Reimagining Human–Nature Interactions Through the Lens of “Green Education Principles”

Abstract

The research explores three interconnected themes: philosophy, education, and ecology. It aims to be an interdisciplinary study that emphasizes the significance of the philosophy of environmental education and its practical implications. Initially, it addresses the contemporary hylomorphic production approach, followed by proposing educational solutions aimed at fostering a comprehensive understanding of the environment. This understanding includes recognizing humans as part of the environment, sharing equal rights to existence with all other life forms. The study advocates for a shift away from anthropocentrism, positioning humans in a non-privileged role within the ecosystem. It seeks to challenge long-standing notions where humans have historically placed themselves above other beings. The research is particularly inspired by the “Green Schools” in Bali, which embody a proactive educational philosophy aimed at reshaping how future generations perceive their role in production and environmental stewardship. These schools promote an educational framework that encourages students to reconnect with nature and develop sustainable practices from the ground up, moving away from exploitative and profit-driven paradigms. An example of this innovative approach is found in disciplines such as “eco-art,” where colors are derived from natural relationships rather than manufactured. The overarching goal is to cultivate a perspective that sees humans as integral components of nature, valuing it for its intrinsic worth rather than solely for its utility to humanity.

1. Introduction

The discourse suggests a shift away from the nature–culture dichotomy toward recognizing the interconnectedness of subjects and objects within ecological systems. By re-thinking production relations and integrating sustainable practices into education, humanity can redefine its role within the broader ecosystem. Green Schools exemplify how reformed educational practices can inspire ecological awareness and transformative change. The exploration of humanity’s relationship with nature raises fundamental questions about our identity within the natural world, the actions we can undertake, and the limitations imposed by our existence as part of the ecosystem. These inquiries are crucial as we attempt to address them through one of humanity’s most transformative tools: education. By reshaping educational systems to foster ecological awareness, we can nurture a sense of ecological identity that harmonizes human beings with their integral role in the environment. This perspective underscores the potential of Green Schools to act as catalysts for cultivating such consciousness, serving as models for rethinking and transforming how we interact with and perceive the natural world.

2. To Perceive or to Exploit?

One day, while in the northern region of the Peloponnese, Pythagoras engaged in an enlightening discussion with Leontes, the ruler of Fliunte. Leontes, impressed by Pythagoras’s reputation for knowledge and wisdom, asked him about his expertise. In response, Pythagoras humbly stated that he did not consider himself an expert in any particular field and did not seek fame; instead, he identified as a philosopher. When Leontes inquired about the nature of philosophers and how they differ from other experts, Pythagoras offered an analogy comparing human life to a grand feast.

“So also, among us […] some, a few, do not care at all about everything else, and devote themselves to carefully observing the nature of things: they call themselves lovers of knowledge, that is to say, philosophers”.

[1] (p. 123)

The ancient tradition recognizes Pythagoras as one of the first to use the term “philosopher”. This term has since been associated with individuals who seek to explain what evokes wonder in humanity. Among these sources of wonder, φύσις (physis), or nature, has been a central theme from antiquity to the present day. For philosophers, φύσις represents the quintessential object of knowledge and wonder. This concept has been explored by thinkers such as Thales and Heraclitus, as well as throughout Greek antiquity and modern philosophy.

However, a significant issue arises from the notion that φύσις is treated merely as an “object” of philosophical inquiry. The term φύσις in ancient Greek refers to a dynamic, living whole that continuously evolves. It does not denote a collection of inanimate objects; rather, it signifies a living system where all parties grow and develop together. Thus, it embodies not only “something that grows” but also “something that fosters growth.” The verb φύω (phyo) in ancient Greek is versatile, encompassing both passive and active meanings—it can signify “to give birth” as well as “to be born or grow.”

Over time, this concept of a “living whole” has been more accurately translated into English as nature or the natural world, particularly in the context of its processes of generation, development, and decay. Aristotle notably employed this interpretation [2], emphasizing its significance in understanding the world around us.

“It is because of the wonder aroused by the natural world that men, both at the beginning of time and now, have begun to practice philosophy […]”.

