other decision processes had been used (e.g., unilateral agency or court decisions).
Finally, Orr et al. (2008) identified three themes that capture ECR impacts: (1) the conflict landscape, (2)
environmental management, and (3) physical setting. The process and outcome-impact criteria in the Orr et al.
(2008) framework are consistent with those proposed by Innes (1999) and dEstree and Colby (2004). Thus, a
consensus among scholars and practitioners is emerging on the fundamental criteria to guide future ECR
evaluation research.
Empirical Studies of Watershed Partnership Processes and Outcomes

In this section, we review empirical findings related to ECR collaborative processes and outcomes. This literature is
diverse in terms of research objectives and methods, including meta-analyses, qualitative interviews, archival
records, survey research, and quasi-experimental designs. Our primary focus is on research studies conducted
within the past decade. We begin with empirical studies testing hypotheses concerning the formation, processes,
and success of stakeholder partnerships.
Watershed Partnership Project

Leach and Pelkey (2001) conducted a meta-analysis of 37 studies of factors leading to success (or failure) of
watershed partnerships in the United States, Canada, and Australia. They identified 210 prescriptive conclusions in
these reports and then categorized them into 28 distinct themes. The most frequently mentioned factors affecting
success were sufficient funding and good leadership; next most frequent were mutual trust and commitment among
participants. Subsequent factor analysis uncovered four factors explaining the variance in these 28 themes: (1)
resources and geographic scope (e.g., time, funding, agency/legislative support); (2) flexibility and informality (i.e.,
operating rules and management); (3) ADR-related factors (e.g., competent leadership/facilitation, inclusive
membership criteria, consensus decision-making); and (4) IAD-related factors (e.g., monitoring, grassroots
leadership, accurate technical information). Overall, 33% of the variance was explained by ADR-related variables,
compared to 17% for IAD-related factors. The resources/scope (24%) and flexibility/informality (21%) factors
explained the remaining variance. Leach and Pelkey (2001) concluded that watershed partnerships should
consider allocating their resources toward (1) securing the services of an effective facilitator (and/or coordinator),
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and (2) activities that build interpersonal trust among partnership members.
Prior to 2000, few studies evaluated the success of the growing number of watershed partnerships formed during
the 1990s (Kenney et al., 2000). (p. 613) Fortunately, this gap has been addressed by the Watershed Partnership
Project (WPP), conducted by Paul Sabatier, William Leach, and colleagues. Leach et al. (2002) reported the first
comparative evaluation study using a random sample of 44 watershed partnerships in California and Washington.
They compared the partnerships on six measures of success: (1) level of agreement reached, (2) restoration
projects, (3) perceived effects on watershed conditions, (4) perceived effects on human-social capital, (5)
monitoring projects, and (6) education/outreach projects. The data were analyzed as a function of partnership age.
Multiple data sources included personal interviews with three to six key stakeholders (including facilitators and
coordinators), mail surveys of partnership members, and archival documents.
How effective were these watershed partnerships? Leach et al. (2002) found that partnership age had consistent
effects on five success criteria. Not surprisingly, older partnerships (> 6 years) had significantly higher perceived
effects on watershed conditions than younger partnerships (under 2 years, 24 years).11 A similar age effect was
observed for stakeholder perceptions of human-social capital: stakeholders from older partnerships perceived
significantly more new human-social capital created than stakeholders from younger partnerships. Overall,
stakeholders perceived that the partnerships had the greatest impact on the most important problems in the
watershed.12
Leach et al. (2002) also reported that partnership age had significant effects on the level of agreements reached
and the number/extent of restoration/monitoring projects implemented. For example, they found that in partnerships
greater than five years old, 100% reached agreements, 54% agreed on a comprehensive management plan, 90%
implemented at least one restoration project, and 64% conducted some monitoring activities. In contrast, among
partnerships under two years, only 33% reached limited agreements, none reached consensus on a
comprehensive management plan, 11% implemented any type of restoration project, and none initiated monitoring
projects. Education and outreach efforts were equally common in younger and older partnerships. Overall, Leach
et al. (2002) concluded that positive outcomes from watershed partnerships take four years or more and their
success should not be judged prematurely by public officials and funding agencies.
A subsequent study by Leach and Sabatier (2003) analyzed the roles of facilitators and coordinators in partnership
success in a random sample of 50 watershed partnerships. It is virtually axiomatic in the ECR field that facilitators
must be neutral and trained professionals to assure success in collaborative consensus-building processes (Elliott,
1999). Leach and Sabatier (2003), however, presented empirical results that question these assumptions.
Specifically, they investigated whether specific facilitator and/or coordinator characteristics (i.e., neutrality,
professional training, paid/volunteer status, effectiveness) could account for partnership outcomes.
Leach and Sabatier (2003) found that facilitator traits were significantly linked to the level of agreement measure,
and coordinator traits were significant predictors of perceived impacts on human-social capital. As expected,
regression analyses showed that neutral facilitators were associated with higher levels of agreement. However,
being a professionally trained and paid facilitator was a bad combination: the effects on agreement level were
actually negative, implying that unpaid and nontrained facilitators had positive effects on this success measure.
Moreover, the level of agreement reached was higher for facilitators who were judged to be less effective by the
small group of stakeholders interviewed. These latter findings were inconsistent with hypotheses.13
Several theoretical frameworks (i.e., social capital, ACF, IAD) suggest that trust and social capital are important
determinants of success in collaborative institutions. What empirical evidence supports this claim? Leach and
Sabatier (2005) tackled this question in a study of 76 watershed partnerships from their WPP database. They also
tested whether trust (and social-human capital) and success operate in reciprocal causal paths or as one-way
linear relationships. Leach and Sabatier (2005) found that interpersonal trust interacted with partnership age such
that trust had a positive effect on agreements reached in older partnerships (> 3 years). However, this relationship
was negative in younger partnerships (< 3 years).14 Social-human capital also predicted agreements in regression
analyses. Neither trust nor social-human capital was related to restoration project activity. Both trust and socialhuman capital, however, were significant predictors of perceived effects on the watershed. Comparison of results
from the regression models revealed no support for the hypothesized recursive relationships between trust and
success criteria, or between social-human capital and success. Leach and Sabatier (2005) concluded that the
Page 16 of 35

results were (p. 614) more consistent with one-way causal models in which trust (and social-human capital)
influences agreements, which in turn affects restoration project activity, and ultimately, watershed ecological
conditions.
National Estuary Program Coastal Partnerships

A relevant question is whether the findings of Leach and Sabatier (2005) on western watershed partnerships
generalize to other types of stakeholder partnerships. Lubell (2004, 2005) and his colleagues (Schneider et al.,
2003) conducted a series of studies that evaluated the effects of the NEP on watershed partnership processes and
success. In these quasi-experimental studies, the NEP is treated as the treatment variable and these partnerships
are directly compared to similar matched US estuaries without the NEP designation.15
Schneider et al. (2003) performed a social network analysis to test whether NEP partnerships showed greater
evidence of new social capital compared to non-NEP estuaries. They found that social networks were dramatically
different in these two institutional structures. Specifically, Schneider et al. (2003) reported that NEP social networks
were characterized by (1) higher frequencies of interaction including more people and organizations, (2) bridging
of multiple levels of government/interests, (3) more vertical boundary-spanning clans, (4) more technical experts
included in policy discussions, and (5) stronger interpersonal ties between stakeholders. Moreover, these NEP
networks were linked directly to beliefs and attitudes (e.g., trust, fairness, conflict resolution) that build a foundation
for cooperation.
Lubell (2004) addressed the question of whether NEP partnerships are better at resolving conflict and promoting
cooperation, relative to non-NEP estuaries. He conducted semi-structured interviews with informants from 12 NEP
partnerships and 10 non-NEP watersheds. NEP effects were assessed using specific conflicts and restoration
projects. Lubell (2004) identified 112 major conflicts and 102 estuary restoration projects. For each conflict and
project, indices of conflict resolution (i.e., similar to level of agreement reached) and project cooperation (i.e.,
number of cooperative activities) were developed. Similarly, measures of specific action arena characteristics
(Ostrom, 2007) were also generated, such as geographic and issue scope. Lubell (2004) found that NEP
partnerships were associated with increases of 17% in conflict resolution and 15% in project cooperation.
Additionally, conflict resolution was less successful for conflicts with broader geographic scope. This moderator
had no impact on project cooperation.
Finally, a large-sample survey study by Lubell (2005) investigated the effects of NEP partnerships on collective
action beliefs and their implications for cooperation in collaborative institutions. His theoretical argument, guided
by the ACF and transaction cost economics, was that collaborative institutions will be more successful, compared
to traditional command-and-control regulation, if they increase the benefits and reduce the transaction costs of
cooperation for stakeholders. The collective action beliefs examined were (1) nature of watershed problems (i.e.,
problem severity/diffusion, scientific uncertainty) and (2) institutional performance (i.e., trust, fairness, conflict
resolution).
Lubell (2005) reported results from regression analyses that the NEP partnership variable had significant effects on
six collective action beliefs. Specifically, beliefs about problem diffusion and scientific uncertainty among NEP
stakeholders increased by 5% and 9%, respectively. The results showed that the NEP was associated with
increases of 6% for trust (in other stakeholders) and 12% for perceived fairness. Moreover, NEP effects were
negative and largest for beliefs concerning economic interest domination (-15%) and whether conflicts needed to
be moved outside the partnership (-15%). NEP effects on trust, fairness, and economic interest domination were
also moderated by stakeholders deep core beliefs of environmentalism and conservatism. Overall, Lubell (2005)
noted that NEP effects were stronger for beliefs about institutional performance compared to beliefs about
watershed problems.
Assessment Studies of ECR Processes and Dispute Resolution Programs

Multiagency ECR Evaluation Study
Emerson, Orr, Keyes, and McKnight (2009) recently published the first large-sample, comparative analysis of ECR
cases to test Orr et al.s (2008) evaluation framework. The Multiagency ECR Evaluation Study (MAES) used 52
cases involving the use of ECR in state and federal agencies from 2005 to 2007. Three outcomes variables were
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assessed: (1) agreement reached, (2) agreement quality (including durability), and (3) quality of working
relationships. The five explanatory variables were: (1) ECR is appropriate to situation, (2) appropriate participants
are at the table and engaged, (3) parties have capacity to engage (e.g., time, skills, resources), (4) (p. 615)
mediator possesses required skills and employs best practices, and (5) relevant, high-quality, trusted information
is used (Emerson et al., 2009, p. 31). The degree to which participants are engaged effectively is treated as both
an explanatory factor and an intervening process-related variable (see Figure 31.5). Self-report questionnaire
scales were carefully constructed to measure all explanatory, process, and outcome variables, and were
completed by the participants and mediators (or facilitators). Explanatory variables were measured using both
factual data from case sponsors and survey responses of participants and mediators.
Emerson et al. (2009) used multilevel modeling (MLM) procedures (Kreft & De Leeuw, 1998; Singer, 1998) to test
the hypothesized relationships between explanatory factors and ECR outcomes. Data from survey respondents
were specified as the individual-level model and cases as the group-level model in the MLM analyses. Emerson et
al. (2009) reported that agreements (including full and partial) were reached in 82% of the cases. Both participants
and mediators rated these agreements to be of good quality (e.g., participant understanding of terms, primary
issues addressed, key interests of parties met, feasible implementation). Moreover, working relationships (indexed
by before and after measures of trust and ability to work together cooperatively) improved significantly, according
to both participants and mediators.
In general, the MLM results provided statistical support for the basic relationships proposed by the Orr et al. (2008)
evaluation framework. The explanatory variables (desired process conditions) in Figure 31.5 showed the
predicted effects on the three ECR outcome variables (end-of-process outcomes). Furthermore, these
explanatory factors exerted their hypothesized effects indirectly through effective engagement (expected
process dynamics) in Figure 31.5, and also via direct paths to the three outcome variables.
Policy Dialogues
Bingham (1986) conducted the first systematic evaluation of policy dialogues, focusing on two primary criteria:
agreement rate and agreement implementation. She reported that the agreement rate in policy dialogue cases (N =
33) was 76%, a figure almost identical to the overall 78% rate for site-specific disputes, and reasonably close to
the 82% rate reported recently by Emerson et al. (2009). Bingham (1986) further divided the 33 policy dialogue
cases in terms of whether the parties had authority to either make decisions (N = 4) or issue recommendations (N
= 29). Agreement rate was 100% in the decision cases and 72% in the recommendations cases. Thus, the
likelihood of reaching agreement in policy dialogues is similar to that of more traditional third-party mediated ECR
cases, which increases further when the parties have formal authority to make decisions.
However, the performance of policy dialogues on implementation of agreements is another matter. Bingham (1986)
found that 41% achieved full implementation of agreements, 18% had partial implementation, and 41% did not
implement the agreements. When cases involving making decisions are omitted from the analysis, Bingham (1986)
reported that half of these agreements were fully implemented and half were not. Thus, Binghams (1986) data
suggest that the best estimate of implementation likelihood in a typical policy dialogue is basically a coin flip.
Are there techniques to increase the odds of successful implementation in policy dialogues? Brogden (2003)
described a new approach that involves incorporating implementation criteria into agreements concerning
monitoring and assessment activities. For example, she headed a facilitation team for the SCA National Policy
Dialogue, consisting of a series of eight workshops across the United States to discuss how state conservation
agreements (SCAs) could be used proactively to manage endangered species conservation efforts at the state
government level. Brogden (2003) summarized the outcomes from these stakeholder workshops in a checklist that
may be useful in the evaluation of upstream ECR cases. Workshop recommendations strongly advocated the use
of adaptive management principles (Holling, 1978; Lee, 1993) in evaluating SCA effects. Brogden (2003) argued
that systematic checklist use by third-party practitioners may increase the odds of invaluable data being collected
about on-the-ground environmental outcomes, criteria that have proven elusive in ECR program evaluation
studies to date (Emerson et al., 2009; Leach et al., 2002).
How are outcomes evaluated in more recent applications of policy dialogues? Wade (2004) reported that six of
seven convergent dialogues that she facilitated at the Aspen Institute reached agreement on recommendations
and/or guidelines. Qualitatively, Wade (2004) noted that participants were most satisfied with working productively
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with people of different values/opinions and having the opportunity to develop personal communication (p. 616)
skills through the dialogue process. Negative aspects included the patience to accept the pacing of the dialogue
process and working with others with considerable variability in communication skills. Wade (2004) also identified
group size as a limiting factor in policy dialogues: too many parties can compromise effectiveness.
Empirical Studies Related to Analysis and Deliberation Framework

Our literature search revealed that evaluation studies of the A&D framework are sparse. Research conducted
since the 1996 NRC report examines how stakeholders perceive and evaluate various models for combining public
participation with science-based deliberation and seeks to provide conceptual guidance to public agency
managers about when to use A&D processes.
Weible, Sabatier, and Lubell (2004) used the ACF to investigate stakeholder preferences for different approaches
to involving scientists in public deliberation processes. This framework predicts that stakeholder preferences
should be influenced by deep core beliefs. Weible et al. (2004) compared two public involvement processes used
by the California Department of Fish and Game (CDFG) to implement the 1999 Marine Life Protection Act, which
mandated creation of Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) along the coast. The CDFG began this process using a topdown approach led by scientists with public involvement occurring after implementation plans were developed. The
CDFG faced outraged citizens at public meetings who vehemently protested the plans for locating MPAs.
Subsequently, the CDFG initiated another attempt to implement the Marine Life Protection Act using an A&D process
with multiple teams of scientists and stakeholders working to generate recommendations for implementation.
Weible et al. (2004) measured deep core beliefs and related policy core beliefs to test the hierarchical structure of
the ACF. Scales assessing these preexisting beliefs included: (1) Pro-Scientific Management versus ProCollaboration, and (2) Pro-MPA Empirical versus Pro-Local Knowledge. Secondary beliefs were measured regarding
stakeholders relative optimism for the following possible MPA effects: protecting major marine habitats, avoiding
negative fishing effects, and preventing unfair agency control. Consistent with the ACF, Weible et al. (2004) found
that deep core beliefs had significant impact on the secondary beliefs indirectly through policy core beliefs.
Scientists, environmentalists, and state government officials were generally pessimistic regarding the A&D
collaborative process, while commercial/recreational fishing interests and local government officials were more
optimistic. Weible et al. (2004) concluded that the NRC assumption that A&D processes will be preferable for all
stakeholders may be flawed because deep core beliefs about the role of science in ecosystem management
constrain stakeholder preferences.
In a subsequent study, Webler and Tuler (2006) found substantial differences across stakeholder groups in
perceived ideal processes for public deliberation. Webler and Tuler (2006) used Q-sort methodology to gather
perceptions of stakeholders from a diverse set of cases dealing with issues such as river/watershed management,
forest management, national park management, and cleanup of contaminated sewage sludge. Each participant
sorted 56 issue of interest statements (i.e., responses to what are important elements of public participation in
environmental assessment/decision-making?) into three piles based on their relative importance to the design of a
public participation process. Participants were then asked to arrange these statements to conform to a normal
distribution. These Q-sorts were then factor analyzed to determine their underlying dimensions (see also
Danielson, Webler, & Tuler, 2010, for applications of Q method to formative evaluation studies).
Webler and Tuler (2006) obtained four distinct factors corresponding to different perspectives on appropriate
public participation processes: (1) science-centered stakeholder consultation (task-focused, action-oriented
leadership, informed scientific analysis), (2) egalitarian deliberation (participants mitigate agency control, open
information access, active public deliberation), (3) efficient cooperation (give feedback and comment for final
agency decision in public interest), and (4) informed collaboration (goal-oriented process to create legitimacy for
agency decisions, build trust between agency and community). Webler and Tuler (2006) observed relatively low
levels of agreement and substantial divergence of opinion across participants. We find it revealing that none of
these stakeholder perspectives fully captures the iterative synthesis of scientific analysis and public deliberation in
the A&D framework.
We noted that trust is a significant predictor of success (i.e., agreements) in watershed partnerships (Leach &
Sabatier, 2005). Does trust also affect stakeholder preferences for different forms of public involvement? Focht and
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Trachtenberg (2005) investigated this question by interviewing 150 stakeholders in the Illinois River basin of
eastern Oklahoma. Their conceptual model of stakeholder preferences for public involvement processes assumed
these judgments are influenced by two distinct forms of trust. Social trust is defined as stakeholders tendency to
accept the judgments of other stakeholders in the policy process; official trust denotes stakeholders willingness
to defer to policy officials policy judgments (Focht & Trachtenberg, 2005, pp. 9495). Each trust dimension has
two levels (trust vs. distrust), resulting in four possible strategies for public participation: confirmation, consultation,
facilitation, and negotiation. Focht and Trachtenberg (2005) predicted that the confirmation strategy (i.e., policy
officials lead in policy development, then seek stakeholder feedback later) should be preferred more often when
both social and official trust are high. When social and official trust are low, the framework predicts that
stakeholders will prefer the negotiation strategy (i.e., policy officials engage in joint negotiation with
stakeholders).16
Focht and Trachtenberg (2005) tested these hypotheses by asking their stakeholders which of the four
participation strategies were most preferred. Participants were then classified into four categories based on their
trust judgments. Results revealed that 86% of participants with low social and official trust scores chose negotiation
as most preferred, while 62.5% of participants scoring high on both social and official trust chose the confirmation
strategy. Focht and Trachtenberg (2005) interpreted these empirical results as support for their trust-based
conceptual framework.17
Evaluation Studies of Collaborative Learning Processes and Outcomes

Our literature search located three published articles and technical reports that presented empirical evaluation
results for collaborative learning (CL) projects. We begin with two CL projects involving public lands management in
forest and coastal areas of Washington state and Oregon (Blatner, Carroll, Daniels, & Walker, 2001; Daniels,
Walker, Carroll, & Blatner, 1996; Daniels & Walker, 1996). We then summarize evaluation results from a CL
application on urban watershed restoration in San Antonio, Texas (Samuelson, Matlock et al., 2003).
According to Daniels and Walker (2001), the most comprehensive application of CL was performed in the context
of fire recovery planning in the Wenatchee National Forest (WNF) (Daniels, Walker, Carroll, & Blatner, 1996). They
conducted the Fire Recovery Collaborative Learning project to meet NEPA public involvement requirements for the
US Forest Service fire recovery planning process. The impetus was the devastating forest fires, generated by a
lightning storm during July and August 1994. Daniels et al. (1996) facilitated four full-day, citizen workshops in the
communities of Leavenworth, Entiat, and Seattle. In advance of these meetings, they conducted a two-day CL
training course with 25 WNF staff members, who would later be active participants in public meetings with citizens.
The primary goal of the workshop meetings was to involve the public to develop ideas on how fire recovery in the
WNF should proceed, using available scientific expertise.
The evaluation data consisted of citizen responses to surveys collected pre- and post-workshop. Four questions
(on Forest Service decision-making processes in fire recovery planning) were administered twice, allowing
assessment of change from the CL workshop process. Blatner et al. (2001) analyzed these survey data for the
Leavenworth and Seattle workshops and concluded there was some evidence of positive change in citizen
perceptions of the Forest Service for expected quality of decisions and likelihood of implementation (Leavenworth
only).18
Another set of survey questions that evaluated the CL process were administered at the conclusion of the
workshops (i.e., post-test only design).19 Blatner et al. (2001) interpreted the general patterns in mean scores as
supportive of CL process effectiveness on most dimensions. Specifically, respondents provided the highest ratings
(4.0 to 4.5 on 5-point Likert disagree/agree scales) for the following statements characterizing the CL workshop:
provided parties with opportunity to generate ideas regarding communitys effort, allowed every partys
interests to be considered, and involved public in ways different from other meetings (Blatner et al., 2001, pp.
260261). Participants also expressed general agreement with the following descriptive statements about the
workshops: constructive communication occurred, included opportunities for participants to argue
constructively about issues, concerns, and recommendations, promoted development of coordinated
improvements to communitys situation, and views and concerns of other parties are as important as yours or
those of the group you represent. Survey respondents had mixed feelings (near scale midpoint) that workshop
participants [were] from all affected parties and communities of interest, key Forest Service decisions pertaining
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to (p. 618) fire restoration efforts on the WNF will actually be implemented, and workshop lead to development
of ongoing, organized approach to coordinate progress on local matters.
Blatner et al. (2001) also reported results on survey questions dealing with specific aspects of the CL workshop
experience. Participants reported that the following factors were very important to the effectiveness of the
community-level workshop: CL process used in workshop, use of outside facilitators, and willingness of Forest
Service and other agency employees to participate in workshop. They also agreed that the CL workshop helped
parties understand various aspects and perspectives regarding community specific issues. However, the ratings
on whether parties understand each others views and concerns (technical issues) were less positive. In
summary, Blatner et al. (2001) concluded that the CL workshops achieved the primary goals of the WNFs public
involvement process. Moreover, several ideas generated during CL workshops were incorporated in the final WNF
fire recovery plan.20
A second application of CL was conducted in the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area (ODNRA; Daniels &
Walker, 1996). This project was initiated by Siuslaw National Forest leadership to supplement its standard methods
of public involvement to revise the ODNRA management plan. Daniels and Walker designed and implemented this
project in three stages, which involved five full-day, public workshops in July 1993. Daniels and Walker (1996)
reported that the primary goal was to create opportunities for citizens to communicate about their concerns,
interests, issues, and ideas for improvements to ODNRA management. The entire sequence of CL activities (see
Figure 31.4) was implemented, beginning with CL training, moving to building a common knowledge base and
identifying concerns/interests, to developing suggestions for improvement and debating their desirability and
feasibility.
The evaluation of the CL approach in the ODNRA planning process consisted of a post-workshop survey, similar to
the Wenatchee fire recovery project.21 Overall, participants were most positive about the CL workshops on the
following characteristics: opportunities to generate ideas about the ODNRA, open and accessible to all
interested people, and included participants from all affected parties and interests. There was general
agreement that the CL workshops encouraged open discussion and evaluation of ideas, allowed every partys
ODNRA interests to be considered, helped parties understand aspects of and perspectives on ODNRA issues,
and involved the public in ways different than other public meetings (Daniels & Walker, 1996, p. 93).22
There were several significant outcomes from the ODNRA workshop process in terms of implementation. For
example, the final Record of Decision issued by the Forest Service for ODNRA management plan revisions included
more extensive efforts to stop the spread of beachgrass, which was rapidly encroaching on open sand areas. This
was a specific issue where strong consensus emerged among CL workshop participants. Modifications were also
made to the draft Environmental Impact Statement about night riding of off-road vehicles and access to more
isolated areas. In summary, the results from post-workshop surveys and actual implementation of improvement
suggestions provided solid evidence for CL program effectiveness.
Finally, the third CL evaluation study was an EPA-funded research project to investigate a new method for
rehabilitation of urban watersheds in the city of San Antonio, Texas (Samuelson, Matlock, et al., 2003; Samuelson
et al., 2005). Specifically, this research tested a method for restoring the ecological integrity of urban watersheds
that combined knowledge from ecology, engineering, and social sciences. Stakeholders in the Salado and Leon
Creek watersheds of San Antonio were recruited to participate in two restoration planning councils. CL was used to
structure the public participation process over a series of 12 monthly half-day workshop meetings. The objective of
these meetings was to solicit stakeholder feedback to guide risk-based research conducted by the ecological
science team (i.e., biological/agricultural engineering, hydrology, aquatic ecology). Two integrated bio-indicators,
periphyton and bluegill sunfish, were used to evaluate and communicate risk to the stakeholder groups. The CL
approach represented an iterative A&D process to facilitate communication and mutual learning between citizens
and scientists. Another goal of each restoration council was to develop a set of recommendations for improving
management of watershed issues such as water quality, in-stream flows, riparian vegetative cover, and flood
control.
The effectiveness of the CL process was evaluated using pre-test and post-test surveys of council members, along
with unstructured personal interviews of participants following project completion. Samuelson, Matlock, et al. (2003)
predicted that the CL process should: (1) increase participants general understanding of non-point source
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pollution issues in these watersheds; (2) increase (p. 619) participants understanding of and ability to use
scientific information about total maximum daily load and rehabilitation options; (3) increase participants
understanding of and ability to use systems thinking in ecosystem management; and (4) increase communication
competence of council members. Statistical analyses of the survey data from the Salado Creek Council showed
positive changes for several learning/knowledge outcomes (Samuelson, Matlock, et al., 2003). Participants ratings
of their familiarity and skills in using system thinking principles and knowledge/use of scientific information (e.g.,
total maximum daily loads) in water quality management increased from pre-test to post-test. Limited support was
found for the hypothesis regarding participant knowledge and understanding of non-point source pollution issues.
Survey ratings of communication competence did not support the original hypothesis: there was significant change
over time, but in the opposite direction from expectations.23 Overall, while there were no systematic changes in
trust between stakeholders over time, a modest decline in relationship quality was observed.
In comparison to the quantitative survey results, qualitative data from personal interviews suggested a more
positive conclusion about CL program effectiveness (Samuelson, Matlock, et al., 2003). Comments of council
members in post-workshop interviews reinforced survey indicators that significant learning occurred for non-point
source pollution, ecological principles/dynamics, and rehabilitation options. Moreover, interview data suggested
that some council members felt their communications skills improved, new relationships with other council members
formed, and a stronger sense of group identity emerged over the year-long CL process (Samuelson, Peterson, &
Putnam, 2003). Agency representatives (i.e., San Antonio River Authority, San Antonio Water System) were
positively impressed with the quality of CL meetings. There was evidence from interviews that the CL approach was
being used as a model for other watershed collaborative groups in San Antonio. In summary, these qualitative
results provided complementary support for the original hypotheses (Samuelson, Matlock, et al., 2003).
Conclusion
This review has provided a broad overview of current theory and research on collaborative processes in
ecosystem management. In this concluding section, we discuss several emerging trends in this literature. These
observations reflect four themes: (1) recent focus on evaluation of success in ECR programs and processes within
past decade; (2) absence of control groups or pre-ECR baseline data in most empirical studies; (3) lack of
theoretical integration across ECR research studies; and (4) ambivalent attitudes among public agency managers
and practitioners toward current ECR evaluation agenda.
First, the recent focus on evaluation criteria and assessment of ECR processes and outcomes within the past
decade is a significant development. Compared to the rather dismal state of empirical affairs chronicled in
OLearys (1995) early review, the ECR field has taken major forward strides toward maturity as an established area
for social science research. We noted above the influential contributions of Innes (1999), OLeary and Binghams
(2003) edited volume, dEstree and Colby (2004), Orr et al. (2008), and Emerson et al. (2009). Moreover, a number
of comparative large-sample studies on watershed and estuary partnerships by Sabatier, Leach, Lubell, and their
colleagues have advanced the sophistication of research on collaborative institutions on both theoretical and
methodological fronts. The prevailing lament (Emerson et al., 2003; Sabatier, Focht et al., 2005) about the onedimensional state of the existing ECR research database (i.e., qualitative case studies) is missing its mark in 2012.
Second, despite this positive assessment on the evaluation front, we noted the conspicuous absence of control
groups or pre-ECR baseline measures in the research designs of most empirical ECR studies reviewed here (see
also Bingham et al., 2003; Lubell et al., 2005). This fact was not a surprise given the dominance of qualitative case
study methodology in the early years of ECR research. However, this weakness in research design is more
problematic now because more is expected from the ECR field in terms of demonstrating its value to society. The
only studies we encountered that employed any form of control groups were the quasi-experimental designs of
Lubell (2004, 2005) that compared NEP partnerships and non-NEP estuaries. Statistical methods of control using
multivariate regression analyses were used effectively in the watershed partnership studies of Leach et al. (2002),
Leach and Sabatier (2003), and Leach and Sabatier (2005). We also observed the use of basic pre-test/post-test
quasi-experimental designs in two empirical studies evaluating CL program effectiveness (Blatner et al., 2001;
Samuelson, Matlock, et al., 2003). However, we failed to locate any evaluation studies of either policy dialogues or
A&D processes that collected baseline belief or attitude measures in addition to post-intervention participant
responses.
Page 22 of 35

