Medium-ing My PhD
Photo by Honey Yanibel Minaya Cruz on Unsplash
October 18 2019
Humblebrag time: I have a PhD. Actually, there wasn’t much humble about that. The humility lies in the fact that probably 4 people have read it, and that number is highly unlikely to increase. Here’s where Medium might come in. What if I could write about my PhD here? Perfect!
Except… my PhD is about parks. As in, those things with grass, and trees, and usually a cheap plastic playground, and sometimes (hopefully) ducks. Who on MuddyUm is going to want to read about parks? I could try a haiku I guess…
Nature in city
A chance to transcend its shit
Weighed down by dog poo
What else do people on Medium like? Identity politics? Parks are good for revealing our true identity as part of and not separate from nature.
Anything anti-Trump? I’m sure there is something about Trump hating parks somewhere. (Googles “Trump defunding parks”.) Wow, he really does hate parks, unless they can be raped and pillaged for sweet fossil fuels.
I know. Relationships. Sex! Perfect. I present to you, my PhD research, simplified and explained through the timeless analogy (metaphor?) of a bizarre, gender-neutral love triangle.
“It’s Complicated”: the true story of Parks, Nature and Sport.
The Early Spark
The origins of this story can be found in the Industrial Revolution, a truly sordid time to be human. As lives became cramped, polluted and generally filthy, along came — like a green, well manicured angel from heaven — the Park. Lush, aesthetically-pleasing, moist (sorry); it was a divine form of relief that visits to these early Parks provided. The divine union, so it seemed, of Parks and Nature.
But what have we here? A new player in town: Sport. Sport knew how good a fit it could be for the Park, even if the Park couldn’t itself yet see it. Sport could do everything the park needed! Get people outdoors and active; bring people — all people! Everyone play sport right? — together; teach them about virtues like teamwork, adhering to rules, the fine line between friendly banter and bullying. Plus there was still nature. What the hell is grass if not nature?
The Courtship
Parks were torn. Sport was fresh, and exciting. Plus, Nature wasn’t perfect by any means. It was needy: rolling hills, diverse vegetation, non-lethal wildlife and vast amounts of space were all required to be properly effective. It was also picky: it was soon obvious that early Park landscapes increasingly favored the middle and upper class, rather than those they were originally provided to serve.
Yet… there was a long history of the role of natural landscapes in supporting human health and wellbeing, right through medieval times to early Greek, Roman and Persian civilizations, and back to, well, the Garden of Eden. It was, in short, a known quantity: a safe bet. There was, of course, never to be underestimated, the constricting influence of the parents: the decision making elite were loathe to encourage the frivolity of games and sports favored by lower, often immigrant, social groups: the dreaded plebes.
Not knowing any different, or better, Parks seemed more than content in this platonic arrangement. They may well have continued on as such had it not been caught up in broader forces already at play.
In the end, it was exceptional and tragic social circumstances, and the subsequent shifting in priorities and perspective this brings, that was the ultimate initiation of the union — bringing an end to Sport’s long wait. World War 1 had decimated the population of Western nations. Things were dire, and with the looming threat of a second, concerns were growing about the physical fitness and mental strength of the future front line. It was too much for Sport to stay quiet, and it began to make its case, forcefully.
The Consummation
It was hard to deny. The idea of Nature suddenly didn’t seem strong enough, urgent enough. There was an aloofness about it, in that it didn’t work hard enough — you had to come to it, and if you didn’t, well, that was your loss. But Sport wanted you, and knew that you needed it. It also had money, power and the military on its side.
The parents had come around as well; this wasn’t the time to be caught up in traditions. Sport was the solution for now, and just in case, they were quick to lock it in, through various forms of Government legislation. It was, it appeared, a match made in heaven. They had waited long enough, and sure enough, Parks and Sport didn’t waste any time.
And suddenly they were everywhere — like rabbits you might say. Parks, filled with grass — manicured, fertilized, heavily watered. And carparks. And lights. And clubrooms. And people — but not quiet, reflective people. Noisy people, aggressive people, sweaty people, whistling people. There was no need for Nature, save maybe a tree for shade, and a playing surface easy on the skin and knees.
