Dialogic methodology

The dialogic methodology employed in this study was inspired by practice-based research approaches (White & Janfada, Reference White and Janfada2025), themselves grounded in the lifelong scholarship of Mikhail Bakhtin (1895–1975), a Russian philosopher and theorist best known for his idea of dialogism. Our commitment to dialogic methodology sought to reshape and co-create pluralistic interpretations of human–forest relationships by engaging with Asian ways of knowing and being. This stands in contrast to dominant monologic paradigms in forestry, which often impose a singular, technocratic ideology upon forest understanding. By foregrounding dialogic practice, we intentionally generated tensions with this dominant forestry framework, thereby opening up space for forests to be understood as sites of epistemological pluralism. To carry out our dialogic exchange, we selected writing as our primary methodology, as writing allowed each of us more time for careful reflection. It enabled us to attend more fully to our awareness of how we witness one another’s stories, how we reflect on ourselves, and how we come to identify with our worldviews (Walsh & Bai, Reference Walsh and Bai2014).

In this context, we do not position Asian ways of knowing as inherently superior, nor do we instrumentalize them merely as tools for ecological protection; rather, we engage these ways of knowing as dialogic assumptions that foster shared inquiry grounded in distinct Asian ontologies and epistemologies. Without these foundational assumptions, dialogue risks losing coherence and failing to invite openness to multiplicity, contradiction, and mutual meaning-making. As White and Janfada (Reference White and Janfada2025) note, “Researchers are transparent about the assumptions they bring to their discoveries and likewise to their orientations. In the absence of such rigour, we are left with little or no accountability for our authorial claims or their impact on others” (p. 29). Before initiating this research project, we shared our philosophical assumptions of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam and Shinto-Buddhist animism through our preliminary meeting, particularly focusing on how our worldviews support pluralistic interpretations of forests through relational perspectives.

We also reflected on the dialogic methodology deemed most suitable, as defined by White and Janfada (Reference White and Janfada2025): “To dialogize means to actively seek disruption to monologic forms of thought by staying open to different representations, juxtapositions, and contradictions in practice. That is your methodological quest” (p. 25). Within this dialogic framework, forests are not positioned as passive “others” to be managed or spoken about through a singular forestry discourse but are instead seen as participants in ongoing dialogic exchange and co-constructors of meaning within relational and situated processes. The language emerging from these relationships manifests as “ideological becomings” (White & Janfada, Reference White and Janfada2025, p. 22) within the social world. As White and Janfada (Reference White and Janfada2025) continue, “Dialogism grants specific attention to the nature of living language, its ideological effects, and its strategic orientations in social settings” (p. 22). Thus, the dialogic methodology illuminates how language, relationships, and knowledge-making practices interweave to shape more inclusive, relational, and dynamic understandings of forests, understandings that move beyond control and domination toward mutual recognition and becoming (Kumpulainen & Rajala, Reference Kumpulainen and Rajala2017; Purvis-Smith, Reference Purvis-Smith, Wussow and Hohne1994).

Taken together, employing dialogic methodology can be closely aligned with Asian ways of knowing, where coming to know, grounded in the construction of respectful relationships with the natural world (Kumar, Reference Kumar2002; Tagore, Reference Tagore2017; Takayama, Reference Takayama2020), does not occur through making monologic claims of certainty in the absence of the “Other.” Instead, pluralistic dialogism creates an uncertain, relational space in our exchange (Schmidt & Stenger, Reference Schmidt and Stenger2023). It is often within this uncertainty that reflections shared by others invite new perspectives and insights, opening space for further inquiry into the themes we are dialoguing about. Asian ways of knowing, therefore, resist the finalisation of discoveries or the making of universal generalisations (Kagawa-Fox, Reference Kagawa-Fox2010; Kumar, Reference Kumar2002). Our inquiries must continuously evolve, just as the natural world we live in also shifts. As White and Janfada (Reference White and Janfada2025) note, “Non-finalizing representations of this nature concerning practice-based research call for a special relationship with dialogue as a plural and highly nuanced concept” (p. 37). Such a perspective encourages continuous reflection, ethical responsiveness, and humility in how we engage with the natural world.

Our dialogic forest story

The following dialogic exchange begins with TM’s lived experience as a forester, and our responses emerged through reflective engagement rooted in Asian worldviews and stories. Through this dialogic process, we explored how our reflections and lived experiences resonated with multiple meanings of “forest” or “more-than-human world” – meanings that invited us to reimagine relationships with the natural world and consider the transformative potential of environmental education.