[2] (p. 4)

Human beings, captivated by the serene darkness of starry nights, the gentle rise of the sun, and the growth of plants and animals, began to explore the underlying forces that drive these phenomena. As they investigated what they termed nature, they ultimately came to appropriate it. Reflecting on Pythagoras’s example in Fliunte, the guest at the feast who was uninterested in trading goods or engaging in games but solely focused on understanding the purpose of the ceremony ended up taking ownership of the event and its attendees. In a similar manner, philosophers who sought to understand what inspired wonder ultimately claimed ownership of that wonder itself. This “misappropriation” of nature by humanity has been rationalized by both ancient and modern philosophers, particularly Aristotle [3]. Stagirite not only established a hierarchy among living beings based on their soul functions—nutritive, sensitive, and intellectual—but also asserted that only humans are intellectual beings. Consequently, he argued that humans, endowed with superior intelligence (beyond mere sensitivity), are “masters of nature by nature” [4].

This raises an important question: why did Aristotle and many subsequent philosophers assert that humanity’s rightful place is above nature, entitled to appropriate it? Why adopt the belief that plants and animals exist primarily for human benefit? Why do we believe that, regarding plants, animals, the world, “it is for human beings that nature made them” [4]? This perspective of “humanism” may be one of the greatest challenges facing the world today.

According to scientific understanding and the true concept of φύσις (physis), humans are a species within nature. Yet, there seems to be a tendency among people to transcend this connection. It appears that we can only grasp the truths of this world through a form of justified emancipation that distances us from our natural existence, rendering us strangers to ourselves without a genuine sense of belonging. The Aristotelian hylomorphic framework has only exacerbated this perceived detachment between humans and the natural world. Hylomorphism describes a relationship between matter (ὕλη–hyle) and form (μορφή–morphé), suggesting a hierarchy where form is imposed upon matter. Since Aristotle introduced this concept, it has implied a subordinate relationship. If it is indeed the soul that shapes the body, as Aristotle claimed, then logically only a living being (endowed with an intellectual soul) can impart form to matter. This leads humans to justify their role in assigning forms to what they view as a mere collection of matter awaiting animation. Nature is thus perceived as an inert mass lacking shape unless influenced by superior human intellect. This rationale legitimizes human intervention in nature.

Consequently, humans—the only “natural” species with intellect—believe they can determine the fate of all other beings and must assert dominance over all aspects of φύσις that nurtures and has given rise to them. Aristotle himself repeatedly affirms this viewpoint:

“The soul dominates the body as the authority of the master dominates the slave; the intelligence dominates the appetite as the authority of the king dominates the subjects […]. Now the same relations exist between men and other animals: domestic animals are by nature better than wild animals, but it is still beneficial for all of them to be subject to “man”, because in this way they have their security”.

[4]

For much of Western philosophy, humans—particularly men—have been viewed as the unquestioned rulers of nature and all its plant and animal species. This perspective inevitably leads to a self-image of humanity as an “informer” or “informing agent,” treating nature as a resource to be manipulated, shaped, and controlled at will. Such hylomorphic thinking has contributed to significant environmental destruction, exemplified by the deforestation of 400,000 square kilometers of the Amazon rainforest, including 4000 square kilometers in 2023 alone [5]. Hylomorphism and the culture surrounding it have brought us to our current predicament [6]. This framework, combined with legal, ontological, and ethical considerations (which often apply only to humans), has created a comprehensive worldview that awaits interpretation.

When we read about how an artificer imprints forms conceived in their mind onto the material world, we see hylomorphism in action. And what about Francis Bacon, also? The concept of domination of nature in the 16–17th centuries became terrible and frighteningly relevant. When in his most important work, the Novum Organon [7], Bacon speaks to us of “the world as that which has been entrusted to man and to his responsibility” (p. 12, [7]), he is outlining the greatest attitude of domination that we human beings have towards nature. In fact, we still carry this dominant justification with us today. This axiom represents the starting point of Baconian philosophy, establishing a direct correlation between knowledge of nature and the ability to dominate it. Man (never woman, which represents a kind of exclusion of a part of nature that we need to understand) is presented as a “minister and interpreter” of nature, an annoying, dominant interpreter who is completely incapable of feeling as he should: an appendage of it, not a dominator. In fact, the 16th and 17th centuries are the centuries of man’s domination, of the image of the world as a “great machine” that works like a clock (a metaphor indicating a human creation that could denote an interpretation of nature as an object of man, like a clock). Baconian mechanistic philosophy was not only a scientific vision, a search for certainties that human beings can reach regarding the explanation of natural phenomena, but if anything, it was precisely the interest in dominating nature that pushed him further. It was a dominant vision that we still carry with us today.