(p. 620) A third observation concerns the relative lack of theoretical integration in the ECR literature on
collaborative processes reviewed here. This literature is widely scattered across academic disciplines (e.g.,
political science, sociology, public administration, planning, environmental law, public participation, systems
theory/engineering, social and organizational psychology, environmental psychology) and areas of practice (ECR,
public participation). It is a certainty that our review has omitted relevant studies on collaborative processes
because of practical difficulties in canvassing such a rapidly growing, disparate literature. Integration across these
diverse specialty areas does not happen naturally. This multidisciplinary characteristic explains in part the
apparent disconnect we observed between broad theoretical frameworks (IAD, ACF, social capital theory) from
more traditional disciplines like political science and sociology and the ongoing discourse and research agenda in
the ECR practice literature. Familiar turf battles across social science disciplines explain part of the integration
problem. However, there is also the commonly observed academic-practice gap, which is clearly evident in the
ECR field (OLeary & Bingham, 2003), as in many other applied disciplines in psychology (e.g., clinical, industrialorganizational). Greater theoretical integration should improve the quality of future ECR evaluation studies by
refining the guiding program theory and logic models that underpin specific evaluation designs and outcome
measures (Rowe, 2003).
Finally, we detected a mild undercurrent of ambivalence (or perhaps even dissent) among some public agency
managers and ECR practitioners about the relative importance of quantitative evaluation research (Bingham et al.,
2003; Birkhoff & Lowry, 2003; Dukes, 2004; Emerson & Carlson, 2003). This attitude, if widely shared, could be a
potential barrier to effective progress on Bingham et al.s (2003) ambitious agenda to institutionalize data collection
in ECR. Without the cooperation of agency professionals and mediators/facilitators, this effort may result in limited
success.
Bingham et al. (2003) reported that some agency managers and members of the ECR practitioner community have
shown reluctance to fully embrace the underlying goals of the current evaluation agenda (see also Birkhoff &
Lowry, 2003; Emerson & Carlson, 2003). Emerson and Carlson (2003) suggested that this resistance is motivated
by cost factors, staff overload, or confidentiality concerns about the ways in which evaluation data may be used
by others. One can certainly sympathize with these legitimate administrative and privacy concerns. However, this
view creates a social dilemma for public agency managers and ECR practitioners: exposing ones dispute
resolution programs and professional mediation/facilitation skills to evaluation runs the risk of bad news, but
resistance to systematic evaluation efforts poses potential risks of greater magnitude to the entire field.24
Fortunately, a productive collaboration has emerged among some ECR practitioners, academic researchers,
federal and state agencies, and funding organizations to locate common ground for integrating evaluation
processes with self-reflective practice. As noted earlier, organizations such as the Policy Consensus Initiative and
the US Institute for Environmental Conflict Resolution have actively facilitated this type of collaborative effort among
a growing number of state agencies and university ECR-public policy research institutes (Emerson & Carlson,
2003). The culmination of the initial phase of the MAES project has produced a useful conceptual framework for
ECR evaluation studies (Orr et al., 2008) and a large new data set of ECR cases to test specific hypotheses about
the factors that produce effective ECR programs and consensus-based processes (Emerson et al., 2009). This
early collaborative success with the MAES project may help convince skeptics that partnership is preferable to
estrangement.
Future Directions
Our review concludes with a set of research questions that need further investigation. We present them with brief
commentary on why these issues represent promising future research directions and how they might be addressed
methodologically. Some of these questions have been identified in earlier appraisals of the ECR literature (e.g.,
Bingham et al., 2003; Dukes, 2004; Lubell et al., 2005), while others represent new problems that emerged while
preparing this review.
Research Question 1. Which process factors in ECR collaborative interventions produce which
outcomes and impacts in Orr et al.s (2008) evaluation framework?
A major obstacle in tackling this question has been the heterogeneity in the specific collaborative processes used
Page 23 of 35

in existing ECR cases (Emerson et al., 2003; Brogden, 2003). We need more refined classification systems to sort
cases according to levels (p. 621) of key process variables, perhaps using case survey methodology (Beierle &
Cayford, 2002, 2003). The detailed coding system developed by dEstree and Colby (2004) could be used to
operationalize these process variables for greater precision in case classification. Standard methods of
quantitative meta-analysis (Cooper, 2010; Hunter & Schmidt, 2004; Rosenthal, 1991) could assist in addressing
the heterogeneity problem. For example, moderator analysis could help identify contextual variables in empirical
studies that influence effect size estimates. In terms of data requirements, these methods normally require only
correlation coefficients or means (and standard deviations) of at least two groups (treatment, control) in quasiexperimental designs.25
Research Question 2. Do ECR collaborative processes have long-term effects on actual

environmental conditions?
Experts in the field agree that this question represents the next uncharted frontier in ECR evaluation research
(Bingham et al., 2003; Brogden, 2003; Lubell et al., 2005). The lack of ecological impact measures in empirical
studies has been a critical deficit in the existing literature (Koontz & Thomas, 2006; Thomas, 2008). Answering this
question definitively will require the long-term interdisciplinary collaboration of social and ecological scientists to
integrate data collection on actual environmental conditions with longitudinal ECR evaluation studies. This research
agenda, however, will not come cheap. Federal (e.g., NSF, EPA) and state agencies, and private funding
organizations will have to rethink their future funding priorities. Research conducted within the past 15 years has
demonstrated that reliable, scientific methods exist to assess ecological conditions with acceptable levels of
uncertainty (e.g., Costanza et al., 1997; Samuelson, Matlock, et al., 2003; Schweik & Thomas, 2002). However, this
new generation of collaborative research will demand significantly more time, money, and human capital than has
been allocated to grant-funded ECR research in recent years.
Research Question 3. What are the empirical implications of complexity science theories(e.g.,
self-organizing systems) for understanding the dynamics of ECR collaborative processes and
evaluating their outcomes?
Innes and Booher (1999) were the first to link evaluation criteria for consensus-building processes to the growing
interest in complexity science. Bingham et al. (2003) concurred that the consensus-building process is best viewed
as a self-organizing system. This perspective holds great promise for advancing understanding of ECR processes,
dynamics, and outcomes/impacts. In fact, Bingham et al. (2003) proposed that each ECR case could be treated as
a system itself. Innes and Booher (1999) emphasized that the conceptual lens of self-organizing system theory
highlights processes of change, adaptation, learning, feedback, and the emergence of innovative responses
occurring across longer time frames than typically studied in past ECR research.
We find this perspective fertile with research opportunities because several theories from complexity science have
already made significant impact on understanding social psychological phenomena during the 1990s (e.g., Arrow,
McGrath, & Berdahl, 2000; Liebrand & Messick, 1995; Nowak & Vallacher, 1998; Vallacher & Nowak, 1994).
Specifically, nonlinear dynamical systems theory has proven its value through pioneering use of computer
simulations and controlled experimentation for a diverse array of social psychological phenomena, including selfevaluation, social judgment, dynamics of public opinion change, and intractable intergroup conflict (Nowak,
Szamrej, & Latane, 1990; Vallacher, Coleman, Nowak, & Bui-Wrzosinska, 2010; Vallacher & Nowak, 2007;
Vallacher, Read, & Nowak, 2002). In fact, Nowak et al. (2010) recently described a workshop method for teaching
negotiation in multiparty conflict settings using dynamical systems theory and computer simulations to guide the
learning process.
To stimulate further thought using this complexity science view, we offer the following corollary research
questions:
Research Question 3a. How do individuals who participate in ECR collaborative processes change over time?
Change can occur at both individual and group levels simultaneously in ECR collaborative processes. For example,
most stakeholder partnership research to date has chosen either the individual level or the group level for its
primary unit of analysis (e.g., Leach et al., 2002; Lubell, 2005; Lubell & Leach, 2005). We believe that multilevel
Page 24 of 35

modeling techniques (e.g., Emerson et al., 2009) could be used more often with ECR evaluation data to assess
these changes at individual and group levels in future research. This statistical technique is useful because it
allows relationships between variables to be modeled at two levels of analysis simultaneously, instead of having to
choose between the individual or the group level.26
(p. 622) Quasi-experimental research designs that permit within-participant change comparisons could also be
employed more often in future research (Bingham et al., 2003). The complexity science framework focuses our
research attention on how individual participants in ECR processes learn, adapt to feedback, change beliefs and
attitudes, generate creative ideas, and forge new relationships with other stakeholders over time. These changes
could be assessed by collecting pre-ECR baseline measures on those outcome variables that relevant program
theory predicts should be changed by ECR processes (Rowe, 2003). Multiple measurements over time could then
be made on these key variables using standardized instruments (e.g., Emerson et al., 2009). Longitudinal designs
should permit more accurate measurements of relationship change (trust, reciprocity, cognitive shift, group
cohesion) over time (dEstree, 2003). Our review suggests that the research infrastructure and human capital are
in place to implement this new generation of longitudinal ECR research studies.
Research Question 3b. What are the impacts of ECR collaborative processes on future behavior of participants
in conflict situations?
The question here is whether internal changes in participants of ECR collaborative processes will be manifested in
how those individuals deal with other stakeholders in subsequent conflict situations. As Innes and Booher (1999)
noted, consensus-building processes often have fuzzy end points demarcating their conclusion. Multi-party
conflicts usually evolve over time, sometimes in positive directions and other times in downward spirals of
protracted conflict, hostility, and dysfunctional communication. Thus, another important research problem is to
understand whether these stakeholders acquire new knowledge and communication skills to create more
productive interactions with others who hold different values, beliefs, interests, and worldviews. Bingham et al.
(2003) suggested that agent-based modeling methods currently used in psychology, sociology, and political
science may provide a viable methodological approach to this question (e.g., Axelrod. 1984; Goldstone, Roberts, &
Gureckis, 2008; Guastello, Koopmans, & Pincus, 2009; Kameda, Tsukasaki, Hastie, & Berg, 2011; Macy & Willer,
2002, Smith & Conrey, 2007; Takahashi, 2000; Vallacher et al., 2010; van Overwalle & Heylighen, 2006). Social
capital theory could be used to guide which variables to include in simulations of multiparty social dynamics (e.g.,
trust).
Research Question 3c. What factors affect the survival of collaborative stakeholder partnerships over time?
Our current understanding of what conditions predict the success and future survival of stakeholder partnerships is
limited. The absence of longitudinal studies that track the development of these partnerships over time is largely
responsible for this knowledge gap. Both Lubell et al. (2005) and Bingham et al. (2003) have called for greater
attention to temporal dynamics that occur across the lifespan of stakeholder partnerships (or ECR cases).
Evaluation studies that collect data beyond the official end of ECR collaborative processes are badly needed.
Standard data collection procedures in ECR cases that are institutionalized should reduce costs and facilitate
completion of these longitudinal studies (Bingham et al., 2003; Emerson et al., 2009).
Research Question 4. What research activities will produce actionable knowledge to motivate
collaboration among agency managers, ECR practitioners, and academic researchers to
implement the current evaluation agenda?
Our final question has a touch of irony for the ECR field, yet warrants further contemplation.27 Both Dukes (2004)
and Birkhoff and Lowry (2003) have raised concerns about whether and precisely how current evaluation research
studies will help ECR practitioners do their jobs better. We suggest that further constructive dialogue between the
academic/research and practice camps may be worthwhile. For example, it would be useful to survey existing
agency personnel who manage dispute resolution programs and ECR practitioners who work directly with these
organizations to assess their beliefs and attitudes toward the current evaluation agenda, as well as future
continuing education needs. Public forums for dissemination and discussion of needs assessment results already
exist, such as the annual conferences of ECR professional associations (e.g., Association for Conflict Resolution)
and meetings hosted by the US Institute for Environmental Conflict Resolution. Visible ECR journals such as Conflict
Page 25 of 35

Resolution Quarterly could sponsor a special issue on this theme to provide another public forum for constructive
exchange of information and ideas. These relatively simple, cost effective activities could help bring greater
integration to the ECR field, which will be crucial to its long-term health and vitality. Current trends make us
optimistic about future prospects for this research- practice rapprochement.
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Notes:
(1.) For more comprehensive reviews of the pre-2000 literature on public participation and collaborative
conservation programs, see Renn, Webler, and Wiedemann (1995), Conley and Moote (2001), and Beierle and
Cayford (2002).
(2.) The management committee began with approximately 20 people but increased to 49 members at the projects
conclusion. Harry Seraydarian, a respected senior EPA administrator, chaired the committee using a consensusbuilding process.
(3.) For example, one finger represented I fully agree, five fingers indicated There is no way I will agree to this,
Page 32 of 35

and six fingers communicated I wont agree but perhaps further discussion can resolve it (Innes & Connick,
1999, pp. 815816).
(4.) Additional provisions included: (1) new revenue sources would not be provided for implementation; (2)
clarification that CCMP neither requires nor recommends use of the salinity index as a water quality standard;
and (3) the Bay-Delta Oversight Council (governor-appointed group consisting of stakeholder majority representing
farming and urban water interests in Southern California) would revisit SFEP proposals on flows and water quality
(Innes & Connick, 1999).
(5.) Interested readers should consult original sources (Checkland, 1981; Checkland & Scoles, 1990; Wilson &
Morren, 1990) for expanded coverage of SSM. Systems thinking principles were introduced to the general business
community by Peter Senges (1990) best-selling book, The Fifth Discipline. The first formal application, however, of
open systems theory to organizational behavior can be traced to Katz and Kahns (1966) text, The Social
Psychology of Organizations.
(6.) Of course, deciding which situations are which requires considerable professional training, judgment, and
political acumen. Bureaucratic government agencies more comfortable and experienced with routine risk
characterization procedures may find these nuanced judgments challenging.
(7.) McCreary, Gamman, and Brooks (2001) presented joint fact-finding procedures for integrating scientific
expertise in complex public policy disputes. This joint fact-finding process represents further progress by ECR
practitioners in integrating A&D processes within established consensus-building methods.
(8.) This sequence of CL project phases and process stages is not viewed as a rigid, formulaic protocol. Daniels
and Walker (2001) acknowledged they have never conducted a CL project the same way twice. The model in
Figure 31.4 is a generic design template that can accommodate procedural variations.
(9.) CL does, however, incorporate key elements of the NRCs A&D process.
(10.) Agencies included in this project were the US Environmental Protection Agency, US Department of the Interior,
Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, Oregon Department of Justice and Oregon Dispute Resolution Commission,
Massachusetts Office of Dispute Resolution, and Florida Conflict Resolution Consortium.
(11.) Leach et al. (2002) acknowledged that attrition of failing partnerships in their sample could partly, but not
completely, explain this trend.
(12.) Leach et al. (2002) also noted that in roughly one-third of these partnerships, stakeholders reported that the
partnership made things worse in terms of property rights, economic conditions, and regulation.
(13.) Based on personal interviews, Leach and Sabatier (2003) suggested that some partnership members (i.e.,
farmers, ranchers) resented the paid status of facilitators because of personal sacrifices of time and money these
members made to attend meetings during normal business hours. The puzzling finding related to training may be
linked to the perception among some stakeholders that professional facilitators spent too much partnership meeting
time on procedural matters (e.g., establishing ground rules, coaching in communication skills).
(14.) Leach and Sabatier (2005) speculated that in younger partnerships (i.e., severe watershed crises more
common), stakeholders may be more willing to agree to specific restoration actions, regardless of their distrust of
others. In older partnerships where information about others trustworthiness is presumably more certain, trust
shows the expected positive relationship with agreements reached.
(15.) Because neither the 28 NEP sites nor the 10 non-NEP estuaries were randomly assigned, these studies are
quasi-experimental designs.
(16.) Focht and Trachtenberg (2005) assumed the negotiation strategy would involve mediation and/or facilitation
by a neutral third-party, with assistance from independent technical experts. An elaborated A&D process could
implement this strategy.
(17.) No statistical tests were reported by Focht and Trachtenberg (2005) to confirm the reliability of these findings.
Page 33 of 35

(18.) Kendalls tau is reported to evaluate the statistical significance of changes between pre- and post-workshop
survey responses. However, because Kendalls tau is a rank correlation coefficient (Siegel & Castellan, 1988),
significant changes over time within the same respondent should theoretically decrease Kendalls tau, making it
less likely for these correlations to reach conventional significant levels. Hence, it is unclear how to interpret the
statistical reliability of these pre- and post-workshop comparisons.
(19.) The absence of baseline, pre-workshop measures in this study precluded statistical tests of change over time
for these CL process items.
(20.) The Leavenworth ranger district continued using CL in future public involvement efforts. Several project ideas
generated during CL workshops were included in this ranger districts final fire recovery plan (e.g., prison labor
used to clear brush around rural buildings).
(21.) Surveys were mailed to 100 workshop participants; 54 surveys were returned.
(22.) Daniels and Walker (1996) noted that participants who attended full-day workshops responded more
favorably on CL process items than half-day attendees.
(23.) This negative finding was not surprising given that communication competence training was not emphasized
in this particular CL implementation, relative to systems thinking principles and active learning SSM activities.
(24.) This situation appears to parallel the current science-practice conflict in psychology between clinicians who
deliver psychological services to clients and psychological scientists who conduct rigorous research testing the
efficacy of clinical therapeutic treatments (Baker, McFall, & Shoham, 2008).
(25.) Quantitative meta-analysis does impose requirements regarding the minimum number of independent
empirical studies to obtain reliable effect size estimates and permit moderator analyses (Cooper, 2010).
(26.) Multi-level modeling does require that sample sizes are large enough in the number of independent cases (N
= 100) and number of participants per case (N = 10 or higher) to allow reliable estimation of regression
coefficients. This data requirement highlights the need for building large datasets, such as those in the Watershed
Partnership project (Leach et al., 2002) and the MAES Project (Emerson et al., 2009). Lubell et al. (2005) suggested
that ECR evaluation researchers should consider 100 cases as an appropriate sample size target.
(27.) This issue may be perceived by the ECR research and practice community as less relevant in 2012 because
of the early track record of success in recent collaborative ECR evaluation research projects (Orr et al., 2008;
Emerson et al., 2009). However, rapid institutional change often brings refractory inertia and resistance over time
from members of professional communities and government agencies.
Charles D. Samuelson
Charles D. Samuelson Department of Psychology Texas A&M University College Station, TX
Clare L. Barratt
Clare L. Barratt Department of Psychology Texas A&M University College Station, TX
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Learning Our Way Out of Unsustainability: The Role of Environmental Education

Learning Our Way Out of Unsustainability: The Role of Environmental
Education
Arjen E. J. Wals
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0032

In this chapter the role of education in creating a planet that is more sustainable than the one currently in prospect
will be discussed from two vantage points: an instrumental one and an emancipatory one. The instrumental
perspective emphasizes the potential of education in changing human environmental behavior in predetermined
and more or less agreed upon directions. The emancipatory perspective, on the other hand, emphasizes the
potential of education in strengthening peoples capacities and confidence to enable them to help determine how
to live together in ways that do not further undermine the carrying capacity of the earth. Whereas the former, more
behaviorist vantage point tends to have more support among environmentalists with a strong concern about the
rapid loss of biodiversity, climate change, depletion of natural resources, and so on, the latter, more human
developmentoriented vantage point, tends to have more support among educators with a strong concern for selfdetermination, agency, and democracy. The chapter ends with the introduction of post-normal environmental
education.
Keywords: environmental education, sustainable development, nature conservation education, emancipatory learning, instrumental learning,
agency, participation, post-normal science, hybrid learning, social learning, reflexive monitoring
Introduction
During the past 50 years or sodepending on where one finds oneself on the globe it could be longer or shorter
a whole range of instruments and mechanisms have evolved to address the loss of nature, environmental
degradation, or, in a more general and contemporary term, unsustainability. These instruments and mechanism
include socio-technological innovations (e.g., Spaargaren et al., 2006), legislation and law (see
www.hg.org/environ.html for an overview), policies (e.g., Caldwell, 1984; Young, 1997), fiscal policy (e.g., Gupta,
2002; Lpez and Toman, 2006) and economic incentives (e.g., Ekins, 2000; Mler and Vincent, 2005; van den
Bergh, 2002), and social marketing (e.g., McKenzie-Mohr, 2000). In addition, both in parallel and intricately
connected, environmental communication, education, and learning have always played a role in finding an
adequate response to what is nowadays seen as a global challenge. The significance of these learning-based
instruments has varied, though, from country to country but also within countries over time. Historically speaking,
one could say that there has been an evolution from nature conservation education to environmental education
(EE) to education for sustainable development (ESD).
In this chapter a brief history of the role of education in living more sustainably on this planet will be provided. Two
distinct vantage points that have major implications for the purposes, processes, and evaluation strategies deemed
appropriate will be used: (1) an instrumental utilitarian perspective (emphasizing the potential of education in (p.
629) changing human environmental behavior in predetermined and more or less agreed upon directions) and (2)
an emancipatory human development perspective (emphasizing the potential of education in strengthening
Page 1 of 21

peoples capacities and confidence to enable them to help determine how to live together in ways that do not
further undermine the carrying capacity of the earth).
Nature Conservation Education

When trying to trace the beginnings of nature conservation educationwhile recognizing that such beginnings will
vary from country to countrysome scholars refer to events such as Petrarchs climbing of Mont Ventoux
centuries ago for no apparent reason other than to simply enjoy natural beauty and to experience the mountain
just because it was there (OConnell, 1983; Weiss, 2005). Others refer to the creation of national parks and state
parks in many countries as a response to citizens becoming concerned about the loss of nature. In some
countries, such as the United States, this has happened already, when Yellowstone National Park in was created in
1872 to promote and regulate the use of thenational parkswhich purpose is to conserve the scenery and the
natural and historic objects and the wild life therein and to provide for the enjoyment of the same in such manner
and by such means as will leave them unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations (National Park Service,
1916). Similar movements took place at different points in time depending on a number of factors, including the
prevailing political currents, the perceived pressures on what was considered nature or wilderness, and the power
of the (mostly) elites who decided to spend much of their time and fortune on conservation. The national and state
parks were often equipped with visitor centers to help visitors understand, appreciate, and protect nature as one of
two main purposes along with nature conservation (Lemons, 2010). It must be noted here that nature conservation
education and, more generally, the nature conservation movement as a whole tended to involve and engage the
socioeconomically advantaged, paying little attention to those living in rural or urban poverty. Several scholars
have discussed this issue; see, for instance, Henderson (1992) for an analysis of North America and Great Britain
in this respect, Oyadomari (1989) for a Japanese perspective, or Spierenburg and Wels (2010) for a South African
view of elitism in nature conservation.
A related but distinct nature conservation education stream emerged around the same time or shortly thereafter
when nature conservation and nature studies became a subject in many public school systems, often as a
component of science education (Bodzin et al., 2010). Schools began taking children on excursions or field trips to
a local nature preserve or a local farm and tried to integrate such activities into the regular curriculum. In some
countries special structures were designed to provide nature-oriented education for those, particularly young
children, who were unable or hardly able to leave urban areas (Wals, 1982). In the Netherlands, for instance, the
school gardens and city farms were created over 90 and 50 years ago, respectively, in cities such as The Hague,
Rotterdam, and Amsterdam. Reconnecting citizens, children in particular, with nature and the sources of their food,
and getting them into the outdoors, were some of the main objectives that in some cases intersected with an
educational field that evolved in parallel: outdoor education (Rickinson et al., 2004). People with backgrounds
mostly in natural resources, ecology, or forest management were often responsible for creating edutainment (forms
of education that are not perceived as such by the learner) that made discovering, experiencing, and
understanding the natural world both enjoyable and educational. Again it can be argued that schools paying
attention to nature conservation, the outdoors, and the sources of food tended to be somewhat privileged, as they
were able to provide and organize such educational experiences, whereas schools in poorer urban areas were
not.
Much of this is still going on today, and is even getting renewed attention in countries where there is rapid
urbanization and/or virtualization (e.g., human activity taking place in a virtual place), which results in a
disconnect between people and the land (e.g., Louv, 2005; Kellert, 2005; Kahn & Kellert, 2002). Understanding and
discovering nature and the web of life, how we affect nature and how nature affects us, where our food comes
from, how our eating habits affect nature, and so on generally form the desired learning outcomes of these
activities. In many urban areas around the world, these activities are increasingly connected to the rise of urban
agriculture and the rebirth of school and community garden programs (e.g., Nettle, 2008; Doyle & Krasny, 2003).
Another movement that seems to be supportive of nature (conservation) education can be coined the nature as
teacher movement (e.g., Hall & Clover, 2005; Swan, 1992). Advocates of this stream claim that there are a lot of
processes going on in the natural world that humans (p. 630) can benefit from when seeking to live more lightly
on this planet. Concepts frequently used by them include resilience (Krasny et al., 2010), managing complex
adaptive systems (Allen et al., 1998; Rammel et al., 2007), and ecological intelligence (Goleman, 2009). The
nature as a teacher movement represents a worldview derived from living systems, a framework for thinking
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where connections and relationships are paramount, where waste equals food, where we learn from Nature to
close the loops and move from a linear to a circular economy. Without such a new framework for thinking, young
people are powerless in the face of looming resource depletion, climate change and societal disruption (Walker,
2009, in reviewing the popular 2008 book Sense and Sustainability: Educating for a Low Carbon World by Ken
Webster and Craig Johnson).
Although the level of government support has fluctuated over time, nature (conservation) education remains in
place today, in part because of new justifications stemming from concerns about the decline of public health (e.g.,
the rise of obesity and ADHD) for which the outdoors and contact with nature are increasingly seen as providing a
part of the solution. In the 1980s, well before the age of wireless and handheld technology, Kaplan and Kaplan
pointed out that experiences in nature can restore peoples ability to concentrate. They introduced attention
restoration theory (ART) to help explain this phenomenon (Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989). More recently this has been
reaffirmed by Richard Louv (2005) in his popular book Last Child in the Woods, which details a number of
additional benefits as well.
Environmental education is obviously related to nature conservation education, but there is an important difference
in that it transcends issues of nature, biodiversity, and ecology to also and foremost include issues of
environmental degradation, environmental health, pollution, and so on that have a lot to do with the way we live,
produce, and consume. There are many roots of environmental education and several founding fathers (Gough,
1994, 1997) who can be credited with promoting concepts of environmental education both within Europe and
North America. Some refer to landmark publications such as Rachel Carsons (1962) Silent Spring or the Limits to
Growth report of the Club of Rome (Meadows et al., 1972) and environmental disasters such as the 1952 London
smog disaster and 1969 burning of the Cuyahoga River in Ohio, as key triggers of an educational response to a
looming environmental crisis. In North America, Bill Stapps coauthored article on the concept of environmental
education in the first volume of the Journal of Environmental Education is often referred to as the starting point of
environmental education (Stapp et al., 1969). Others might refer to key international conferences organized by
UNESCO and UNEP (e.g., UNESCO-UNEP, 1978, 1997) on the relationship between humans and their environment
and the role of education.
Many educational policies of a variety of governments across the globe call for the integration of EE in the formal
education system. They stress the role of education in developing a support base for environmental policy and
legislation, but also as a means to influence citizens environmental behaviors. At the same time business and
industry have also discovered EE and, indeed, environmental communication as a public relations tool. Some
sponsor the production of EE materials, some donate money to EE organizations, and some employ their own EE or
environmental communication officers or consultants. It is clear that the worldwide development of EE in formal and
nonformal education is ongoing. Perhaps it is useful here to make a distinction between EE and environmental
communication. Whereas EE tends to focus on active learning processes, usually but not exclusively using formal
education as a point of departure, that seek to engage citizens in environmental issues, environmental
communication tends to focus on informing citizens about environmental issues or, more profoundly, persuading
them to think or act in a certain environmental way. Environmental communication tends to take place outside of
the formal education contexts. In this chapter, EE and its younger cousin, education for sustainable development,
will be central. Both EE and environmental communication have their own scholarly journals and distinct but
overlapping histories and conceptualizations. The relatively young Journal of Applied Environmental Education
and Communication tries to bring the two fields together in one platform for both scholars and practitioners.
One could argue that with the emergence of EE about 40 years ago, nature conservation education gradually
became a part of EE, although in many countries nature education (e.g., Sobel, 1996, 2008), biodiversity education
(e.g., Gayford, 2000), and outdoor education (e.g., Redmond et al., 2009) continue to exist as educational
approaches with nature as a focal point and as a backdrop for learning. (p. 631) Outdoor education programs are
somewhat distinct from nature education programs, as they tend to emphasize personal development over
discovering, understanding, and connecting with nature. An analysis of the content of EE shows that there are at
least two strands that differ in the emphasis placed on the importance of peoples experiences with nature (Wals,
1994). One strand closely identifies with the purposes and contents of the original nature conservation education.
Page 3 of 21

Advocates of this strand maintain that without experiencing nature, people will not come to appreciate, value, and
protect it. Since people are less willing to preserve or conserve what they do not appreciate or value, any
environmental education program that does not provide learners with nature experiences is likely to fail. The
development of values and an environmental ethic is oftentimes also considered foundational for citizens
environmental behavior (Stern & Dietz, 1994; Palmer, 2006). Development of a sense of place and connectedness
to place is considered pivotal. A related spin-off of environmental education that makes this the central theme of all
its activities is so-called place-based education (Gruenewald & Smith, 2008; Smith, 2002; Hutchison, 2004;
Rosenthal, 2008).
Advocates of another strand hold that humanity is facing severe environmental deterioration deeply rooted in,
among other things, inequity and growth thinking that threatens our very existence on this planet. They argue we
need to act now and not shy away from addressing the root causes of environmental degradation that lie in how
people, organizations, and companies behave and the kinds of values our economic systems promote at the
expense of others (Huckle, 1999). Environmental education needs to focus on environmental problem-solving and
has a responsibility in opening up avenues for critiquing existing value systems and economic models (see, for
instance, Huckle, 1999; Plant, 1998). In this view, nature experiences are enjoyable and nature conservation is
important, but if we are going to do something about things such as overpopulation, overconsumption, and
runaway climate change, we need to directly address the local manifestations of these global problems in our
schools and our nonformal and informal education. This strand of EE tends to be more politicized, as it often invites
learners to reflect on and critique underlying, often taken-for-granted values that arguably cause these global
environmental issues.
In both strands, somewhat conveniently juxtaposed here, there is a danger of environmental education becoming
an instrument designed to influence peoples values, moral position, and behavior in a predetermined and expertdriven direction. It is exactly this instrumental use of environmental education that is critiqued by those who
emphasize that we are talking about education and not about training, conditioning, or even manipulation. Before
discussing the different conceptualizations of education and learning within EE, the emergent field of education
for sustainable development will be introduced, as it is increasingly seen as the modern interpretation or even the
successor of EE.
Education for Sustainable Development

Education for sustainable development (ESD) is not so much rooted in local contexts and traditions, but rather can
be seen as a result of international policy agreements and new forms of governance that emphasize citizen
involvement in visioning and decision-making. Arguably ESD has its roots in Earth summits, such as the United
Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED), also referred to as The Earth Summit, which was
held in Rio de Janeiro in 1992. and UNCED plus 10 which was held in Johannesburg in 2002, and related
international documents and support structures, such as Agenda 21 (United Nations, 1992). The momentum
created in the international policy arena led to the creation of the United Nations Decade of Education for
Sustainable Development (DESD, 20052014), of which UNESCO is the lead agency. The history of this emerging
field is thus far shorter than nature conservation education and EE and spans just over a decade. The current
emphasis on sustainability, sustainable development, and sustainable life support systems, which recognizes the
link between environmental and social equity, is leading to a shift, at least in some parts of the world, from EE to
education for sustainable development (ESD).
In many countries ESD builds upon EE structures and policies that were already in place, sometimes well before the
first Earth summit. This is especially the case in countries that interpret EE broadly to include social, economic, and
political dimensions (e.g., in some Latin American and southern African countries). Lotz-Sisitka (2004) illustrated
this when she wrote, [Many African countries always have had to focus on] issues of development, survival,
livelihoods, improved quality of education and improved quality of life, and more sustainable living practices. It is
perhaps for this reason that environmental educators in southern (p. 632) Africa have long been concerned with
environmental education processes that are processes of social change (p. 10). Similarly Brazilian Gadotti (2008)
emphasized the political nature of societal change toward sustainability when arguing that current education and
educational institutions pose barriers for moving toward sustainable development (SD) as they tend to reinforce the
principles and values of an unsustainable lifestyle and economy. He argued for an economy that is not centered
Page 4 of 21

on free market, profit, and continuous growth. Instead he favored a solidarity economy, which incorporates
principles of inclusion and social emancipation and identifies sustainability and solidarity are emergent and
convergent themes. Gadotti proposed that without social mobilization against the current economic model,
education for sustainable development (ESD) will not reach its goals.
The shift from EE to ESD is not entirely without controversy, as has been documented in an entire volume of the
Canadian Journal of Environmental Education (2009 ), but also in the results of the online ESDebate on education
for sustainable development (Hesselink et al., 2000), and more recently in the Mid-DESD review (Wals, 2009).
Interpretations of EE and ESD

There are different interpretations of ESD both in terms of content and educational process and in terms of how
ESD relates to EE and indeed to other so-called adjectival educations, such as health education, citizenship
education, global education, development education, consumer education, and the latest kid on the block, climate
change education. There are narrow and broad interpretations of ESD, just as we have seen in the past with
interpretations of EE. When viewed broadly, ESD stresses the link between the environmental and the sociocultural, between the local and the global, the past-present and future, and the human and the non-human world.
Narrow interpretations tend to emphasize the environmental and ecological dimension of SD.
Figure 32.1 Different Interpretations of ESD and EE and Their Relationship from a Content Perspective.
Figure 32.1 illustrates how ESD and EE relate to each other from a content perspective. The figure shows that when
both EE and ESD are interpreted broadly to include the political, social, cultural, and economic (EE+ and ESD+),
they become almost synonymous. Interestingly enough, when interpreted narrowly (EE- and ESD-) to focus mainly
on the environmental and the ecological, they also become almost synonymous. EE in the Tbilisi spirit (UNESCOUNEP, 1978) is generally considered EE+, while ESD as described in UNESCO documents is generally considered
ESD+ especially when related to all the Millennium Development Goals (and not just to MDG number 7, which
focuses on environmental sustainability). In the middle of the figure, where ESD and EE appear most distinct, we
find that EE is seen as strongly emphasizing the environmental and ecological dimension content-wise (the lower
part of the circle), whereas ESD is seen as strongly emphasizing the political and socio-cultural, including the
economic dimension content-wise (the upper part of the circle). Indeed there are countries around the world, such
as the Netherlands, where there are separate EE and ESD policies that fall under the responsibility of different
ministries.
Another way of looking at ESD and EE and the way they relate would be to look at the kinds of learning processes
used and the type of aims pursued. A critical question that is continuously asked in EE and ESD but in other
educational fields as well is: What are or should we be changing or developing in learners? Or, alternatively, how
can we create optimal conditions and support mechanisms that allow citizens, young and old, to develop
themselves in the face of change? The first question has instrumental connotations, whereas the second one has
emancipatory ones. The difference between the questions may appear small but, as we will see, speak to a large
issue (see also Wals & van der Leij, 1997; Jickling & Wals, 2008). When education in a range of settings, formal,
informal, and nonformal, is employed to somehow affect citizens young and old, we need to (p. 633) ask
questions about the role of education in society. There is no consensus about this role. Two perspectives are
Page 5 of 21

particularly relevant here: the instrumental perspective and the emancipatory perspective. Both differ in the
degree to which the learners have a say in what and how they learn but also in what they are learning for. On the
one extreme, education and learning are mostly expert driven (where there is a strong sense of what is right,
what needs to be done, and a high degree of confidence and certainty in both the current knowledge base and the
kind of behavior that is needed), while on the other extreme education and learning are mostly issue and process
driven (where there is a strong sense of empowering, involving, and engaging learners in issues that affect them
and/or others, and less certainty about the current knowledge base and the kind of behavior that is needed). Both
perspectives will be elaborated upon in the next sections.
An Instrumental Perspective
Around the world EE has first and foremost gained importance because of its potential to contribute to the
resolution of environmental issues and not because of its potential to contribute to democratic and emancipatory
human development (Wals et al., 1999). It can be argued that the environmental justification of EE has, at least until
now, outweighed the pedagogical justification. Similarly, this is the case in ESD, although some would argue that
the sustainability focus in ESD assumes that issues of democracy, equity, and participation automatically come
into play.
Much EE around the world aims at changing learner behavior that often is broadly defined to include attitudes,
beliefs, and values. Many EE researchers and practitioners are trying to instrumentally structure the content and
process of EE by using hierarchical levels of universal goals and measurable objectives or learning outcomes (see,
e.g., Hungerford & Volk, 1990). It is no surprise that within EE that seeks to change learner behavior, the
establishment of knowledge and awareness of nature and environment, and the application of what is learned, are
considered essential steps in the learning process. At the same time evaluation of the extent to which these goals
are reached is considered crucial for determining the success of EE and for justifying government spending on EE.
Early EE was informed by insights from behaviorist social psychology that assumed a more or less linear causality
between environmental awareness and environmental behavior (Fishbein & Azjen, 1980) suggesting that an
increase in environmental awareness would lead to more responsible environmental behavior. This assumed
linearity between knowledge-awareness-behavior has shown to be weak (Hannigan, 1995, p. 236), and attitudebehavior models have since then been revised to include a number of additional factors and feedback loops
(Ajzen & Fishbein, 1980; Ajzen, 2008; Ajzen et al., 2009; Ajzen & Manstead, 2007; Fishbein & Azjen, 2010). Just
providing information, raising awareness, and changing attitudes apparently is not enough to change peoples
behavior. Peoples environmental behaviors are far too complex and contextual to be captured by a simple causal
model.
This complexity is illustrated by Glasser (2007), who showed that even though people have a familiarity with a
problems related to what he calls eco-cultural unsustainability, they still choose to not respond or to respond
ineffectively. He pointed out that citizens can have different predispositions toward unsustainability, including (1)
having no idea that a potentially serious problem exists; (2) honestly believing that a problem is not a problem;
(3) denying the existence of a problem by simply wishing it away or by ignoring the information (this includes
educated incapacity, an acquired or learned inability to perceive a problem); (4) accepting the existence of a
problem, but perceiving it as easily surmountable; (5) accepting the existence of a problem, but perceiving other
problems or issues to take a higher priority; (6) failing to generate adequate support for action; and (7) taking
action, but the chosen action proves to be inadequate, mismatched to the problem, or unsuccessful (Glasser,
2007, p. 55). He called for research that can help determine what learning levers might work best in overcoming
these predispositions.
Two final observations about instrumental approaches to EE. First, the kind of research that takes place in this
context can be called evidence-based for the most part, as researchers, commissioned by policy makers and
funders of EE, tend to call for evidence that shows that EE is leading to more environmentally responsible behavior.
Many studies have been conducted over the past 40 years or so to see how environmental education activities
influence learner behavior (including knowledge, understanding, attitudes, awareness, values, actions, etc.); some
examples can be found in Ramsey (1993), Ramsey & Hungerford (1989), Rickinson (2001), Hines et al. (1986), and
Zelezny (1999). The number of longitudinal studies is rather limited, not in the least because of the methodological
challenges (p. 634) such studies encounter, but some are based on the analysis of significant life experiences
Page 6 of 21

