Having a plant in the house makes us feel good. It's true, but why? Greenery, in today's modern society that we have created, fulfills fewer functions than technology. But one benefits us and the other is useful to us (with a not-so-clear distinction). The reason is to be found in our history, as the scientist writer Giuseppe Barbiero tells us.

Love and survival. They are two elements linked indissolubly and in a primordial way. The kind of love that creates a relationship. A relationship between who? Or, perhaps, between what? There's little to do with sentimentality here. "Philía", in Greek, indicates friendship, sympathy, but also an affinity. And it is Biophilia we are talking about, the philía for "bíos," the love of life or what is alive. An innate condition, in our human nature. It is found in everyone, in each of us, so much so as to make experts consider it to be an evolutionary adaptation. "Love of life is based on empathy, and empathy for one's children increases reproductive success. Knowing how this evolutionary adaptation works can help us get better," explains Giuseppe Barbiero, Professor of Biology at Aosta Valley University and author of the book " Introduzione alla biofilia. La relazione con la Natura tra genetica e psicologia". Commonly, biophilia is associated with the well-being we experience when looking at a plant. In a certain sense, this may be the result, but the issue is, in reality, far more complex.
"Begetting children and caring for them is the first and highest form of love of Nature. Attention, wonder and empathy for offspring are fundamental adaptations for reproduction in our species and are functions that can extend and become love for Nature, of which offspring are an expression", Barbiero explains. "But alongside reproduction is biophilia as an adaptation for survival: loving life fosters an understanding of the environment. Each population knows its habitat, the resources it offers, and how to set up its safe havens. Shelters have characteristics that are, at least in part, obvious: the light, the temperature, the presence of drinking water. Others, on the other hand, are less obvious, such as the presence of living elements within the shelter, such as plants".
In a modern context, the search for a safe haven is not so complex, because we have learned to bend domestic Nature to our needs and ward off wild Nature. But this hasn't been a painless process. "Humans have been present on Earth for about 300,000 years. For 290,000 years, we have been dealing only with wild Nature: this relationship has shaped our senses and our ability to read the environment in search of safe places with sufficient resources". How? Through the plants: a place with abundant green indicates the presence of water, Barbiero explains: "Places with brown tones, on the other hand, are associated with possible survival difficulties. Here in the (brown) desert we look for the (green) oasis." For 290,000 years, the human brain has been accustomed to associating plants with survival, safety, and shelter. Then we invented agriculture and began to distinguish between wild vegetation (which are still called "weeds" in a vegetable garden) and domesticated vegetation. We began to see the world as good only insofar as it was shaped by our hands for our needs. The rest was – or, is – the enemy. Hence, the environmental consequences on the present world are clearly traceable, and not only in vegetation, but also in the way we manage animals. This, however, is another matter.
"Humans have created cities where even domestic Nature has been rejected", Barbiero continues. "Today, between roads and buildings, it would be inconceivable to incorporate a farm; no permit would be forthcoming. We have created with our own hands a world disconnected from Nature". However, our senses are still linked to the way of life that our ancestors followed for 290,000 years. We are, for all intents and purposes, their descendants. And our senses need continuous, not sporadic, contact with Nature. The natural environment, rich in vegetation, remains, for us, a place of well-being. The experience of lockdown proved it to us: even the most hardened lovers of urban life felt the need to walk in the mountains, parks, and gardens. Restoring the lost contact with Nature – a tenuous contact, yes, but a real one nonetheless – is simple and, if you will, immediate: just introduce some plants into your home.
"Thinking about how long we can go without plants is reasoning in terms of practical survival," the professor explains. "How long can we go without air? A few minutes. How long can we go without water? A few days. How long can we fast for? A month. This creates an order of importance in our physiological needs. Interestingly, plants meet all three of our basic needs: breathing oxygenated air, finding clean water and feeding ourselves." Chlorophyll photosynthesis operated by leaves ensures better air quality; stems and branches that grow green communicate the presence of water; fruits nourish us.
Permanent contact with vegetation stimulates our love of life, our biophilia. Through permanent contact, we can bring back to the surface this deep connection with living creatures that communicate to us that the environment is positive. If we look around us, many of the spaces we live in – between offices, homes, educational and health facilities – create a reaction in our brains similar to what we might have in the Sahara desert. If we stay immersed in these places for too long, our attention drops, tension rises, and we fail to get in touch with ourselves and our well-being. And, then, we need to move away from the artificial desert. In recent years, research and experimentation have flourished in the area of forest kindergartens, the creation of ad hoc gardens connected to health and rehabilitation facilities (both for patients and for family members and caregivers); forest bathing or, more simply, the frequenting of natural open environments has exploded. Because, in our brains, which are as old as our species, we still feel that greenery represents something beautiful to us. Something that couldn't be more right.