Is it not true that we still carry this pervasive and dominant vision today? To the great Virgilian question “Can the great achievements of history be worth the cost of individual lives?” Baconian science has answered yes by replacing history with science. Baconian science can do everything in nature: the cost of those “single lives” is nothing because everything is justified in the name of a supposed scientific “progress”.

In any case, the image of the world as a great machine expressed through the metaphor of the clock is already present in the work of the natural philosopher Nicolas Oresme: “Book of the sky and the world”. This could make us understand how the feeling of superiority with respect to nature was already rooted in man, and the XVI-XVII centuries represent only an exaggerated hyperbole. Descartes is clear proof of this.

“Nature is not the manifestation of a living principle, but a system of matter in motion according to a few fundamental laws that can, at least in principle, be formulated mathematically”.

[7] (p. 16)

In some ways, today, this quote from Descartes could even be scary. For him, the key, the essential point of the human being seems to be precisely the act of dominating nature (even emotions must be dominated as “natural elements” to be kept at bay). Man must mathematize the environment, decipher the laws that govern it and modify it in his image and for his own purposes. There seems to be nothing so lacerating towards nature anymore. What is nature for Descartes?

“By nature, I do not understand anything divine or other imaginary power, but a system of laws”.

[8] (p. 14)

If nature is nothing but a system of laws, we can say that nature for Descartes is nothing; there is only man, who looks at it and modifies it in his image and likeness as if it were an object to which he must give form. The noumenal essence of nature (although this term will arrive with Kant) is not there; there is only the phenomenon, therefore: there is only the subject. If, then, there is only the subject, nature disappears like a shadow behind it, its own shadow, its own property. In this model, there is no escape for an ecological vision, nor any naturalist one. Man (never woman) is only the master of everything he sees and does not see because ultimately, if he conceives everything only as a phenomenon, he sees only himself: he is master of everything, but above all of himself, because everything can be traced back to his own self.

Now, the question that arises is: how can we move beyond this paradigm? Is it possible to dismantle such a dominant framework? Can we find a remedy for the anthropocentrism that has permeated human thought for millennia at the expense of nature that nurtured us? While no one can possess all knowledge, everyone can begin to think and act differently. Academic pursuits could focus on re-envisioning production as a collaborative process of mutual growth with the materials provided by nature, rather than as an “informational act” imposed by an external human agent on inert nature.

This shift in perspective should extend to education and philosophy, redefining the role of the creator as a participant within an ecosystem composed of active, living matter—nature that is vibrant and dynamic rather than lifeless. Ultimately, we should strive to transcend the hylomorphic approach and learn how to find our rightful place within nature [9].

3. Rethinking Morphogenesis Through Collaborative Production

In the context of production, our role as humans is deeply intertwined with the materials and environment we engage with. From the outset of any production process, one can observe how resistant each material can be. For instance, consider wicker as a case study, highlighted by Tim Ingold [10]. When attempting to create a wicker basket, one might think to start with a mental image of the desired shape. However, wickers do not conform neatly to predetermined shapes. This is due to the inherent qualities of the material itself, as well as other forces that influence the production process.

If you were to weave a wicker basket outdoors, factors such as wind would affect the final shape, alongside the type of wicker used and the hands that manipulate it. This raises an important question: who truly shapes the final form—the wind, the human artisan, or the natural characteristics of the wicker? The answer may be that it is a collective effort involving all these elements, rather than being attributed solely to one.

Every form arises from movement; it is a product of growth and interaction between the dynamic properties of materials and the agents involved in shaping them. The outcome will never perfectly match what was originally envisioned by the creator, because the properties of materials are influenced by countless environmental factors. Thus, production is not merely about imposing a preconceived idea on matter; it is about engaging in a collaborative process where both human creativity and material characteristics play vital roles. Materials should not be seen as lifeless entities awaiting human intervention; instead, they are active participants in the creative process. The creator collaborates with these materials to co-produce forms that are already potentially present within their inherent properties. Rather than imposing rigid forms onto an unyielding world (as suggested by hylomorphic models), creators can engage with ongoing material processes and contribute to their evolution [11].