The Spurned Lover
For Nature, to watch this unfold, it was brutal. Things were bad enough already, as it watched, and felt, itself being slowly eroded by the slow yet unrelenting march of suburban development. Parks were one of its last urban havens, and yet it seemed it was losing this as well. Yes, there were now backyards cropping up, but it was a poor substitute. Nature couldn’t be marginalized, or privatized: it was everywhere, and for everyone. It was time to fight back, even if it meant getting down to Sport’s level.
The fight began with the rise of the the environmental movement in the 1960s, often put down to Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring — its exposure of the harmful impacts of chemical industries, and more generally the harmful impacts of humans on the environment. Suddenly, the swinging 60s were in full swing: there were hippies, eco-feminists, environmental anarchists, guerrilla greenists, advocating fiercely for better acknowledgment of the environment in all aspects of public life. Once again, Parks felt itself being drawn away from a simple future by forces beyond its control.
The Regrets
Suddenly, there was trouble in paradise. Parks were increasingly looking into the past, rather than the future. Was Nature really that boring? Every park was different, a unique landscape with a unique recreational experience being created. Sport didn’t want this, or need this — for all it cared, every park could look the same, as long as it had the basics. It felt like just going through the motions. Sure, not everyone has that Natural beauty, but couldn’t Sport try just a little harder in its appearance?
And now it was Sport who was exposed to be needy. Parks found that, in catering for Sports expectations, it had excluded most of what it used to hold dear. It missed old friends: informal players, walkers, joggers, even those gentle souls who would just come to sit under a tree with a book — or no book at all, just to be there, because it loved the Park and that was enough.
Parks were also realizing that life, that recreation, had left it behind. Now there was dog walking, personal training, group fitness… even yoga and Tai Chi; Parks had always fancied itself the spiritual type. And gardening! Why had no-one told Parks about gardening, hiding in private all these years?
The Conscious Uncoupling
It would have been all too easy for Parks to cut and run. A rich and rewarding life lay ahead — this time earned and appreciated through the burden of experience. But Parks had also learnt their lesson, older and wiser. This time, they had to take it slow.
Parks knew that Sport was in a fragile state: for better or worse, Sport was dependent on Parks for its health and wellbeing. Where else could Sport go? Schools? Indoors? This had become bigger than them: a generation of young people — in their helmets, singlets, baseball caps, studded boots — depended on Sport and Parks, Sport through Parks.
It would not be an easy process, and there remains work to be done. Sacrifices have to be made. Sport can never hold the same place it once had; Parks, burdened by its previous lack of restraint, can never give the full commitment to its new life and love that it truly desires. But they will make it work: they have to stay together, or at least remain civil, for the kids.
The Second Chance
And thus we finish where we started: in Nature.
Nature, too, appeared cautious, perhaps fearing to give its heart back to someone who had in the past so damaged it; perhaps realizing its own unhealthy reliance on Parks in the past. Nature had found new partners to assist in its survival. Domestic gardens had also failed it, so it explored new avenues: vacant lots, schools, even rooftops. Nature had found a new found flexibility, it could almost be anywhere: a verge, a roundabout, an apartment balcony. It was not necessarily playing hard to get — its heart, it knew, always had been, and always would be, in Parks — but just branching out, hedging its bets.
Nature, in returning, had several key conditions. It had to be appreciated, not just for recreation, but for what it was, as nature. As habitat, as micro-climate control, as stormwater drainage, as not buildings. Much to Park’s chagrin, thinking it had finally escaped a needy partner, Nature had to be cared for, to be managed. It too was damaged — this relationship would require constant nurturing. Not just from government, the people paid to do it.
The Community. They had benefited too long from Nature’s selflessness; it was time it started to give back, through its own time. Maybe just planting a tree, maybe picking up rubbish, maybe weeding, maybe just not actively destroying it. Nature promised it would make it worth the Community’s while.