(e.g., Tanner, 1980, 1998; Chawla, 1998a, 1998b) and on retrospective program evaluations (e.g., Kellert, 1998;
Knapp & Benton, 2005, 2006). Liddicoat and Krasny (in press) discuss both strands of longitudinal research and
discuss some of the methodological challenges which in part stem from the time that has passed since learners
were engaged in EE activities and all that happened to them in between.
A second point to be made with respect to the instrumental perspective on EE is of a more political nature.
Ironically, scholars from both the Left and from the Right have criticized EE that seeks to change learner behavior
in a pre- and expertly determined direction. In the late 1990s people representing conservative think tanks
provided some strong criticism of EE as they claimed the field was alarmist, anti-business, catastrophic, and
unscientific (Sanera & Shaw, 1996; Sanera, 1998). Greg Smith (2000) pointed out that much of the criticism at the
time appeared aimed at diminishing legitimate concerns about issues such as global climate change and
biodiversity loss by focusing on the alleged failure of environmental educators to present conflicting scientific
evidence, a failure linked to their avowed desire to turn their students into environmental activists. The
conservative voices emphasized that EE should focus on facts and not on fear and that environmental educators
should be educators, not indoctrinators. The response to this criticism was in part one of denial (we are objective
educators, and we dont focus just on fear but also on love for nature, etc.) and in part one of throwing the ball
back by arguing that these conservative voices had their own political agenda, which was to represent the
interests of big business. Criticism from another corner is best captured by the emancipatory perspective
introduced in the next section.
An Emancipatory Perspective
Besides questions about the relationship between knowledge, awareness and understanding of environmental
issues, and citizens environmental behavior, leading to some doubts about an instrumental focus of EE or ESD, for
that matter, on these behavioral components, there are other concerns. These concerns come mostly from
educators and/or critical pedagogues who challenge a focus of EE and ESD on behavioral change. They argue
that education should above all be formative and focus on the kind of capacity-building and critical thinking that will
help citizens understand what is going on in society, ask critical questions, and determine for themselves what
needs to be done in light of inevitable uncertainty with respect to what is considered right (Mayer & Tschapka,
2008; Jickling & Wals, 2008). From this vantage point the idea of influencing peoples environmental behavior in a
predetermined way contradicts the very foundation of education and borders on indoctrination. Education is
considered more literally in its original Latin meaning of educare, which is guiding into, facilitating, helping develop,
and exploring the self and personal growth and competence development. As such, education is more about
equipping people to make sense of the world and to make their own judgments.
If a key function of education is fostering self-determination, agency, and autonomous thinking about, among other
things, environmental issues, then it would be contradictory to prescribe behavioral outcomes that a learning
activity or sequence of activities needs to trigger. Instead, proponents of an emancipatory perspective argue that
education, EE and ESD inclusive, has a role in developing so-called dynamic qualities (Posch, 1991): capacities or
competencies that allow people to critique, construct, and act with a high degree of autonomy and selfdetermination. At the same time, such qualities are considered necessary for citizens to be able to cope with
uncertainty, poorly defined situations, and conflicting or at least diverging norms, values, interests, and reality
constructions. Posch (1991) wrote in an OECD-ENSI publication, Professional, public and private life has become
increasingly complex, with divergent and even contradictory demands on the individual [who lives] within an
increasingly pluralistic value system. Above all, it is necessary to look beyond everyday normalities and to search
for ethically acceptable options for responsible action (p. 12). This is one of the things that sets education apart
from training and conditioning and makes the prescription of particular lifestyles or (codes of) behavior problematic
as it stifles creativity, homogenizes thinking, narrows choices, and limits autonomous thinking and degrees of selfdetermination.
So in short, an instrumental approach assumes that a desired behavioral outcome of an EE activity is known, is
more or less agreed upon, and can be influenced by carefully designed interventions. An emancipatory approach,
on the other hand, assumes that the dynamics in our current world are such that citizens need to become engaged
in an active dialogue to establish co-owned objectives, (p. 635) shared meanings, and a joint, self-determined
plan of action to make changes they themselves consider desirable and of which the government hopes they
Page 7 of 21

ultimately contribute to a more sustainable society as a whole (Wals & Jickling, 2002). In terms of education
process or the type of learning promoted, conventional interpretations focus on expanding knowledge and
understanding through classic forms of instruction (transmission-based), which can be more easily linked to the
instrumental perspective, and more contemporary ones that stress the importance of interaction, dialogue,
reflection, and moving beyond the cognitive (transformation-based). The latter interpretations have a better fit with
the emancipatory perspective. Again, similar patterns can be seen in the way EE has been interpreted over time
along these two distinguishing features. Figure 32.2 shows that both EE and ESD can be interpreted more
instrumentally and more emancipatorily and that the more emancipatory perspective tends to open spaces for new
forms of learning, whereas the more traditional instrumental perspective tends to rely more on knowledge transfer,
training, and instruction. The figure also shows that both EE and ESD can be interpreted in a similar way and when
they are, they become synonymous (Wals, 2010).
Figure 32.2 Different Interpretations of ESD and EE and Their Relationship from a Pedagogical Perspective
Just like within the instrumental orientation, monitoring and evaluation (M&E) of EE and ESD activities is equally
crucial within the emancipatory orientation. Typically M&E strategies that are appropriate for a more emancipatory
orientation focus less on what changes in learners and more on the quality of the learning process and on the
conditions under which the learning takes place (Wals et al., 2009). The question is not so much How does this EE
activity change the learners environmental behavior in all its expressions? but rather Are the conditions in which
the learning activity takes place such that a change in learner behavior is likely in the first place? M&E of this kind
tends to be more of a formative (improving the processes and conditions) nature than of a summative nature
(assessing the product of the learning). Emancipatory M&E strategies tend to be reflexive, with ample space for
emerging questions, participant voices, collaborative learning, and the blurring of theory and practice (van Mierlo
et al., 2010). A critique of the emancipatory orientation comes from policy makers who call for hard measurable
results that show environmental improvement, which is not what this type of M&E tends to be after.
Post-Normal Environmental Education
The Risk Society

Both within EE and ESD, the emancipatory perspective appears to be gaining momentum, not only because it is
education we are talking about, but also because of the seemingly inevitable lack of clarity and the uncertainty
about what the best behavior is from an environmental or sustainability point of view. What if citizens who are
taught to behave in a particular way find out later that this was not the right way after all? What if a certain
behavior that might appear sustainable in one part of the world turns out to be highly unsustainable in another part
of the world? This sentiment gained momentum when Ulrich Beck (1992, 2008) introduced the idea of the risk
society. Beck argued that the principles on which our modern industrial society are founded, such as the need for
continuous growth fueled by materialism and related consumerism, are beginning to turn against us. He introduced
the idea of the risk society to indicate that lifestyles, behaviors, exploitation mechanisms, and production
systems associated with the industrial society lead to more and more risks. Related trends, such as globalization
and individualization, are compounding these risks and amplifying the complexity of society, resulting in increased
insecurity and unpredictability.
Page 8 of 21

Dillon and Wals (2012) pointed out that what is typical of the risk society is that this insecurity and unpredictability
stem from unintentional and (in part) unforeseen changes to (eco)systems. Society is constantly in motion and
citizens are facing problems and challenges for which there are no ready-made (p. 636) solutions, such as Can
organic agriculture feed the growing world population or is the use of genetically modified organisms inevitable? Is
the increasing infertility in men a consequence of our modern lifestyles and eating habits? Is fertility in fact
decreasing? Is there an ADHD epidemic or not? Has the Deepwater Horizon oil spill led to irreversible ecological
damage or will nature heal itself? and so on, do not have single, simple, and agreed upon answers that lead to the
associated desired behaviors that can be confidently prescribed (Wals & Dillon, in press). In their edited volume on
education and climate change, Kagawa and Selby (2010) suggested that a risk society has consequences for the
way we educate: As a fundamental contribution to climate change [prevention and adaptation], it seems that
educational spaces should build a culture of learning awash with uncertainty and in which uncertainty provokes
transformative yet precautionary commitment rather than paralysis (p. 243).
Environmental and sustainability issues have a number of characteristics that can be linked to Becks risk society,
including:
- indeterminacy (the impossibility of knowing in advance what the best course of action is);
- value-ladenness (the crucial position of values in affecting behaviors, lifestyles, and systems);
- controversy (the lack and impossibility of full agreement or consensus among and even within all
stakeholders);
- uncertainty (not being able to predict the exact or even near-exact impact of a chosen strategy or action);
- complexity (the messy interactions between variables or of a whole range of variables operating at different
intertwined scales) (Peters & Wals, 2012).
Post-Normal Science
These characteristics have consequences for education, teaching, and learning in general but perhaps for those
concerned with environmental and sustainability issues in particular. Funtowicz and Ravetz (1993) have
introduced the concept of post-normal science to indicate that we are entering an era in which uncertainty,
contestation, complexity, and indeterminacy are becoming the norm. Whereas in normal science the primary
goal was to reduce and control uncertainty and complexity and to unveil universal truths that could authoritatively
be disseminated without questions asked, this is no longer possible, if it ever was, and not even desirable. In postnormal science, uncertainty is not banished but is managed, and values are not presupposed but are made explicit
(Funtowicz & Ravetz, 1993). Funtowicz and Ravetz (1993) suggested that active involvement of citizens in postnormal science aimed at situation improvement is crucial:
The dynamic of resolution of policy issues in post-normal science involves the inclusion of an evergrowing set of legitimate participants in the process of quality assurance of the scientific inputs.In postnormal science, the manifold uncertainties in both products and processes require that the relative
importance of persons becomes enhanced. Hence the establishment of the legitimacy and competence of
participants will inevitably involve broader societal and cultural institutions and movements. (p. 753)
Agency and participation are key concepts from a post-normal science perspective.
Arguably agency and participation have been central concepts in strands of education as well. We can go back to
John Deweys work almost 100 years ago. Dewey spoke of the role of democracy in finding balance between
individualization and a sense of community and belonging. According to Dewey, democracy in education is crucial
in realizing a sense of self, a sense of other, and a sense of community. Democracy in education, he argued,
requires and creates space for self-determination, and greater degrees of autonomous thinking in a social context
(Dewey, 1916/1966). In EE, too, agency and participation have been central concepts on the more emancipatory
end of the continuum. Reid et al. (2008) edited an entire volume on participation and learning in the context of
education in relation to environment, health, and sustainability. The post-normal perspective, however, provides a
new perspective on participation and learning as the earlier-mentioned characteristics of environmental and
sustainability issues call for new forms of interactions between a whole range of stakeholders representing
numerous interests, values, and perspectives.
Page 9 of 21

Learning in Post-Normal Times
Peters and Wals (2012) referred to a whole range of emerging forms of learning that appear highly relevant here,
including trans-disciplinary learning (e.g., Klein, 2000; Somerville & Rapport, 2000), transformative learning (e.g.,
Cranton, 2006; Mezirow & Taylor, 2009), cross-boundary learning (e.g., Levin, 2004), anticipatory learning (e.g.,
Tschakert & Dietrich, 2010), action learning (e.g., Marquardt, 1999; (p. 637) Cho & Marshall Egan, 2009), and
social learning (e.g., Pahl-Wostl & Hare, 2004; Keen et al., 2005; Wals, 2007). These forms of learning show a high
family resemblance in that they (see also Wals et al., 2009; Wals, 2010):
- consider learning as more than merely knowledge-based;
- maintain that the quality of interaction with others and of the environment in which learning takes place is
crucial;
- focus on existentially relevant or real issues essential for engaging learners;
- view learning as inevitably trans-disciplinary, transperspectival and trans-boundary in that it cannot be
captured by a single discipline and by a single perspective and that it requires boundary crossing (Blackwell
et al., 2009);
- regard indeterminacy as a central feature of the learning process in that it is not and cannot be known exactly
what will be learned ahead of time and that learning goals are likely to shift as learning progresses;
- consider such learning as cross-boundary in that it cannot be confined to the dominant structures and spaces
that have shaped education for centuries.
Learning in post-normal times requires hybridity and synergy between multiple actors and the blurring of formal
and informal education. Opportunities for this type of learning expand with an increased permeability between
units, disciplines, generations, cultures, institutions, and sectors. Through this hybridity and synergy, new spaces
might open up that will allow for transformation and situation improvement to take place. Such space includes
space for alternative paths of development, space for new ways of thinking, valuing, and doing, space for
participation minimally distorted by power relations, space for pluralism, diversity, and minority perspectives, space
for deep consensus but also for respectful disagreement and differences, space for autonomous and deviant
thinking, space for self-determination, and finally, space for contextual differences (Wals, 2010; Wals & Dillon, in
press; Peters & Wals, in press). Learning from a post-normal perspective, much like Mezirow and Taylors (2009)
idea of transformative learning, is a process of becoming critically aware of ones own tacit assumptions and
expectations and those of others and assessing their relevance for making an interpretation (p. 4), which
enables us to recognize, reassess, and modify the structures of assumptions and expectations that frame our tacit
points of view and influence our thinking, beliefs, attitudes and actions (p. 18).
Post-normal environmental or, if you will, sustainability educators are beginning to pay attention to the rise of the
cocreation of interactive methods and new forms of knowledge in policy-making and natural resource management
involving a wide range of societal actors representing different interests, perspectives, and values but facing
similar challenges. Although these differences are viewed as problematic by some, they are seen as crucial by
others. Educational psychologists long have argued and shown that learning requires some form of (internal)
conflict or dissonance (Berlyne, 1965; Festinger, 1957; Piaget, 1964). Exposure to alternative ways of seeing,
framing, and interpreting can be a powerful way of creating such dissonance. However, for some this may lead to
too much dissonance and a defensive response, which leads to a tighter hold on a persons prior way of seeing
things, while for others it might lead to a reconsidering of ones views and the adoption or cocreation of a new one.
When introduced carefully, dissonance can lead to, to borrow a key concept from Martin Scheffer (2009), a tipping
point in ones thinking. Such tipping points appear necessary to generate new thinking that can unfreeze minds
and break with existing routines and systems (Wals, 2010). Recently Krasny, Plummer, and Lundholm (2010) edited
a collection of papers in the journal Environmental Education Research on what the field of EE can learn from
resilience in social-ecological systems.
Based on a synthesis of contributions to an edited volume on social learning toward a sustainable world, Wals
(2007) distills four features of social learning that appear promising in the context of learning and educating in
times of uncertainty and the looming sustainability crisis: (1) the value of difference and diversity in energizing
people, introducing dissonance, and unleashing creativity; (2) the importance of both reflection and reflexivity; (3)
Page 10 of 21

the power of social cohesion and social capital in creating change in complex situations loaded with uncertainty,
and (4) the power of collaborative action that strengthens the (unique) qualities of each individual. As sustainability
and sustainable development are increasingly seen as emerging properties of collaborative learning, the creation
of a more sustainable world above all requires learning, and not just any learning, but learning that leads to a new
kind of thinking, alternative values, and cocreated, creative solutions, co-owned by more (p. 638) reflexive
citizens, living in a more reflexive and resilient society.
Monitoring and Evaluation

In this chapter a distinction has been made between instrumental and emancipatory interpretations of EE and
indeed of its younger cousin ESD. Both strands are pursuing different types of goals and therefore will require
different monitoring and evaluation strategies. The post-normal perspective introduced in the previous section
aligns better with emancipatory interpretations of EE, as it sees sustainability and sustainable living as relational,
emergent, dynamic, and inevitably indeterminate. As a result, post-normal monitoring and evaluation strategies
tend to focus on the quality of the processes taking place and of the conditions under which these processes take
place. The question is not so much Are people developing the attitudes, social norms, values, behaviors, and so
on that we have identified as the ones that are most desirable? but rather Are the conditions under which
participants live, work, create, and so on together such that they become actively engaged sustainability issues
and more competent in dealing addressing them? The former, more instrumental question is of a more summative
nature, whereas the latter is more of a formative nature in seeking to optimize the conditions for learning and
building capacity.
But how can we know whether the capacity of individuals, organizations, and networks for contributing to social
learning processes that are aimed at sustainable development are actually being developed and utilized? The
learning process of the actors, organizations, and networks often generates all kinds of soft results that, at first
glance, appear to have little to do with sustainability but may be essential to creating a sustainable society
(consider: social cohesion, empathy, involvement, cooperation, and the like; Wals, 2007; Wals et al., 2009).
Taking these soft results seriously has implications for the way policies aiming to move communities,
organizations, citizens, and so on toward sustainability are framed. The policy of, for example, a municipality or a
company should not only include measurable and tangible outcomes using sets of indicators but also include a
number of clear-cut and accountable process goals. Factors such as reducing the amount of litter in the
neighborhood or saving energy within a company can be made measurable. Even matters such as a sustainable
neighborhood and corporate social responsibility can be made measurable by means of checklists and
indicators, particularly when these checklists and indicators are the result of an interactive process involving those
who will be working with them. After all, those who have compiled the indicators and checklists have already
experienced a learning process, which is possibly an essential condition for internalization and creating ownership
of such indicators and checklist.
Table 32.1 shows that the manner in which the results are to be achieved can be predetermined or determined
interactivelythat is, determined by those immediately concerned in the neighborhood or company. The same is
also true for the process used in meeting some environmental or
Page 11 of 21
Table 32.1 A Typology of Evaluation Strategies

Process is predetermined
Process is determined
interactively
Policy results
are
predetermined
Type 1: Highly instrumental

Information campaign Litter in the neighborhood,
the goal of which is to reduce litter by 50% within
one year.
Type 2: Mix
Residents are challenged to come
up with a plan to reduce litter in
the neighborhood by 50% within
one year.
Policy results
are
determined in
the course of
the process
Type 3: Mix
The municipality, without establishing ahead of
time which level of reduction is to be realized,
starts a campaign against litter in the
neighborhood, in the course of which (by means of
waste monitoring) it becomes clear which results
are feasible, in which respect variations from one
neighborhood to the other are
possible/acceptable/encouraged.
Type 4: Highly emancipatory

The municipality, by means of
neighborhood surveys and
consultations with the residents,
determines which aspects of
liveability and/or sustainability are
to be given priority in the
neighborhood. These themes are
then worked out interactively.
(p. 639) sustainability challenge. One can hardly call something a social learning process when both the results
(goal) and the process (means) have been determined beforehand by policy makers, experts, or management.
The other combinations offer more room for social learning, either aimed or not aimed at predetermined and
measurable goals.
Three of the four cells in Table 32.1 refer to environmental results (less litter). The fourth cell (bottom right) does
not specify a concrete environmental result. That cell refers mainly to the commitment on the part of people. It is
precisely this kind of result that may, in the long term, lead to social cohesion, cooperation, and a sense of
community, for example. Changes of this kind are perhaps a prerequisite if one is to come to solutions for
problems/challenges that are much more complex and that are oriented more toward sustainability than aimed only
at reducing litter. Depending on the way an intervention is organized, there will be less or more room for social
learning. The space available for social learning determines the extent to which spin-off results can be generated
in a more social sphere but also in terms of collaborative cocreated, self-determined action.
A number of differences between a mainly results-oriented evaluation process (results in terms of hard
sustainability indicators) and a mainly process-oriented monitoring process are set alongside one another in Table
32.2.
Within the field of EE, but certainly also in other fields, a range of participatory forms of research can be found,
such as action research (Reason & Bradbury, 2001), citizen science (Irwin, 1995), and trans-disciplinary research
(Hadorn et al., 2008). Furthermore, new forms of so-called reflexive monitoring and evaluation are sprouting across
the globe that can be labeled post-normal and transformative. Examples include reflexive monitoring and
evaluation, developed by Wageningen University and the Free University of Amsterdam (van Mierlo et al., 2010)
and so-called realist evaluation, developed by Pawson and Tiley (1997). These new forms of monitoring and
evaluation are also currently being introduced in the field of EE (e.g., Raven, 2006) and will need to be developed
further in the years to come.
Conclusion
Environmental education finds itself in a transition period. On the one had there is a reconceptualization of the
focus and content of EE inspired by emergent sustainability thinking; on the other, the current risk-society calls for
new forms of learning and governance that are better able to deal with risk, complexity, uncertainty, value
dilemmas, and conflicting interests. Given the continued disconnect between people and their physical
Page 12 of 21

environment in general and with nature in particular, the continued decline of the state of the planet, and the
increase in unsustainable lifestyles, the need for EE and its younger cousin ESD remains unquestioned. There are
a number of questions, though, about the fields effectiveness in responding to environmental and sustainability
challenges, and the appropriateness or adequacy of past research attempts for being able to show such
effectiveness in the first place, but also about the fields innovation capacity. The latter calls into question whether
the field is sufficiently outward-looking to be able to renew itself in post-normal times. Part of this renewal will lie in
shifting its learning goals from changing individual behaviors to changing lifestyles and building capacity. A postnormal perspective has been introduced to emphasize that EE has a role to play in boundary crossing between
institutions, schools, communities, and disciplines, and in connecting a range of societal themes that all relate to
sustainability (health, peace, well-being, exposure to nature and green spaces, climate, biodiversity, food safety
and food security, disaster responsiveness, etc.). Such a role assumes new competencies on the part of the
educator, who becomes a facilitator of social learning and a director of hybrid learning configurations consisting of
likely and unlikely coalitions of societal actors.
Future Directions
In this chapter a kind of evolution has been sketched from nature conservation education to environmental
education to education in the context of sustainability. One commonality between them is the importance of
connecting with the world (nature, environment, planet). Earlier in the chapter place-based education was referred
to as a related form of education that specifically focuses on helping people ground, root, and connect with a
locality, a place, a space to which they belong and feel connected, for which they care, and so on. Such
contextual forms of education are receiving increased attention from educators and policy makers as a means to
help people, young and old, reconnect with the physical, material, and socio-ecological world they, oftentimes
unconsciously, inhabit. There is a whole body of scholarly work emerging, some of which this chapter referred to
(p. 640)
Page 13 of 21
Table 32.2 Juxtaposing Two Types of Monitoring & Evaluation (Source: Wals et al., 2009, p. 27)
Instrumental approach (focus on
determining results)
Social approach (focus on improving

the process)
Main goals
- determining the (policy) goal range

- accountability toward commissioning party
- accountability government toward society
- determining the course of the process

- improving the quality of the project
realization process
- collectively learning from joint experiences
Role
externals
- expert role
- external observation
- determining measuring system to be used
- determining indicators
- measuring, analyzing, and interpreting
data
- reporting
- role of facilitator and coach

- participatory observation
- determining measuring system and
indicators together with actors
- making the process that is being completed
visible and its progress
- enticing and equipping actors for selfevaluation and monitoring
Role of
actors
within the
M&E
process
- sources of information (data) for the

external M&E-specialist (one-sided)
- involving participants in discussions on

(perceived) changes and experiences with
the process (interactive)
For whom?
- sponsors, commissioners, and ultimately

the public
- all those involved in the process of change

(commissioning party is also one of the
actors)
Underlying
worldview
- empirical-analytical/understanding through
reduction, search for explanations (ifthen),
striving for objectivity and independence
- actors may interpret things differently

- holistic: search for meaning, connections
and relations
- reality can be interpreted in various ways
- room for subjectivity butstriving for intersubjectivity: collective interpretation of what
has happened
Risks
- results are random indications and depend

upon the reliability and validity of the
instruments used
- M&E is mainly of interest to one party only:
the commissioning party, and is mainly used
for strategic purposes
- commissioning party views the results as

non-scientific; use of methods that yield
significant stories of all of the interested
parties
- intensive monitoring of the process of
change and aspiring after inter-subjectivity
is time-consuming
Advantages
- survey able, can be well planned,

relatively inexpensive, appealing to policy
(particularly within the short policy cycles)
- all of the participants can benefit from the

process (can contribute to the professional
development of those involved)
- renders possible a long-term perspective
- M&E stimulates the learning process and
provides insights for the benefit of other
similar projects and upscaling
Page 14 of 21

earlier on, that suggests that (re)discovering and (re)connecting with place can be restorative (therapeutic,
healing, etc.), generative (leading to new ways of seeing, sensing, experiencing), and empowering by enabling
people to shape and care for a place. In the near future the field of EE will need to consider a hegemonic trend that
affects the entire globe: the exponential growth of highly invasive and, indeed, addictive hypermedia and
associated information and communication technologies. Whereas place-based education, and to a lesser degree
perhaps the field of EE as a whole, operates somewhere in the margins of education in the effort to reconnect
people with the physical space around them, this hegemonic trend seems to do the exact opposite, only in a much
more forceful way. Educators in general and environmental educators in particular need to ask themselves what
the implications are of the (p. 641) age of wireless, hypermedia, and information and communication technologies
(ICTs) for teaching and learning, but also for the way people relate to each other and to nature and the planet as
a whole. Strangely, even though educators themselves are also inundated by these new ICTs in both their personal
and professional lives, this question has hardly been raised so far. The field of EE will need to consider the impact
of ICTs and hypermedia on peoples sense of place and the implications for teaching and learning. Only then can
environmental educators begin to create educational responses that may critically take advantage of elements of
the ICT revolution, which can help restore the current disconnect between people and place.
Finally, the shift to capacity-building and competence for a more sustainable world raises questions about what
such capacities or competencies entail, how they can be developed, and how they can be assessed. Some work
has been done on what is called sustainability competence (e.g., de Haan, 2006, 2010; Wals, 2010) but this work
is still in its infancy. Key components that have emerged so far include integrative thinking with references to
systems thinking and holistic thinking; empathy for perspectives, values, and so on other than ones own; and
Gestalt-switching (Wals, 2010), which refers to the ability to switch back and forth on a number of continua: spatial
(local-regional-global), temporal (past-present-future), cultural, disciplinary, ethical, and so on. More research and
thinking need to be done about this type of capacity-building and competence development.
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Psychology and Climate Change: Beliefs, Impacts, and Human Contributions


Janet K. Swim, Ezra M. Markowitz, and Brittany Bloodhart
2012

Psychology
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0033

A surge of psychological research on or related to global climate change has occurred since 2006. This chapter
reviews research on beliefs about climate change and educational efforts to address these beliefs, impacts of
climate change and adaptation to and in preparation for these impacts, and human contributions to climate change
and ways to encourage mitigation behaviors. More specifically the chapter describes: (1) characteristics of and
changes over time in beliefs about global climate change, who holds these beliefs, and psychological sources of
these beliefs; (2) psychological, interpersonal, and intergroup impacts of global climate change, the role of
appraisals in the impacts, and vulnerability, resilience, and social justice issues related to adapting to the impacts
are considered; and (3) behaviors that contribute to and mitigate climate change, psychological processes that
predict these behaviors, and methods to encourage mitigation behaviors based upon research on social influence
processes and systems theory.
Keywords: climate change beliefs, climate change impacts, adaptation, human contribution to climate change, mitigation of climate change
Introduction
There is a rich history of psychological research on global climate change, reaching back to the early 1980s
(Chen, Boulding, & Schneider, 1983; Fischhoff & Furby, 1983). Yet there has been a recent surge in interest in the
topic by psychologists. This interest is reflected in activities in several psychological associations, such as the
American Psychological Association (Benson, 2008; Swim et al., 2009), the Australian Psychological Association
(2010), the Psychologists for Social Responsibility (2011), and the Society for Psychological Study of Social Issues
(Swim & Clayton, 2010), which have made efforts to inform and summarize relevant psychological research and
assert psychologists role in addressing global climate change. Consistent with these efforts, several psychologists
have recently illustrated the contributions of and need for psychologists to increase their involvement in studying
environmental sustainability and specifically to examine the psychological dimensions of climate change (Gifford,
2008; Kazdin, 2009; OHara, 2010; Uzzell, 2010). An examination of publication trends of articles tracked by
PsychInfo, the American Psychological Association database of nearly 2,500 journals, illustrates the increased
attention. A search for scholarly articles that included climate change or global warming in its keywords and
texts and that reported research, summaries of research, or theory development reveals a surge in publications
that mention climate change starting in about 2008 (see Figure 33.1). Of course, there is more psychological
research on this topic than this search alone reveals. Yet, the figure illustrates the growing attention given to
climate change topics, and this attention is reaching the psychological community.
Page 1 of 31
Figure 33.1 Search of Scholarly Articles from 1990 to 2010 Using Words Climate Change or Global
Warming in PsychInfo.
(p. 646) A wide range of research is relevant to climate change, including many chapters in this handbook.
Global climate change is having and will continue to have many natural impacts that affect and are affected by
humans. Many of these types of impacts, such as environmental degradation and disasters, have been of concern
for psychologists for several decades. Solutions to a wide range of environmental problems, ranging from individual
and household behavioral changes, to community engagement, to organizational and governmental policy
development and support, are relevant to responses to global climate change. Further, theoretical perspectives,
such as the commons dilemma (Gifford, 2008; Committee on the Human Dimensions of Global Change, National
Research Council, 2002; Van Vugt, 2009), used to understand human and psychological dimensions of
environmental and social problems are relevant for understanding issues of global climate change.
There are aspects of global climate change, however, that make it worthy of specific attention by psychologists.
The complex interlocking causes and impacts of global climate change, time course of climate change impacts,
and multiple solutions with unknown side effects contribute to uncertainty, ambiguity, feelings of threat, and
inaction. Climate change impacts are sometimes seemingly contradictory, ranging, for instance, from too much
water in some areas to too little in other areas, which can potentially cause confusion about what climate change is
and what is evidence of the impacts. Climate change impacts are extensive. The impacts are not limited to those in
ones immediate neighborhood or even ones own country but are occurring and will occur across the globe. Many
individuals might not knowingly personally experience the direct impacts given the temporal and geographic
patterns of climate change and given many peoples disconnection with nature. Further, some, particularly in
industrialized countries, will be able to use their wealth to buffer themselves from climate change impacts. Yet,
increasing globalization, which makes people much more interconnected and interdependent, means that many will
indirectly experience the impacts even if they are not directly affected in their own communities. The scope of the
impacts can be difficult to grasp, cope with, and know how to respond to. Responding to climate change may
require cultural shifts that challenge the status quo and therefore may meet with resistance. Thus, the scope of
climate change, including the types of impacts expected, the temporal and geographic patterns of change, and the
connection between individual actions and impacts on nature and other people, is critical to discerning individuals
understanding of and responses to climate change.
It is impossible for us to review all relevant psychological research on climate change in this chapter, particularly
because it overlaps with many other research domains. Instead, we highlight research that has specifically made
connections to global climate change. We consider three primary research areas: (1) beliefs about global climate
change; (2) impacts of global climate change; and (3) human contributions to global climate change. Within each
of these topics we also examine responses to global climate change through educational efforts, adaptation, and
mitigation, respectively. It is worth noting that much of the research we review has been done in the United States
and, secondarily, in Europe. We do this because it reflects the research base. The research base may reflect the
extent to which researchers are attempting to understand US residents beliefs about climate change and the
disproportionate need to change human behaviors in industrialized countries.
Beliefs About Global Climate Change

Over the past two decades, sociologists, public pollers, psychologists, and others have conducted dozens of
surveys and studies examining nonexperts (i.e., the publics) beliefs about, knowledge of, and concern over
global climate change (for reviews, see Brewer, 2005; Nisbet & Myers, 2007), and to a lesser extent exploring how
Page 2 of 31

those different beliefs relate to one another (e.g., Kellstedt, Zahran, & Vedlitz, 2008; Malka, Krosnick, & Langer,
2009; (p. 647) OConnor, Bord, & Fisher, 1999). Taken together, these studies reveal both consistency and
change over time with respect to the publics understanding of and engagement with global climate change (cf.
Dunlap & McCright, 2008). Moreover, as discussed below, this research reveals a significant role for psychological
science in explicating beliefs about global climate change. Here we provide a general and brief review of the types
of beliefs that have been assessed, partly in an attempt to reveal the broad range of issues that have been
identified as critical components of the publics understanding of global climate change. We next discuss some
prominent moderators and correlates of those beliefs (e.g., demographics, individual differences, group
identification) before briefly exploring the question of where beliefs about global climate change come from. Recent
education and communication efforts aimed at increasing climate literacy are also discussed.
What Do People Believe About Global Climate Change?

Researchers have examined many domains of global climate change beliefs including: whether the phenomenon is
occurring; definitions of global warming and climate change; causes and mechanisms (e.g., human caused vs.
naturally occurring); scientific consensus over the issue; consequences, concerns, and risk perceptions;
solutions beliefs (including perceived self- and group-efficacy); and, beliefs about perceived responsibility to
confront global climate change. Not surprisingly, the resulting body of research reveals that peoples beliefs about
climate change are complex and situationally dependent (to a degree) and that members of the public disagree
with one another regarding nearly every facet of the issue. In addition, extant research points to the significant, yet
oftentimes unintended, effects of question wording on peoples beliefs about global climate change (cf. Yeager,
Larson, Krosnick, & Tompson, 2011).
What Is Global Climate Change?