In the twentieth century, philosopher Gilbert Simondon fundamentally transformed the concept of “information” in his work “L’individuation à la lumière des notions de formes et d’information” [12]. He challenged hylomorphic assumptions and sought to address issues arising from the Anthropocene by proposing a new understanding of individuals as networks of relationships within nature, rather than as external agents that dominate it.

Traditionally, work has been viewed as an attempt to redefine individuality. However, due to its innovative ideas, Simondon’s philosophy can also serve as a foundation for reevaluating humanity’s role in morphogenetic processes—particularly regarding how humans relate to the natural world. In fact, Simondon explains well:

“Being is never one, it is always more than one […] and it is richer in coherence with itself, it exceeds its limits, it is metastable, expanding starting from itself; it is restrained, tense, superimposed on itself. But being is not reduced to what it is. It is thickened, empowered. It exists as a being but also as energy”.

[12] (p. 219)

The human being, viewed as one entity among many, is neither static nor fully aware of its true nature. Instead, it exists in a constant state of individuation, embodying a living process that parallels the dynamic nature of its environment. This raises a fundamental question: how can a being that is inherently fluid and ever-changing create something permanent, fixed, or unchanging in the material world? The hylomorphic model, which suggests a rigid separation between form and matter, is increasingly seen as inadequate and on the verge of collapse. Gilbert Simondon’s revolutionary approach to individuation introduces significant transformations in our understanding of the individual. He effectively dismantles the hylomorphic framework and lays the groundwork for a new perspective on the productive act. In this view, humans are positioned as one species among many within nature. By introducing the concept of metastability, Simondon allows for a reevaluation of production that emphasizes interaction with matter and the environment rather than viewing them as mere resources to be shaped.

The term “metastable” refers to systems that are in a state of continuous evolution and are open to transformation [12]. This balance is not stable in the traditional sense; rather, it is characterized by internal potential that can be activated at any moment, leading to changes within the entire system. Simondon’s insights challenge us to reconsider our role in production. Instead of seeing ourselves as external agents imposing our will on passive materials, we should recognize that we are part of an ongoing process where both human creativity and material characteristics coalesce to produce forms. This perspective emphasizes that every act of creation is inherently collaborative, involving not just human intention but also the dynamic properties of the materials and their interactions with the environment. Through this lens, we can begin to understand individuation as an ongoing process rather than a fixed state, allowing for a more nuanced relationship between humanity and nature. This system can perfectly match the natural world, with nature, so much so that nature, the environment, for Simondon is metastable, namely:

“[…] a charge of unexpressed potential, within which the subject lives”.

[12] (p. 60)

These potentials all play a role during the formation of any given form (information) and in every productive act, much like the example of creating a wicker basket. Production should not be viewed as a fixed event, as the hylomorphic model suggests; rather, it is an act of generating a form through collaboration among co-producers present in the same environment. The nature of production is not about rigidly applying mental concepts to the material world but is instead a continuous process influenced by the properties of materials, climate, environmental factors, and ultimately, the actions of the human creator.

Understanding production as a structuring process involving co-producers within the same environment and nature reflects what Simondon’s philosophy encourages us to consider. We must also keep in mind our role in this dynamic; this is where Simondon’s concept of the “pre-individual background” [12] becomes relevant. This idea emphasizes that our existence and actions are rooted in a shared context with other beings and materials, highlighting our interconnectedness within the broader ecological system.

“The pre-individual is individuation itself as a reality that hosts and precedes individuals and at the same time continues to exist as a reality full of potential, the milieu to which the individual belongs”.

[12] (p. 33)

The term “pre-individual” refers to a natural space or background that exists independently of humans, filled with unexpressed potential. In this context, humans are just one of many species that contribute to the ongoing creation of structures and forms within nature. Simondon’s philosophy fundamentally challenges the hylomorphic model, which traditionally placed humans, particularly men, at the center of creation and production, viewing them as the ultimate agents of change.

