Apeing nature

Biomimicry is the design principle by which nature’s solutions are applied to products, materials and processes. It reaps exciting, sustainable rewards

The real surprise about biomimicry that I realised while – somewhat nervously – doing my homework before meeting Janine Benyus is that it isn’t (necessarily) about design. The idea is bound to be familiar to designers and architects who know the work of Michael Pawlyn or Jerry Tate – or even Grimshaw, the architect of the Eden Project in Cornwall, which owes much of its design innovation to those two ex-employees.

Many other designers and architects are basing their work on this powerful concept, but the originator – a disarmingly modest, cheerful and articulate soul called Janine Benyus – is not a designer at all. She’s a biologist. And there lies the hope.

Benyus would also, no doubt, disown the mantle I have spread about her unassuming shoulders as the inventor of biomimicry. It’s true, it isn’t the domain of one or even a collection of human intellects. It’s a design principle that makes perfect sense: take nature’s solutions and apply them to products, materials and processes.

It’s not just about making things that look as if they came from the natural world, it’s making things that adopt and adapt the principles of the natural world, and use them to self-sustain without waste. Everyone knows there’s no waste in nature, right?

I met Professor Rachel Armstrong a couple of months ago, a scientist-cum-doctor-cumsci-fi writer-cum-architectural researcher. She is working with artificial life forms – protocells – whose self-organising, self-perpetuating properties are leading her into the realms of buildings that grow, rather than are made. Her work proposes a kind of synthetic thinking that takes the best bits from the scientific and artistic mindsets, moving us towards a collaborative, ‘holistic’ mental process.

Benyus’s work suggests the same kind of mental bridge-building, but it is more easily accessible. I strongly recommend one of her TED lectures on YouTube: ‘12 Sustainable Design Ideas from Nature’. Inspiring but provoking, the presentation leaves you with almost as many questions as it answers – in fact more, because most of the answers are to questions you hadn’t even thought of.

Had it occurred to you, for instance, that there would be much less disease in the world if vaccines didn’t have to be refrigerated? Deserts and deluges don’t take kindly to little fridges, and vaccines need the ‘cold chain’ to survive. Benyus quotes the work of Bruce Rosner at the University of Cambridge, who took a leaf out of the tardigrade’s book – a microscopic creature also known as the water bear or moss piglet that lives with about 24,999 chums in a litre of water, can live for 10 years without water, survive temperatures of -273ºC to +151ºC and which still hatched eggs after 10 days in the vacuum of space.

Rosner is working on applying the tardigrade’s ability to go into completely desiccated ‘suspended animation’ and then bring itself back to life again to vaccines – which medics in developing countries can keep in the glove compartment of their Land Cruiser for as long as it takes, hot or cold as you like. Now that’s biomimicry.

What I really want to ask Benyus is: ‘How do you think we will change ourselves?’ Because that’s really what’s required. Western civilisation is so deeply entrenched in the capitalist project – the unbreakable circle of economic growth, nature as a resource for us to exploit – that the new behaviours we need to adopt seem very far away. It’s hard to imagine how we’re all going to start being nice to each other and sharing – because that’s what we need to do, however hippy it sounds.

I have to wait for that one, however, because I’m still interested in Benyus’s relationship with design. ‘I’ve always had a fascination with things that are well designed,’ she says. ‘I want a wallet for life… one pair of sunglasses, so I never have to shop again. I didn’t know what design was, I just knew when something worked, I treasured it.’

At this point I butt in: ‘When something worked, or looked beautiful and worked?’ ‘Good question,’ is the gracious answer. ‘Both – but having it not work makes it far less beautiful.’ Then she launches into one of my favourite topics, the need to remodel our aesthetic sense so we desire things that will help us survive rather than send us plummeting to the bottom of the sea of life.

‘I think we got our taste for what’s beautiful from the natural world,’ she says. ‘Historically, our survival depended on close observation of the natural world – a healthy forest, for instance, was beautiful for obvious reasons. We admired stuff in the natural world, like the snowshoe hare’s back feet. We looked and said: “I wish we could do that.” And we made snowshoes. That’s where our aesthetic comes from: that which works well; we were surrounded by it – by good design.

‘We looked at spiderwebs and went, “Maybe I can use that idea to catch fish.”. Now we say, “It’s stretchy, it’s resilient – how the hell is it made?” Thank goodness we’re still in a state of awe and admiration as we learn more. That’s where we acquired our design ethic.’

I then ask Benyus why designers are so important. ‘Because they make us lust after things,’ she replies, with the implication that design can cause us to desire that which will save us.

However, as we all know, designers work for clients. And when it comes to clients, we get into the much bigger ‘Is this the end of capitalism?’ question. This is handy, because I am a guest of InterfaceFlor – Benyus is one of the company’s ‘dream team’ of innovative and environmental thinkers.

Interface has wholeheartedly embraced sustainable design and the thinking that goes with it – as well as the business model. It is the living, breathing example of Benyus’s idea of natural selection. ‘As a biologist I see companies like species that have really good adaptations,’ explains Benyus. ‘As the world and conditions shift, the species that is full of adaptations to meet them will be successful.

‘As we reach peak oil or peak water, those companies that know how to do their business with less oil/water will be at ease. It’s exactly what happens in evolution. Even the “belly of the beast” companies have people in them who are preparing for when the change in conditions can no longer be ignored.

When conditions make it imperative, it will be like a phase change; we are already practising a new level of coping. It’s an evolutionary process.’

So what hope is there for humankind? Is it all over? Should we shut up shop? ‘The question is,’ she says, with quiet, thoughtful authority, ‘do we have it in us to pay attention to what’s important, to change our strategy? A lot of people ask: “Can we change our nature?” I don’t buy that it’s not in our nature to pay attention to continuing life on earth. Every biological being has one driving goal.

“What is deep within us is the desire to have our genetic material continue, not just for this generation but for 10,000 more.

“We crawled into our heads, culturally evolving and not paying attention to our relationship with the natural world – but it’s there. For me, there’s no saying we are any different from any other organism in our ability to live sustainably.’ And that goes for companies too.

So yes, there is hope. Humanity will have to go through what she calls an ‘evolutionary knot-hole’ – in other words, a cull, the death of many millions of people; but we and our institutions will adapt. ‘So, you’re an optimist, then?’ Janine Benyus takes another thoughtful moment to consider: ‘I choose optimism. It’s far too late for pessimism.’


This article was first published in FX Magazine.








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