What is animism, anyways?

In the last few month I got to know many different sides of animism. All a bit different, but somehow related.

Animism is a concept that originated in anthropology and was used to describe the beliefs of some indigenous communities and people. Animists believe that other-that-human things like rocks, plants, or even rivers have a spirit residing in them. On the other hand, in psychology, animism means that something is perceived as animated, or alive. This is best described in the different stages of animism in children, in the studies of Piaget. A third approach, which is heavily inspired by both these areas, is found in the post-structuralist thought of Felix Guattari and the scholars building on that work.

There are links and relations between these three fields, although at this moment rather intuited than scientifically proven. There is animism that stems from experience or perception, and another that stems from knowledge or belief. Both path lead to a changed interaction with or treatment of the thing in question. That doesn’t always have to be a positive thing, but in a best case scenario it’s the base for a new ethics. The Māori people that live along the Whanganui river, for example, fought for decades that this river is getting the legal status of a person. This river now has fundamentally different rights with huge implications for environmental protection.

I use animism as a continuation of the process of developing ethics that we as Central-European and white people started with animal rights. A mere 150 years ago, we still argued that animals are soul-less and can be treated like machines. That not only animals but also plants and other-than-human things like the weather or rivers is a long-established fact in many indigenous epistemologies. What we have to do know, is to unsettle our beliefs in which we impoverish everything other-than-human of the same ethical considerations as we give ourselves.

Animism is the acknowledgment and the perception that we’re neither in the center nor alone in this reality. The best expression we have for the other-than-human subjects is the ascribing of a common base, for example, that we all have a soul, contain spirits, or have some kind of consciousness. Animism is also the practice and aesthetics of such a world-making project.

That sounds pretty abstract, doesn’t it? Have you ever talked to one of your houseplants? You could consider that as an animism practice. Did you ever caringly caress your smartphone after you let it fall? Animism. Do you have a unique ritual for an old kitchen device, without it wouldn’t work? Probably animism, I would argue. Through and with animism, we elevate pasive things to alive things, even if they don’t move or are biological beings (although that makes things much easier).

The problem we have, as a Central-European culture, is that we don’t have a way to express animism. We need to change that. We need to find ways, to unsettle our over-rational ways of going about our businesses and need to develop ways of expressing our relationship that we have with the things we surround ourselves. This is the core aspect of this research project. To develop the knowledge on how to create things out of such a mindset.

Can animistic views and practices be found in approaches in our society, even if it can no longer show any animistic tradition? Can animistic practices in design lead to a more intensive connection to technological products and processes? What are the effects of such a relationship?