Instead, humans are seen as participants in a world that is constantly evolving. Their creations are not entirely their own; materials also play an active role in the production process due to their inherent properties. The environment contributes as well, with elements like wind influencing the outcome of creative acts. Thus, humans serve as facilitators in a collaborative effort with other agents and materials, rather than imposing their preconceived ideas onto passive matter. In this perspective, the creation of any object is a morphogenetic process where forms emerge dynamically rather than being predetermined by human thought. Matter is not a mere passive recipient of form; it possesses the ability to take shape according to its potential and the influences around it. This understanding emphasizes that matter is part of a flow that humans and other co-producers navigate together.

By embracing this concept of matter-flow, humans can reclaim their place within the natural system. Philosophers like Félix Guattari and Gilles Deleuze have echoed Simondon’s ideas, emphasizing the role of artisans and workers in producing forms collaboratively rather than solely as individual creators. One might interpret their quotation as a call to reclaim our rightful place within the production process, encouraging us to move beyond the constraints of the Anthropocene that permeate our understanding of production. The example of metallurgy discussed by the two philosophers aligns seamlessly with the view of matter as a dynamic flow and production as a morphogenetic act involving co-producers, rather than adhering to a hylomorphic model. This perspective invites us to recognize the collaborative nature of creation, where both human and material contributions are essential in shaping outcomes.

“In metallurgy, the blacksmith must periodically bring the iron back to the fire. The mutation of the material encroaches on the process of formation and no doubt continues even after it, since it is only after forging that the iron is finally hardened. In metallurgy, on the other hand, operations continue to straddle the thresholds, so that an energetic materiality goes beyond the prepared material and a qualitative deformation or transformation exceeds the form. […]. Never have matter and form appeared more rigid than in metallurgy”.

[13] (p. 599)

This example illustrates a productive act that resembles a dance between human and non-human co-producers, as well as the intrinsic properties of materials. Even gold flows, and it is the blacksmith’s role to follow its natural tendencies. We must engage as co-producers alongside the material and the environmental factors that shape the final form; our task is to listen to what the matter-flow reveals and adopt a morphogenetic rather than a hylomorphic approach [10]. The essence of craftsmanship lies in recognizing what materials can do and collaborating with their inherent properties.

Furthermore, it seems essential to mention at least the “Actor-Network Theory (ANT)”, developed since the 1980s by Bruno Latour, Michel Callon and John Law, which represents one of the most innovative and controversial perspectives in contemporary social sciences. Contrary to traditional theories that clearly separate subjects and objects, human and non-human, ANT proposes a relational and symmetrical approach, in which heterogeneous actors—from technological devices to institutions—co-construct dynamic networks through processes of translation, mediation and stabilization: we are as if placed in a large network in which there is no already much criticized subject–object dichotomy, but finally only a stage (network) full of actors stands out (subjects, objects—we would still say with that objectifying language). In the classic Western dichotomy, as should now be clear, objects are interesting only as spokespersons of the thoughts, actions and human relationships that gave them life. Their agency is not recognized. The question we should really ask ourselves, even if only rhetorically, since we have already said that, following Simondon and Ingold, agency is not a characteristic that is only human, is the following: in situations in which an object produces effects, are such effects perhaps entirely attributable to the action of some human social subject (individual or collective) that uses that object? Absolutely not, and Latour’s theory provides a very useful example to thematize this distinction: the opposition between intermediaries and mediators. In fact, we can now say that an object possesses agency in a strict sense (i.e., the ability to autonomously influence the world) only to the extent that it is a mediator within the flows of action that involve it. Furthermore, bringing the question of the agency of objects back to the distinction between mediators and intermediaries also serves to set aside the risk of anthropomorphism, that is, of making an agency depend on a similarity of some kind between objects and human beings. In fact, the definition of mediator does not contain any reference to such similarity: the stone, the wicker basket, the wind that moves the leaves does not possess less agency than the human being: they are both mediators, actors that conduct a scene, a game of forms that are not presupposed, but in progress. In Latour’s theory, there is no great distinction between micro and macro actor, therefore. There is, if anything, interdependence, which Ingold, as we have seen, hopes to be able to make his students understand: nothing comes out, nothing is created without an equal participation of the parts. There is no hylomorphic presupposition, but rather “isomorphism” in Latour’s ANT: everyone contributes towards some form, some interaction, and no one has a role inferior to the usual human agent (who then, strangely, I am sorry to point out, this human agent is almost always male, white, and even heteronormative). This is where the name “actor-network” comes from, with the connecting hyphen, which indicates the lack of distinction between the actor and the network, the non-existence of agents that are not complex and hybrid. The outcome of the ANT is, for our theme, surprising. The very distinction between humans and nonhumans has served only a heuristic purpose, because the network actor is “someone else”, an objectifying otherness without a name: it is not a subject, it is not an object, it is an agent also in the direction of a form that co-constitutes with the agents of the network; it does not presuppose. Let us think of this beautiful sentence that he pronounces at the end of the work:

“It is that society itself must be rethought from top to bottom when we add to it the facts and artifacts that constitute large sectors of our social ties. What appears in place of the two ghosts—society and technology—is not simply a hybrid object, a little efficiency and a little socialization, but an object sui generis: the collective thing”.

[14] (p. 119)

The collective, the association (the actor-network), therefore becomes the true seat of social agency, the only recognizable agent when one turns one’s gaze towards social dynamics. There is no hierarchical place of man on things. There is no hierarchy. There is a network of simultaneous, equal interactions, without hierarchies of rank, role. There is no place for specific and pre-assigned places: there is only a continuous chain of actions.

Green Schools: Pioneering of a New Paradigm

“The Green School stands on steep slopes, so that the architecture, rather than appearing separate from the context, is part of it”.

[15]

What we need now is a new “ontology” to redefine our place in the world. The term ontology, derived from the Greek words ὤν (to be) and -λογία (study), refers to the study of being as a continuously evolving process. Both Simondon and Ingold emphasize that what characterizes this ongoing becoming is the concept of relation. Humans are relational beings, and through production, they enhance their connections with other co-producers involved in the process. For instance, when constructing a wicker basket outdoors, the wind acts as an agent in the production process, alongside the wicker and the human artisan.

This shift towards an anti-anthropocentric ontology is crucial. We do not need to simply extend traditional ethics to recognize the intrinsic value of natural matter or its right to exist independently of humans, as suggested by Bartolomei [16]. Instead, we require a new framework that acknowledges humanity as part of a larger being that encompasses all forms of life: nature itself.

Why should we assume that humans possess an almost divine right over nature? Why view being as merely human property? Why consider human creations solely originating from individual minds imposing forms on passive materials? It is essential to reconsider and diminish the role of humans in this context and rethink the hylomorphic production paradigm.

The Green Schools in Bali offer a compelling response to these questions. They foster an ecological consciousness in children and young people, encouraging them to interact with their natural environment. This educational approach awakens an ecological ego that has often been overlooked in a hylomorphic culture that positions humans as masters of their environment. These schools promote a different ontology, connecting humans to the greater being; that is, nature.

Founded in 2007 by Cynthia Hardy and John Hardy, along with architects and educators, the Green School emphasizes experiential learning outside traditional classroom settings [17]. Following the research and literature on experiential learning, experimented and studied by Rudolf Steiner [18], the “Green Schools” immediately stopped the thought that study and teaching should be carried out within four walls deaf and closed to nature, a classic Western model. Drawing on the Aristotelian peripatetic method, this model demonstrates that constant interaction between learning spaces and nature forms the basis for a new ontological paradigm. This perspective repositions humans in relation to nature and emphasizes collaboration rather than domination.

This example of Green Schools may seem distant from previous discussions but is closely related. To change our approach to production, shifting from creating on the environment to creating with it—we must start with education. Educating individuals about their interconnectedness with nature fosters an integrated approach that benefits both humanity and the environment, recognizing that we are all part of a vast ecosystem where no one species reigns supreme. This stands in stark contrast to the teachings of the hylomorphic paradigm.

One of the disciplines taught at Green Schools is “bamboo carving” [17]. In this context, students learn to carve bamboo not as a mere tool for profit, but as a material with its own intrinsic qualities. This approach emphasizes a morphogenetic perspective, encouraging students to listen to the bamboo and understand its possibilities, rather than imposing preconceived forms upon it. The practice of bamboo carving is integrated into the broader framework of “environmental sustainability of the community” highlighting a shift in how students perceive the materials they work with. Instead of viewing bamboo as an object provided by nature for human use, they come to see it as an extension of nature itself, an integral part of the ecosystem that shapes them as much as they shape it. Educators often remind students to “Listen to the bamboo!” reinforcing the idea that the material has its own voice and potential.

