Why Real Plants Matter More Than Fake Ones
Immanuel Kant pondered the aesthetic appeal of nature, considering the implications of replicas. He posited a scenario: an innkeeper using a boy and a reed to mimic a nightingale’s song. Kant believed that upon discovering the deception, the enchantment would vanish. Why, if the sounds were identical?
Kant’s assertion seems less relevant today, given the abundance of nature’s copies. Artificial plants and synthetic turf are prevalent in our urban landscapes, public spaces, and homes. The global artificial flower market is projected to reach $1.78 billion this year. Surprisingly, artificial flowers are even marketed as an eco-friendly option. With realistic artificial plants that require no maintenance, and increasingly convenient lifestyles, many question the rationale for choosing natural over artificial.
However, research consistently demonstrates that interaction with real nature, from houseplants to gardening, offers significant and undeniable mental health benefits. What inherent value in genuine nature cannot be replicated artificially?
Philosophers have long recognized a unique pleasure derived from natural entities: their capacity to satisfy our inherent desire for understanding. Aristotle believed that the pursuit of knowledge, through questioning, is inherently rewarding. Real nature provides answers that make even the most unfamiliar organisms—plants, sea urchins, and sponges—comprehensible. Questions like, “Why does my plant blossom?” and “Why does it have brown spots?” reveal insights into the organism’s identity and needs.
This intellectual satisfaction is absent with artificial plants. The only explanation for their features relates to the designer’s intent—to mimic nature’s appearance. Asking “why” leads back to human design, not inherent natural processes.
All other interactions with artificial plants are purely physical or chemical. Consider a real and a fake plant in sunlight: both will warm. However, in the real plant, sunlight facilitates photosynthesis, crucial for its growth. The temperature of the artificial plant is irrelevant to any internal processes; heat or cold neither benefits nor harms it.
The life of a real plant allows for a unique form of care unavailable with replicas. We can nurture an acorn into an oak, but not a plastic one. Even if an artificial plant was designed to simulate the need for care, it would remain inert. It cannot die or thrive.
The ability to understand fosters care. We learn how to promote a plant’s well-being—watering, providing light, etc. This brings the joy of nurturing something for its own sake—the pleasure of growth and the sorrow of failure. One cannot exist without the other.
This understanding extends to the environmental impact of artificial copies. The production of these perfect replicas inevitably generates waste. The majority of artificial plants are manufactured in China’s Pearl River delta, a major pollution hotspot.
Viewing plants as independent beings with their own purposes alters our perspective on our relationship with them. They are separate yet knowable, alien yet familiar. Observing their life cycles fosters a profound sense of connection, bringing joy and inspiring care. Ultimately, who truly cares for a fake plant?