Close your eyes. Go on, just humour me for a moment and close your eyes. I'd like you to go back in time to either a specific or a general period in your childhood where you have particularly fond memories of play.
Think about those memories. Visualise them and make a mental note of what you are doing, what you are playing, who you are playing with, but most importantly, where you are playing.
In the many times I have carried out this simple reflective exercise with students I would say that about 75 per cent of play memory recall involves play in and around natural environments, or wild spaces.
It seems that for many of us the natural world is a haven for our exploratory and evolutionary play interests. We seem to have an internal drive or nature-affection that ensures we play in natural environments.
More importantly, it ensures we remember those environments too.
Studies of the relationship between humans and the natural world have identified some interesting concepts for us to consider, particularly the 'biophilia hypothesis'. This suggests that humans have an affiliation or love for the natural world that is so powerful it ensures such a relationship is maintained. Exactly how this relationship is maintained, however, is a different question.
Some theorists believe that our genes determine the human-nature connection, that we have evolved as a species to automatically engage with and 'love' the natural world.
Others have argued that this is a very naive and simplistic model, as some people do not like the natural world and therefore have what is called a 'biophobic' relationship with nature.
Furthermore, some studies have suggested that both biophilia and biophobia perspectives can exist simultaneously within a genetically determined model - that people can both 'love' and 'hate' the natural world at the same time. This is actually a very rational argument: by having an affiliation with the natural world we are more likely to take care of it and ensure its survival, which in many respects loosely guarantees our survival.
Yet at the same time, by having a phobia about certain aspects of the environment - particularly those we fear, such as spiders, poisonous plants, crocodiles, freak weather and so on - also ensures our survival because we refrain from engaging with these aspects.
Another perspective suggests that we should not think of the human species and the natural world as two distinct and independent systems, but rather as both existing as a single ecology; that is, humans and nature are both part of the wider world, of the planet, of this orb that floats through space. I am drawing on the thinking of Gaia theory - that the planet itself is a living organism of which we are only one small biological aspect.
Gaia theory is not without its critics, however, and is often taken at face value. One argument suggests that, unlike you or I, the planet lacks cognitive capacities and is without a conscience; that is, it is unable to think or make logical, moral or emotional deductions.
This may be true, but if you take into consideration that the human species is a key part of the planet's ecology then in many respects we are that conscience, we are the 'thinking' for the planet.
Wild spaces So what does all this have to do with children's play? As the exercise at the beginning of this article illustrated, many of us place our fondest memories of play within wild spaces. We seem to hold the belief that playing in natural environments is both wholesome and beneficial for children; that they will experience a relationship through play between themselves, others and the natural world that cannot be expected of play within artificially fabricated environments, which for the most part are compensatory.
To give a brief example of environmental play, while involved in a filming project last summer where a number of sequences were being filmed in natural environments, I asked some of the children where they preferred to play: an organised play setting, adventure playground, a theme park, their bedrooms, a street, or a natural environment. All of the children said they preferred the latter.
Many of them felt that natural environments offered much more scope for deep, object and exploratory play experiences. As one child suggested when talking about theme parks, 'I enjoy the rides at theme parks, especially the scary ones, but once you have done them a few times you are always wanting something faster, bigger and scarier.' Other children seemed to agree and suggested that in a natural environment there were a lot more variables on offer for them to explore, or even to experience risky engagements.
I interpret their views as suggesting that because natural environments involve countless properties and potential experiences, these wild spaces are therefore conditioning upon the children a form of freedom to engage with the environment in any way they choose. In comparison, rides at a theme park are totally dependent on health and safety systems which impede on the way children's play behaviour can manifest itself.
Children cannot climb the supporting structure of a Ferris wheel, for example, but they can climb up the limbs of a tree. Similarly, while a tree will not give children the same locomotor effect of rotation as the Ferris wheel, children can attach ropes and other objects to trees so as to bring about motion in all manner of ways.
Access denied One final claim which supports the environmental playwork movement is that children are regularly being denied access to such experiences and are therefore being what could be termed 'biophilicly disabled'.
There are many reasons for this, but the most prominent ones are:
* strict health and safety protocols
* access to land being denied by owners
* traffic fears
* paranoia parenting - incorporating 'stranger danger' and 'battery-raised'
children
* location
* political climate
* environmental climate
* media influences
* poverty
* the rise in techno-kids
* the child's enforced sense of disinterest in the natural world due to any or all of the above.
It is a sad fact of our times that, in their attempts to bring children and the natural world together, many adults have to combat the barriers listed above and are thus witnesses to what Tim Gill suggests is 'the extinction of the outside child'.
It is also worth highlighting that, while some children may live in very rich and diverse natural landscapes compared to those living in environments deprived of wild spaces, do not be fooled into thinking that rural children are all 'lucky'. I am increasingly discovering that these children are just as likely to be biophilicly disabled as children living in inner cities. The issue is therefore a socio-cultural one and not necessarily geographically defined.
Playworkers should not think they have to operate an environmental playwork curriculum in an attempt to engender in children a playful appreciation for the natural world. Playworkers may simply want to support children's play with the elements, enable children in their construction of shelters and other 'dwellings', or support children's explorations of other life forms.
The playworker's role will mostly involve facilitating a means for children to gain access to natural spaces. How the children choose to engage with natural props or the environment will largely be down to them.
Philip Waters is a playwork lecturer and freelance trainer, based in Cornwall
Further reading
J Gill, T. (2004) Bred in captivity, The Guardian, 20 September.
J Kahn, P.H. (2001) The Human Relationship with Nature: Development and Culture. London: MIT Press.
J Waters, P. (2003) A 'hole' lot of fun to be had at out-of-school clubs, PlayRights, vol.XXV, no.1-2, pp16-19.
J Waters, P. (2004) Landscapes, inscapes and playscapes: exploring the ecological intelligence of children's play. Playwords, no.22 (summer), pp8-9, 22.