TM’s story: I stood within an old-growth forest in the Great Bear Rainforest, nestled along the north and central coast of British Columbia. As a forester, I often found myself silently gazing at the towering Douglas firs and ancient red cedars, their quiet majesty occasionally interrupted by the rhythmic tapping of woodpeckers echoing through the trees. I was there with a co-worker to conduct ecological assessments, tasked with determining how these beautiful forests might be harvested. Yet I must admit that my heart felt heavy and sorrowful each time I carried out this work. Ironically, the more my co-worker referred to the forest as “it” or “them,” speaking of these living beings merely as resources, the more vividly my imagination envisioned their future. I couldn’t stop picturing this sacred landscape transformed into a barren clearcut within weeks. Deep down, I felt more like a member of the forest community than an objective forester. I couldn’t reconcile myself to these actions or justify them by simply following policy guidelines. The forest wasn’t just a resource to me – it was a living presence I was part of.

In this state of mind, my forestry work was continually disrupted by a stream of questions that arose naturally from within. I often asked myself: if Indigenous people were to return to this land, how deeply would they grieve the degradation of a place their ancestors nurtured and protected for generations? How might the more-than-human beings – birds, plants, wildlife, trees, and rivers – that have lived here in harmony for centuries, sense and respond to the looming destruction brought by human activity? And how would other forest dwellers, such as residents of the area and environmental advocates, feel as they witnessed this unfolding devastation? It became increasingly clear to me that the perspectives of these diverse communities, who often embody the voices and concerns of the natural world, were not meaningfully considered in the harvesting process. As a result, the forest was treated as a mere commodity, something humans could extract, replace, and renew at will. Within this resource-based worldview, it becomes difficult for foresters to imagine nature as a web of mutually interdependent beings, whose kinship and relationships extend far beyond the boundaries of a clearcut mapped by human hands.

SM: TM’s unwilling involvement in the “ecological assessment” and “harvesting the forest” resonates with my lived experiences of the colonial ethos of considering nature as a separate resource to be exploited. This िवकृित (vikriti – deformed thinking) of proposing the destruction of nature as inevitable for ecological renewal is what TM was undergoing while practicing his forestry policies on his more-than-human relatives. The pain of imagining the devastation of our companions is a deeply rooted practice that the modern capitalist world is involved in and proud of. TM’s discomfort with his own actions towards the forest suggests that there is a greater need to revise and re-envision our existence with and among nature.

His troubling zone of being an objective forester vs a member of the forest community stands on a deeper and critical ground of bringing an ecological shift into our epistemological stance of considering nature as dead. He comes to understand his presence as co-presence and co-existence in the forest. His gentle but daunting inquiry into Others’ beliefs, opinions, suggestions, and consciousness reflects his eco-consciousness. By interrogating his own colonised actions, TM brings forth the eco-consciousness of the web of life which is complexly woven and interdependent with and on Others. This self-witnessing of his shift in consciousness from mechanical to ecological is the groundwork for the commencement of eco-consciousness which in turn is a cultural change. The ecological consciousness rooted in Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam, invites humans to acknowledge and celebrate Wholeness with the sentient and non-sentient communities. This ecological consciousness thus is an unshackling of the self which is superior to others (Tagore as cited in Shrivastava, Reference Shrivastava and Chaudhuri2020), a belief that otherwise mutes the Others in the dynamics of life. The ecological philosophy of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam thus calls for the well-being and upliftment of All by including their voices in the dialogue of co-existence and co-prosperity. This in turn, invites us to belong to nature and not long for nature.

Reflecting on the deeper philosophy of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam, a thread in the tapestry that aligns with TM’s eco-consciousness is (Sarvodaya) a hope imagined by Gandhi (Kumar, Reference Kumar2002). Sarva means all and udaya means prosperity, referring to the co-prosperity of humans and more-than-human beings. A colonial culture which has historically marginalised the Others is a dead culture. When we know nature apart from us, silencing it as a resource takes precedence in our monocultured and dead minds. As Shiva (Reference Shiva2005) accurately pointed out, “the monoculture of the mind is the reductionist perspective which sees and constructs the world in terms of monoculture” (p. 112). Once we break the shackles of separateness, we experience the fabric of being One. This Oneness translates into Wholeness which nudges us to consider “us with them” and not “us versus them.” As Tagore so beautifully expressed, “Our love for nature is not [meant] to dominate nature, to consume nature; it’s [meant] to be one with nature” (as cited in Haque, Reference Haque2023, p. 178). Sarvodaya thus is a celebration of Wholeness; a celebration which recognises the interdependence and kinship of the beings. Sarvodaya thus is a realisation that humans are a thread of the endless weave of nature.