Initial research on peoples beliefs about global climate change (e.g., Kempton, 1991; Bostrom, Morgan, Fischoff, &
Read, 1994) began by asking respondents what the terms greenhouse effect and global warming meant to
them. Kempton and his colleagues (1995) found that peoples conceptualizations of global climate change were
tied to four preexisting knowledge structures (mental or cultural models) held by most respondents: ozone
depletion; air pollution; plant photosynthesis and deforestation; and personally experienced weather (temperature)
variation. These mental models shaped respondents beliefs about nearly every aspect of global climate change
(Bostrom et al., 1994), from its causes (e.g., deforestation) to its potential consequences (e.g., linking the ozone
hole with increased solar radiation) to seemingly plausible responses to the problem (e.g., reducing use of CFCs,
chlorofluorocarbons that deplete the ozone). While some of these mental models appear to have decreased in
prevalence and importance over the past 20 years (cf. Bord, Fisher, & OConnor, 1998; Bulkeley, 2000), recent
polling data suggest that many individuals continue to confound the ozone hole with global climate change
(Leiserowitz & Smith, 2010). At the same time, there appears to be more agreement among the public that global
climate change refers to long-term changes and trends in the climate system, although significant differences in
this belief exist as a function of group membership (see below).
Global Warming Versus Climate Change

Throughout the 1990s, the term global warming came to be the label most often used in talking about global
climate change. In the early 2000s, right-leaning political consultants in the United States (most prominently Frank
Luntz; see Villar & Krosnick, 2011; Weber & Stern, 2011) urged leaders, including then-president George W. Bush,
to shift from using the term global warming to using the term climate change due to a belief that the latter term
was less scary and therefore less motivating to members of the general public. Research conducted in the United
Kingdom in 20032004 (Whitmarsh, 2009) suggested that, indeed, at least among Britons, the two terms did differ
with respect to how people conceptualized the issue (e.g., many more individuals referred to temperature
increases and melting glaciers when asked to define global warming as opposed to climate change; see also
Leiserowitz, 2006). However, Villar and Krosnick (2011) found only small differences between the two terms as a
function of political party identification, and in the opposite direction of the one predicted by Luntz: climate change
was rated as slightly more serious among Republicans, while Democrats found global warming to be slightly more
serious. Villar and Krosnick concluded that use of the two terms may have some effect on public perceptions of the
issue but that such effects are likely small and inconsistent across different groups.
Page 3 of 31

(p. 648) Is Climate Change Happening?
Perhaps the most basic facet of peoples beliefs about global climate change is whether the phenomenon exists or
will occur in the foreseeable future (essentially every public poll on the issue asks some form of this question).
Polling in the United Kingdom and other non-US nations reveals consistently strong beliefs in the existence of
climate change (e.g., Guardian/ICM, 2011). Longitudinal data collected by Gallup over the past 13 years suggest
relative stability in existence beliefs when looking across all individuals and groups. However, as Dunlap and
McCright (2008), among others (e.g., Leiserowitz, Maibach, & Roser-Renouf, 2010), have demonstrated, such
apparent population-level consistency potentially masks significant and opposing trends occurring among
Democrats and Republicans within the United States: in 1998, 46% of Democrats and 47% of Republicans believed
the effects of global warming had already begun; by 2008, 76% of Democrats but only 41% of Republicans
believed that to be the case (McCright & Dunlap, 2008. However, between 2008 and 2010, belief in the existence
of climate change decreased among all groups (Leiserowitz et al., 2010). This appears to have been a temporary
dip due to various events that occurred in 20082009 (e.g., Climategate; COP15; extremely cold winters in the
northern hemisphere; changes in elite cues). More recently, Krosnick and MacInnis (2011) report that in 2011, a
majority of Democrats (91%), Independents (84%), and Republicans (66%) believed the earth has been warming;
moreover, this belief increased from 2010 to 2011 among Independents and Republicans. Differences in question
wording can be important here, because, as Krosnick and MacInnis (2011) note, the political divide is greater when
the question asks about whether the worlds temperature will continue to rise, with 88% of Democrats, 71% of
Independents, and 53% of Republicans believing this; there has been little change in these beliefs from 2010 to
2011.
Causes and Mechanisms of Global Climate Change

Much research on global climate change beliefs has focused on individuals attributions of causation (i.e., humans
vs. nature) and understanding of the physical mechanisms responsible for the phenomenon (e.g., emissions of
greenhouse gases). Although initial research examined peoples mental or cultural models (see above; Kempton et
al., 1995; Bostrom et al., 1994), more recent research has focused primarily on beliefs about whether global
climate change is caused by humans actions or by naturally occurring changes in the climate system.
Unfortunately, due to the use of differently worded items across various polls and studies, it is difficult to get a clear
sense of peoples beliefs on this particular facet. For example, Gallup (Newport, 2010) reports that from 2003 to
2010 the percentage of Americans who believed global climate change (GCC) was a result of human activities
dropped from 61% to 50%, while those believing it to be naturally occurring rose from 33% to 46%. However, data
from Pew (2010) suggest that as of 2010, only 34% of Americans believed GCC was caused by human behavior
and roughly 20% believed it was due to natural patterns.1 Others have also examined perceptions of personal
responsibility for climate change (Read et al., 1994; Whitmarsh, 2009). Those who report such responsibility may
be especially likely to feel morally responsible for addressing climate change (Markowitz, in press).
Looking somewhat more closely at peoples factual knowledge about the causes of global climate change, recent
findings indicate that while many Americans now know something about certain causal mechanisms responsible for
global climate change (e.g., emissions of CO2 from cars, power plants, and other sources; deforestation),
misconceptions regarding other perceived causes of global climate change still exist, (e.g., many people continue
to believe that CFCs from aerosols are responsible; Leiserowitz & Smith, 2010). Interestingly, these mistaken beliefs
about various causes of global climate change are at least as strong if not stronger among individuals highly
convinced that global climate change is happening and is a problem (Leiserowitz & Smith, 2010). Taken together,
these findings suggest that many Americans beliefs about the etiology of global climate change remain
significantly out of step with the scientific consensus on the issue, although this may be improving.
Scientific Consensus
Considerable polling has also been done exploring beliefs about whether there is scientific consensus over climate
change. As with the publics beliefs about the causes of climate change, there are significant discrepancies
between the actual amount of agreement among scientists (i.e., there is almost complete scientific consensus on
the basic fact of whether climate change is happening; see Anderegg, Prall, Harold, & Schneider, 2010; Doran &
Zimmerman, 2009, Oreskes, 200) and the publics (p. 649) beliefs about the amount of consensus (which are all
over the map). Moreover, the publics beliefs about scientific consensus over global climate change appear to be
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moving toward greater perceived scientific disagreement (e.g., Pew, 2010), despite a lack of any objective change
in the state of scientific discourse over global climate change in the past few years in that direction.
Meta-Cognitions
Meta-cognitions, reflections on primary perceptions or evaluations or attempts to control cognitions, represent a
potentially important set of climate change beliefs (Scannell & Grouzet, 2010). At least three meta-cognitions are
relevant to beliefs about climate change: certainty about climate change and its impacts, confidence in ones selfassessed knowledge about climate change, and importance of climate change. Meta-cognitions can be as
important or more important predictors of behaviors than lower-order beliefs. For instance, importance and
certainty of beliefs predict attempts to persuade others of those beliefs (Visser, Krosnick, & Simmons, 2003) and
confidence in ones knowledge is related to more risk-taking behaviors and less information-seeking (Scannell &
Grouzet, 2010). Importance assigned to climate change is related to donating more to environmental and climate
change activism (Visser et al., 2003). Further, confidence in ones knowledge of climate change is associated with
being less concerned about climate change (Kellstedt et al., 2008).
Certainty
Risk perceptions and concerns about climate change consequences can be considered assessments of the
certainty about the impacts of climate change (Scannell & Grouzet, 2010). Considerable research addresses
perceptions of the impacts of climate change and associated risks that global climate change poses to individuals,
their communities, humanity, and other species (cf. Bostrom et al., 1994; Bulkeley, 2000; Read et al., 1994;
Whitmarsh, 2009). Americans tend to perceive the impacts of global climate change as accruing almost
exclusively to other individuals and communities, especially those living in distant nations and far in the future
(Bord et al., 1998; Nisbet & Myers, 2007; Stamm, Clark, & Eblacas, 2000), although a subset of the population does
believe that global climate change will have significant negative effects on them in the near future (Leiserowitz et
al., 2010). For example, early research found that many individuals believed that climate change posed serious
direct health risks to people, primarily through increased incidence of skin cancer and respiratory problems
(Bostrom et al., 1994; Kempton et al., 1995; Stamm et al., 2000); however, more recent research has suggested
that direct and nameable health consequences of climate change have become less salient to Americans (cf.
Lorenzoni et al., 2006). In addition, many individuals hold widely shared beliefs about the physical consequences
of climate change on the natural world, for example, warmer temperatures, melting icebergs, dying polar bears,
sea level rise, changes in precipitation patterns, and weird weather (cf. Bostrom et al., 1994; Leiserowitz, 2006;
Read et al., 1994; Stamm et al., 2000).
Taken together, these findings suggest that most individuals in the United States believe (in line with experts) that
the worst consequences of climate change will be borne not by themselves but rather by distant others (spatially
and temporally), and it is likely the case that this basic lay understanding of climate change has had an important
dampening effect on perceived risk, concern, and urgency for action (Bord et al., 1998; Weber, 2006). Indeed, as
these beliefs about the perceived otherness of the victims of global climate change have become more widely
held, concern, worry, and risk perceptions regarding global climate change appear to have weakened among
Americans (e.g., Leiserowitz et al., 2010). It is important to note, however, that risk perceptions and concern over
global climate change are highly differentiated among the US public, as Leiserowitz et al. (2010) have shown with
their Six Americas research program (see also Dunlap & McCright, 2008, for differences in concern as a function
of political party identification).
Confidence in Knowledge
Research by Sundblad, Biel, and Grling (2008) indicates that confidence in ones knowledge about climate
change varies across individuals and topics. These researchers found that Swedish respondents were generally
certain of their knowledge about climate change, with experts being the most certain about their knowledge,
followed by journalists, then politicians, and then laypeople. These Swedes tended to be more confident in their
knowledge about the causes of climate change than about the state (e.g., global temperature patterns) or future
consequences of climate change. Moreover, knowledge of, or confidence in, ones knowledge about climate
change is likely to be low among the least knowledgeable. Consistent with research on the role (p. 650) of
preconceived beliefs about ones ability on poor self-assessments of performance (Dunning, 2005), Sundblad et al.
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(2008) found that the correlation between Swedish respondents confidence in their knowledge about climate
change and actual knowledge was lowest among those who knew the least about climate change.
Importance
Finally, research on importance placed upon addressing climate change partially explains discrepancies between
perceiving that climate change is real and degree of support for efforts to address climate change. Although many
in the United States believe that climate change exists, few volunteer it as the most important problem the public
faces (Yeager et al., 2011). Yet, when the question is framed in such a way to focus on problems for the world and
in the future, environmental problems and climate change are identified as much more important (Yeager et al.,
2011).
Who Believes What and Why?

Research conducted within the past 10 years has begun to examine the closely related questions of who believes
what about global climate change as well as why people believe what they do regarding the issue. Here we first
very briefly mention some of the more prominent moderators and correlates of global climate change beliefs before
discussing some of the many psychological processes that likely play a role in shaping those beliefs.
Demographic and Psycho-Social Predictors

Beliefs about global climate change are significantly correlated with a number of demographic and psycho-social
variables. For example, McCright (2010) found that women tend to possess more accurate knowledge of climate
change than men and are more concerned about the issue, but that they also are more likely to underestimate
their own knowledge of the issue, while men are likely to overestimate their knowledge. OConnor et al. (1999)
found a slight positive relation between age and support for various climate mitigation policies, but other research
suggests either a negative or nonsignificant relation between age and various domains of global climate change
belief, including concern and knowledge (cf. Leiserowitz et al., 2010; McCright, 2010). Educational attainment
generally appears to be positively but weakly related to increases in existence beliefs, concern, and preferences
to confront global climate change (e.g., McCright, 2010). Not surprisingly, individuals who hold strong proenvironmental attitudes and those who hold biocentric values are generally more concerned about global climate
change, report knowing more about the topic, and are more likely to believe global climate change is occurring as
a result of human actions (cf. Kellstedt et al., 2008; Bord et al., 1998).
As mentioned previously, beliefs about global climate change are also strongly moderated by political party
identification and socioeconomic ideology more generally (cf. Dunlap & McCright, 2008; Leiserowitz et al., 2010;
Malka et al., 2009; Kellstedt et al., 2008). American conservatives and Republicans are much less likely than
liberals and Democrats (and moderates/Independents) to believe global climate change is happening, is due to
human actions, and poses significant threats to them and others. As a result, conservatives/Republicans generally
report lower levels of concern and willingness to respond proactively to the issue. Hoffman (2011) and others (e.g.,
Nisbet, 2009) have argued that climate change has in many ways become a highly politicized issue over the past
10 years; this is reflected not only in the public polling data on the issue but also in the vastly different and
contrasting frames or logics that climate change advocates and skeptics utilize in talking to their bases (and
largely past one another) about climate change.
At a broader scale, beliefs about global climate change clearly differ between nations. For example, polling
conducted by Gallup in over 125 countries in 20072008 revealed wide gaps between nations in basic awareness
of the issue, with the populations of some nations (e.g., India) showing very low levels of familiarity with the terms
global warming or climate change (Pelham, 2009). Moreover, even among individuals who have heard about
global climate change, there are huge cross-national differences in public perceptions of the threat global climate
change poses to individuals and humans more generally (Pugliese & Ray, 2009), although it is not clear whether
education about or experience with global climate change impacts moderate this effect.
Where Do GCC Beliefs Come From?

Beliefs about global climate change are shaped both by our direct experiences with climate-relevant phenomena
(e.g., daily weather, extreme climatic events) as well as, and perhaps more powerfully, by our indirect experiences
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with the issue (e.g., via social interaction and media coverage). As Weber (2006) (p. 651) and others have
argued, our direct experiences of climate change are severely limited, in part by definition (i.e., global climate
change is a statistical phenomenon consisting of many different events spread out temporally and spatially) and in
part due to various features of the issue, for example, its slow pace of change, centuries-long time horizons, and
nonlinear feedback loops (see Sterman & Booth Sweeny, 2002). Yet, regardless of whether it is objectively
appropriate to use such experiences as the basis for forming beliefs about global climate change, Kempton and
others have shown that individuals do come to understand global climate change in large part through personal
experiences of local weather. Indeed, some recent research indicates that experiences of local weather (and
especially extreme events) can have a significant effect on climate change beliefs (Egan & Mullin, in press),
although Jenkins-Smith et al. (2009) suggested that this relationship may be bidirectional (i.e., beliefs about climate
change shape perceptions of local weather). In general, it seems likely that direct experiences with the climaterelevant phenomena strongly shape beliefs regarding the existence of climate change, what its impacts will be (if
any), and how important the issue is.
Beliefs about global climate change are also strongly shaped by indirect experiences with the phenomenon,
particularly interactions with close others (e.g., family and friends) and exposure to media coverage of global
climate change (Boykoff & Boykoff, 2004; Iyengar & Hahn, 2009). Over the past 15 years, communications
researchers, psychologists, and others have documented the ways in which global climate change is framed and
talked about in both interpersonal settings (cf. Norgaard, 2006; Bulkeley, 2000) and in the media (e.g., Boykoff &
Boykoff, 2004; Nisbet, 2009). This and other research suggests that global climate change is a socially constructed
issue in many ways (Hulme, 2009), and the effects of this are seen in part in the polarization of the issue at the
group level (e.g., Republicans vs. Democrats) as well as in the ways in which various groups and opinion leaders
utilize rhetoric (and scientific findings, in some cases) to either accentuate or discredit various aspects of the issue
(Hoffman, 2011). Some experimental work also suggests that media representations of certain aspects of the issue
(e.g., uncertainty) can significantly impact individuals beliefs about global climate change (e.g., Corbett & Durfee,
2004).
Work on motivated information-seeking and reasoning suggests that individuals likely seek out information about
global climate change that allows them to confirm preexisting beliefs about the issue (cf. Kunda, 1990; Lord, Ross,
& Lepper, 1979) and about how the world operates more generally (e.g., Kahan et al., 2007). At the same time,
these motivated processes allow us to defend ourselves, to some degree, against the threats posed by information
about global climate change. For example, Feinberg and Willer (2011) found that individuals show reactance to
strongly negative portrayals of global climate change in part due to the challenge that such messages pose to
deeply held beliefs about the world being a just, orderly, and stable place (see also Meijnders, Midden, & Wilke,
2001). In a similar vein, Feyigna, Jost, and Goldsmith (2010) showed that the tendency to support the status quo via
justification of existing socioeconomic systems (i.e., system justifying) is negatively related to concern about global
climate change and willingness to respond (behaviorally) to the issue. Similarly, Kahan et al. (2007) have argued
that traditional representations of global climate change as a scary, complex problem that requires immediate
change to the US economic system motivate those with hierarchical and individualistic values to reject claims
about the existence and seriousness of global climate change (and conversely, to make the problem seem more
important to those with egalitarian and community-oriented values). At the same time, representations of global
climate change as causing significant harm to innocent others (including those not yet born) likely activate moral
values that are deeply held by liberals in the United States (cf. Haidt & Graham, 2007; Markowitz, in press).
Moreover, the scariness of global climate change and the threat it poses to our own mortality may activate
existential needs, as outlined by terror management theory (Dickinson, 2009; Greenberg et al., 1992) that lead us
to cling to our group identities and values. Taken together, these and other findings suggest that at least some of
the political polarization in beliefs about global climate change may result from basic, underlying psychological
differences between liberals and conservatives (Jost, Glaser, Kruglanski, & Sulloway, 2003), including differences
in values, system justification needs, and beliefs about how the world should operate.
Political identification, basic values, and worldviews aside, beliefs about global climate change are also influenced
by a wide variety of situational and attitudinal factors. For example, Malka et al. (2009) found that trust in scientists
significantly moderated the relationship between knowledge about global (p. 652) climate change and concern
over the issue, and that knowledge and concern were positively related only among individuals who trust scientists
for information about global climate change (and many do; see Leiserowitz et al., 2010). Moreover, the recent
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Climategate scandal appears to have decreased trust in scientists (Leiserowitz et al., 2010), although perhaps
only or primarily among individuals already skeptical of global climate change. In a separate vein, Risen and
Critcher (2011) found that individuals placed in warm settings (e.g., a heated room) report higher levels of belief in
global warming (effects on climate change were not tested), suggesting that beliefs about global climate
change are at least somewhat situationally dependent and mutable (see also Joireman, Truelove, & Duell, 2010).
Clearly there are many other psychological constructs and processes that likely shape peoples beliefs about
global climate change (e.g., temporal construal, optimistic biases, biased information recall, need for closure,
numeracy, naive physics), and much research remains to be done in exploring these and other factors. At a
psychological level, global climate change (and particularly how it is framed in the media) activates both affectively
driven, heuristic-based processing as well as more cognitively effortful reasoned engagement with the issue.
Explicating how, when, and why these systems are differentially activated in processing information about global
climate change may go a long way in explaining differences between individuals and groups with respect to beliefs
about global climate change; moreover, examining these issues should provide important insights for
communicators, politicians, and others interested in shaping public opinion regarding global climate change.
Educational Efforts
Since James Hansens awareness-raising 1988 congressional testimony, many environmental leaders, science
communicators, and others have attempted to raise not only public awareness but also understanding of global
climate change, largely in an attempt to shape peoples beliefs about the existence, causes, and importance of the
issue. The field of environmental education, particularly in the kindergarten through 12th-grade curricula, has
addressed many topic areas including sustainable development and biodiversity (Clayton & Myers, 2009).
Consistent with these educational efforts, over the past few years climate science has become much more
mainstream in many K12 curricula around the country and further efforts are under way to increase exposure to
scientific knowledge and training that will allow students and adults at all levels to better interpret global climate
change data for themselves. In addition, many zoos, aquariums, and museums have dedicated programs aimed at
increasing climate literacy, in part by attempting to link climate science with tangible effects on things people
care deeply about (e.g., welfare of other humans and animals). Within the United States, many of these efforts are
supported by the National Science Foundation, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, and the US
Global Change Research Program; together, these organizations have produced educational materials, including
the document Climate Literacy: The Essential Principles of Climate Sciences (US Global Change Research
Program, 2009), meant to improve the general publics understanding of basic climate science principles and
constructs. Many other researchers are also working on developing novel techniques for improving climate
literacy, including apps and web based information accessible to the general public (Cook, 2012; McCaffrey &
Buhr, 2008; Niepold, Herring, & McConville, 2008; see Moser, 2010, for a review of global climate change
communication research and strategies).
Of course, given our understanding of the ways in which individuals engage with global climate change at a
psychological level, it is clear that such direct information provision efforts are likely to result in only marginal
success at best with respect to increasing knowledge, and ultimately concern in the general public, about global
climate change (cf. Bulkeley, 2000; Kellstedt et al., 2008; Moser, 2010). In an effort to promote effective
communication with the public about global climate change, various organizations and research groups have
published manuals, articles, and books (Center for Research on Environmental Decisions, 2009; Maibach, RoserRenouf, & Leiserowitz, 2008; Moser & Dilling, 2007) aimed at applying our understanding of the challenges that
global climate change poses to our cognitive- and experiential-based systems (see above) to the development of
education and communication strategies that increase objective knowledge about global climate change (cf.
Center for Research on Environmental Decisions, 2009). These efforts reflect the insights that psychological
research holds for explicating peoples understanding of the issue, as detailed above. For example, because the
dynamics of stock and flow systems are highly confusing for most individuals (Sterman & Booth Sweeny, 2002),
utilizing analogies from real (p. 653) life (e.g., bathtubs, bank accounts) to talk about climate dynamics may be
effective in some cases. In a related vein, the ability of films to portray vivid images has been found to influence
knowledge and concern about climate change (if not necessarily behavior that would address it; see Nolan, 2010),
pointing to another possible route for educating nonscientists about the issue.
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More broadly, Pidgeon and Fischhoff (2011) suggested that because of the nature of both global climate change
and human psychology, climate change communicators must fundamentally rethink their approach to
communicating with the public regarding the risks posed by climate change. Rather than utilize traditional,
unidirectional messaging in which the public is treated as an empty slate just waiting to be told what to believe,
communicators must move toward a more inclusive, engaging bidirectional approach that provides opportunities
for scientists to receive meaningful feedback from members of the public; moving in this direction would not only
increase public engagement, but also provide for critical recalibration of the messages communicators and
scientists want to get across to nonexperts. These and other efforts to improve communication strategies attempt
to minimize the sort of motivated rejection of climate science information that so often results from providing
skeptical individuals information about global climate change (cf. Kellstedt et al., 2008; Malka et al., 2009). Although
relatively little assessment has been conducted on these initial efforts (Moser, 2010; Pidgeon & Fischhoff, 2011), it
seems likely that such psychologically informed approaches have much to offer environmental communicators
interested in engaging effectively with members of the general public on this topic.
Impacts
Much attention has been given to the current and impending physical effects of global climate change, in addition
to increasing attention for the human dimensions of these impacts. Impacts on the earth itself include heat and
drought in some areas of the world, and melting icecaps, eroding beach lines, and increased rainfall in others.
These geophysical changes in turn impact animal populations and their habitat and migration, as well as leading to
possible increases in the maltreatment of animals and animal welfare (e.g., increased factory farming for food
production; Dawkins & Bonney, 2008). For humans, these climate changedriving ecological changes can have
considerable health implications. Physical impacts include decreased access to essential resources such as food
(Brown & Funk, 2008), clean air (Kinney, 2008), clean water, and energy resources; movement and migration
(Reuveny & Moore, 2009); economic and occupational changes (Pereira, 2009; Galvin, 2009); increased disease
and illness (Donohoe, 2010); personal loss (Randall, 2009); and decreased fertility and/or life expectancy (Lin,
2010; Tang, Petrie, & Rao, 2009).
The human impacts of global climate change extend into domains often studied by psychologists (Doherty &
Clayton, 2011; Swim & Clayton, 2011). These include impaired emotional well-being, stress, and anxiety. They also
include extended effects into personal relationships and intergroup relations due to, for instance, increased crime
and violence (e.g., due to heat-related crime, Rotton & Cohn, 2003; conflict over resources, Donahoe, 2010; or
domestic violence, Enarson, 1999). Individuals and communities who then attempt to cope with and prepare for
geophysical, social, and psychological impacts create subsequent effects. Below we first consider some of the
psychological impacts of climate change. We then consider adaptation to climate change and associated social
justice issues.
Psychological Impacts
While climate change impacts can result in short-term, isolated, or discrete stressors (e.g., hurricanes or floods),
long-term climate changes may be more widespread over geographic space and time (e.g., spreading of disease)
and can result in chronic stress. The former has been examined in a host of literature both within and outside
psychology addressing the human impacts of natural and large-scale disasters and adaptive coping techniques
(see Lindell, this volume). These include the development of phobias, social anxiety disorder, post-traumatic stress
disorder, and depression (Hussain, Weisaeth, & Heir, 2011). The latter, however, are less studied in direct relation
to climate change, as the impacts of long-term climate changes have only recently been discussed within the
psychological literature. Yet, chronic effects are likely to include anxiety, worry, grief and mourning, guilt, despair,
and apathy, to name a few (Doherty & Clayton, 2011).
A variety of intergroup consequences are also likely to develop. Competition over increasingly scarce resources
will likely increase intergroup tensions and conflict (Zhang et al., 2007), such as the conflicts and suffering that
have and will likely continue to ensue over access to water (i.e., water wars, (p. 654) e.g., see Shiva, 2002,
2006). Additionally, conflicts and increasing climate threats may lead to changes in identity or social categories,
such as environmentalists, climate change deniers, or contributors, which may in turn lead to the formation of new
stereotypes, prejudice, and discrimination. Impacts such as forced migration from rural areas may create indirect
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effects, such as changes in cultural values or boundaries, which in turn may impact health, poverty, substance
abuse, and community and social cohesion (Beard et al., 2009).
Psychological impacts of climate change may be highly related to appraisals of the severity and risk posed by
climate change (Doherty & Clayton, 2011; Reser & Swim, 2011). For many people living in much of the Global
North and working in industrialized spaces, climate change can be seen as an abstract issue that does not
immediately impact their livelihoods or well-being, and their only connection to climate change is through the media
or discussions with others (see Where do GCC beliefs come from above). Appraisals of climate change may also
serve as a coping strategy to diminish the negative effects of climate change stressors. The extent to which
climate change is viewed as an overwhelming and unchangeable force, as opposed to one with human solutions or
not even as an issue at all, will likely alter the degree of psychological impact. Thus, those who might otherwise feel
psychologically burdened or overwhelmed, or have belief systems threatened by climate change may instead
choose to reject the belief in its existence (e.g., Feinberg & Willer, 2011).
Adaptation
Although the term adaptation has been used in climate change discussions largely to refer to technological and
physical changes made in response to climate disasters, it is applicable to a psychological examination of climate
change impacts as a way of understanding how people respond to and cope with climate change impacts. Reser
and Swim (2011) have described psychological adaptation as anticipated and reactive responses to climate
change in human thinking and behavior, and as a coping response to physical and social environmental changes.
Some forms of adaptation focus on coping with immediate short-term consequences of climate change that emerge
from natural disasters. Basic behavioral adaptation to climate change can include assistance with essential human
needs, such as food, clothing, and shelter. This may also extend to financial assistance, creation of new jobs, and
migration. Short-term impacts, such as natural disasters, tend to make suffering more salient or easy to identify
with, which, according to the empathy-altruism hypothesis, increases helping behavior (Batson et al., 1981). In
addition, psychological effects such as the low-cost situation hypothesis (e.g., Diekmann & Preisendrfer, 1992;
Kempton et al., 1985) and social helping norms (Cialdini et al., 1981) may increase helping when one comes across
an easily identifiable charity or witnesses others helping.
These types of assisted adaptations may not be related to long-term climate change impacts. Such individual and
social assistance is not usually as readily available to help with adaptation to chronic impacts of climate change,
perhaps because it requires more dedicated monetary relief and behavior change rather than one-time donations
of time and money. Long-term impacts are also less likely to be covered by the media, and when they are, chronic
exposure may create compassion fatigue (Figley, 1995). Additionally, psychological processes such as the freerider tendency (e.g., Condie et al., 1976) and the bystander effect/diffusion of responsibility may hinder helping
with adaptation to climate change impacts because individuals may assume that there are many other individuals
who can take care of the problem (Frantz & Mayer, 2009; Latane et al., 1981).
Those who have already experienced chronic impacts of climate change may engage in a number of methods to
psychologically adapt or adjust to their current situation. These may include cognitive responses (e.g., appraisals
or reframing), affective responses (e.g., worry, hope, guilt, or shame), or social responses (e.g., volunteering,
social support, or social amplification or attenuation; Doherty & Clayton, 2011; Reser & Swim, 2011). A few scales
specifically intended to measure coping with global environmental problems have recently emerged, which assess
problem-solving, expressive coping, denial of guilt, relativization, wishful thinking, self-protection, pleasure, and
resignation(Homburg, Stolberg, & Wagner, 2007).
Another important type of psychological adaptation is proactive coping, in which individuals prepare for a stressful
event before it occurs, to thwart or minimize its effect (Aspinwall & Taylor, 1997). When related to climate change,
this may include preparing for anticipated threats and stressors, or preparing for future disasters after the
experience of a previous disaster. Once again, there is a relatively large body of literature addressing proactive
coping (p. 655) in relation to short-term stressors, such as disaster preparation. Some of these preparations
include community building and education about mental health impacts, emotion management training, cognitive
behavioral coping skills, and stress inoculation training, as well as changing threat perceptions and appraisals of
the event (Morrissey & Reser, 2007). Sims and Baumann (1972) illustrated that increased locus of control led to
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better preparedness for natural disasters, such as tornados. The proactive coping literature itself focuses largely
on immediate and personally relevant health issues, such as diabetes (Thoolen et al., 2008) and physical activity
(Stadler, Oettingen, & Gollwitzer, 2009). However, no research has, to our knowledge, assessed the effect of
proactive coping on dealing with the chronic, uncertain, and varying impacts of climate change. While proactive
coping could very well be an effective means of handling chronic stress, as determined from the health literature,
numerous factors make climate change impacts less amenable to proactive coping. These factors include
uncertainty of whether impacts are directly related to climate change, lack of personal control over many climate
change impacts, and for many people, lack of direct current experiences with climate change impacts.
Mitigation behaviors may also be used as a form of psychological adaptation. Doing green behaviors may help
reduce guilt or other negative affective responses to climate change (e.g., worry, hopelessness). Participating in
mitigation behaviors may also create a sense of self-worth or positive identity related to ones environmental
actions (Brook, 2011) or being a humanitarian. This developed role-identity may in turn lead to increased
subsequent pro-environmental or humanitarian behaviors (Piliavin & Callero, 1991). Finally, a resistance to
mitigation behaviors may follow from a psychologically adaptive need to deny climate change or reject affective
feelings of guilt or worry (Gifford, 2011; Swim & Bloodhart, in preparation).
Vulnerability and Resilience

An important and lately more recognized factor in the climate change discussion is that of vulnerability, or the
ability of individuals or groups to cope with the impacts of climate change. Keim (2008) has described vulnerability
to natural disasters as having two parts: the degree of exposure to dangers or disasters (susceptibility) and the
capacity to cope with or recover from their consequences (resilience). Others equate vulnerability with
susceptibility, by conceptualizing it as the inability to cope based on varying factors such as location, economics,
level of industrialization, and social disadvantages, while resilience is conceptually the opposite: the personal,
social, economic, and infrastructural resources that help one to cope with climate change impacts (e.g., see Reser
& Swim, 2011).
Due to the geophysical impacts of climate change, people in the Global South are particularly susceptible to drastic
changes in their environment, such as floods, droughts, malaria, reduced water resources, destroyed crops, and
land erosion. Unfortunately, due to colonization, global trade markets, and industrialization in the North, many of
these areas are also left with few resources to cope (e.g., see Roberts & Parks, 2007). Many effects are also
projected in the arctic regions as well, due to, for instance, average temperatures increasing nearly twice those in
the rest of the world (Environmental Protection Agency, 2012). Of the many resources to cope with climate impacts,
the greatest is access to financial capital, which in turn gives access to essential resources such as food, water,
and shelter, but can also facilitate the ability to change or influence national policies related to climate change
adaptation (e.g., see Brouwer, Akter, Brander, & Haque, 2007). Research has shown that cultural self-expression
values decrease and survival values increase due to lack of wealth in high climate changeimpact areas of the
world (Van de Vliert, 2007) and that life expectancy in these areas is moderated by income (Tang et al., 2009).
Social Justice Implications

Given issues of vulnerability and resilience, climate change has readily become a social justice issue. Groups high
in socioeconomic status have both the ability to continue to contribute to climate change through the production of
carbon emissions, but also the ability to protect themselves from its consequences and more easily adapt to
climate changes and the associated impacts. Those who lack social power and are members of marginalized
groups (e.g., women, racial minorities, the poor) are also less likely to participate in the economic market and have
access to income-earning jobs (Maskia & Joekes, 1997).
Terry (2009) illustrated how gender roles and expectations can play a large role in gendered experiences of
climate change through examining how rural women in Africa and Asia are often more dependent on natural
resources and do most of the agricultural work, while poor women are most likely to bear the brunt of health
problems (p. 656) due to less access to education and health care. Gender imbalances exist in mortality rates
due to disproportionate socioeconomic status, as womens access to capital is often restricted or limited compared
to mens and can be more severely reduced based on other social identities such as race or age. Women can also
be impacted based on expectations about gendered behavior and the value of womens lives. For example,
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women will be more negatively impacted in cultures where women receive less food than men during food
shortages, and are expected to do the majority of adaptation work (e.g., take care of the household, care for
elderly, participate in community building), while men return to wage-earning work (Nelson et al., 2002). Traditional
gender role beliefs may also have negative impacts on men, as food shortages and lack of agricultural
opportunities may cause stress or mental illness in males who are typically expected to provide for the household,
or who are expected to behave heroically during natural disasters and thus make life-risking decisions (Brody,
Demetriades, & Esplen, 2008). In other words, people may be pushed to the extreme margins based on gender and
intersecting identities and experience profound discrimination or other consequences.
Policies meant to address adaptation and mitigation to climate change also need to take into account
considerations of intersectionality. Womens and mens social position is constructed in relation to their other forms
of identity (e.g., race, class, marital status, sexual orientation), and their agency and ability for adaptation and
mitigation may largely depend on cultural norms and beliefs about these different groups (both in terms of their
voice in the debate and their vulnerability on the ground; e.g., see AWID, 2004). For example, people have
different needs and connections to the environment based on gender, location, religion, and education. Some
women are solely dependent on clean water supply and food production in their immediate area, while the wealth
or education of other women allows them to bypass some climate change impacts by getting food and water from
sources farther away from home. Thus, the risk of climate change may be higher for someone more connected
with nature (either physically or psychologically). But risk can also be temporal and based on whether there are
more immediate stressors in life. In such cases, poor women might be financially restrained from adaptation
strategies, whereas wealthy women might have fewer restrictions and educated women might have better access
to people and places where they can make their voices and opinions on climate change adaptation strategies
heard.
Similarly, the decisions made about how to enhance adaptation and mitigation of climate change need to
incorporate local knowledge and worldviews. Not only do many national policies attempt to define the best
solutions for people and cultures without asking for the viewpoint of those groups, but they may also actually harm
or disproportionately penalize members of those groups (Denton, 2002). For example, agricultural technologies
meant for adaptation to higher heat and drought in many areas of Africa are often more accessible to male farmers,
although the majority of agricultural workers in many areas are women. Alternatively, when asked what would help
them to adapt best, women in the Ganges River basin, for example, request safer living spaces and information and
knowledge about agricultural practices, rather than new technologies (Brody et al., 2008). Even though many
groups have begun to recognize the importance of having a gender policy (or a policy meant to address gender
differences), without intersectional perspectives these will be based on normative (i.e., white, middle class,
heterosexual, etc.) experiences rather than understanding and addressing all womens experiences.
Additionally, strategies based on an assumption about a maximum tolerable increase in temperatures are based on
northern, wealthy, and industrialized perspectives about what is an acceptable amount of change. For example,
while the global community (namely, the United Nations) has agreed that a two-degree Celsius change in global
temperature is acceptable, this level of temperature increase will further harm communities that are already
experiencing harmful climate impacts (Shaw, 2009). As Seager (2009) argued, For whom is two degrees
acceptable? Climate change is creating negative impacts now for many people in the Global South and in polar
regions and will only get worse as the climate continues to change. Decisions regarding climate change adaptation
and mitigation need to take into consideration the viewpoints and concerns of those who do not have the ability to
ward off the consequences with technology and wealth and who do not have such an invested interest in
continuing to use natural resources that contribute to climate change impacts to sustain what is ever more
becoming a privileged existence.
Human Behavioral Contributions

