An Introduction to my Worldview
“The five colors make man’s eyes blind”
It's been exactly three weeks since I embarked on something I'm increasingly realizing is much bigger for me than just a PhD project (I'll explain why later). My PhD is about how humans relate to their natural environment, and I couldn’t wait to dive into the existing research on the topic. It was Friday morning when I first opened my university email, reread the project proposal, and explored articles on 'anthropocentrism' and 'ecocentrism.' I eagerly began summarizing and mind-mapping. Definitions, formulations, conceptualizations, categories, and frameworks passed by — structures I deal with daily as a researcher. In fact, putting stuff into boxes is what science is all about. It helps us measure what’s happening around us so that we can make sense of the world. After all, that’s the essence of science: bringing structure to chaos. For some, science is an expression of pure curiosity, a desire to understand how things work. For others, it’s a tool for control, as the famous adage illustrates: “To measure is to know, to know is to predict, and to predict is to control” (White, 1967). I, too, am naturally curious and would like to have some influence through my research, but there’s a small problem: I don’t like generalizing, and I have a pronounced aversion to putting things into boxes — a remarkable paradox for a researcher.
I’ve often been called a ‘relativist’ (speaking of putting things into boxes): someone who believes that truth is relative, dependent on the situation, and the observer. Calling myself relativistic isn’t very relativistic, but I do see my brother often rolling his eyes when I once again come out with a “Well, that depends...” or “That’s how you see it, but...” during one of our many kitchen table discussions. I would never say that something “just is” or call something inherently good or bad. I can’t help it – thinking about different life worlds and perspectives has always been part of who I am. The hyenas in The Lion King were just hungry, that bully in class seemed pretty lonely to me, and that colleague probably grew up in a misogynistic environment. Don’t get me wrong – I understand that someone’s worldview doesn’t always justify their actions, but actions rarely make me angry. Some might say I should have become a lawyer, but I’m beginning to see advocating for a box-free science as a more beautiful challenge. I believe the desire to categorize and establish facts often defeats its own purpose. The eternal quest for, the different opinions on, and ongoing discussions about what constitutes a fact or objectivity already show, in my view, that such a thing doesn’t truly exist.
Where does this human obsession with facts come from? Various philosophers suggest that our drive for facts stems from a deeply rooted, universal human longing for meaning, purpose, and a sense of direction. This longing shapes how we view the world – our perspective, like a pair of glasses we wear. These glasses, with their specific prescription, sharpen our view of our surroundings and make them more comprehensible. But how sure can we be that these glasses accurately represent what’s really there? Perhaps the world itself is vague and amorphous, and it’s the glasses that create the structure we perceive, simply because we need them to make sense of it all. In other words, a worldview or paradigm is a tool to give meaning to the unknown. It provides us with a foothold, allowing us to find direction and purpose in a world that can sometimes be quite confusing.
In the ‘Western’ world, we’ve followed various paradigms over the centuries. Think of the idea of a creator God who governs the world, or the Darwinian perspective where our place in nature takes center stage. Each paradigm offered a different interpretation of our ‘purpose’: from serving God to serving our species. Great philosophers like Kant and Descartes, scientists like Newton and Darwin, and events like the Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution have brought us to the current dominant paradigm: the Western system, based on contemporary empirical science. This paradigm revolves around measurability and control. Great minds have thought it through, and measurability and control sound like things you can rely on. But is this ‘absolute truth’ the only truth?
The empirical lens has become a massive frame firmly planted on our noses. Our constant pursuit of objectivity has made us so dependent on this lens that we’ve become blind to what lies beyond its boundaries. If we had dared to take off those glasses more often, perhaps we would have learned to deal better with life’s uncertainties. We would have accepted that not everything can be explained, lived more in the moment, and seen what truly is. In fact, we might have discovered that embracing uncertainty could bring us closer to the truth – that objectivity doesn’t exist. Ironic, isn’t it? By letting go of the idea that there is one absolute truth, we might actually come closer to it. And perhaps more importantly, without those glasses, we’d all see the world in the same (perhaps slightly blurred) way. That realization could connect us because it forces us to accept what we have in common: the mystery of life.