TM: In her dialogic response, SM’s ecological consciousness grounded in Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam opened space to recognise how the more-than-human world holds plural meanings and its own relationships, allowing diverse worldviews to coexist and enrich environmental understanding. Reflecting on SM’s interpretation of my eco-consciousness, a human-centred approach to forestry that positions humans as the sole holders of knowledge and authority over how nature should be understood and managed does not, as SM rightly notes, “nudge us to consider ourselves with them” but instead reinforces an “us versus them” divide. This insight compels me to consider how we might celebrate ecological wholeness. Could reimagining how sentient and non-sentient beings live and behave, creating value within the interconnected ecological webs shaped by their specific environments, help us cultivate a sense of affinity with them and guide us toward more sensible and respectful ways of being? If so, might the ways we engage in communicative inquiry with the natural world be meaningful for building more harmonious and respectful relationships with it?

SM: Reimagining the co-existence and co-prosperity of sentient and non-sentient beings requires dismantling the anthropocentric views of silencing Others. This reimagining involves acknowledging the voices of the more-than-human – without translating them as information to be gained, but as an act of co-creating knowledge. TM’s ontological wandering of fostering and weaving bonds with the natural world transports me back to my childhood memories of speaking to plants. My grandmother (whom I will refer to as Mumma) showed me how important reciprocal communication with the natural world is in cultivating respectful relationships with it. Sundays were reserved for caring for our family’s plants. I was tasked with trowelling, pruning, cleaning the balcony, arranging the pots, and bringing the sick plants closer to Mumma so she could “talk” to them more easily. These small acts were, to her, a form of sharing, something she wanted me to become attuned to. As a child, I didn’t understand the idea of speaking to plants; I would always ask, Why? We water them – is that not enough? We give them good soil – is that not enough? We move them into sunlight every day – is that not enough? Mumma would always reply, “A happy family is one that talks to each other about their joys and agonies. The plants don’t need us to water them or arrange them because they are autopoietic and self-sustaining. It is we who need a family.” The plants on our balcony would likely survive without me as their provider. But how would I survive without the sense of family they offered me?

TM: Mumma’s story carries profound implications for how we think about our relationship with the forest. Recalling her words, “The plants do not need us to water them or arrange them; they are autopoietic and self-sustaining. It is we who need a family,” I began to understand her philosophy: that the natural world should be seen as the senior, self-reliant members of the Earth community, while humans, as the junior members, depend on them for our survival and sense of belonging. In this view, humans are not the ones who decide how to live with nature; rather, it is the natural world that teaches us how to live in relation to it. Therefore, we must approach nature not as its managers, but as its listeners and its communicators, open to dialogue with the natural world, as Mumma showed SM in her practice. In Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam, intelligence is not the dominant factor in constructing reciprocal relationships with nature; instead, its philosophy centres on viewing nature as a gift essential for our sustainable life (Pathak, Reference Pathak2024). In this sense, reverence and awe become the foundation for engaging in relational inquiries rooted in deep care.

This understanding also resonates with Japanese ways of knowing, particularly through language. The word shizen (自然), commonly translated as “nature,” implies a spontaneous, self-arising unfolding of existence. In contrast, the word for “human,” ningen (人間), includes the character aida (間), meaning “in-betweenness,” which highlights the inherently relational and interdependent nature of human existence (Watsuji, Reference Watsuji2001). Within this ontological framework, the natural world is seen as a self-initiating system of being, while humans are understood as dwelling within a dynamic web of relationships. Both philosophical traditions thus negate the idea of human superiority over other life forms. Instead, they affirm the fundamental idea of the oneness of the web of life.

On the other hand, as Indra’s Net illustrates, nature consists of fragile, interwoven systems, where a disruption to one strand can ripple throughout the entire web (Cook, Reference Cook1977). Yet, dominant forestry models often overlook this unpredictable responsiveness. For instance, while the British Columbia government claims to be “a world leader in sustainable forest management” (Government of British Columbia, 2025), the province is home to 1,807 species of plants and animals at risk of extinction (The NarWhal, 2019). This reminds us that, while nature is resilient, it also responds in complex and often unexpected ways. Shouldn’t environmental education, then, place greater emphasis on this unpredictability and encourage deeper attentiveness and sensitivity in how we relate to the natural world?