Human activity is a main contributor to global climate change. It is necessary to include human (p. 657) activity,
along with other natural transformations (volcanoes and solar activity), in order to explain late 20th-century
warming (Meehl et al., 2004). Increases in greenhouse gases are a result of increased reliance on fossil fuels, land
use that impedes the ability of the earth to absorb greenhouse gases, and exponential population growth (more
precisely, the growth of the number of households; Carr, Suter, & Barbieri, 2006; Druckman & Jackson, 2009;
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Petroni, 2010; Stern, Young, & Druckman, 1992; Swim, Clayton, & Howard, 2011). We focus here on activities that
involve the use of fossil fuels and specifically the production of CO2 because this has been a primary focus of
many who study increases in greenhouse gases (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, 2007; Solomon,
Plattner, Knutti, & Friedlingstein, 2009; Stern et al., 1992). Below we discuss behavioral analyses of human
contributions to climate change, predictors of these behaviors, and methods of changing these behaviors.
Analyzing Human Mitigation Behaviors

Practically, it is useful to understand which behaviors result in greenhouse gas emissions, but this is not always a
simple deduction, in part because human activities both directly and indirectly create greenhouse gases. Direct
contributions occur during the time when the activity is occurring, such as when driving a car. Indirect
contributions occur behind the scenes, in preparation for an activity or after an activity. Emissions at the beginning
of the life cycle of a product (upstream emissions) include the emissions created during extraction of materials and
the manufacturing, assembly, and delivery of products. Emissions at the end of the life cycle (downstream
emissions) include emissions created during the process of collecting, recycling, and incinerating waste
(Environmental Protection Agency, 2006). Emissions from one behavior can also be linked to other behaviors. For
instance, using the Internet involves the energy that runs the device (e.g., a computer, a phone), the energy used
to connect to the Internet, and the energy to run the Internet, all of which contribute to greenhouse gas emissions.
The distinction between direct and indirect contributions is important psychologically. One might argue that it is
more fruitful to attend to direct contributions rather than indirect contributions, in part because households can
monitor and control their direct contributions. For similar reasons, it might be easier to assess the success of
behavioral efforts to reduce direct emissions. Plus, indirect contributions often include sources outside of a
country, such as the production of material goods. Bin and Dowlatabadi (2005) noted that about 40% of UK
households indirect contributions come from sources outside of the United Kingdom. Yet, indirect sources need to
be addressed because, for example, in the United States and the United Kingdom, they account for more emissions
than direct emissions (Bin & Dowlatabadi, 2005; Druckman & Jackson, 2009). Collectively, household behaviors
can influence indirect contributions by creating consumer demand for environmentally sensitive products (Collins,
Steg, & Koning, 2007). Further, attention to the full life cycle of a product connects consumer behavior to other
ethical considerations, such as fair labor practices and the treatment of animals.
Categorizing sources of emissions into types of human activities brings one closer to understanding the specific
behavioral sources of climate change. In the United States, about a third of CO2 emissions come from
transportation, with gasoline for personal vehicles accounting for about half of the emissions from transportation
(Environmental Protection Agency, 2010). Other sources of CO2 emissions are industrial (about 27%), residential
(21%), and commercial end use (19%). Attention has also been given to food production as a source of emissions,
though its focus is often on methane and Nitrous Oxide (Environmental Protection Agency, 2010). For example,
meat consumption, and thus factory farm animals (particularly cows), contribute to methane (Jorgenson, 2006). A
functional classification of household consumption patterns reveals that recreation and leisure (25%) and food and
catering (22%) contribute the most to greenhouse gases in UK households, suggesting a need to develop
alternative ways to engage in leisure activities (Druckman & Jackson, 2009). It is also possible to examine regional
variation in contribution to greenhouse gases. In the United Kingdom, those living in suburbs contribute
substantially more emissions than those living in cities (Dietz et al., 2009). This could be a function of wealth and
the tendency to purchase more products and services, but it also could be a function of the efficiency of city
living, including the ability to forgo or minimize private transportation. Understanding these types of variations can
point to reasons why individuals do these activities and potential ways to change behaviors.
A useful alternative analysis of behavioral contributions is an assessment of the extent to which different behaviors
could help reduce emissions. Dietz and colleagues (2009) estimated that, among 17 (p. 658) impactful behaviors,
purchasing fuel-efficient vehicles is the most effective direct method of reducing emissions in the United States.
Other impactful behaviors include carpooling and trip-chaining (e.g., combining two car trips to the store into one),
weatherizing ones home, driving more efficiently, upgrading appliances and heating and cooling systems, and
setting back thermostats. Based on typical compliance rates, they calculate that a 7.4% reduction in US national
emissions could occur with smart policies and social encouragement to change these 17 behaviors. To put this
percentage into perspective, in November 2010, President Barack Obama proposed a goal of reducing US
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emissions by 17% over the course of 10 years.
A limitation of these assessments is our ability to measure behaviors. Sometimes behavior frequency is inferred
based upon amount of money spent within a country, which, while correlated with frequency of consumption, may,
for instance, overrepresent the extent to which expensive behaviors create emissions (Swim et al., 2011). Other
times behavioral frequency estimates are based upon self-reports, which can be flawed (Schwarz, 2001).
Emerging technologies such as smart meters can transmit household energy use to others (Wallenborn, 2011) and
global positioning devices (i.e., GPS) can assess speed and distance traveled in cars (Bolderdijk, Knockaert, Steg,
& Verhoef, 2011).
Predicting Human Mitigation Behaviors

Understanding psycho-social predictors of behaviors that contribute to or reduce greenhouse gases is a starting
point for understanding how to reduce human contributions to climate change. Darnton (2008) described nine
types of predictors of pro-environmental behavior: (1) information; (2) values, beliefs, and attitudes; (3) norms and
identity; (4) agency, efficacy, and control; (5) habit and routine; (6) emotions; (7) self-regulation; (8) external
factors; and (9) societal factors. Some models draw on several of these variables, such as the value-belief-norm
model (Stern, 2000), which references the second (value, beliefs, and attitudes) and the third (norms and identity)
types of predictor. Yet the distinctions in variables from the different models are useful for an analysis of the
psychological processes involved in mitigation behaviors. We discuss eight of these nine predictors (saving selfregulation for a latter section) and describe decision-making processes that influence behavioral choices.
Information
The publics lack of information about personal climate change mitigating behaviors is revealed by its
underestimation of the extent to which certain behaviors produce a relatively large amount of CO2 and, to a lesser
degree, the overestimation of the extent to which other behaviors produce a relatively small amount of CO2 (Attari,
DeKay, Davidson, & Bruine de Bruin, 2010). Knowledge about the extent to which different behaviors produce CO2
is useful for individuals who are motivated to reduce emissions as well as policy makers who want to know which
behaviors to target. However, individuals behavioral choices are not typically based upon energy savings
(Poortinga, Steg, Vlek, & Wiersma, 2003) and, while information may be necessary for some behaviors, it alone is
not likely to be sufficient to predict behaviors (see Schulz, this volume).
Values, Beliefs, and Attitudes

Much attention has been given to environmental values, beliefs, and/or attitudes in the general literature on
environmental behaviors. Thus, it is not too surprising that these predictors would, in general, predict personal
mitigation behaviors and support for policies that would address climate change. For instance, self-transcendent
values in the form of biospheric values and concerns are associated with willingness to engage in behaviors and
support policies that would directly and indirectly reduce emissions, whereas self-enhancement values in the form
of egoistic values and concerns are negatively related to these behaviors (DeGroot & Steg, 2007; Steg et al.,
2011; Schultz, 2001; Schultz et al., 2005; Steg, Dreijerink, & Abrahamse, 2005; Swim & Becker, in press). Like selftranscendent values, intrinsic aspirations focus individuals beyond themselves and are associated with engaging
in ecologically responsible behavior that would reduce emissions (Crompton, 2008; DeGroot & Steg, 2010). These
distinctions are important when considering the egoistic approaches, such as financial incentives, to encouraging
pro-environmental behaviors (cf. Schulz, this volume). That is, emphasizing financial returns could backfire
because they reinforce extrinsic motivations (Crompton, 2008). Yet, financial considerations do influence decisions
particularly in business settings, and these considerations can promote decreases in emissions. Values can play a
role in business decisions while still attending to fiscal concerns when business leaders perceive, for instance, that
sustainable practices are opportunities for business growth, energy savings result in cost savings, and (p. 659)
early action on climate change outweighs the eventual costs (Revell, Stokes, & Chen, 2010).
Norms and Identity

Much attention has been given to the predictive power of social norms over economic incentives and appeals to
environmental concerns, even when people are not aware of the power of such norms (Schultz et al., 2007).
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Group identity can also be important if it directs people toward the common good rather than gratification of
immediate self-interest (Van Vugt, 2009). Consistent with this finding, a global perspective enhances support for
cooperation with others who are globally distant, suggesting that a broad identification with humans would help
address the global problem of climate change (Buchan et al., 2009). Yet, if identification is restricted to feeling
connected with humans, animals may be treated as out-group members and this differentiation may prevent some
forms of mitigation (Crompton & Kasser, 2009; Plous, 2003). These considerations are related to the importance of
environmental identity and whether ones scope of justice, or the breadth to which one is willing to apply roles of
justice, is applied to people and animals harmed by climate change (Clayton & Opotow, 2003; Opotow, 1996).
Agency, Efficacy, & Control

Agency, efficacy, and control refer to perceived and actual ability to engage in a behavior of interest and the
effectiveness of behaviors to make a difference (Darnton, 2008). The importance of these perceptions provides an
opportunity for public education and informational campaigns, such as information regarding the effectiveness of
individual actions at reducing emissions, particularly when combined across different types of behaviors (Dietz et
al., 2009). Individuals may also feel more efficacious when they engage in collective action, knowing that the
effects of their behaviors are combined with others behaviors (Van Vugt, 2009).
Habits and Routines

Habits are behaviors that are done frequently and automatically and are often cued by something in the
environment (e.g., Verplanken, 1997). Climate change mitigating behaviors include both one-time behaviors, such
as purchasing efficient appliances, as well as lifestyle changes (e.g., walking, biking, carpooling, or taking public
transportation rather than driving ones personal car to work), which may involve changing habits and routines.
Lifestyle behaviors have to be repeatedly constrained or enacted, making them more difficult to change. Plus,
individuals tend to prefer technological improvements over lifestyle changes, suggesting that it may be difficult to
get individuals to adopt lifestyle changes (Poortinga et al., 2003) and therefore make them less effective at
reducing emissions. Yet efforts that address lifestyles and habits are part of a larger package of obtaining
behavioral changes.
Emotions
Emotions can be powerful predictors of behavior and are likely to be aroused when people think about climate
change. Appraisal theory of emotion suggests that those who perceive climate change to be a risk are likely to
experience fear or worry and those who perceive they or their country are responsible for climate change will
likely experience individual or collective guilt, respectively (Swim & Bloodhart, in preparation). These emotions can
then influence behaviors such as when collective guilt predicts support for climate change policies (Ferguson &
Branscombe, 2010). Other emotions (e.g., hope, empathy, pride, moral outrage, and boredom) are also likely to be
important for predicting willingness to engage in climate change mitigating behaviors (Swim & Bloodhart, in
preparation). For instance, volunteer behavior that benefits the environment helps people feel pride in their efforts
to address climate change (Nevin, 2010). Such positive consequences can encourage individuals to change and
sustain their own behaviors (Neuringer, 2010).
External Factors
External factors are predictors beyond the individual that influence behaviors (Stern, 2000). It can be practically
beneficial to explicitly identify external factors that are barriers, as is done within community-based social
marketing (McKenzie-Mohr & Smith, 1999), and to help individuals overcome the barriers. External factors,
including time, money, and responsibility to others, can hamper individuals and businesses in following through on
practices that could reduce emissions (e.g., Frey, 2010; Revell et al., 2010). External factors, however, can also
prompt climate change mitigation. For instance, government regulations and shareholder actions, which can be
considered external to those in management, can encourage or even mandate energy reduction in businesses
(Reid & Toffel, 2009).
Societal Factors
Societal factors provide a backdrop for individual behavior and reflect macrolevel external predictors (p. 660) of
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behaviors (Swim et al., 2011). Of importance to human consumption, societal factors can include the impact of
culture on perceptions of what is considered a necessity versus a luxury, the relative importance of consumerism
(a cultural foundation for materialistic tendencies), cultural level values such as aspirations of mastery over
harmony and hierarchy over egalitarianism, and perceptions and valuing of time, which can influence willingness
to plan for and address future problems now and perception of time as a resource.
Decision-Making
Decision-making about climate change mitigating behaviors faces many uncertainties: when various impacts will
occur; whether there will be tipping points in impacts; the extent to which individual behavioral changes will aid
adaptation or mitigation; whether others will also change behaviors making ones own behavior more meaningful;
and whether undesirable or unintended effects of responses to climate change, such as threats to security, will
occur, to name a few. Research on decision-making under uncertainty has been applied to understanding
responses to environmental risks, and some have illustrated how it can be applied to understanding responses to
climate change (e.g., Rachlinski, 2000; Weber & Stern, 2011). As one example, a preference for the certainty of
the status quo over an unknown future can impede action (Rachlinski, 2000). One explanation for the status quo
bias is loss aversion, where individuals are reluctant to sacrifice current benefits even for other benefits
(Rachlinski, 2000). Greater concern about losses than gains suggests that individuals will be more concerned
about potential losses from mitigation, such as jobs in the coal industry, than potential benefits that might arise from
these mitigation efforts, such as jobs in the field of renewable energy. This example is related to asymmetric
discounting where individuals discount future rewards in exchange for current consumption, even when the
current consumption is worth less than the future rewards (Milch et al., 2009).
Another approach to understanding decision-making is to understand how groups and not just individuals make
decisions (Kempton & Neiman, 1987). Understanding group decisions can be important for understanding
household decision-making. Some of the early work on household energy use and audits attended to these types
of decision-making processes (Kempton & Neiman, 1987) and interest in this topic has returned in part as a result
of new technologies available to monitor household energy use and renewed interest by energy companies in
assisting household energy conservation (e.g., Armel et al., 2010; Herter, 2010; Karlin, 2010).
It may also be important to consider how decision-making in households is done. Gender roles, for instance, may
determine who has influence over different types of behaviors (Gronhoj & Olander, 2007). This also suggests that
an important predictor of household decision-making will be the composition of individuals living together because
most households are not composed of traditional family units of heterosexual parents with children living at home.
A range of other decision-making situations are also relevant to study. These include climate changerelevant
decisions made by boards of directors (Galbreath, 2010; Prado-Lorenzo & Garcia-Sanchez, 2010) and
governmental bodies that form policies make decisions that influence opportunities for residents (Stern, 2011).
Limitations
The models used to derive the predictors noted above have not always been tested with environmentally
significant behaviors, relying instead on health behaviors or community participation (e.g., voting), and when they
do test environmentally significant behaviors, the behaviors are not always those with the most impact on climate
change. Further, it is likely important to differentiate between different types of behaviors, such as energy
investments, lifestyle changes, and activism.
A second limitation is that these models do more to describe or explain behaviors than to assist in actual
behavioral change (Darnton, 2008). Models that describe predictors of behaviors can be useful for behavioral
change (see, e.g., Maio et al., 2007) but tend to be linear, depicting factors that precede behaviors. Instead,
models of change tend to include reciprocal relations, developmental changes, and mechanisms for deep
psychological or system-wide changes, which attend to more fundamental processes of change that can be
necessary for more comprehensive and long-term change.
Promoting Human Mitigation Behaviors

Much research in psychology has focused on communication and diffusion instruments, such as information and
persuasive appeals, and secondarily on financial incentives, as means of encouraging behavioral change (Stern,
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2011; see Schultz, this volume, for an extensive review). This includes practical advice on how to take advantage
(p. 661) of psychological insights into decision-making and responses to persuasive messages to increase the
effectiveness of climate change communications and interventions (e.g., Center for Research on Environmental
Decisions, 2009). Social marketing is perhaps the most well-known application of psychological methods and
findings to encourage sustainable behaviors, many of which would address climate change (McKenzie-Mohr &
Smith, 1999). This method identifies behavioral barriers specific to communities via social science methods such as
surveys and focus groups, applies social influence processes to help with behavioral change such as using public
commitments, social norms, and behavioral prompts, and using principles from program evaluation to pilot and
improve the program.
A related approach takes into account factors that influence behavioral decisions when designing interventions to
change behavior. This is the basis of paternalistic libertarianism (Thaylor & Sunstein, 2009), where contexts are
designed to increase the probability that individuals will chose to do a behavior and counter decision-making
processes, such as hyperbolic discounting, that would hinder individuals from doing the behavior. For instance, the
website www.stickK.com applies principles of behavioral economics to help individuals change behaviors. The site
provides a mechanism that encourages personal behavioral commitments for a future goal (which could include
routine pro-environmental behaviors) and sets up losses in the form of monetary payments to others should users
not meet this commitment. Other examples include designing roadways that encourage slower driving and financial
incentives to encourage companies to regulate their emissions. There are concerns, however, about applying
paternalistic libertarian approaches to climate change mitigation. One objection is that policies may be set up
without the input of those affected by them, which will occur when policies affect future generations (Schlag, 2010).
When this occurs, there may be reactance or unanticipated harms.
A third approach to behavioral change focuses on behavioral change processes. Darnton (2008) identified five
behavioral change approaches, which we review below: (1) changes in habits, (2) changes across time within
individuals, (3) changes across time within and across social networks, (4) change as learning, and (5) changes in
systems.
Changes in Habits
Changing habits fits into a larger area of research on changing lifestyles, including changing unhealthy eating,
smoking, and driving behaviors, as well as energy conservation (Maio et al., 2007). Efforts to change habits focus
on individuals efforts to change behaviors or focus on surroundings that cue and enable behaviors. Critical selfanalysis can help unfreeze behavior by identifying automatic behaviors and cues that activate the behavior
(Darnton, 2008). It is also possible to change environments to cue new behaviors, such as through financial
incentives and structural changes (see Schultz, this volume). Once change has started, a challenge is to avoid
reverting back to an old behavior or developing new habits (refreezing behaviors). This latter process can be
aided by anticipating situations that would lead to old behavioral habits and establishing plans to address these
situations should they emerge (e.g., Bloodhart, Swim, & Zawadzki, under review; Gollwitzer, 2006).
Changes Across Time Within Individuals

Process models of change explicitly include a temporal dimension to change. Self-regulation models are one
example of process models that take into account feedback mechanisms. For instance, self-regulation involves
responding to discrepancies between ones current state relative to a standard, attending to the consequences of
these responses, and readjusting behavior should it be needed to meet ones standard (Carver & Scheier, 2011).
Self-regulation also provides a connection to emotions, because affective states (e.g., self-reflective emotions or
approach and avoidance emotions) can result when ones current state is compared to a desired state. Stage
models describe the development of change over time. According to one theory, individual behavioral change
occurs in six stages: pre-contemplation, contemplation, preparation, action, maintenance, and termination (Grimley
et al., 1994). Although criticized for various reasons, including the practical difficulty in differentiating and
identifying which stage individuals are in, the model is useful in noting that individuals may be at different stages of
change and, as such, may require different types of interventions. Applying a decision-making process to reducing
emissions, it is potentially useful to distinguish between pre and postenergy upgrade decisions (Wilson, 2010,
2011). When doing so, however, it is important to realize that the reasons people give after making a decision may
reflect justifications, rationalizations, or realizations and not the original motivations that led to their behaviors.
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(p. 662) Changes Across Time Within and Across Social Networks
Change processes can also occur within and across social networks. The implications of social networks for health
have been well researched (Smith & Christakis, 2008), including access to social support, social influence
processes, social engagement, and access to resources (Berkman & Glass, 2000). These same factors are likely
important for climate change mitigating behaviors and may explain the success of neighborhood interventions
used to encourage pro-environmental behaviors and social movements (Staats, Harland, & Wilke, 2004).
Understanding how information, attitudes, and behaviors flow through networks and how social networks adapt to
changes can be important for understanding how to influence large groups of individuals. These processes that
involve interpersonal channels of communication may be particularly important in a culture that is saturated with
marketing campaigns, all vying for individuals attention.
The innovation-diffusion model (Rogers, 2003) is perhaps the most well-known description of the spread of new
behavioral practices through social networks, although it does not provide a full description of the different types
and qualities of social networks that can be found in research on social networks (e.g., Wasserman & Faust, 1994).
The innovation-diffusion model describes rates of change through a community starting with innovators and
moving to the last people to adopt an innovation, and highlights the importance of key individuals to facilitate these
changes. This model has frequently been used to describe or assist the acceptance of new technologies within
communities. As such, this model is likely useful for understanding the diffusion of green technologies and
behaviors within communities. The model is also useful for attending to key individuals who can promote change
within organizations. For instance, many universities employ students to help spread pro-environmental messages
through campuses and attention to processes involved in innovation diffusion can assist the success of these
programs (Bloodhart, Zawadzki, Swim, & Lenz-Watson, under review). Champions can also be found in business
contexts, such as when particular individuals influence sustainability investments (Lewis & Carmen, 2010).
Innovation-diffusion can potentially be strengthened when combined with social marketing approaches (Dearing,
Maibach, & Buller, 2006).
It is important, however, to acknowledge ethical criticism of innovation-diffusion models (Lambert, 2007;
Stephenson, 2003; Yappa, 1977). One criticism is that the model assumes equality within communities. When there
are inequalities, wealthy individuals are likely the first to adopt and benefit from an innovation. When their success
improves their ability to produce more products at a lower cost, they can gain a competitive advantage that
increases the gap between the wealthy and the poor. A second criticism is applicable when the value of
innovations is determined by people outside a system and not those within a system. Reactance to these efforts or
lack of sensitivity to cultural concerns about the innovation can impede the success and spread of innovations.
Change as Learning
Learning models focus on the processes by which individuals learn new ideas and behaviors. Learning models can
involve learning what behaviors are most likely to reduce emissions as well as learning skills to accomplish
behavioral goals or overcome habits. The information-motivation-behavioral skill model is an example of a learning
model that has successfully been used to encourage the adoption of health behaviors (Fisher, Fisher, Bryan, &
Misovich, 2002). It has also been used to examine recycling (Seacat & Northrup, 2010), has the potential for
addressing climate change mitigating behaviors, and can be practically helpful for interventions.
Other learning models seek to understand deeper, transformational learning, which supports complex problemsolving and engages learners in the process of change (Darnton, 2008). The double-loop learning model is an
example of such transformational learning processes. In this model, learning is composed of one loop where
individuals engage in efforts to change a particular behavior, and a second loop where individuals reflect upon
feedback from their first-loop learning efforts. This reflection results in changes in mental models or beliefs systems
that can influence behavioral assumptions, goals, and strategies (Argyris & Schon, 1996). Hall, Taplin, and
Goldstein (2009) illustrated this process through an Australian communitys efforts to address climate change
policy.
Changes in Systems
Double-loop learning is related to a larger set of behavioral change models that are grounded in systems thinking,
which attends to how feedback processes and interrelations between parts of systems predict change within a
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system (Hutchins, 1996). When applied to behavioral change, interventions (p. 663) to assist in changing
systems focus on process rather than on how to achieve a particular outcome (Chapman, 2004). As a result
change is more participatory and less directed by those outside of a system. Systems theory is a component of
Earth Circles (2011 ), which involve small groups of individuals who think deeply about climate change and devise
their own personal responses to climate change. They reflect on the web of life and how understanding climate
change requires thinking about connections across people and the planet. From these reflections participants first
address their own feelings of pain about environmental problems and, after doing so, proceed to actions developed
from the group context. An example of a community-based systems approach is transition towns, in which
individuals work together to create changes in their community and connect to other communities doing the same
(Hopkins, 2011; Transitionnetwork.org, 2011). A principle of these efforts is that whole systems are the source of
problems and not just isolated individual behaviors (such as recycling or driving smaller cars). As a result, changes
have to address the complexity of system problems and not target individuals alone, in order to bring about
behavioral change at both the individual and system levels. Ecological approaches by community psychologists
are consistent with systems approaches to behavioral change (Kagan, 2011).
Changes in systems are particularly important to fully address climate change and its impacts. That is, it may be
insufficient and unrealistic to expect individuals to alter a specific set of behaviors without also attending to larger
changes in the social and physical system where that behavior resides (Moisander, 2007). Further, more radical
alterations are needed in everyday lifestyles, work, and leisure activities in order to achieve the degree of change
necessary to reduce emissions within high-emitting communities, improve living standards within other
communities, and maintain and restore biodiversity and animal habitats. Change will require time and willingness to
let go of particular mind-sets about how the world should operate and openness to new possibilities that emerge
through consideration of different views that can and cannot be represented (e.g., future generations and animals).
Psychologically this requires, for instance, devising methods that encourage individuals and groups to step outside
of typical patterns of thought, perhaps via mindfulness training (e.g., Brown & Kasser, 2005), and attending to ways
that teams and organizations make decisions (e.g., Mohammed, Ferzandi, & Hamilton, 2010). In addition, it likely
requires educational efforts, noted earlier, to increase the perceptions that climate change is an important enough
problem worthy of the extended effort to devise adaptation and mitigation efforts.
Conclusion and Future Directions

Climate change can be understood as a symptom of a larger issue, namely, the imbalance in the relations between
humans and the natural world. It goes beyond our normal senses because it requires interpretation of current and
projected patterns of events. As such, it requires trust in scientists because members of the general public do not
have the training to understand the data describing these patterns of events. Given the projected and anticipated
impacts on people and the biosphere, it is imperative that people engage in adaptation to prepare for and cope
with the impacts and mitigation to forestall even worse impacts. Additionally, considerations about differential
vulnerability and resilience to global climate change need to be taken into account when adaptation and mitigation
strategies are proposed, and those who are impacted need to be given a chance to voice their differential
concerns and needs.
Many need to be involved in this process, and psychologists play an essential role. The present review illustrates
numerous ways that psychologists can participate. More research needs to be done to be able to address the
divide between those who believe and those who do not believe in climate change and to activate those who are
not engaged. While the divide may appear large, it is possible that the gap can be addressed by listening to the
issues and beliefs expressed by all sides of the debate to learn to better communicate (Hoffman, 2011). Work
needs to be done to be able to effectively change human behavior, not only in terms of household lifestyles and
consumer choices, but also with respect to corporate decision- and policy-making. Individuals can go only so far in
changing their behaviors. Yet, individual behaviors and consumer demands can influence larger organizations
(Collins, Steg, & Koning, 2007). More research is needed to better understand the ways that systems can change
to provide the context for behavior change and understand social movements needed to activate large-scale
changes. Psychological tools for changing behavior will be critical for achieving these changes. However, these
tools need to be integrated into changes in social systems.
Page 19 of 31
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Notes:
(1.) These differences likely have to do with the item wording used by Gallup and Pew; Pew asks participants, Is
there solid evidence the earth is warming: Yes, because of human activities; Yes, because of natural patterns; Yes,
but dont know why; No; Dont know, while Gallup asks, From what you have heard or read, do you believe
increases in the earths temperature over the last century are due more to: the effects of pollution from human
activities or natural changes in the environment that are not due to human activities?
Janet K. Swim
Janet K. Swim Department of Psychology The Pennsylvania State University University Park, PA
Ezra M. Markowitz
Ezra M. Markowitz Environmental Studies Program Department of Psychology University of Oregon Eugene, OR
Brittany Bloodhart
Brittany Bloodhart Department of Psychology The Pennsylvania State University University Park, PA
Page 31 of 31
Conclusions: Directions for the Future

Susan D. Clayton
2012

DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199733026.013.0034

This final chapter builds on the preceding ones to review the current state and future prospects of environmental
and conservation psychology. Areas of shared coverage and common interest are identified, including an
emphasis on interdisciplinarity, applicability, and person-in-context and a set of key theories that are utilized by
many of the authors. Some directions for methodological development are identified. I conclude that environmental
and conservation psychology represent different but interdependent and highly overlapping approaches to the
study of people in environments.
Keywords: theory, health, social justice, education, methodological issues, conceptual integration, future directions
Introduction
Environmental psychology stands in an interesting place. On the one hand, the environmental challenges facing
society have led to greater recognition of the significance of environments in determining individual and societal
well-being. On the other hand, researchers around the globe express concern that the field has not established a
firmer foothold (e.g., Reser, 2008; Sautkina, 2008): there are few degree-granting programs in environmental
psychology, it is often unrepresented in undergraduate curricula, and many professional psychologists know little
about it as an area of study. As described in the introductory chapter, increased awareness of environmental
issues and their psychological components has stimulated research and led to the publication of a number of new
journals. Conservation psychology arose in response to this increased sense of urgency around maintaining a
healthy natural environment. How will the emergence of this new field affect the existing one? Will it increase the
visibility and effectiveness of environmental psychology, or will it lead to fragmentation and marginalization?
This handbook has reviewed an extensive array of research. In addition to describing current work in
environmental and conservation psychology, it was hoped that a working definition of conservation psychology
and the way in which it intersects with environmental psychology would emerge from a survey of the relevant
literature. With a wide range of topics and literature reviewed, the chapters present a wealth of information about
current research and theory. It is impossible to provide a comprehensive review, and much relevant work is
excluded; even so, the coverage provides an important picture of both the present and future state of these
related areas of study. This concluding chapter will describe some of the common foci and emerging themes and
questions. I close with a discussion of the future relationship between environmental and conservation psychology.
(p. 674) Shared Coverage

Reading from beginning to end of this volumeshould anyone do thisreveals some areas of repetition; there are
topics or research that appear in more than one chapter. This overlap among the chapters is a sign of strength. It
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indicates, firstly, that researchers are relying to some degree on a shared, integrated set of knowledge that can be
considered core to environmental and conservation psychology. It also illustrates a degree of interdependence
among the topics that makes it impossible to fully partition the research into mutually exclusive categories or
chapters. The shared knowledge includes several theories that are commonly utilized, as well as research
addressing specific topics that are broadly relevant. Together, these provide a core canon that helps to define
the field and, indirectly, provide an argument for the existence of the field of environmental and conservation
psychology as a distinct focus within the broader discipline.
Major Theoretical Perspectives

