We’re all familiar with nostalgia: the sadness we feel when thinking about places we love but don’t visit anymore. Solastalgia is nostalgia’s dark cousin: the sadness we feel when looking at places we once loved, but which have been irreparably transformed from how they used to be.
Maybe you can think of a specific moment in your life when solastalgia suddenly set in. Maybe when you were a child, the forest or field you played in was bulldozed to make room for more houses. Maybe you went to a favorite creek one day, only to find it had just been paved over. Many people who consider themselves environmentalists describe just such an experience as a defining moment in their lives, the time when they first understood that natural places matter and must be actively preserved.
Maybe solastalgia has set in for you more slowly. Maybe as you drive around your town, you say “That used to be farmland, and that used to be farmland, and that used to be farmland.” But the housing developments and strip malls sprung up one at a time over decades, and there was no specific day when you realized that the character of your community had changed.
Or maybe your family has lived in the same home for generations, and by talking to your parents and grandparents, you can trace a slow history of the surrounding hills being gradually deforested and then blasted apart for mining operations. The view from your house is no longer what it was when your ancestors settled in this spot, and you’ve lost something that you valued about your corner of the world.
Nostalgia makes us sad because there is no going back, even if we can physically return to the place we love. The creek where we played as children may still be there, but we just can’t experience it the same way as adults. We can walk the halls of our old high school, but we can’t recreate the good times we had with our friends.
Solastalgia makes us sad because what we loved is gone, irretrievably. We can’t go back to the neighborhood woodlot to stand in the cool shade and remember the adventures we had there when we were young, because the woodlot is now a treeless private yard. We can’t take our children cycling on country roads and show them our favorite vistas from when we were their age, because those roads are now busy city streets, unwelcoming to cyclists, and the views of farm fields have been replaced by gas stations and convenience stores.
The world, including natural environments, is always changing. But in recent times, change is occurring fast enough that we can see it happening over a single lifespan. We feel sad about how things are because we personally remember how they used to be.
When change is positive, we may reminisce about what things were like before, while also appreciating how they are now. But when change is overwhelmingly negative – when cookiecutter suburbs march across endless acres of what used to be healthy nature – we’re left with a deep sadness about what we’ve lost, while having little offsetting happiness about what we’ve gained.
Like biophilia, solastalgia often gets brushed off as a kind of illness, even though it’s perfectly normal. Nowadays, solastalgia is increasingly recognized as a real and legitimate form of grief. While biophilia is characteristically accompanied by action to repair the distressing circumstance, the defining feature of solastalgia is that the damage cannot be undone on any timescale short enough to help the sufferer feel better. If you are experiencing severe solastalgia, a counselor may be able to help.