SM: TM’s inquiry into deeper attentiveness calls for disrupting the anthropocentric impulse of exercising scientific processes which calls for extracting meaning from the natural world. This disruption requires humans to attune to the dynamic and flowing rhythms of the more-than-human. As Shiva (Reference Shiva1988) reminds us of the continuous and unpredictable interplay between sentient and non-sentient beings; TM’s questioning on unpredictability becomes a deeply personal inquiry for me. I begin to reflect on a lived experience with the unpredictability of the natural world, that became a foundation for my environmental education practice. One day, I leave my house and go for a walk. Mind stimulated with the daily, weekly, monthly deadlines, circling the same concrete path multiple times, giving a cursory glance at two young kids kneeling on the ground, looking at something, and then talking to each other. On my third round, coming closer to these kids, I pretend to tie my shoelaces to hear their conversation. A thin stream of water flowing from somewhere, small plants and grass emerging near the stream, a procession of ants moving parallel to the stream, unable to cross the stream to trail on the other side. The younger kid expressed inquisitiveness “where are these ants going? May be home? Is their home on the other side of the stream?” The older kid inquired, “what if the ants cannot swim? How would they reach home on the other side?” I kept listening to them, supressing my impulses to answer all their questions through my scientific and detached lens. Just then a leaf falls from a tree creating a bridge to cross the stream. Surprising all three human spectators, the ants mounted on the leaf and crossed the stream to reach home. This incident so simple yet so powerful brought in the memory of my field trips in higher education. On all these field trips, the concentration was on sighting different species of wildlife, collecting some in glass jars to be experimented in the laboratory while inspecting others to be documented in the journals. The young kids’ innocent and wondrous inquiries brought me to question my own understanding of the more-than-human being as others.

TM: SM’s story offers important insights for environmental education, particularly when we consider the unpredictability of the natural world. Ecological systems cannot be fully understood through human prediction or pre-designed forestry models; instead, they are shaped by constantly shifting relationships, where elements may disappear, reappear, or transform in unexpected ways (Evans et al., Reference Evans, Norris and Benton2012). For instance, in British Columbia, the scale and severity of devastating wildfires often exceed scientific predictions due to the accelerating impacts of climate change, requiring scientists to continually revise their models (Lindsay, Reference Lindsay2018). In SM’s story, the ants’ survival depended on an unpredictable event: a falling leaf forming a bridge, reminding us that linear, rational, and causal explanations alone cannot fully capture the dynamic and uncertain patterns of nature.

Second, to grasp this unpredictability, we must move beyond purely cognitive understanding and engage our whole bodies – our intercorporeal experience – through seeing, smelling, touching, listening, and sensing the natural world (Payne & Wattchow, Reference Payne and Wattchow2009). These sensory encounters open up new ways of imagining our relationship with nature and help us interpret it through an embodied relational lens. This also helps explain why Mumma emphasises spending time with sick plants and communicating with them. Her way of connecting with plants goes beyond verbal interaction; it involves closely observing their symptoms, listening to what they might be “saying,” and perceiving their condition through an embodied presence. Such intercorporeal experience, developed over time through meaningful encounters with the natural world, fosters a sense of love, respect, and awe. It also nurtures an ethic of care grounded in reciprocity. While SM initially questioned whether watering, providing good soil, and fertilising were enough to raise plants, the story suggests that caring for nature is not just about mechanical tasks. Rather, it is about cultivating embodied, sensory attentiveness by learning to notice what often goes unnoticed and responding with thoughtful, compassionate action.

Closing: Dialogic learning, relational knowing, and their significance to environmental education

Question 1: How does this pluralistic, relational, and dialogic approach to knowing inform and enrich the practice of environmental education?

We believe that this dialogic methodology – which revealed plural ways of knowing by opening cracks in the monologic, singular, and static ideologies that often dominate forestry – holds significant potential to enrich environmental education. Our reflections, shaped through dialogic exchange, were not predetermined; rather, they emerged organically from lived experiences, generating new inquiries and evolving identities in relationship with the natural world. In this way, dialogic practices offer a powerful pedagogical approach for environmental education, strengthening ecological identities rooted in relational epistemologies and ontologies.