Ecological Perspective
Ecological theory focuses on the person and the environment as an interdependent system. It emphasizes the
individual as an active perceiver, stressing that the meaning of an environment is found in the way that it affects its
occupants, and occupants perceive the environment as it enables them to function within it (Gibson, 1979). This is
a profoundly innovative theory, and although it is a theory of perception, it is fundamentally associated with
environmental psychology because it insists on the relevance of the environment. At its core, it invalidates the
generally accepted distinctions between subject and object, and between perception and reality. Rather than
conceptualizing the environment and the individual as independent entities that exert influence on each other, it
describes reality as a set of relationships: attributes of the physical environment are defined with reference to
attributes of the perceiver, and individual experiences (both mental and behavioral) are shaped and constrained
by the environment in which they occur. Thus the study of psychology has to be the study of a person within an
environment. Although the ecological perspective is explicitly utilized primarily by those chapters involved with
environmental perception, its emphasis on dynamic, nested systems is relevant to research on all of the topics
covered here, as is further discussed below.
Social Psychology
Many environmental and conservation psychologists come out of a social psychology background, which shares
with environmental psychology an emphasis on factors external to the individual. Thus, it is not surprising that a
great deal of social psychological theory is utilized in the research and discussed in this volume. In particular,
these chapters have made extensive reference to theories of attitude-behavior relationships, such as Stern et al.s
(1999) Value-Belief-Norm (VBN) theory. There is a rich history of research within social psychology on predictors of
attitude change and on the relationship between attitudes and behavior. Conservation psychologists draw on this
research to understand how people might be led to develop more pro-environmental attitudes and, more important,
how and when such attitudes might lead to more sustainable behavior. VBN theory integrates individual and social
factors, along with the cognitive element (beliefs) that has typically been the focus of public educational
interventions. Additional perspectives from social psychology emphasize other social constructs, such as
stereotypes and identity, as both causal agents and potential consequences of environmentally significant
behaviors.
Evolutionary Theory
Explanations based on an evolutionary perspective suggest ways in which different abilities and tendencies were
likely to have been selected for during an environment of early adaptation. This perspective, which is increasingly
influential on the field of psychology in general, has been particularly important in environmental and conservation
psychology since the development of E. O. Wilsons biophilia hypothesis (Kellert & Wilson, 1993). The suggestion
that humans have an innate, inherited tendency to have an emotional response to elements of nonhuman nature
both suggests testable research hypotheses and provides a broad justification for research focused on the natural
environment. The evolutionary perspective, if taken seriously, should stimulate research designed to investigate
the genetic links behind responses to natural environments. However, we must be cautious about committing the
naturalistic fallacy; even if the biophilia hypothesis were true, it does not by itself provide an argument for
protecting natural environments.
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This theory, which describes nature as particularly useful in helping people to restore diminished (p. 675)
attentional resources (Kaplan, 1995; Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989; Kaplan & Berman, 2010), has been influential in both
documenting and partially explaining the benefits of natural environments. Grounded in controlled experimental
research, Attention Restoration Theory (ART) incorporates psychological phenomena from attention and selfregulation to stress and social interactions. Particularly relevant to this volume is the way in which ART links
internal cognitive processes to individual well-being and, by implication, to a healthy natural environment.
Health
Questions of health and well-being, both individual and social, are central to psychology as a discipline. One of the
contributions of environmental psychology has been to draw attention to the impacts of physical environments on
well-being, as is exemplified in the chapter by Brown and Werner. In fact, as described by Fornara and Andrade,
some of the first studies in the field of environmental psychology concerned the influence of physical attributes and
design features of psychiatric hospitals on their inmates. The rise of conservation psychology reflects not only an
increasing concern for environmental health, but also an emphasis on its interdependence with human health. Not
all of the chapters highlight health to the same extent, but together they illustrate a range of ways of thinking about
health, and include both positive and negative environmental impacts. Awareness of these impacts, in turn,
provides an anthropocentric motivation for concern about the well-being of the natural environment.
Environmental Benefits
The evidence for positive psychological effects of nature is growing. The chapters by Staats, Russell, and Wells
and Rollings most explicitly describe the results of this research, which has demonstrated that exposure to
elements of nature can have positive impacts on cognitive performance, affective state, and social relations.
Discussion of this research can also be found in almost all of the chapters on specific environments: even within
workplaces, health care settings, or correctional institutions, elements of nature can benefit the occupants. In
addition, many of the other chapters feature the possibility of more diffuse or indirect environmental benefits: on
sense of self, for example (Clayton; Corral-Verdugo; Myers). The chapter by Vining and Merrick, though not
specifically about health, suggests the possibility that epiphanies might also be considered as contributing to
human well-being and that nature has some beneficial effects that are harder to quantify than enhanced health or
increased longevity. Suedfeld, too, describes the possibility of positive effects from even stressful natural events,
and Brown and Werner remind us that the physical environment can have aesthetic as well as functional value.
Environmental Disbenefits
The environmental movement was largely prompted by disbenefits: evidence for the harmful effects of a polluted
environment. While environmental toxins in the air, soil, and water remain a concern, Stansfeld, Clark, and
Crombies chapter focuses on the effects of an often-overlooked type of pollution: noise. Frequently all of these
environmental disbenefits result reciprocally from harms that human behavior has inflicted on the environment. The
chapter on climate change discusses what may be the most significant impact humans have had and are having
on the environment by increasing the emission of greenhouse gases, such as carbon dioxide, and details some
probable negative impacts on humans. Even well-functioning environments, however, can have negative effects
on human health, as suggested by Lindell in his chapter on response to environmental disaster and by Suedfelds
chapter on extreme environments. One of the defining characteristics of nature is that it lies outside of human
control. It is misleading and disingenuous to imply that there is a perfect relationship between human and
environmental health.
Justice
Consideration of environmental benefits and disbenefits leads to a recognition that these are not distributed
equally, and that there are social justice implications to their allocation (Swim et al.). Conflicts arise when people
perceive an unjust distribution. This injustice may arise from a lack of concern for the benefits or disbenefits
experienced by an out-groupa lack of concern that arises from disparities in social power and from the dynamics
of group identities. Opotows chapter is eloquent about the mechanisms behind this sort of social injustice, and
Clayton describes some of the political and psychological issues surrounding identities. However, injustice may
also result from a failure to consider different sources of environmental value, or from disagreement about what
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values should be prioritized. Thus, different human values (cf. Steg & deGroot) and even the question of
nonhuman values (Syme & Nancarrow) are also relevant. Conflicts involving imbalance of power are not always
easy to (p. 676) solve, but they are easy to think about. Injustice can be a powerful motivator of action, as people
seek to change their own environments. Conflicts involving different conceptions of value may be intractable, and
require creative management, in which the competing positions of all stakeholders coexist in uneasy tension,
rather than resolution (Samuelson & Barratt).
Education
In a narrow sense, education involves the transmission of knowledge and the development of competencies,
traditionally in a formal learning environment. This continues to be an area of interest for environmental and
conservation psychologists, who have given a great deal of attention to the environments that best facilitate
learning (Sanoff & Walden) and to the types of competencies that might be required for environmentally literate
citizens (Wals). In a broader sense, however, education may include attempts to modify attitudes and behavior, as
discussed by Gifford and Sussman and by Schultz and Kaiser. Education can occur outside the traditional
classroom, in informal learning environments and throughout the life span, which may be particularly likely to foster
affective and behavioral responses (Chawla & Derr). Place-based education can both incorporate and foster the
emotional ties of place attachment to encourage education that has emotional strength and significance.
Although education has more typically been considered an attempt to transform the individual and maximize his or
her potential, education has always also included an element of socialization into societal standards. It has a
strong prescriptive component, indicating the ways in which people should behave and the things they should
know. Thus, the growing governmental emphasis on environmental education is of interest not only because of its
potential impact on students but also because of what it shows about societies expectations for their citizens,
which are changing to reflect the new environmental conditions that societies face.
Common Themes
In addition to shared content, a number of shared themes can be seen to emerge from these chapters. These
themes suggest a common set of understandings about the ways we should be thinking about environmental and
conservation psychology, as well as indicating new ideas and hypotheses to direct future research.
The Need for Methodological Precision

As seen in Table 34.1, many of the chapters refer to the need for careful measurement and rigorous methodology.
Several authors (e.g., Clayton, Gifford, Heft, Korpela, Lindell) point to inconsistencies in the ways that terms are
used and defined. Attitudes, values, emotions, and identity are all terms that are sometimes used loosely. If
psychology is to be taken seriously as a science, its methodology must be clear and precise. This does not imply
exclusivity; a single attitude scale does not have to win out over competing scales, nor must a single measure of
environmentally responsible behavior be used in every study. Rather, it requires that we think carefully about the
measures we use, what they are measuring, and whether they are appropriate for a given study. It also suggests
that we should rely more on established measures, when they have been carefully validated, rather than
developing ad hoc new measures that offer no distinct advantage. Although qualitative methods will continue to be
important in describing specific environments and individual experience, we can endeavor to identify the important
attributes of these phenomena in order to make comparisons and enhance generalizability.
The Importance of Scale

Psychology encompasses many different levels of analysis, from intra-individual to interpersonal to group to
societal, but does not always integrate them. Many of the authors examine phenomena at multiple scales. Some
(e.g., Brown & Werner) explicitly describe these as micro- or macrolevel perspectives, referring to aspects of the
environment that characterize a specific individuals experience as contrasted with those that characterize a
neighborhood, community, or society. Fornara and Andrade, utilizing the language of Bronfenbrenners (1979)
systems theory, include a meso perspective describing the interactions and relationships among microsystems.
Others avoid specific terms, but nevertheless incorporate different levels of analysis. The chapter by Bonaiuto and
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Alves provides a useful example of the way in which common themes can be explored from the home to the
neighborhood, outdoor urban spaces, and finally the city overall. Such an exploration more fully illuminates
peoples experience of their environments as well as expanding our understanding of the way such phenomena as
segregation and activities emerge at different scales.
Levels of analysis apply not just to research but also to individual perceivers, who may think primarily about their
own outcomes and well-being (p. 677)
Table 34.1 Directions for Future Research
Theory
Increase use of transactional perspective.
Develop more integrated, overarching theory, for example, explaining health effects of nature.
Include more focus on positive psychology, for example, the possibility of positive effects of extreme
environmental events.
Integrate work from different areas of psychology and from different disciplines, for example, utilize
organizational psych and group psych frameworks to evaluate environmental activism.
Measurement
Increase reliability and validity in measurement, for example, of exposure to noise.
Include more types of measures, including behavioral and observational measures.
Develop better environmental assessments, for example, their psychological resources and how they are
used by children; ways of assessing residential environments; specific features that are preferred in
environments.
Develop better assessments of individual competencies and experiences, including criteria for assessing
quality of life, sustainability competence.
Use qualitative research to develop typologies: of environmental emotions; of responses to disasters; of
environmental conflict resolution cases.
Methodology
Increase usage of techniques such as fMRI, physiological arousal, and hormonal measures.
Conduct more longitudinal studies, for example, of decisions about the allocation of environmental resources,
of noise exposure.
Conduct more qualitative research, for example, on childrens experience.
Conduct better controlled studies on the impacts of environmental variables, that allow us to partial out the
effects of socio-demographic variables and other confounding factors.
Incorporate different subject samples, such as policy makers, non-Western samples. Pay close attention to
socio-demographic variables that may moderate responses to environmental conditions.
Make more extensive use of multilevel modeling, mediation, and moderation analyses. For example, how do
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Make more extensive use of multilevel modeling, mediation, and moderation analyses. For example, how do
the activities people engage in moderate or mediate the impacts of their environments?
Consider multiplicative effects of various environmental stressors.
Conduct multi-case comparisons of naturally occurring events, such as environmental conflicts and
arguments made about environmental justice, to generate hypotheses about important variables.
Application
Utilize affordances to promote environmentally sustainable behavior; health.
Apply results of wayfinding research to aid in environmental navigation.
Apply results of justice research to guide environmental policy.
Apply results of emotion research to promote environmentally sustainable behavior.
Apply results of research on restorative environments to design of homes and public places.
Increase outcomes assessment, evidence-based design, and post-occupancy evaluations. Think about how
to make research available to designers and to the public and how to motivate them to access it.
Increase participatory planning, for example, in cities and schools.
Think about the different needs of different users of specific environments, such as health care
environments.
Encourage increased access by researchers to correctional environments. Encourage the managers of
these facilities to think beyond reduced aggression to consider the possibility for positive impacts of the
environment on inmates.
Consider the phenomenon of environmental epiphanies when managing natural places for human leisure.
Consider potential impact, as well as feasibility, of change when researching pro-environmental behaviors
and interventions designed to increase them.
(p. 678) or about the outcomes and well-being of the larger group. Justice is one construct that can appear very
different at an individual level than a more collective level, and have different implications for actions: government
policy may seem more suited to maximizing collective justice, while individuals may be primarily motivated to
achieve personal justice (Syme & Nancarrow). Perhaps the individually focused bias toward an assessment of their
own personal outcomes could be overcome by providing them with social norms that emphasize the way society
has collectively chosen to act. Individuals are shaped by their cultures, and the tendency to take an individual or a
collective perspective is clearly stronger in some societies than others (Milfont).
Person-in-Context
Studying behavior in an environmental context is challenging, because it pulls against the goal of attaining
experimental control. Although a great deal of psychological research has attempted to isolate the person from
social and physical factors in order to draw generalizable conclusions about human functioning, environmental
psychology questions the validity of this approach, arguing that people react to and interact with specific
environmental contexts. However, contexts incorporate not only physical components, which tend to be relatively
static, but also dynamically changing social components. Acknowledging the complexity, specificity, and
Page 6 of 13

relevance of the physical environment should not require ignoring the complexity of individuals; individual
differences in responses to environments are important to recognize while studying those environments.
The bulk of research in environmental psychology could probably be characterized as representing an
interactional or organismic perspective, in which people and environments interact but can be identified as
independently existing components. The transactional approach, going further, portrays people as embedded in
physical and social contexts (Altman & Rogoff, 1987; Heft, 2001). The focus of analysis is an event, characterized
by interactions and relationships among people, environments, and processes. It is distinguished from a
perspective that focuses solely on the person or characterizes the person as separable from his or her
environment. Thus, places cannot be defined without considering the perspective of the people occupying those
places. The effect of environmental stimuli cannot be separated from their interpretation by the perceiver; noise,
for example, is defined not by its attributes of volume or pitch but by the fact that it is unwanted. Disorderly
neighborhoods may be disliked because they are seen to indicate a social threat, the risk of crime. Time is also an
aspect of these contexts, which function dynamically to maintain some level of stability and equilibrium.
Temporal Dimension
Time is important to consider as an aspect of values, outcomes, and behaviors. Steg and deGroot identify the
temporal dimension as particularly important in determining which of multiple valued outcomes will be prioritized.
Individuals who take action to promote environmental sustainability are by definition oriented toward the future to
some extent, placing greater value on future outcomes than on present comfort, while those who live an
unsustainable lifestyle are more focused on the present or the past. Similarly, Syme and Nancarrow note that
definitions of justice can vary depending on the time frame that is used to evaluate the distribution (p. 679) of
costs and benefits. Cultures differ in their temporal orientation (Milfont); what social and psychological factors
promote a future orientation? Does temporal discounting relate to social discounting? It is not just individual
perceptions that assign different values to the same outcome at different points in time. As Schultz and Kaiser point
out, even the determination of a behavioral outcome as good or bad varies over time. The importance of temporal
change is particularly highlighted in the chapter by Swim, Markowitz, and Bloodheart: not only does the
significance of an environmentally relevant behavior change over time, but behavior changes also are part of an
ongoing process rather than a one-time phenomenon. Longitudinal research that examines behavior change over
time would answer important questions about how changing one behavior leads to, or inhibits, other behavioral
changes.
Perceptions of change over time are also fundamental to how the public responds to climate change. What is the
role of the temporal dimension in environmental perception, aesthetics, or wayfinding? How do seasonal changes
affect environmental preferences? How does the flow of information as we move through an environment influence
our perceptions? Gibson (1950) described the phenomenon of optic flow, demonstrating that the change in visual
input over time has informational value; recent research on the auditory looming effect (e.g., Neuhoff, 2001)
reminds us that environments are perceived through multiple sensory channels. From a systems theory approach,
environments are defined by their history as well as by their attributes at a given point in time.
The issue of dose-response relationships, that is, quantifying the level of exposure to environmental attributes that
leads to a particular outcome, also concerns time, because duration is one determinant of the overall level of
exposure. People who spend a few hours seated next to a potted plant may be getting the same dose of nature as
people who spend a few minutes driving through a stand of trees. Questions about the experience of individuals
with different levels of mobility, raised by Moser, relate to time in that people who traverse the city more extensively
or more frequently are exposed to it for greater lengths of time. In the 1987 handbook, Proshansky encouraged
greater attention to change over time, and that suggestion is implicitly or explicitly echoed in the current handbook.
Individual Versus Collective

Research on the commons dilemma has been a feature of work on environmental sustainability since Garrett
Hardin wrote about it in 1968. A situation in which individually rational decisions to exploit a shared resource result
in collective harm is all too applicable to environmental problems, such as the collapse of fish populations, the
destruction of the rainforest, and a shortage of fresh water. The key point of this work has been the difficulty of
getting individuals to act to protect collective resources. In all of these social dilemmas individuals are asked to
Page 7 of 13

modify their own behaviorfor example, to use fewer resourcesnot primarily because of its practical implications
for them personallyin most cases, we will not perceive significant restrictions on our own access to these
resourcesbut because of the consequences for the societal collective. Thus, as Steg and deGroot argue, people
need to be able to prioritize collective over individualist values.
Increasingly, researchers in the area of pro-environmental behavior have recognized that in many cases it can be
conceptualized as a type of altruistic behavior, motivated by the same desires to promote the well-being of others
that prompt other types of helping (cf. Corral-Verdugo, 2010). But as Batson has argued (e.g., Batson, Ahmad, &
Stocks, 2004), empathy can encourage a focus on another individual that actually inhibits the achievement of
justice. Whether altruistic impulses are channeled toward pro-environmental behavior or are more specifically
focused on ameliorating the suffering of a specific individual or animal may depend on the extent to which people
are able to adopt a collective rather than an individualistic perspective. Cultural differences in individualist or
collectivist orientation demonstrate that collectivism does not automatically lead to more pro-environmental
behavior, but they also provide fertile territory for further examination of the relationship between collectivism and
environmentalism.
Interdisciplinarity
Psychology has been called a hub discipline, straddling the border between natural and social science (e.g.,
Clay, 2011). This position makes it easier for psychologists to engage in productive dialogue with a variety of other
disciplines, looking outward beyond psychology to incorporate information from chemistry and biology, to
sociology and political science, and even the arts and humanities. All these perspectives are valuable in
attempting to understand something as complex as an environment and the ways in which people interact with it.
Interdisciplinarity implies not just combining the input of different disciplines, but also working (p. 680)
collaboratively with other disciplines to solve problems that cant be encompassed within the scope of a single
discipline. Environmental psychologists have traditionally interacted with architects and design professionals to
create environments that better suit human needs and capacities. They have worked with educators, addressing
both the context and the content of the educational process, while also providing expertise for many other applied
projects. With the development of conservation psychology, there is a new emphasis on communication with
biologists (to design effective conservation plans), sociologists (to understand social impacts of environmental
issues), and policy makers in order to better understand, and more effectively address, the ways in which people
and the environment affect each other. Interdisciplinarity is increasingly common in scientific research, and for
environmental and conservation psychologists, the ability to work with other disciplines is key.
Applications
One of the key tenets of environmental psychology is that relationships between people and their environments are
bidirectional. The fact that environments affect people means that research applications are important. The fact
that people affect environments means that research applications are possible. The applications of environmental
and conservation psychology are extensive. Some of the applications are designed to address specific problems,
such as providing healthy workplaces, successful schools, or functioning prisons. Others intend to address more
global social problems, such as sustainability and climate change. Several of the chapters remind us that many
problems can only be managed, rather than solved. Some sources of environmental conflicts reflect incompatible
goals and values (Samuelson & Barratt). Climate change cannot at this point be avoided; people will have to adapt.
These chapters also highlight a frequent gap between research and its application. Researchers working in these
fields need to give careful consideration to the best ways to communicate their results to practitioners, as the final
step in the research process.
Considerations for the Future

The authors of this handbook were asked to end their chapters by identifying future directions for the field. The
specific research questions are left mostly to the individual chapters, but Table 34.1 groups their more general
suggestions into three separate categories: methodological concerns, theoretical concepts, and applications.
Clearly the authors see great potential for the applications of this research. There is much scope for existing
research to inform the design of buildings, programs, and policies. Researchers might also benefit from considering
Page 8 of 13

potential applications while designing their studies, including concerns of feasibility, impact, and dissemination of
the results to those who can make use of them (Schultz, 2011).
The suggestions also reflect awareness that there is room for improvement in the methodology as well as for the
development of more integrative theory. Research in conservation psychology, in particular, has not emphasized
the theoretical richness that has been found in environmental psychology. Although by its nature it is more
problem-oriented, it would do well to learn from the insights provided by systems theory and consider the multiple,
nested levels of influence that are involved in any specific event. For example, research that is focused on
addressing a specific problem related to sustainable behavior often tries to extrapolate from research in different
contexts; this runs the risk of erroneously assuming that people and patterns of behavior can be isolated from their
environments and simply transferred from one to the next.
Finally, some of the authors suggestions anticipate the changes that lie ahead. These changes will include new
developments in technology, new models and structures for society, and alterations in the natural environment.
Changing Technologies
Brain Research
Advances in neuroimaging and our understanding of brain processing allow a new window on the ways in which
people perceive and respond to their environments. Changes in brain activity are no more real than other types
of changes, but data reflecting brain activity have several advantages. In some cases they can show more subtle
effects, because there are some neurological responses to stimuli that are never expressed as overt behavior and
because neurological responses are not for the most part affected by self-presentational concerns. Results from
fMRI studies, in combination with a growing understanding of neuroanatomy and how the brain is organized, can
also help us to understand what certain effects or differences mean. For example, there is a great deal of
research on gender differences in spatial abilities. Research using neuroimaging techniques can illuminate the
extent to which these differences might really represent different strategies, or attentional tendencies, rather than
abilities.
(p. 681) Virtual Environments
Virtual environments enable new research approaches but also raise new research questions. What is the
ecological validity of a virtual environment? That is, how effective is it in simulating a real environment, and how
does it differ? In what ways do they enable us to get a better understanding of how people respond to real
environments, and in what ways do they represent a new type of environment that should be examined in its own
right (cf. Kahn, 2011)? The use of virtual environments could allow a degree of experimental control that has been
difficult to attain, enabling laboratory-based research on reactions to natural environments, but researchers should
be cautious in assuming that responses to virtual environments perfectly reflect responses in the real world.
Computer-Based Measurement
Computers allow us to easily assess reaction time in order to elucidate underlying attitudes and beliefs that are
either inaccessible to conscious awareness or subject to self-censorship. Schultzs work with the Implicit
Association Test (e.g., Schultz & Tabanico, 2007) has measured the strength of the association between concepts
of self and concepts of nature. How do implicit environmental attitudes and beliefs differ from explicit ones, and
when is it methodologically preferable to use the former? What are new ways in which reaction time can be used to
assess relevant cognitive constructs while circumventing the influence of social desirability?
Other researchers are beginning to investigate ways to study people in real time and real environments using
cellular telephones or other portable electronic devices. Combined with geographic information systems software,
which enables a new specificity in identifying environments, researchers have the potential to study people-inenvironments in much more detailed ways than was previously the case (e.g., Lazer et al., 2009).
Changing Societies
It is unnecessary to point out that societies are changing. What may be less obvious is the way in which these
Page 9 of 13

changes affect, and are even defined by, the ways in which people experience their environments. One of the
most dramatic changes in recent years has been the mass migration from the countryside to the city, so that the
majority of people now live in urban areas (cf. Moser). Now cities themselves are changing, becoming larger and
more sprawling, and arguably more like agglomerations of multiple distinct areas rather than places where
people of different backgrounds meet together in a commonly shared public space (Moser). Migrations are also
implicated in the displacement of communities from their traditional homes that is caused by climate change
(Korpela; Swim et al.). So in the future group identities may be less likely to be based on shared experiences of
place. The result may be a reduced emphasis on shared group identities, or it may be that group identities will be
increasingly based on abstractions like ideology.
Family structures have also changed, in ways that affect peoples environmental experiences. In American
families, shrinking family size has meant that more children have their own rooms. Dual-career couples result in
more children spending time in day care settings at an early age. Of course, the increased reliance on information
technology both at home and in the schools has specific physical implications as well as more intangible
psychological consequences, many of which remain to be explored. Finally, work environments are changing:
average job tenure has decreased, with more temporary and short-term jobs; telecommuting is on the increase;
and more and more jobs entail hours outside of the traditional workday. These sorts of changes, simultaneously
social and physical, present questions that are not only new but also pressing; research can help to understand
the impact of these changes as well as to distinguish better and worse ways of responding to them.
Changing Environments
The environment itself is changing: getting warmer, more polluted, less biodiverse. A reflective environmental
psychology will study these changes and the ways in which people adapt to them. We need more research that
looks at the big picture: not just how people are affected by changes in ambient room temperature, by exposure to
natural disasters, by the presence of plants, but how people are affected by changes in global temperature,
increased frequency of disasters, desertification. An effective conservation psychology will anticipate the ways in
which natural environments can be protected in the future. In terms of pro-environmental action, for example,
behaviors like recycling or replacing incandescent lightbulbs with compact fluorescents may become obsolete in
the Western world as recycling programs become institutionalized and incandescents are retired. What behaviors
are likely to be significant 10 years from now?
(p. 682) What Lies Ahead: The Integration of Environmental and Conservation Psychology
At the broadest level, it is not possible to draw a firm line between environmental and conservation psychology.
This reflects a similar inability to fully distinguish between other conceptual pairings, often presented as opposites.
The distinction between built and natural environments, always questionable (where does a termite mound fit?), has
become increasingly hard to maintain. Zoos, parks, and other exemplars of managed nature demonstrate that
something that appears natural can be subject to varying degrees of human design, without losing some
important attributes of natural environments. Green spaces are important components of urban environments.
Green buildings and other technology designed to use fewer environmental resources are completely
manufactured, but pro-environmental attitudes shape their use. At its root, the attempt to compartmentalize built
versus natural environments, though it is a useful methodological shortcut, reflects a broader conceptual
distinction between humans and nature that is both difficult to maintain and dangerous in its implications.
Related distinctions, equally problematic, are often made between human and environmental health, or between
psychological and social impacts. Sustainability, the currently popular term for describing the kind of society we
want to see, has multiple meanings, but overall emphasizes the integration of individual, social, and environmental
well-being. The increasing popularity of the concept serves as a reminder of the many ways in which they are
interdependentas do many of the chapters in this handbook. Social and environmental impacts are intertwined.
People live in environments, and in the long term healthy individuals will not thrive in an unjust society or an
unhealthy environment. Taking action to protect the environment may have both direct and indirect benefits for
those involved.
A final distinction that this book calls into question is that between basic and applied research. Although it is
Page 10 of 13

tempting to characterize conservation psychology as more applied than environmental psychologyor perhaps
as an applied branch of environmental psychologyconservation psychology, despite being driven by the goal of
environmental conservation, can incorporate rich theoretical discussions that will inform efforts to promote proenvironmental behavior. A problem-based foundation can be a powerful source of hypotheses and theoretical
innovations. Environmental psychology has also generated important theoretical models while also working to
improve the effective functioning of specific environments. It would be difficult to characterize any of the chapters
in this handbook as representing a purely basic, or purely applied, perspective.
The Role and Responsibility of Psychology

Environmental problems are human problems, not only because they are caused by human patterns of
consumption and reproduction, but also because they are defined as problematic from a human perspectivethe
environment itself will adapt to whatever changing conditions are presented. There is a growing recognition that
the environmental challenges we face must be seen as social as well as environmental issues, issues that have a
direct relevance to human behavior and well-being and thus stand at the very center of psychology. As scientists
and professionals concerned with human health and behavior, psychologists cannot be absent from this
discussion. Swim et al. (2011) linked research on climate change to the Ethics Code of the American Psychological
Association, arguing that the issue may present psychologists with an ethical obligation to be involved. We can
broaden that charge to environmental problems in general: because environmental changes have profound
implications for individual and social well-being, psychologists should be mindful of them and should consider what
psychology has to offer.
Environmental and conservation psychology represent the evolving psychological response to these problems.
What is the relationship between them? While environmental psychology represents a topical focus of study,
conservation psychology is oriented toward change. Borrowing from the chapter by Schultz and Kaiser, we might
talk about them in terms of intention and impact. Work is environmental psychology when its central focus is the
physical environment, how it is perceived or used by humans, or how it affects humans. Work from any area of
psychology is conservation psychology when it intends to contribute to a healthy relationship between humans
and the natural world, or when it has that effect. Clearly there is much overlap, and research may be categorized
according to its impact even when the researchers intention was different. Take, as an example, research on
workplace design (Veitch). Optimal workplaces will promote the productivity, efficiency, and well-being of the
workers, so research may include information on the benefits (p. 683) of incorporating nature into the workplace.
It may also include attempts to encourage sustainable behavior in the workplace, as this will increasingly be
considered part of normal workplace functioning. So, does this represent environmental psychology or
conservation psychology? Both.
Environmental and conservation psychology are in a symbiotic relationship. Without environmental psychology,
conservation psychology would lack the theory and the methodological tools to examine its core focus: the natural
environment. Without conservation psychology, environmental psychology would lose an opportunity for
relevance. In the 1987 handbook of environmental psychology, several chapters were devoted to assessing the
past and predicting the future of the field. Bob Sommer laid out an agenda that encouraged environmental
psychologists to examine the philosophical and moral underpinnings of the field; to conduct more research on
broad issues such as resource conservation, population, pollution, and conservation of wildlife; and to address the
issue of advocacy, showing a willingness to make prescriptive as well as descriptive statements. Conservation
psychology may, in part, be a response to this call. Given the questions that remain unanswered about the
relationship between psychological processes and the physical environment, and given the pressing need to
modify that relationship in order to protect and maintain a healthy environment, the goal should be to recruit as
many psychologists as possible, of all stripes and disciplinary orientations, to work alongside others interested in
the human-environment nexus to confront questions and problems of common concern. (p. 684)
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Kellert, S., & Wilson, E. O. (Eds.). (1993). The biophilia hypothesis. Washington, DC: Island Press.
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Schultz, P. W., & Tabanico, J. (2007). Self, identity, and the natural environment: Exploring implicit connections with
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Susan D. Clayton
Page 13 of 13
Index