The concepts of eco-sustainability, morphogenetic approaches, and eco-entrepreneurship are not merely practices at Green Schools; they are embedded within the identity of the students, fostering what could be termed “eco-human”. Another important subject at the Green School is “eco art,” which involves using natural materials and pigments in artistic endeavors. In this discipline, students create colors that are harmonious with their environment rather than harmful to it. They engage in a form of alchemy, transforming natural elements into pigments while learning about their properties and interactions. Each color they create is unique, reflecting the variability of their materials and processes, which contrasts sharply with the static nature of pre-packaged colors typical in traditional art education. There are no pre-packaged colors, as in the classic hylomorphic model, but alchemical creations with nature. This mixing of theirs is intertwined like the gazes of lovers, mediation and transduction (a term that brings us back to Simondon).

Additionally, students participate in a discipline called “art of parrying in public”. This term traditionally refers to oratory skills but at Green Schools, it involves presenting ideas and projects to an audience composed of peers and educators. Students showcase their work on topics like bioarchitecture and biomimicry, engaging in discussions that emphasize environmental importance and innovative approaches to production for a sustainable future, for an eco-sustainable future. These presentations resemble TED talks, allowing students to articulate their visions for a new ontological model that redefines humanity’s relationship with nature.

The physical environment of Green Schools further embodies these principles. Almost all structures are made from bamboo, creating spaces that feel alive rather than artificial. A recent study noted that these learning environments are “ADHD friendly” [19] suggesting that studying in a vibrant, dynamic setting can enhance focus and engagement, particularly for students who struggle with traditional classroom settings. This challenges the outdated notion that silence equates to learning; instead, it shows that interaction with nature can serve as a powerful catalyst for education.

In summary, Green Schools exemplify a transformative educational model that integrates ecological awareness with hands-on learning experiences. By fostering a deep connection between students and their natural surroundings, these schools cultivate an understanding of production as a collaborative act involving both human creativity and the dynamic properties of materials. Through disciplines like bamboo carving and eco art, students learn to appreciate their role within nature rather than viewing themselves as separate or superior to it.

4. Conclusions

To encapsulate the essence of my thesis, I propose framing the study of human beings within the broader context of analyzing natural organisms. This approach challenges the misconception of human dominance over nature and advocates for redefining production as a cooperative exchange. Inspired by the principles of Green Schools, this exchange can be imagined as an interactive dialogue between creators and materials, where roles alternate in a dynamic question-and-answer process. Through this mutual interaction, subjectivity emerges not as an isolated characteristic but as a relational outcome shaped by these exchanges.

This perspective is informed by Ingold’s theories and resonates with Simondon’s concept of “matter-flow,” which lays the groundwork for a new ontology of nature. Green Schools exemplify this ontology by fostering practices where creation arises from collective forces rather than individual intent. For instance, in eco-art, colors and forms are not solely the result of human intervention but emerge from the interplay of various environmental elements. The human hand becomes one among many contributors in a shared space, demonstrating how production is inherently collective.

The concept of “coagulation,” derived from “co” (together) and “agere” (to act), subtly underscores this collective action throughout my thesis. This term encapsulates the idea that creation and action are inherently collaborative rather than individualistic endeavors.

The metaphor of woven wicker baskets further illustrates this interconnectedness. Drawing on David Guss’s observations about the Yekuana people, who “weave the world” through their craft, this analogy highlights that production is not an isolated act but an intricate intertwining with others and with available materials. It emphasizes that our actions resonate within a larger ecological web, reinforcing the idea that humanity is part of a collaborative and interconnected natural system.

Why do green schools represent the paradigm of true ecology and towards a new ecological world where there is a true integration between man and nature? We think of the same etymology of the word school, which derives from the Greek meaning “time dedicated to the exercise of one’s intellectual abilities and dispositions”. To me, it seems evident that only by changing one’s disposition towards nature through school—that is, through an educational and institutional path—can one finally arrive at the integration between man and nature, at the truly “green” ecological paradigm.