As demonstrated in our own dialogic exchange, the aim was not to provide definitive answers, but to engage in a process of responsive witnessing that unfolded through intercultural and transdisciplinary perspectives and reflections. Tihanov (Reference Tihanov2018), who translated and interpreted Bakhtin’s work, emphasises that the transdisciplinary nature of dialogic engagement can open space for new relationalities and the co-construction of identity. He writes, “Often elusively, but always extremely stimulatingly, Bakhtin lifts the categories he employs above the conceptual constraints of their home disciplines and instils in them new life by obliterating their previous conceptual identity” (Tihanov, Reference Tihanov2018, p. 5). In this way, dialogic methodology helps learners shape their own meanings of the forest as part of their evolving identities.

However, we must note two important considerations when applying dialogic methodology to environmental education. First, educators need to carefully nurture learners’ dialogic stance. For example, if we had approached the exchange from a monologic or fixed ideological position, we would not have been able to deepen or even sustain our inquiries. As White & Janfada (Reference White and Janfada2025, p. 30) argue, the stance one adopts “opens their minds to different possibilities – it helps to see those interpretations.” In other words, the extent to which reflections can be shared meaningfully and collectively depends on learners’ willingness to adopt and embrace a shared stance of openness, relationality, and responsiveness.

Second, educators should highlight the role of generosity in dialogic learning, as dialogic processes, particularly face-to-face oral exchanges, can often be disruptive and at times may even unsettle or offend others by introducing unexpected thematic shifts, contrasting interpretations, or challenges to deeply held perspectives. These disruptions, however, also contribute significantly to maintaining the dynamism and openness of dialogic engagement. By foregrounding generosity, educators can help learners cultivate a generous expressive tone that allows space for difference, contradiction, and juxtaposition while remaining open and respectful (Archer & Kelen, Reference Archer and Kelen2015). In doing so, dialogic environmental education becomes an inclusive and evolving space for co-learning and co-becoming.

Question 2: How might the co-created knowledge emerging from our dialogic exchange offer new insights or implications for reimagining environmental education?

A key insight for environmental education emerges from the Asian epistemology and ontology that recognise the ways of reflecting and inquiring, which move beyond technical problem-solving and monologic understandings of forests, as playing a key role in deepening relational ecological awareness. To do so, learners must critically examine their philosophical stance and recognise that to live well is to live with and through others, in mutual reverence and reciprocity. This shift – from viewing the Earth as a resource to understanding it as a shared, living family – is critical to reimagining environmental education as more relational, inclusive, and ecologically grounded.

One powerful insight from this dialogic exchange was that, as we come to know our relationships with the more-than-human world, we realise we are not merely living with nature but are being given life by it. This is particularly reflected in Asian epistemologies and ontologies, which emphasise that humans are dwelling beings deeply embedded within the more-than-human world (Shiva, Reference Shiva1988; Watsuji, Reference Watsuji2001). For example, if a human were suddenly transported into outer space without any life-support systems, they would not survive more than a few minutes. This indicates a profound reality: our existence is made possible only through the ongoing support of others (e.g., air, water, soil, plants, animals, insects, people) within the entire web of life surrounding us. These others, in turn, are also supported by further relationships; even a rock may shelter an insect whose presence contributes to the pollination and growth of plants that humans rely on. Thus, reverence and respect for the natural world do not emerge from abstract or human-centred ideas of environmental stewardship, but from the humble recognition that our lives are continuously sustained by countless others (Kumar, Reference Kumar2002; Shrivastava, Reference Shrivastava and Chaudhuri2020; Suzuki, Reference Suzuki1959; Watsuji, Reference Watsuji2001).

Moreover, the realisation that we are being given life cannot be understood through intellect alone; it must be felt through embodied, sensory, and place-responsive experiences over time, as Mumma showed in SM’s story. In this sense, “unlearning time” becomes an essential part of environmental education by immersing oneself in embodied encounters with the more-than-human world. Through this intercorporeal sensory experience, learners move beyond their personal preconceptions of what nature is and open themselves to unfolding new experiences that guide them to perceive new ways of sensing, knowing, and relating to the world in ways that help them inquire into how their lives are sustained by countless others. These experiences re-centre the natural world by decentring human perspectives, amplifying learners’ receptivity, and deepening their appreciation for the many ways in which their lives are supported. Such an intercorporeally based stance in environmental education offers not only ecologically aware knowledge, but also ethical and relational transformation.