Index
2012
Index
A
accessibility
food environments, 472474
perception, 469
physical activity, 466467
accessible identity model, 108
accidents, 380
accountability, equity, 96
accreditation, wilderness experience programs (WEPs), 438439
action. See environmental action
action competence, 528
Active Living Research (ALR), 515
active self, wilderness experience program, 432, 433, 434435
activity reflection, wilderness experience program, 432, 433, 435436
activity theory, bettering environment, 422
acute mountain sickness (AMS), 353354
Adams, Scott, 250
adaptation, climate change, 654655
adaptive behaviors, city life, 207208
adaptive management, policy dialogues, 615
Adler, Albert, 165
adolescents
place attachments, 118, 153154
wilderness experience programs (WEPs), 437441
advocacy coalition framework (ACF), collaborative partnership, 602604
aesthetic epiphanies, 498499, 502503
aesthetics
Page 1 of 62
Index
childrens drawings, 120
environmental perception and, 2829, 37
natural landscapes, 333334
physical activity, 468469, 470
student experiences in outdoors, 494
walkability, 465
affective connection, humans to nature, 133, 139
affordances, 12
direct perception and environmental psychology, 2627
environment, 116
environmental, 221
evaluations and actions, 224
everyday life, 222
Gibsonian concept, 2527, 34
investigations and extensions of, 26
model for examining, 223, 225
tool for evaluation and design, 2728
water misuse, 586
Against All Odds: Holocaust Survivors and the Successful Lives They Made in America, 348
Age, environmental concern, 68
aggregation. See segregation and aggregation
air pollution, Harlem, 419420
Alabama Department of Environmental Management (ADEM), 423424
Alaska, Mt. McKinley, 354
allocation
environmental, 9394
resources, 422423
alternative dispute resolution (ADR), 604
altitude sickness, 353
altruistic values, 8486
Alzheimers disease (AD), 50, 51
American Camping Association, 439
American dream
potential health threats, 460
scenario, 459460
upstream approach, 475476
American Journal of Insanity, 430
American Psychological Association, 4, 645
American Psychologist, 2, 4
American Recovery and Reinvest Act of 2009, 564
Amnesty International, 88
amotivation, 67
Amsterdam, air disaster and noise annoyance, 383
analysis and deliberation (A&D)
collaborative processes, 606607
Page 2 of 62
Index
empirical studies, 616617
anchor-point theory of spatial cognition, 48
Anholt-GfK Roper City Brands Index (CBI), 241
Annan, Kofi, 416
annoyance, noise exposure and, 383384
anonymity, privacy, 318
Antarctic stations
extreme environment, 355357
psychological effects, 355357
anxiety
emotional burdens and worries, 132, 138
gender and wayfinding, 52
anxiety disorder not otherwise specified, 379
appropriation
home to neighborhood, 214
spatial extension of, 214215
aquariums, childrens development, 122
architecture
correctional environments, 324
health care design research, 305
health care environments, 298300
archival analysis, water conservation, 588
art, health care environment, 306
The Art and Science of Negotiation, Raiffa, 604
articulation index (AI), 254
Association of Experiential Education, 438, 439
asthma, Harlem, 419420
Atlanta, Georgia, social environment, 471
attachment theory. See also place attachment
children and nature, 120121
interplay between social and physical attachments, 153154
attention, work environment, 253254
attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), 380, 440, 513, 630, 636
attention restoration theory (ART), 120, 446447, 630, 674675
comparison to psychoevolutionary theory, 448449
human health and nature, 511513
integration, 449
natural landscapes, 336338, 343
attitude object, 65
attitudes
construct, 6566
human mitigation behavior, 658659
natural landscapes, natural resources and social dilemmas, 342343
urban green areas, 222
urban green areas and natural landscapes, 341342
Page 3 of 62
Index
See also environmental attitudes
auditory distraction
work environment, 253254
Australia
cross-cultural model, 105
environmental policy, 98
justice, 109
natural landscape preference, 339
neighborhood design, 476
place-making, 158 (p. 686)
pro-environmental behaviors, 157
school technology trends, 288
Australian Psychological Society, 4
auto maintenance, 380
autonomy, 166, 168, 185, 186
awakening epiphanies, 499, 503
awareness, water conservation, 588
B
baby boom, school buildings, 278
Bacon, Stephen, 430431
bananas, fair trade, 421422
Barker, Roger G., 11, 12, 14, 3435
behavior settings, 3133
behavior stream, 3031
eco-behavioral science, 2934
Beagle, voyage of, 1314
beef production, 473
behavior. See also disaster responses; human mitigation behavior; pro-environmental
behavior
correctional settings, 318324
domains, 557, 559
environmental identity, 174175, 175
myths about disaster victims, 391392
noise effects, 376
prisons trying to change, with force, 317318
transactional and ecological models to healthy, 461463
types of consequences, 563
urban life, 207208
values and, 8789
water conservation, 586588
behavioral intentions, water conservation, 589
behavioral interventions, water conservation, 590591
behavioral plasticity, 574
behavior settings, 12, 3133
Page 4 of 62
Index
beliefs
global climate change, 646653
belonging, environmental epiphany, 489
Berry, Wendell, 23
bias issues, cross-cultural research, 195196
bike paths, cycling, 466
biocentrism vs. anthropocentrism, natural landscapes, 340
biological processes, relational, 18
biophilia hypothesis
restoration theories, 448
biospheric approaches, pro-environmental behavior, 569571
biospheric values, 8486
Black American Earth Day, 414
Boal, Augusto, 419
BOSTI books
workplace privacy, 251
bottle bills, 563564
Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, Putnam, 602
brain
photobiology, 256258
research, 680
wayfinding, 4446
branding and reputation
city, 240242
neighborhood, 240
residential ecological system, 239240
residential place, 226
brandscape, 239
BREEAM, 267
Bronfenbrenner, Urie, 11, 13
ecological theory, 224, 296
hospital environment, 301, 302
Brundtland Report, 340
building-related symptoms (BRS), work environment, 261
bull pen, work environment, 250
Bush, George W., 647
C
Caerphilly Collaborative Heart Disease Study, 379
California
earthquakes, 393394
Page 5 of 62
Index
FlexYourPower campaign, 561
green schools, 286
outdoor science schools, 544
polluted neighborhoods, 417
San Francisco Estuary Project, 599600
toxic air and industry in L.A., 420
California Department of Fish and Game (CDFG), 616
Camp Ahmek, 430
Campbell paradigm, 570
Camp Chocorua, 429
Camp Wawokiye-1926, 430
Camp Wediko-1935, 430
Canada
innovative work arrangements, 265
International Childrens Environment Conference, 534
nature attachment, 157
One Tonne Challenge, 561
school technology trends, 288
wilderness programs, 432, 437439
carbon emissions, household actions, 558
caregivers, health care environment, 309310
Carnegie Corporations Council on Adolescent Development, 279
Carson, Rachel, 530, 630
cash-for-clunkers program, 564
cathode-ray tube (CRT), 255
CATWOE, human activity system, 604605
Center for Health Design, 300, 311
Center for the Built Environment, UC Berkeley, 252
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), 460
Central African Republic, 367
centrality, city dwellers, 213
certainty, climate change, 649
Charcot, JeanBaptiste, 348
Chavis, Benjamin Jr., 414
Chesapeake Bay, nature programs, 544
Chicago
housing quality, 512
public housing, 514515
Chicago Zoological Society, 3
child-care, neighborhood, 234
children. See also children and nature
activities in nature, 118119
activity in outdoors, 117118
affective experience of nature, 119121
attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), 380
Page 6 of 62
Index
benefits of nature to, 124
emotional attachment to nature, 133, 139
evolution and development, 115
experiences in outdoors, 494
health care environments, 308309, 311312
involvement with nature, 155156
nature-deficit disorder, 115, 284, 428
nature-oriented education, 629
noise and mental health in, 380381
outdoor play spaces, 517
outdoor spaces, 235
place attachment, 118, 153154
play in nature for environmental action, 530531
reaction to loss of natural area, 535536
relationships to nature, 113114
term, 114
Children, Youth and Environments, 115
children and nature
activities, 118119
future directions, 124125
history and culture, 114116
play, 119
psychological methods and theoretical traditions of study, 116117
Children and Nature Network, 115
Chilean miners, cave-in, 348349, 352
China
culture, 183
environmental concern, 69
mass murder, 367
pollution, 192
social identity, 169
starvation under Mao, 361
church, restorative environment, 453
cities, 217n. 1. See also urban environment
adaptive behaviors, 207208
appropriation, 214215
attachment and place of identity, 214215
attitudes toward natural landscapes, 341342
behavioral adaptations, 207209
branding and reputation, 240242
characteristics, 204, 205
feeling of insecurity, 206207
from city dwellers to citizens, 215216
Page 7 of 62
Index
inhabitants, 203204, 209212
living in, 207212
perception, evaluation, and satisfaction, 233
role of centrality, 213
role of proximity, 212213
segregation and aggregation, 238239
social behavior in, 208209
as specific environments, 204206
urban civilities, 208
urban environment, 204207
urbanites relationships, 210211
urban sociability, 211212
urban spatial investments, 212213
uses and activities, 235236 (p. 687)
vandalism, criminality, and insecurity, 206207
citizens
environmental stress factors, 206
from city dwellers to, 215216
civilities, urban life, 208
Civil War, slavery, 416
classroom curricula, environmental education, 539
Clean Water Act, 599
climate change, 645, 646. See also global climate change
global warming vs., 647
Climategate scandal, 648, 652
Climate Literacy: The Essential Principles of Climate Sciences, 652
Clinton, Bill, 416
coastal estuary partnerships, 609610
cognition
work environments, 265
cognitive development psychology, 116
cognitive dissonance theory, 72
cognitive emotion models, 130131
cognitive-experiential selftheory (CEST), 151, 154155
cognitive impairments, wayfinding, 5051
cognitive map
historical perspective, 4244
legibility of place, 4344
Lynchs contribution, 4344
wayfinding, 28
cognitive revolution, 35
Coleman, James, 602
collaboration
Page 8 of 62
Index
environmental inclusion, 422423
environmental injustice, 418422
forming effective partnerships, 420421
Collaborative for High Performance Schools (CHPS), 286
collaborative learning (CL)
ecosystem management, 607609
processes and outcomes, 617619
project phases and process stages, 608
collaborative partnership
advocacy coalition framework (ACF), 602604
institutional analysis and development (IAD), 601602
social capital theory, 602
stakeholder, 609610
color
correctional environment, 323324
health care environment, 306
comfort
integrated models of, 259260
thermal, 258259
ventilation, 259
commitments, pro-environmental behavior, 565566
communication, work environment, 252253
communities, scope of justice, 415
Communities for a Better Environment, 420
communities of color
environmental racism, 417
pollution, 416
Communities Organized Against Asthma & Lead (COAAL), Texas, 419
compatibility, 447, 512
competence, water conservation, 588
comprehensive conservation and management plan (CCMP), 599600, 623n. 4
Comstock, Anna Botsford, 115
concentration camp syndrome, 365
concern, environmental attitudes, 6566
Concord Academy, Thoreau, 115
confidence
gender and wayfinding, 52
knowledge of climate change, 649650
conflict resolution
downstream, 598
emotions, 141142
Page 9 of 62
Index
upstream, 598
Conflict Resolution Quarterly, 622
connectedness epiphanies, 499, 503
Connectedness to Nature Scale (CNS), 172
Connectivity With Nature Scale, 171
The Conscious Use of Metaphor, Bacon, 430431
Consensus Building Handbook, Susskind, 604
consensus building theory, alternative dispute resolution (ADR) and, 604
conservation, 3. See also pro-environmental behavior; water conservation
biology, 3
emotion, 130
nature, education, 629630
Conservation Biology, 4
Conservation Letters, 4
conservation psychology, 34
expanding interest, 45
integration with environmental psychology, 56, 682, 683
water, 581, 582, 592593
Conservation Psychology, 4
conservatism, Schwartz, 8384, 185, 186
constrained action, 530
constructivism, children and nature, 122
consumerism, water misuse, 585
continental philosophy, 16
contingencies, pro-environmental behavior, 562565
control, work environment, 261263
Cooley, Charles Horton, 165
Copenhagen, 241
Cornell Medical Index, 379
Cornell University Lab of Ornithology, 123
correctional environments
architectural issues, 324
color, 323324
crowding, 319320, 326
environment-behavior issues in, 318324
history of forcing behavior change, 317318
isolation, 320321
lighting, 322323
nature views, 323
noise, 321322
personal space, 319
physical conditions, 316317, 321324
privacy, 318319, 326
proxemics, 318319
Page 10 of 62
Index
sleep, 326
social conditions, 319321
territoriality, 319
violence model, 325326
visual aspects of setting, 322324
windows, 323
correlated color temperature (CCT), 255256
Cost-effective Open-Plan Environments, 259
creative play, children, 124
crime safety
perception, 469470
physical activity, 465, 467
criminality, city life, 206
crisis of culture, 128
crisis of maladapted behavior, 128
crowding, correctional environment, 319320, 326
cube farm, 250
cultural differences. See also environmental engagement; human-environment interactions
culture as independent or moderating variable, 194
ecological fallacy, 194
emic vs. etic approaches, 194195
equivalence and bias issues, 195196
evaluating and designing cross-cultural studies, 194196
history of human-environment interactions, 181182
human-environment interactions, 181182
natural landscape preference, 339340
cultural theory, 185187
culture, independent or moderating variable, 194
culture-level studies, environmental engagement, 190192
cycling, bike paths, 466
D
Dallas Salesmanship Club, 430
Darfur, 367
Dartmouth Medical School, 431
Darwin, Charles, 1314
daylight glare probability (DGP), 255
daylighting
green schools, 287
workplace, 255
decision making
long-term justice principles, 106
procedural justice, 9798
Deepwater Horizon oil spill, 636
Page 11 of 62
Index
demand-control model, work, 262
demand response, systems, 267
democide, 364
Democratic Republic of the Congo, 367
Democrats, climate change, 648, 650, 651
demographics
climate change, 650
hurricane evacuation, 400
density
classroom privacy, 283284
personal work space, 253
Department of Transportation, hurricane reentry, 401
Deukmejian, George, 599
developmental behaviors, wayfinding, 4950 (p. 688)
developmental psychology, social and physical attachments, 153154
developmental theories, wayfinding, 4749
Dewey, John, 14, 18, 21, 23, 26, 277, 278
digestion, relational properties, 18
Dilbert, Adams, 250
directed attention fatigue, 512
direct observations, water conservation, 588
direct perception, environment, 2627
direct supervision model, correctional setting, 324, 325326
disaster responses
antecedents of core perceptions, 404406
demographic characteristics, 406
earthquakes, 393394
hazard adjustment attributes, 403404
hazard adjustment behaviors, 407
hazard education, 404405
hazard proximity, 406
hurricanes, 397401
measuring antecedent variables, 408
measuring core perceptions, 407408
methodological directions, 408409
myths about victims, 391392
personal hazard experience, 405406
pre-impact preparedness actions, 402406
Protective Action Decision Model (PADM), 392, 393
risk perception, 402403
stakeholder characteristics, 403
theoretical directions, 407408
tornadoes, 394397
Page 12 of 62
Index
typologies of, 407
warnings and education programs, 406407
distraction, work environment, 253254
distress, 349
distributive justice, environment, 9899
dominant social paradigm (DSP), 340
dose-response relationships, human health and nature, 518519
Douglas, Mary, 185
dynamic experience, environment, 29
E
Earth Day, 416, 532
earthquakes, disaster response, 393394
Eastern State Penitentiary, 317
eating. See also healthy weight
plate sizes, 473, 475
team science research, 477
transactional and ecological approaches to healthy, 461463
upstream choices to health, 475
eco-behavioral science
Barker, 11, 12, 2934
behavior settings, 3133
ecological psychology and, 3435
ecocentrism-anthropocentrism distinctions, natural landscapes, 340341
ecological, 456n. 2
ecological approach
Bronfenbrenner, 224, 296, 302
environmental psychology, 3536
James radical empiricism, 1921
Lewins field theory, 2123
lifestyles, 461463
The Ecological Approach to Visual Perception, Gibson, 24
ecological environment, 128
ecological fallacy, cross-cultural studies, 194
ecological intelligence, 630
ecological optics, 27
ecological psychology
designation, 1112
eco-behavioral science, 3435
Gibson, 11, 12, 2429
ecological science
historical considerations, 1314
primary attributes, 1213
Page 13 of 62
Index
ecological theory, 674
ecology, 12, 318319
ecopsychology, 3. See also therapeutic uses of nature
relationship to nature, 428429
Ecopsychology, 4, 431
ecosystem management
analysis and deliberation (A&D), 606607
collaborative learning (CL), 607609
collaborative partnership formation and success, 600604
policy dialogue, 605606
ecosystems, 1213, 9496
educated incapacity, 633
education. See also environmental education; school environments
classroom-based curricula, 539
classroom design, 282284
climate science, 652653
environmental, and emotions, 139141
hazard programs, 404405
influencing environmental attitudes, 7172
information technology classroom, 284
nature centers and forest schools, 543544
nature conservation, 629630
open-space, 278279
place-based, 541542
pro-environmental behavior, 570571
school size, 279280
schools of future, 289290
school trends, 287289
sustainable development, 631632
efficiency, 100101
egalitarianism
cultural theory dimension, 186, 187
Schwartz dimension, 185, 186
social solidarity, 188
egoistic approach, pro-environmental behavior, 562565
egoistic values, 85
elderly people
health care environments, 308309, 312
loss of economic resources, 362
wayfinding, 50
Page 14 of 62
Index
electronic media, children, 117118
emancipatory perspective, environmental education, 634635
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 114
emic approach, cross-cultural research, 194195
emissions, human mitigation behavior, 657658
Emotional Affinity Toward Nature scale, 172
emotions
affective connection to nature, 133, 139
burdens and worries, 132, 138
classification of, 132133
cognitive emotion models, 130131
environmental conflicts, 141142
environmental education and, 139141
environmentally relevant, 130132, 138139, 142
from environmental protection to sustainable development, 134135
general action theories, 136137
measuring, 131132
models of pro-environmental behavior, 137
models of sustainable behavior, 135139
moral, 133, 139
moral outrage, 131
neuropsychology of, 143
rational choice models, 135136
role in environmental epiphanies, 487490, 497, 500
role in environmental psychology, 128129
self-interest vs. social responsibility, 129
socio-ecological dilemma, 134
understanding moral, in social trap, 133135
empirical studies, environmental epiphanies, 492495
energy consumption, workplace, 255
Energy Policy Act of 1992, 584
environment
bettering the, 422423
cities as specific, 204206
psychological consideration, 2324
environmental, 93
environmental action
agency and motivation for, 528530
development through significant experiences, 534536
extended mixed-method research program, 531532
factors, 529
goal, 527528
memory research, 536
Page 15 of 62
Index
play in nature as foundation for, 530531
significant life experiences, 531537
strengths and weakness of significant life experiences, 536537
surveys of significant experiences, 532533
environmental affordances, 221
environmental agencies, procedural justice, 97
environmental allocation
future, 105106
past, 106107
resources, 422423
Environmental and Behavior, 2
environmental attitudes
education, 7172
factors inhibiting behavior, 7374 (p. 689)
importance of studying, 66
measuring, 6667
media and messages, 71
predicting behavior, 569
structure, 67
theories for, influencing behavior, 72
Environmental Attitudes Inventory, 67
Environmental Attitudes Scale (EAS), 172173
Environmental Communication, 4
environmental concern
age, 68
challenge-response model, 188
comparing values, ecological worldviews and, 89
direct experience with nature, 70
education, 7071
factors affecting, 6771
gender, 68
international differences, 6869
levels of concern, 6768
personality and values, 70
religion and politics, 6970
socioeconomic status, 68
urban-rural residence, 69
environmental conflict resolution (ECR), 598
alternative dispute resolution (ADR), 604
analysis and deliberation framework, 616617
assessment studies and dispute resolution programs, 614616
collaborative engagement processes, 605609
collaborative learning processes and outcomes, 617619
Page 16 of 62
Index
collaborative stakeholder partnerships, 609610
conceptual design of ECR evaluation, 612
consensus building theory, 604
evaluation criteria and research, 610619
multiagency ECR evaluation, 614615
National Estuary Program (NEP) coastal partnerships, 614
policy dialogues, 615616
process and outcome criteria, 611
soft systems methodology, 604605
theoretical foundations, 604605
watershed partnership project, 612614
environmental conflicts, emotions, 141142
environmental degradation
environmental racism, 417418
human activities, 415418
Environmental Design Research Association, 2
environmental disasters. See also disaster responses
behavioral responses, 391393
environmental education, 630631. See also education
classroom-based curricula, 539
emancipatory perspective, 634635
environmental service learning, 542543
forest schools, 543544
formal programs for learning, 537545
future directions, 549551, 639641
implications for education, planning and design, 548549
ingredients of effective programs, 544545
instrumental perspective, 633634
interpretations, 632635
Issue Investigation and Action Training (IIAT), 539541
learning in post-normal times, 636638
monitoring and evaluation, 635, 638639, 640
nature centers, 543544
place-based, 541542
post-normal, 635638
post-normal science, 636
research and practice, 548551
review of, research, 537538
risk society, 635636
Environmental Education Research, 637
environmental educators, epiphany research, 491
environmental engagement. See also cultural differences
cross-cultural studies, 189194
Page 17 of 62
Index
culture-level studies, 190192
individual-level studies, 190
linking findings, 193194
multilevel studies, 192193
environmental epiphanies, 486, 497
applications, 490491
descriptive results, 498
discussion of findings, 501502
empirical studies, 492495
environmental meaning, 495497
epiphany types, 498499
implications of initial study, 504505
importance of emotion, 487490
initial data of, 498501
literature review, 491497
managing natural areas for, 505506
nature of, 505
need for and potential of, 490
participants, 487
phenomenon, 485486
place attachment, 495497
procedures, 487
psychological approaches, 491492
purposes and description, 486487
studying, 497505
thematic trends in descriptions, 499501
typology, 502503
environmental fit, residential, 222, 224226
environmental generational amnesia, 122
environmental identity
behavior, 8889
behavioral implications, 174175
creating, 169170
ethical implications, 173174
impact of, 173176
measures, 157, 170173
politics of identity, 175176
self-presentation, 175
values and behavior, 175
Environmental Identity (EID) scale, 170, 171
environmental injustice, 168
air pollution and asthma in Harlem, 419420
bananas and fair trade, 421422
Page 18 of 62
Index
bettering the environment, 422423
collaboration and environmental inclusion, 422423
collaborations to redress, 418422
community-based participatory research, 419421
environmental awareness and theater of oppressed, 419
forming partnerships, 420421
from moral exclusion to moral inclusion, 422423
future directions for research, 424425
inclusionary change over time, 423424
lead contamination in Oklahoma, 420
opposing polluting industries, 421
social movement groups, 418419
toxic air and industry in Los Angeles, 420
Environmentalism Scale, 67
environmental management
epiphany research, 490491
justice, 9394
environmental meaning, epiphanies, 495497
environmental noise, 375. See also noise
environmental perception
analytical tools, 54
applying wayfinding research, 5556
brain areas underlying wayfinding, 4446
cognitive impairments, 5051
cognitive map, 4244
developmental behaviors, 4950
developmental theories, 4749
evolutionary models, 152153
future direction, 57
gender differences, 5154
methods, 2829
spatial cognition, 42
verisimilitude in wayfinding tasks, 4647
visual impairments, 51
wayfinding, 42, 5657
Environmental Performance Index, 191, 192
Environmental Problems and Human Behavior, 4
environmental protection, change to sustainability, 129, 134135
affordances, direct perception and, 2627
attention restoration theory (ART), 674675
city, 216
common themes, 676680
consideration for future, 677678, 680681
design of health care, 297
Page 19 of 62
Index
ecological approach, 2729, 3536
education, 676
environment-person relations, 1920
evolutionary theory, 674
experience as function of individual, 2021
health, 675
importance of scale, 676, 678
individual vs. collective, 679
integration with conservation psychology, 56, 682, 683
interdisciplinarity, 679680
justice, 675676
measuring emotions, 131132 (p. 690)
person-in-context, 678
pro-environmental behavior, 556, 575
restorative environments, 445
role of emotions, 128129
social psychology, 674
temporal dimension, 678679
Environmental Psychology: Man and His Physical Setting, 2
environmental racism, 414415, 417
environmental regulations, US-Canadian management of Great Lakes, 174
environmental research, natural landscapes, 334
environmental stressors, prisoners, 317
environmental values
affecting behavior, 8789
biospheric values, 8486
comparing values, ecological worldviews, and environmental concern, 89
definition, 82
hedonic values, 8687
pro-environmental actions, 81
Schwartzs value theory, 8384
social value orientations, 8283
value theories, 8287
Environment and Behavior, 2, 54, 164
environment and identity, 164165, 167170. See also environmental identity
identity, 165167
measuring, 170173
Environment Identity Scale, 171
epiphanies, 485. See also environmental epiphanies
thematic trends, 499501
types, 498499
equality, 96
Page 20 of 62
Index
equity, environment, 9697
equivalence, cross-cultural research, 195196
ergonomists, comfort and discomfort, 260
Erikson, Erik, 165, 366
ethics, environmental identity, 173174
Ethiopia, 367
ethnicity, identity, 165166
etic approach, cross-cultural research, 194195
Euclidean information, gender and wayfinding, 5354
European Values Study, 192
eustress, 349
evacuation decisions
hurricanes, 397
information sources and message content, 398399
logistics, 400401
protectiveaction perceptions, 399
reentry, 401
threat perceptions, 399
evaluation. See perception, evaluation and satisfaction
everyday life, 221, 222
evidence-based design (EBD), health care, 300301, 304
evolution
child development, 115
connection to nature, 518
responses to natural landscapes, 335338
restoration theories, 448449
therapeutic camping movement, 429
evolutionary psychology, water misuse, 585
evolutionary theory, 674
executive order, Clinton, 416
exosystem
hospital environment, 302
residential environment, 224
experience
function of individual, 2021
nature, 119121
experts, hazard adjustments, 403
external factors, human mitigation behavior, 659
extreme and unusual environments (EUEs)
Antarctic stations, 355357
general definition, 350352
genocides, 364367
literature and media depicting, 348350
Page 21 of 62
Index
mountains, 353355
natural and human-made, 351352
natural disasters, 361364
physical and psychological characteristics, 353367
sampling, 353
space stations, 357360
traumatic, 360361
extremeness, 350
eye-as-camera metaphor, visual perception, 29
F
fairness
environmental collaboration, 422
justice outcome, 99100
labeling judgments, 104
water and justice, 94
fair trade, bananas, 421422
family involvement, treatment, 439
fascination, 447, 512
fatalism
favorite places, restorative environment, 453
Federal Facilities Council (FFC), 281
Federal Wilderness Act (1964), 548
feelings, 130, 140
fields of constrained action, 530
fields of free action, 530
fields of promoted action, 530
field theory, Lewin, 2123
Finland, inmate suicides, 321
fit, 221, 222
flaky environmentalists, 165
FlexYourPower, California, 561
Florida, hurricane reentry, 401
flow of information
environmental fit, 225
wayfinding, 28
fluency, restorative quality of nature, 454455
food environments
eating, 471474
macro-, 472473
micro-, 473474
food production, climate change, 656
forested environment, 495
Page 22 of 62
Index
forest schools, learning at, 543544
fractals, restorative quality of nature, 454455
free action, 530
Fresh Air Camp, 430
freshwater. See water conservation
Froebel, Friedrich, 114
functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), 4445, 57
function of individual, experience, 2021
future orientation, water conservation, 589590
G
Gagarin, Yuri. 357
Gallup polling, 648, 650, 664n. 1
Gans, Herbert, 210
Gansers syndrome, 321
gasoline prices, 563
gender
anxiety and confidence, 52
climate change, 656
identity, 165166
mental rotation, 5152
wayfinding, 5154
wayfinding measures, 5254
gene, 37n. 3
general action theories, sustainable behavior, 136137
General Health Questionnaire (GHQ), 378379, 384
General Health Survey, 381
generalized anxiety disorder, 379
genocides
traumatic environments, 364367
geographic information system (GIS), 54, 463, 465, 517
Geothermal Research, 409
Germany
emotional affinity to nature, 532533
Hereros, 364
outdoor ecology program, 544
Gestalt psychology, 22
Gestalt psychotherapy, 432
Gibson, James J., 11, 12, 14, 34, 35
affordances, 2527
ecological approach to environmental psychology, 2729
Page 23 of 62
Index
ecological psychology, 2429
global climate change. See also human mitigation behavior
adaptation, 654655
beliefs about, 646653
causes and mechanisms, 648
certainty, 649
confidence in knowledge, 649650
demographic and psycho-social predictors, 650
educational efforts, 652653
global warming vs. climate change, 647
impacts, 653656
importance, 650
meta-cognitions, 649650
psychological impacts, 653654 (p. 691)
scientific consensus, 648649
social justice implications, 655656
source of beliefs, 650652
vulnerability and resilience, 655656
global positioning system (GPS), 123
global warming, 645, 646, 647, 650. See also global climate change
vs. climate change, 647
goal-directed behavior, 569570
Golden Gate Bridge, 241
Goodall, Jane, 543
Great Lakes, US-Canadian management, 174
Great Smoky Mountains National Park, 543
green, 285
Green Globes, 267
greenhouse effect, 647
greenhouse gas emissions, 473
green psychology, 3
green schools, 286287, 542
groups, model of work environment effects, 249
Gunnery School, 429
H
habit, human mitigation behavior, 659, 661
habit discontinuity model, 572573
Haeckel, Ernst, 1314
Hahn, Kurt, 430
Hall, G. Stanley, 115
Handbook of Environmental Psychology, 14, 54, 249, 349
Handbook of Identity Theory and Research, 164
Handbook of Nature Study, Comstock, 115
Handbook of Self and Identity, 164
Page 24 of 62
Index
Hansen, James, 652
Happiness, environmental epiphany, 489
hard fascination, attention restoration theory (ART), 447
Harlem, air pollution and asthma, 419420
harmony, Schwartz dimension, 185, 186
hazard adjustment adoption
attributes, 403404
risk perception, 402403
stakeholder characteristics, 403
hazard education, disaster preparedness, 404405
hazard experience, 405406, 408
hazard mitigation, 392393
hazard proximity, hurricanes, 399400
head-mounted displays (HMD), 56
healing
restorative environment, 451
health
activity levels, 37
comfort, 259
green schools, 286287
noise effects, 376, 385386
noise exposure and medication use, 378
upstream choices, 475476
Health and Care Infrastructure Research and Innovation Centre, 301, 311
health benefits
home, 233234
nature to children, 124
neighborhood, 234235
outdoor spaces, 237238
health care environments
ambient features, 306307
architectural features, 305
Bronfenbrenners systematic view, 301, 302
caregivers, 309310
children, 308309, 311312
dimensions of architectural humanization, 298300
elderly patients, 308309, 312
environmental humanization, 299
influence of design on users, 303304
inhuman image of hospitals, 297298
interior design features, 306
Page 25 of 62
Index
interplay between users and spatialphysical seating, 299
multi-place system, 301303, 313
multiple environmental features, 307308
nature of hospital spaces and roles, 302303
promoting evidence-based design, 300301
single environmental features, 305307
spatial-physical humanization of, 297300
studying generic patients, 305308
trends in design research, 304311
user-centered design, 296297
visitors, 310311
Health Council of the Netherlands (HCN), 382
Health of the Planet Survey, 184
healthy weight
macro-environmental supports, 463465
micro-environmental supports, 465469
multiple levels of support, 476477
Heathrow airport, childrens health, 380
heating, ventilation and airconditioning (HVAC), 266
hedonic values, 8384, 8687
Herzog, Maurice, 350, 354
hierarchy
Schwartz dimension, 185, 186
high-performance schools
design guides, 285286
green schools, 286287
school environments, 285287
Himalayas, 354
hippocampus, brain and wayfinding, 45
The Hippocampus as a Cognitive Map, OKeefe and Nadel, 45
historical event, transactionalism, 17
Hofstede, Geert, 183185, 189
Holocaust
Nazis, 364367
psychology, 366
survivors, 366367
home
uses and activities, 233234
Page 26 of 62
Index
Hood River project, 564
hospital, 295. See also health care environments
caregivers, 309310
children and elderly patients, 308309, 311312
inhuman image of, 297298
nature of, spaces and roles, 302303
noise and admission rates, 377378
visitors, 310311
host neighborhoods, 417
household actions, carbon emissions, 558
house of worship, restorative environment, 453
housing, public, in Chicago, 512, 514515
Howard, John, 317
human activity, soft systems, 604605
Human Behavior and Environment, 149
Human Development Index, 191, 192, 193
Human Ecology Review, 3
human-environment interactions. See also environmental engagement
cultural theory, 185187
Hofstede, 183185
Inglehart, 187189
Kluckhohn, 182183
linking models, 189
Schwartz, 185, 186
social solidarity, 186187, 188
human exception paradigm (HEP), 340
human health
attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), 513
cognitive functioning, 511513
dose-response relationships, 518519
explanatory mechanisms, 519520
future research directions, 518520
integration and collaboration, 520
large-scale epidemiological studies, 511
mediators, 519520
mental health and psychological well-being, 513514
moderators, 519
natural environment, 509510
physical activity and obesity, 515518
physical health and physiological stress, 510511
social connection, 514515
social interaction, 514515
humanization, 296
Page 27 of 62
Index
dimensions of architectural, 298300
environmental, 299
spatial-physical, of health care places, 297300
human-made environments, 353
human mitigation behavior
analyzing, 657658
global climate change, 656663
predicting, 658660
promoting, 660663
human-nature relationships, epiphanies, 485486, 491492, 501
human territoriality, 295
hunting-gathering economy, 181
Hurricane Island Outward Bound, 431
Hurricane Katrina, 363 (p. 692)
hurricanes
antecedents of evacuation decisions, 398399
antecedents of situational perceptions, 399400
demographic characteristics, 400
disaster responses, 397401
evacuation decisions, 397
evacuation logistics, 400401
evacuation reentry, 401
hazard experience, 399
hazard proximity, 399400
information sources, 398399
message content, 398399
preparation time distributions, 398
protective-action perceptions, 399
response-time distributions, 397398
threat perceptions, 399
warning-time distributions, 398
hyperbolic discounting, 106
Hypertension and Exposure to Noise near Airports (HYENA) Study, 378
I
Identity. See also environment and identity; place attachment
attachment and place of, 214215
content, 166167
creating environmental, 169170
groupings, 166
personal and social, 166
politics of, 175176
process or function, 167
Page 28 of 62
Index
self focus, 165
social, 168169
ideology, politics of identity, 175176
illuminance, 269n. 1
Illuminating Engineering Society of North America (IES), 255
Image & Environment: Cognitive Mapping and Spatial Behavior, 43
The Image of the City, Lynch, 41, 43, 44
impact orientation, pro-environmental behavior, 557558
Implicit Association Test (IAT), 121
iNaturalist.org, 123
Inclusion of Nature in Self (INS) scale, 157, 171
India
knowledge of local nature, 122
Watershed Development (WSD) policy, 101102
indirect realism, 26
individualism
individualism vs. collectivism, Hofstede, 183, 184
individualistic values, Schwartz value theory, 8384
individual-level studies, environmental engagement, 190
individual resource use, workplace behavior, 266267
individuals, model of work environment effects, 249
Indonesia, 122
indoor plants, health care environment, 306
information, human mitigation behavior, 658
information and communications technologies (ICT)
environmental education, 641
information campaigns, pro-environmental, 560561
information-processing mechanism, preference, 334335
information technology
classroom, 284
information variables, natural landscapes, 335
Inglehart, Ronald, 187189, 191, 192
inhabitants
cities, 203204, 209212
perception, conception and evaluation, 230
sociability, 211212
spontaneous evaluation, 230231
urbanites relationships, 210211
injustice perceptions, 98
insecurity
Page 29 of 62
Index
city life, 206
feeling of, 206207
institutional analysis and development (IAD), collaborative partnership, 601602
institutional rational choice, 601
institutional violence, environmental model, 325326
instrumental perspective, environmental education, 633634
integration, human health and nature, 520
intellectual epiphanies, 499, 503
intensive care unit (ICU), 310
intention orientation, pro-environmental, 558559
interactionist approaches, environmental and conservation psychology, 36
interactionist meta-theory, 1416, 25
interdependence, ecosystems, 13
interdisciplinarity, psychology, 679680
interior design, health care environment, 306
International Association for Applied Psychology, 4
International Association for People-Environment Studies, 4
International Childrens Environment Conference, 534
International Commission on Illumination (CIE), 256, 257
international differences, environmental concern, 6869
International Social Survey Programme, 189, 191, 192, 193
International Space Station (ISS), 358360
intersection density, walking, 463464
interventions
environmentally relevant emotions, 140, 141
natural environments, 476
practical programs, 142143
resource management, 568
interviews
environmental action, 533534
intrinsically photoreceptive retinal ganglion cells (ipRGCs), 256258
Iowa, flood, 362
Irvine Minnesota Inventory (IMI), 466
isolated, confined environments (ICEs), 350351
isolation
Eastern State Penitentiary, 317
Issue Investigation and Action Training (IIAT), 71, 539541, 542, 545, 549
J
Jaegerpris Project, Denmark, 541
jail. See correctional environments
James, William, 14, 35, 165, 446
Page 30 of 62
Index
emotion, 487488
mystical experiences, 492, 501502
radical empiricism, 1921
Japan
environmental concern, 68, 69
military aircraft, 380
noise at air bases in Okinawa, 379
volcano eruption, 362
Jim Crow laws, 418
job satisfaction, control, 262263
Johnson, Philip, 297
joint fact-finding procedures, 623n. 7
Journal of Applied Environmental Education and Communication, 630
Journal of Environmental Education, 630, 632
Journal of Environmental Psychology, 2, 55, 164
Journal of Fostering Sustainable Behavior, 4
Journal of Volcanology, 409
Judeo-Christian religion. environmental concern, 6970
justice
allocation of resources, 422423
distributive justice, 9899
environmental management, 9394
equity, 9697
fairness, 99100, 422
procedural justice, 9798
scale and dimensions of decisions, 100102
scope of, 415
social discounting, 108, 109
society and, 107108
space and, 103105
time and, 105107
understanding and evaluating, 96100
water and, 9496
water management, 9596
Watershed Development (WSD) policy, 101102
K
Kant, moral imperative, 98
Kaplan, Rachel, 446
Kaplan, Stephen, 446
Kaplans model, cognitive map, 43
Kershensteiner, Georg, 277