I’m not saying we should take off our glasses entirely. Our ability to think deeply and analyze the world is a beautiful thing – a unique human trait. How beautiful is it that we can use that capacity to create meaning and even derive happiness from it? But the problem, in my view, lies in our tendency to cling too tightly to one perspective. That makes us vulnerable, especially in a world where not everyone looks through the same lens. Our worldview is shaped by the environment in which we grew up, and that environment differs for everyone. Every culture, every era, every individual needs their own perspective. That diversity makes it impossible to create a universal lens that fits everyone. Clinging to a single universal perspective does not do justice to the diversity of our world.
All in all, I believe that science, quantification, and working within frameworks can be valuable. They provide crucial insights into how we can survive and perhaps even offer a sense of meaning. But my belief in the limitations of objectivity, combined with my curiosity about different perspectives, has taught me to view situations differently. It makes me less prone to anger, helps me accept past events, and allows me to focus on the present. I no longer strive for consensus but for mutual respect. No, I’m not perfect, and I don’t claim that my approach is the perfect way to handle every situation - that would contradict my own standpoint. But I do believe the world could benefit from a bit more of this mindset.
Whether it’s possible to wear someone else’s glasses, I don’t know. I grew up in the modern Western milieu and haven’t had the experiences of someone elsewhere in the world. But being aware that everyone sees the world differently would already be a paradigm shift in itself. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if perspectives could go hand in hand? How rich could our science be if we combined elements of the Western empirical system with aspects of spiritual or religious beliefs? I’m not the first to advocate for something like this. I once read about the Etuaptmumk or Two-Eyed Seeing principle. This principle is about learning to view the world with one eye through a Western empirical lens and the other through the lens of Indigenous knowledge. A beautiful quote by Robin Wall Kimmerer, who wrote about Indigenous and Western knowledge, reads: “There was a time when I teetered precariously with an awkward foot in each of two worlds - the scientific and the Indigenous. But then I learned to fly. Or at least try. It was the bees that showed me how to move between different flowers - to drink the nectar and gather pollen from both. It is this dance of cross-pollination that can produce a new species of knowledge, a new way of being in the world. After all, there aren't two worlds, there is just this one good green earth.” I am not indigenous, but I do think I am not ‘just’ a Western trained scholar. I do deeply feel there is more to life.
Now, I still owe an explanation of why my research feels much larger to me than just a PhD project. I said this for two reasons. First, because engaging with perspectives has made me highly aware of my own worldview. For example, I don’t like boxes and feel part of a larger whole. I’ve become aware that my worldview isn’t universal and have started to wonder whether it can change, and if so, how. That’s why I’ve decided to be my own guinea pig and document my worldview before, during, and after my PhD journey. I wrote down my perspective before delving into different worldviews, so I had no knowledge of what Western research defined as various perspectives. This was precisely to stay as close to my personal truth as possible. If my worldview changes or turns out to be immutable, this whole experience will have a significant personal aspect, the effects of which I may feel for the rest of my life.
The second reason why I think this research is bigger than a typical PhD project is more practical. I want my PhD to be literally bigger than a standard one that culminates in a thesis with articles. If I don’t want to contradict my own standpoint, I need to practice science in a way that also falls outside the Western empirical framework. I want to explore different lenses, see how people perceive themselves in relation to their natural environment, and on what kind of knowledge they base this. It would be wonderful if I could eventually, together with others, bring something into the world that connects different worldviews. You can call me a dreamer, or naive, but I do think we need to go back to the science of many years ago, of when we used to play in the lab (I’ll post a piece about this topic soon).
Philosopher Lao Tzu, in the Tao Te Ching, once said: “The five colors make man's eyes blind, the five notes make his ears deaf, the five tastes injure his palate.” He tried to explain that when you force everything you see into the five colors of the palette, you become blind to what is actually there; the colors in this world are infinite, just like the world of sounds. When you stop conceptualizing your surroundings, you begin to perceive them as they truly are.