Khmer Rouge, 364, 367
Kluckhohn, Florence, 182183 (p. 693)
Page 31 of 62
Index
knowing
function of mind, 20
spectator theory of, 26
knowledge
climate change, 649650
knowledge-deficit model, pro-environmental, 560561
Kyoto protocol, 71
KZ syndrome, 365
L
land management, epiphany research, 491
Last Child in the Woods, Louv, 115, 428, 530, 630
Latin America, bananas and fair trade, 421422
lead contamination, Oklahoma, 420
Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED), 267, 268
learning environment
nature centers and forest schools, 543544
schools, 280282
service, 542543
legibility of place, wayfinding, 4344, 5556
Lewin, Kurt, 12, 16, 2123
Lexis-Nexis database, 93
licensure, wilderness experience programs (WEPs), 438439
lifestyle
environmental behavior, 560
transactional and ecological models to healthy, 462
lighting
green schools, 287
individual resource use, 266267
North American workplaces, 255
workplace behavior, 266
liquid-crystal displays (LCD) monitors, 255
literature
extreme environment stories, 348350
response to tornadoes, 396
Lithuania, 533
living conditions, urban environment, 205206
local ecological knowledge (LEK), 121
Page 32 of 62
Index
logistical preparation, evacuation, 398
logistics, hurricane evacuation, 400401
long-term vs. short-term orientation, 184
Los Angeles, 420
Loughmiller, Campbell, 430
Louisiana, Hurricane Katrina, 363
Louv, Richard, 115, 117, 284, 428, 530, 630
Love and Care for Nature scale, 172
luminance, 269n. 1
Lynch, legibility of place, 4344
M
macro-justice
fairness, 99100
future, 105
macrophysical environments
food, 472473
physical activity and healthy weight, 463465
transactional and ecological models, 461
macrosystem
Malaguzzi, Loris, 280
Maloney-Ward Ecology Inventory, 67
managed nature, restorer, 450452
maps, virtual environments, 47
Marine Life Protection Act, 616
Marine Protected Areas (MPAs), 616
marketing theme, neighborhood, 240
Mars voyage, 359
masculinity vs. femininity, 183, 184
Maslow, Abraham, 493, 501
Massachusetts Department of Youth Services, 431
mastery, Schwartz, 185, 186
Mead, George Herbert, 165
Mead, G. H., 18
meaning, 20, 495497
measurement
antecedent variables, 408
computer-based, 681
core perceptions, 407408
emotions, 131132
environmental attitudes, 6667
environmental identity, 170173
neighborhood cognitions, affects and activities, 229233
wayfinding, 5254
Page 33 of 62
Index
media
extreme environment stories, 348350
pro-environmental attitudes, 71
tornado warning, 395396
mediators
environmental attitudes, 73
medication
caregivers in health care, 309310
noise exposure and health, 378
memory research, life experiences, 536
mental health
noise and, in children, 380381
psychological well-being, 513514
mental hospital, noise exposure, 377378
mental illness, inmates, 321
mental rotation, wayfinding and gender, 5152
Mental Rotations Test (MRT), 42
mere-exposure hypothesis, place attachment, 151152
mesosystem
messages, media and environmental attitudes, 71
meta-cognitions, climate change, 649650
meta-theories
assumptions, 12
interactionist, 1416
organismic, 16
trait, 14
transactional, 1617
metering, water consumption, 587588
Metropolitan Correctional Centers, 324
micro-justice, fairness, 99100
microphysical environments
accessibility features, 466467
crime safety features, 467
food, 473474
physical activity and healthy weight, 463, 465469
pleasurability features, 468469
social environmental indicators, 469
traffic safety features, 467468
transactional and ecological models, 461
microsystem
Page 34 of 62
Index
milling, psychological preparation, 398
Millon Adolescent Clinical Inventory (MACI), 440
Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), 357
Mir space station, 358360
mitigation behavior. See human mitigation behavior
moderators
monitoring and evaluation, environmental education, 635, 638639, 640
Montessori, Maria, 114, 277278
moral emotions, 132, 133135, 139
moral exclusion, 415, 422
moral inclusion, 415, 422, 423424
Motivation Toward the Environment Scale, 67
Motives, resource management, 568
mountains
Mount St. Helens, volcano threat, 403
Mt. Everest, extreme environment, 353354
Muir, John, 429
Multiagency ECR Evaluation Study (MAES), 614615
multilevel modeling (MLM), 615
multilevel studies, environmental engagement, 192193
multi-place system, health care environment, 301303, 313
multiple, nested levels of organization, ecosystems, 13
Munich Study, 381
museums, restorative environment, 453
music, health care environment, 307
mystical experiences, James, 492, 501502
N
Namibia, 169
National Association of Secondary School Principals, 278
National Association of Therapeutic Schools and Programs, 438
National Association of Therapeutic Wilderness Camps, 438
National Estuary Program (NEP), 599, 614
National Institute of Corrections Information Center, 324
National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences Environmental Justice Project, 419
National Kids Survey, 117
National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS), 437, 545548
National Weather Service (NWS), 395396 (p. 694)
Native American culture, social identity, 168169
natural disasters, 353. See also disaster responses
extreme environments, 361364
Page 35 of 62
Index
survivors, 363364
natural environments
definition, 128
environmental epiphanies, 505506
evaluating interventions, 476
human health and well-being, 509510
mountains, 353355
physical characteristics of restorative, 449
wayfinding, 5657
natural landscapes
attention restoration theory (ART), 336338, 343
attitudes toward, natural resources and social dilemmas, 342343
attitudes toward urban green areas, 341342
biophilia hypothesis, 336
cross-cultural comparisons of preference, 339340
environmental research, 334
evolutionary models, 335338
history of movement to view, 429432
human landscape preferences, 338339
human relations with, 332333
people-environment transactions, 335
perceived environmental properties and preference, 333335
prospect and refuge model, 335336, 343
restoration environment, 450452
savanna hypothesis, 338
sociocultural models of preference, 338343
stress reduction theory (SRT), 336338, 343
worldviews, values and behaviors, 340341
natural materials, schoolyards, 285
natural resources
attitudes, 342343
management cycle, 102, 109
water and justice, 9496
nature. See also children and nature; therapeutic uses of nature
affective connection to, 133, 139
affective experience of, 119121
benefits to children, 124
children involvement, 155156
concepts of and knowledge about, 121122
connectivity to, 171, 518
correctional environment and views of, 323
green exercise, 513514
Page 36 of 62
Index
human ideological positions, 340341
implicit connections to, 171172
managed, 450452
play in, as foundation for environmental action, 530531
as restorer, 450452
technologically mediated, 122124
wild, 450
wilderness experience program, 432, 433434
nature centers, learning at, 543544
nature conservation, education, 629630, 639
nature deficit disorder, 115, 284, 428
Nature Game, 533
nature-related experience, concern, 70
nature vs. nurture question, 116
Nazis, Holocaust, 364367
neighborhood
childrens maps, 118119
measuring cognitions, affects, and activities, 229233
residential attachment, 228, 231232
Neighborhood Environment Walkability Scale (NEWS), 469
neighborhood walk, children and nature, 116
neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), 310
nested organization, ecosystems, 13
nesting of processes, transactionalism, 17
Netherlands
epidemiological study, 511
lighting scheme, 258
nature-oriented education, 629
network, ecosystems, 13
neuroimaging studies, noise, 385
neuropsychology, emotions, 143
neuroticism, noise sensitivity and, 384
New Ecological Paradigm Scale, 67
New Environmental Paradigm (NEP), 67, 87, 89, 172, 191, 340
new human interdependence paradigm (NHIP), 341
New Orleans, Hurricane Katrina, 363
New Zealand Scott Base, 355
niches, schoolyards, 285
Nigeria, 340
noise
annoyance, 383384
Page 37 of 62
Index
definition, 375376
exposure and symptoms, 376377
health and behavior, 376, 385386
mental health in children, 380381
mental hospital admission rates, 377378
physical environmental stressors, 376
potential mechanisms, 385
psychiatric morbidity, 378380
quality of life, 381, 386
road traffic study, 379380
sensitivity and vulnerability to psychiatric disorder, 384
noise and number index (NNI), 377
norm-activation model, sustainable behavior, 136137
Norway, 339
not in my backyard (NIMBY) syndrome, 607
nuclear facilities, Sweden, 97
O
Oakland, CA fires, 364
obesity
physical activity and, 515518
public health, 630
United States, 460
objects of interest, environmental epiphanies, 500
occupational environment, 353
OECD (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development), 190
offices, work environments, 248, 250251
Oklahoma, lead contamination in, 420
Olsen, Larry Dean, 429
One Tonne Challenge campaign, Canada, 561
open-ended questionnaires, environmental action, 533534
openness to change, Schwartzs value theory, 8384
open-space education, school buildings, 278279
optic flow, perceptual information, 28
Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area (ODNRA), 618
organismic meta-theory, worldview, 16
organizations
ecosystems, 13
environmental psychologists, 267268
Page 38 of 62
Index
model of work environment effects, 249
Osmond, Humphrey, 295
Ottoman Turkey, Armenians, 364
Outdoor Challenge Program, 494
outdoors
childrens activities in, 117118
crime safety and physical activity, 467
school environments, 284285
outdoor spaces
Outward Bound, 429431, 437, 440, 545
P
path integration, wayfinding, 28
pathogenic, 349
patients, health care design research, 305308
peace, environmental epiphany, 489490
peak experiences, Maslow, 493, 501
Pebble Project, 300, 311
pediatric intensive care unit (PICU), 311
Peirce, C. S., 14
Pepper, Stephen, 14, 15, 37n. 2
perceived behavioral control (PBC), water conservation, 589
perceived hospital environment quality indicators (PHEQIs), 300
perceived residential environmental quality indicators (PREQIs), 228, 231232, 235
perception
antecedents of core, 404406
environmental, 2829
environments for physical activity, 469471
hazard education, 404405 (p. 695)
hurricanes, 399400
measures of core perceptions, 407408
personal hazard experience, 405406
risk, for earthquakes, 402403
perception, evaluation, and satisfaction
city, 233
home, 227228
The Perception of the Visual World, Gibson, 27
perceptual system, 27
performance, green schools, 286287
persecution syndrome, 365
Page 39 of 62
Index
personal experience, hazards, 405406, 408
personal growth, wilderness experience programs (WEPs), 437
personality
traits vs. attitudes, 65
water misuse, 583584
personal norms
Personal Orientation Inventory, 357
personal space, 295
density, 253
privacy, 251252
person-environment system
behavior, 222
Lewins transactionalism, 2223
transactional view of processes, 1719
transaction meta-theory, 1617
Pestalozzi, 114
Petersen, Peter, 277
PET scans, brain and wayfinding, 4445, 57
Pew polling, 648, 664n. 1
Photobiology, work environment, 256258
photographs
relationships to actual, 37n. 4
wayfinding, 46
physical activity. See also walking
environment and behavior, 463
green exercise, 513514
historical decreases in, 461
macro-environmental support, 463465
micro-environmental supports, 465469
multiple levels of support, 476477
obesity, 515518
problems of obesity and insufficient, 460
supports encouraging healthy weight and, 461
team science research, 477
transactional and ecological approaches to healthy, 461463
Page 40 of 62
Index
upstream choices to health, 475476
PISA (Program for International Student Assessment), 280
place attachment
antecedent process, 151153
consequences, 156158
definition, 148150
development, 153156
disruptions in place relationships, 157158
dynamics of, 150158
ecological and conservation behavior, 156157
environmental perception, 152153
interplay between self-regulation and, 154156
interplay between social and physical attachments, 153154
literature, 502
mere-exposure hypothesis, 151152
neighborhood, 228
tripartite framework, 149150
Place-based Education Evaluation Collaborative (PEEC), 541542
place identity, environmental and, 170
place theory, health care environment, 302
planet, freshwater scarcity, 582583
Planetree, hospital model, 300, 311
play
creative, 124
pleasurability
perception, 470
policy dialogues, dispute resolutions, 615616
political context, disaster response, 392
politics
climate change, 648
identity, 175176
pollution
air, and asthma in Harlem, 419420
communities of color, 416
education and emotions, 139
worldwide, 128
polysomnography (PGS), sleep disturbance, 383
positive affect, work environments, 264265
positive behavior change, prisons, 317318
Page 41 of 62
Index
Positive Effects of Being in Space Questionnaire (PEBS), 360
positive psychology, 349
post-materialistic values, 8586, 192, 340
post-materialist values thesis, 187189
post-normal environmental education
learning in post-normal times, 636638
post-normal science, 636
risk society, 635636
post-occupancy evaluation (POE)
buildings, 281
neighborhood, 232
post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), 361, 362, 366
power distance, 183, 184
pragmatists, 14
Predicted Mean VotePredicted Percent Dissatisfied (PMVPPD), thermal comfort, 258259
preference
design of health care environment, 296297
sociocultural models for natural landscapes, 338343
preparation time, hurricane evacuation, 398
Present State Examination, 384
present-time perspective (PTP), water misuse, 584
The Principles of Psychology, James, 19, 20
prison. See correctional environments
privacy
classroom, in schools, 283284
correctional environment, 318319, 326
procedural justice, environment, 9798
actions, 81
beliefs, norms, and choices, 85
constructs leading to behavior, 7273
behavioral spillover, 574575
behavioral wedge, 556557
biospheric approaches, 561562, 569571
considerations, 573575
context, 571573
domains, 559
egotistic approaches, 561, 562565
emotional affinity toward nature, 532
emotional valence, 138139
environmental education and emotions, 139141
Page 42 of 62
Index
household actions and carbon emissions, 558
impact-oriented approach, 557558
information campaigns, 560561
intention-orientation, 558559
knowledge about motivation, 129
limitations, 564565
means of travel, 132
models of, 137
opposite, 144n. 1
person, 560571
person or context, 559560
rebound effects, 574
self-interest, 562565
social-altruistic approaches, 561562, 565569
socio-ecological dilemma, 134
sustainable development, 129, 134135
targets, 573574
willingness to sacrifice, 423
progressive movement, school buildings, 278279
promoted action, 530
prompts, behavior, 562
proportionality, equity, 96
prospect and refuge model, natural landscapes, 335336, 343
protective-action perceptions, hurricane, 399
Protective Action Decision Model (PADM), 392, 393
proxemics, correctional environment, 318319
proximity
city dwellers, 212213
hazard, 406
hurricane hazard, 399400
psychiatric disorder, noise sensitivity and vulnerability to, 384 (p. 696)
psychiatric morbidity, noise exposure and, 378380
PsychInfo, 189, 645
psycho-evolutionary theory
comparison to attention restoration theory, 448449
integration, 449
stress reduction, 447448
psychological approach, environmental epiphanies, 491492
psychological consequences, water conservation, 591592
psychological effects
genocides, 365367
Page 43 of 62
Index
mountains, 354355
psychological preparation, evacuation, 398
psychological resources, environment, 36
psychology
environment, 2324
importance of scale, 676, 678
integration of environmental and conservation, 682683
mental health and wellbeing, 513514
role and responsibility of, 682683
worldview in, 1419
Psychology and Environmental Change, 4
The Psychology of Environmental Problems, 4
psychology of sustainability, 3
Psychology of Sustainable Development, 4
The Psychology of Vandalism, Goldstein, 282
PsyEcology, 4
public commitments, pro-environment, 565566
public housing, Chicago, 512, 514515
Publicolor school design, Shuman, 281
public policy, fairness, 99100
Putnam, Robert, 602
Q
quality of life
noise, 381, 386
outdoor spaces, 238
quantum change, elements of, 493494
quasi-stable systems, ecosystems, 12
Quebec, 227, 542
questionnaires
environmental action, 533534
R
radical empiricism, James, 1921
RAER (realistically achievable emissions reductions), 557, 558
Ralston, Aron Lee, 348, 352
rational choice models, sustainable behavior, 135136
reality, people and environment, 225226
realization epiphanies, 499, 503
recreation, restorative environment, 452
recreational environment, 353355
Page 44 of 62
Index
recycling behavior, 136, 572
rehabilitation centers, 453
relationships, urban dwellers, 210211
relativistic field theories, 14
religion, environmental concern, 6970
representational realism, 26
Rep Trak, 241
Republicans, climate change, 648, 650, 651
reputation. See branding and reputation
Reputation Institute, 241
residence (urban-rural), environmental concern, 69
residential environments
definition, 221
ecological view and affordances, 222224
explaining environmental fit, 224226
matrix of, by topic, 226
place-specific approach, 222224
quality of life, 223224
theoretical framework, 221222
traditional research, 226227
residential ethnography, 230
residential quality (RQ)
evaluation and satisfaction, 232233
urban, 228229
residential satisfaction, neighborhood, 228
resilience, 368
Holocaust survivors, 366367
resource management, motives and interventions, 568
respiration, relational properties, 18
response-time, hurricane evacuation, 397398
responsibility, equity, 96
restoration, work environments, 263264
restorative environments
favorite places, 453
fluency and fractals, 454455
future, 455
Page 45 of 62
Index
home, 452
hospitals, 453
managed nature, 450452
museums, 453
nature as restorer, 450452
perceived restorativeness, 454
psycho-evolutionary theory of stress reduction, 447448
rehabilitation centers, 453
similarities and differences between ART and stress reduction, 448449
social context of restoration, 455
specific concepts of interest, 453455
spiritual environments, 453
theories on restoration, 445446
wild nature, 450
workplace, 452453
restricted environmental stimulation therapy (REST), 321
risk characterization, analysis and deliberation, 606607
risk perception
hazard adjustment, 402403
measures of, 407
Road Traffic and Aircraft Noise Exposure and Childrens Cognition and Health (RANCH) study,
380
road traffic noise study, 379380
Robert Taylor Homes (RTH), public housing, 514
Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, 515
Roots and Shoots clubs, Tanzania, 543
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 114
Rwanda genocide, 364, 367
S
salutogenesis, 366
salutogenic, 349
Salyut program, 358
San Antonio, TX, urban watersheds, 618619
San Francisco, 241
satisfaction. See also perception, evaluation, and satisfaction
workplace, 251252
savanna hypothesis, natural landscapes, 338
Scenic Beauty Estimation (SBE), 333
school design
future, 288290
guides for high-performance, 285286
open-space, 278279
Publicolor by Shuman, 281
Page 46 of 62
Index
school environments
classroom privacy, 283284
classroom seating, 283
design guides, 285286
green schools impact on health and performance, 286287
high-performance schools, 285287
historical evolution of American buildings, 276279
information technology classroom, 284
learning, 280282
natural materials, niches and paths, 285
outdoor environment, 284285
progressive movement, 278279
reform pedagogy (18901932), 277278
school condition, 281282
school size, 279280
user evaluation of school buildings, 280281
visual appearance, 282
School of Lost Borders, 437
School of Natural Resources, 446
Schools Health & Environment Study, 380
Schwartz, Shalom, 185, 186, 189, 190191
Schwartzs value theory, 8384
ScienceDirect, 148
scientific consensus, climate change, 648649
scope of justice, 107
Scope of Justice Scale, 415, 422
Scopus, 189
Scott-Amundsen South Pole Station, 355
Seabourne, Malcolm, 283
segregation and aggregation
city, 238239
home, 236 (p. 697)
self, identity, 165
Self and Identity, 164
self-centered, 297
self-concept, wilderness programs, 435
Self-Determination Theory, 166, 168
Self-enhancement, Schwartz, 8384, 87
Page 47 of 62
Index
self-esteem, 366
self-evaluation, privacy supporting, 318
self-interest
fairness, 99, 100
self-limiting, ecosystems, 13
self-organizing
consensusbuilding process, 610
ecosystems, 1213
self-presentation, environmental identity, 175
self-regulation, cognitive-experiential self-theory (CEST), 154155
self-reported behavior, 66
self-reports, water conservation, 587
self-transcendence, Schwartz, 8384, 85, 87
Senge, Peter, 623n. 5
Sense and Sustainability: Educating for a Low Carbon World, Webster and Johnson, 630
The Sense of Wonder, Carson, 530
The Senses Considered as Perceptual Systems, Gibson, 24
sensitivity, noise, 384
Service Experiences Survey, 543
service learning, environmental, 542543
Shepard, Paul, 428
Shuman, Ruth Lande, 281
Shuttle/Mir, 359
sick building syndrome (SBS), work environment, 261
Sierra Club, 532
signage, wayfinding, 50, 5556
significant life experiences. See also environmental action
environmental activism developing through, 534536
environmentally active citizens, 531537
extended mixed-method research program, 531532
memory research, 536
questionnaires and interviews, 533534
strengths and weaknesses of research, 536537
surveys, 532533
Silent Spring, Carson, 630
Silvadon, Paul, 295
simulations, nature, 123
site attachment, space and justice, 103105
situational context
disaster response, 392
hurricanes, 399400
skills, water conservation, 588
Skinner, B. F., 562
Page 48 of 62
Index
Skylab, space station program, 359
slavery, Civil War, 416
sleep
correctional environment, 323, 326
noise exposure and, disturbance, 381383
sleeping pills, noise exposure and health, 378
slipping baseline syndrome, 122
SMART Boards, information technology, 284
sociability, urban inhabitants, 211212
sociable introversion, 357
social-altruistic approach, pro-environmental behavior, 565569
social behavior
noise, 385
urban life, 208209
social capital theory, collaborative partnership, 602
social conditions, correctional environment, 319321
social connections
prison environment, 321
social context, restoration, 455
social density, work, 253
social deprivation, isolated inmates, 321
social design, health care environment, 296297
social dilemmas
attitudes, 342343
environmental conflict resolution (ECR), 620
social discounting, justice, 108, 109
social environment
indicators for physical activity, 469
perception, 470471
social group
children in nature, 119
wilderness experience program, 432, 433, 435
social identities, environment, 168169
social interaction, city, 217n. 1
social justice research
public, 425
society and justice, 107108
space and justice, 103105
time and justice, 105107
social justice theory, benefits approach, 95
social learning theory (SLT), wilderness experience, 435
Page 49 of 62
Index
social movements, environmental justice and, 418419
social networks, human mitigation behavior, 662
social norms
social psychology, 674
The Social Psychology of Procedural Justice, Lind and Tyler, 97
social relations, work environments, 250253
Social Science Quarterly, 188
social solidarity, human-environment interactions, 186187, 188
social trap, water misuse, 586
social values
orientations, 8283
Schwartz, 8384
societal factors, human mitigation behavior, 659660
society, socio-ecological dilemma, 134
Society for Environmental, Population, and Conservation Psychology, 4
Society for Psychological Study of Social Issues, 645
socio-ecological dilemma, emotions, 134
socioeconomic status
childrens access to nature, 118
climate change, 656
environmental degradation, 415417
nature and human health, 511
sociofugal spatial settings, 295
sociopetal settings, 295
soft fascination
notion of, 434
soft systems methodology, environmental conflict resolution (ECR), 604605
soroche, 353354
South Africa, segregation, 238
Southern California Environmental Justice Collaborative, 420
Soviet Union, mass murder, 367
space. See also personal space
justice and, 103105
space stations
space stupids, 358
space syntax, 54
Spain, water management, 94
Page 50 of 62
Index
Spanish-American cultures, 182183
spatial cognition
definition, 42
Garlings model, 48
spatial density, work, 253
spatial orientation, gender differences, 53
special housing unit syndrome, 321
specificity, environmental behavior, 66
spectator theory, knowing, 26
speech intelligibility index (SII), 254
sphere of needs (SON), water, 94, 95
spillover, behavioral, 574575
spiritual places, restorative environment, 453
stakeholder characteristics, hazard adjustment, 403
state conservation agreements (SCAs), 615
Steiner, Rudolf, 114
strangers, city inhabitants, 210
stress
health care environment, 304305, 306
noise, 376
noise in prisons, 322
physical health and physiological, 510511
post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), 362
prisoners, 317
stressors, urban environment, 205206
stress reduction theory (SRT)
natural landscapes, 336338, 343
psycho-evolutionary, 447448
structure, environmental attitudes, 67
Student Conservation Association (SCA), 545, 547548
student motivation to participate (SMP), 283
student/teacher participatory interaction (STPI), 283
subcultures, city inhabitants, 210 (p. 698)
subjective norm (SN), water conservation, 589
Superfund site, Oklahoma, 420
Supermax prisons, 320
Survey of Environmental Issue Attitudes, 67
surveys
environmental educators, 534
significant experiences, 532533
survivors
Holocaust, 366367
survivor syndrome, 365
Page 51 of 62
Index
sustainability, from environmental protection to, 129, 134135
sustainability competence, 641
sustainable, 285
sustainable behavior
general action theories, 136137
models of pro-environmental behavior, 137
rational choice models, 135136
sustainable development (SD)
cities, 203204
education for, 631632
emancipatory perspective, 634635
instrumental perspective, 633634
interpretations of education for, 632635
monitoring and evaluation, 638639
Sweden, nuclear facilities, 97
system justification, environmentalism and, 176
systems thinking research, 103
T
Tanzania, 543, 551
Taylor County No Coal Coalition, 421, 423
Tbilisi Declaration of UNESCO, 527, 528, 529, 537
Technological Nature, Kahn, 550
technologies
access to nature, 122124
telegarden, 123
territoriality
terror management theory, 173
Theater of the Oppressed, Boal, 419
theory of affordances, water misuse, 586
theory of moral exclusion, space and justice, 103104
theory of planned behavior (TPB), 72, 589
theory of reasoned action, 136
therapeutic uses of nature
ecopsychology, 428429
education, 437
family involvement in treatment, 439
framework for understanding, 432436
healing, 437
history, 429432
licensure and accreditation, 438439
Outward Bound, 429431, 437, 440
Page 52 of 62
Index
personal growth, 437
program models, 438
programs, 436437
wilderness experience concurrent model, 432436
wilderness therapy client characteristics, 439440
wilderness therapy program controversy, 441
wilderness therapy program outcomes, 440
youth and adolescents, 437441
thermal comfort
green schools, 287
Thompson, Michael, 185
Thoreau, Henry David, 114115, 429, 509
threat perception, hurricane, 399
time
changing human mitigation behavior, 661662
discounting, 109
evacuation preparation, 398
inclusionary change over, 423424
justice and past, 106107
justice in future, 105106
perceiving path, 28
psychological events, 23
warning distributions, 398
Todai Health Index, 379
tornadoes
behavioral response, 396
disaster response, 394397
National Weather Service (NWS), 395396
toxic waste, environmental racism, 416417
traffic, 380
traffic safety
perception, 470
traffic stress, 380
tragedy of commons, water misuse, 586
trait meta-theory, worldview, 14
transactional approach
healthy behavior, 476477
lifestyles, 461463
transactionalism, 2223, 29
transactional meta-theory
Page 53 of 62
Index
person-environment processes, 1719
worldview, 1617
transportation
car driving, 140
environmental behavior, 560, 572
environmentally relevant behavior, 132
walking, 464465
trash collection, 560, 564
traumatic environment, 353, 360361
travel, environmental epiphanies, 500
treatment, family involvement, 439
Tribal Efforts Against Lead (TEAL), Oklahoma, 420
tripartite framework, place attachment, 149150
Trout Unlimited, 532
Trump, J. Lloyd, 278
Turner, Fredrick Jackson, 429
Twenty Statements Test, 170
U
Uganda, 543, 551
Ukrainians, starvation under Stalin, 361
Ulrich, Roger, 447448, 510
uncertainty avoidance, 183, 184
UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, 527
United Church of Christ, toxic waste and race, 417
United Kingdom
childrens exposure to nature, 122
home perception, 227
hospital bed space, 301
hospital design, 301, 311
knowledge of local nature, 122
older population, 238
United Nations, 340, 341
Decade of Education for Sustainable Development (DESD), 631
ecosystems and human well-being report, 416
genocides, 364
United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED), 631
United States
childrens activities outdoors, 117
Energy Policy Act of 1992, 584
environmental degradation, 416
history of school buildings, 276279
home perception, 227
Page 54 of 62
Index
obesity and insufficient physical activity, 460
public health challenges, 474
social identity, 169
traffic safety, 467468
wilderness programs, 432, 437439
United States National Institute of Mental Health, 295
University of Idaho, Wilderness Research Center, 436
University of Michigan Fresh Air Camp-1944, 430
unusualness, 350
urban diversity
city, 238239
home, 236
urban environment
adaptive behaviors, 207208
characteristics, 204, 205
design and planning, 240
environmental stressors and living conditions, 205206
social behavior, 208209
urban civilities, 208
vandalism, criminality, and insecurity, 206207
See also 204207; cities
urban green areas, attitudes, 222, 341342
urban identity
attachment and place of identity, 214215
centrality, 213
proximity, 212213
spatial extension of appropriation, 214215
urban spatial investments, 212213
urban-rural residence, environmental concern, 69 (p. 699)
urban watersheds, San Antonio, 618619
US Bureau of Prisons (BOP), 324
US Department of Education, school size, 279
US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), 583, 657
user-centered design
environmental humanization, 299
influence on health care users, 303304
user evaluation, school buildings, 280281
uses and activities
city, 235236
Page 55 of 62
Index
home, 233234
outdoor spaces, 235
US McMurdo Station, 355
V
value-belief-norm theory (VBN), 72, 137
values
affecting behavior, 8789
environmental identity, 175
See also environmental values
value-sensitive design, children and nature, 123124
vandalism, 206, 282
Vandenberg and Kuse Mental Rotations Test (MRT), 42
Varieties of Religious Experiences, James, 492
ventilation, work environment, 259
vicarious nature, category, 122
videophilia, 117
video-viewing, wayfinding, 49
Vietnam War, 363
violence, environmental model, 325326
virtual environment (VE)
new research, 681
wayfinding, 47
virtual reality, wayfinding, 4647
visitor environment relationship, 496
visitors, health care environment, 310311
visual impairments, wayfinding, 51
visual perception
correctional environments, 322324
vulnerability
noise, 384
vulnerability hypothesis, noise annoyance, 383
W
waiting area, health care environment, 307
walkability
environmental behavior, 572
macro-environment, 463465
Page 56 of 62
Index
walking. See also physical activity
accessibility features, 466467
crime safety, 467
perceived environments, 469471
traffic safety, 467468
transportation vs. leisure, 464465
warning time, natural disasters, 398
waste disposal, environmental behavior, 560, 564
wastewater program, procedural justice, 97
water
conservation behavior, 586588
contextual factors, 584585
freshwater scarcity, 582583
justice, 9496
management cycle, 102, 109
managing systems, 102103
psychological determinants of, misuse, 583584
psychological explanatory theories of, misuse, 585586
sphere of needs (SON), 94, 95
archival analysis, 588
awareness, knowledge, skills and competence, 588
behavioral intentions, 589
behavioral interventions, 590591
beliefs and perceptions, 589
consumption metering, 587588
direct observations, 588
methods for studying behaviors, 587588
model, 594
personal norms, values and future orientation, 589590
positive psychological consequences, 591592
practices, 587
self-reports, 587
situational factors, 590
water management, justice, 9596
water problems, psychology of, 582
watershed development (WSD)
evaluation, 101102
future, 108109
managing systems, 102103
storm-water, 104
watershed partnership, 609
Page 57 of 62
Index
National Estuary Program (NEP), 614
processes and outcomes, 612614
wayfinding, 49
applying research, 5556
brain areas underlying, 4446
cognitive impairments, 5051
definition, 42
head-mounted displays (HMD), 56
legibility of place, 4344, 5556
perceiving path, 28, 37
research in natural environments, 5657
signage, 50, 5556
verisimilitude in, 4647
visual impairments, 51
Wayfinding Strategy Scale, 52
Web of Science, 189
Weigel Environmental Concern Scale, 67
weight. See healthy weight
Wenatchee National Forest (WNF), 617618
Wenchuan earthquake, 363364
West Harlem Environmental Action (WE ACT), 419420
West London Schools Study, 380
West London survey, noise, 377
West London Survey of Psychiatric Morbidity, 379
Wildavsky, Aaron, 185
wilderness, restorer, 450
wilderness effect, 434
wilderness experience, 432, 495
wilderness experience concurrent model
active self, 432, 433, 434435
activity reflection, 432, 433, 435436
factors, 433
nature, 432, 433434
social group, 432, 433, 435
therapeutic use of nature, 432436
wilderness experience programs (WEPs)
education, 437
healing, 437
nature as therapeutic tool, 436437
personal growth, 437
stewardship outcomes from, 545548
See also therapeutic uses of nature
Wilderness Research Center, 436, 442n. 1
Wilderness Road, Loughmiller, 430
wilderness therapy programs
Page 58 of 62
Index
client characteristics, 439440
controversy, 441
family involvement in treatment, 439
licensure and accreditation, 438439
outcomes, 440
program models, 438
therapeutic use of nature, 437441, 441442
youth and adolescents, 437441
Wildlife Clubs, Uganda, 543
Wild Rockies Field Institute (WRFI), 546
Williams, Suni, 359
Wilson, Pete, 600
windows, correctional environment, 323
winter-over syndrome, 358
Wisconsin Trappers Association, 532
Wordsworth, 114, 509
work environments
attention and distraction, 253254
behavioral consequences, 250266
BOSTI books, 248
BOSTI study of productivity, 251
cognition, 265
comfort, 258260
communication and collaboration, 252253
conceptual model, 249
control, 261263
density, 253
integrated models of comfort, 259260
noise, 260261
ocular light-initiated processes, 254258
office type, 248, 250251
personal space, 253
positive affect, 264265
privacy, 251252
restoration, 263264
school conditions, 281282
sick building syndrome, 261
social relations and personal space, 250253
stress and health, 260261
territoriality, 253
thermal comfort, 258259
ventilation, 259
Page 59 of 62
Index
visual perception, 254256
(p. 700)
workplace
environmental consequences of, behavior, 266268
work space stress, 262
World Commission on Environment and Development, 105
World Health Organization (WHO), 260, 467
World Hypotheses, Pepper, 14, 37n. 2
world of strangers, city inhabitants, 210
worlds in miniature (WIM), wayfinding, 47
World Values Survey, 187, 189, 192
worldviews
comparing values and environmental concern to, 89
interactionist meta-theory, 1416
organismic meta-theory, 16
psychology, 1419
trait meta-theory, 14
transactional meta-theory, 1617
World Wildlife Fund-UK, 5
wrist-actimetry, sleep disturbance, 383
Y
Yellowstone National Park, 629
youth, wilderness experience programs (WEPs), 437441
Youth Conservation Corps, 545
Youth-Outcome Questionnaire, 440
Yugoslavia, mass murder, 367
Z
Zimbabwe, 367
zone of proximal development, 422
zoos, 122, 169170
Notes:
(1.) The city, as a fundamental place for social interaction, must be recognised as the pivotal
human settlement which provides a focal point for growth and sustainable development, for the
well-being and social cohesion of the majority of the population, for its capacity to adapt and to
innovate technically, socially, culturally and politically, for the creation of our future and a
renewed vision of the progress of humanity and for the evolution of our civilisation.
(1.) These differences likely have to do with the item wording used by Gallup and Pew; Pew
asks participants, Is there solid evidence the earth is warming: Yes, because of human
activities; Yes, because of natural patterns; Yes, but dont know why; No; Dont know, while
Gallup asks, From what you have heard or read, do you believe increases in the earths
Page 60 of 62
Index
temperature over the last century are due more to: the effects of pollution from human
activities or natural changes in the environment that are not due to human activities?
(1.) The quantity of light falling on a surface is the illuminance of the surface. The SI unit for
illuminance is lumens/m2 , abbreviated lx. The quantity of light emitted from a surface or a light
source is its luminance. The SI unit for luminance is the candela/m2 , abbreviated cd/m2 .
(1.) In this text the opposite of pro-environmental behavior is not called contra-environmental
behavior, but this form of behavior is circumscribed (e.g., behavior that sets the protection of
nature at risk). These behavioral decisions do not intend to set ecological aims at risk, but
these risks are more or less consciously accepted as negative side effects of enjoyable or
profitable activities. This is the case for private behavior (e.g., car driving) but also for political
decision-making or industrial production.
(1.) The author of this publication was a research assistant, research associate, and the
associate director of the Wilderness Research Center from 1995 to 2003 and was involved in
much of the research and report writing on a major research agenda examining the use of
wilderness for personal growth, education, and therapy.
(2.) The original term used by Berlyne is not categorical but ecological. Because of the
different meaning of ecological in common use, we choose to use a different term that more
intuitively grasps the content of the concept.
(2.) Readers may be more familiar with Kuhns later notion of paradigms than with Peppers
world hypotheses. They are broadly similar, although Kuhn placed far more attention on the
practices of scientific communities in his analysis and how scientific paradigms sustain
particular approaches to a domain of inquiry.
(3.) The very concept of a gene is hotly contested in the developmental biology literature, and
many of these critiques operate in the spirit of the transactional worldview being examined
here (Moss, 2003; Oyama, 1985).
(4.) Additional provisions included: (1) new revenue sources would not be provided for
implementation; (2) clarification that CCMP neither requires nor recommends use of the
salinity index as a water quality standard; and (3) the Bay-Delta Oversight Council
(governor-appointed group consisting of stakeholder majority representing farming and urban
water interests in Southern California) would revisit SFEP proposals on flows and water
quality (Innes & Connick, 1999).
(4.) Meta-analyses showing a positive relationship between preference for photographs of
buildings and for actual buildings (cited in Stamps, 1994) amass such a diverse set of
studies that employ a wide variety of procedures and viewing conditions that, in my
assessment, it is impossible to state with any precision what relationships are operating or
judge the comparability of the studies.
(5.) Interested readers should consult original sources (Checkland, 1981; Checkland & Scoles,
1990; Wilson & Morren, 1990) for expanded coverage of SSM. Systems thinking principles
were introduced to the general business community by Peter Senges (1990) best-selling book,
Page 61 of 62
Index
The Fifth Discipline. The first formal application, however, of open systems theory to
organizational behavior can be traced to Katz and Kahns (1966) text, The Social Psychology
of Organizations.
(7.) McCreary, Gamman, and Brooks (2001) presented joint fact-finding procedures for
integrating scientific expertise in complex public policy disputes. This joint fact-finding process
represents further progress by ECR practitioners in integrating A&D processes within
established consensus-building methods.
Page 62 of 62

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