You might well be right.
My opinions are colored somewhat by some of the radical buildings appearing here (Seoul), with free-form geometries and very organic shapes - generally museums and similar public buildings. They have very high-tech surfaces, with butt-jointed curved panels, and no real external definition of walls, roof or floor (though they are tending to plant grass on the topmost sections). They both fascinate and repulse me.
Their aesthetic strikes me as being unnatural, notwithstanding their organic shapes and snake scale-like cladding. Unnatural, because they do not pay proper homage to gravity, and to the elemental forces of nature.
By contrast, traditional architecture tends to respond with subtle mastery to the environmental forces from which it provides shelter, of sun, wind, rain and snow.
I agree your point 2 re survival suit zips is quite relevant, excepting that I would like my wilderness experience to be more than survival, and more a dwelling (verb) in the wild; I want my shelter to celebrate beingness in the cosmos, which is something traditional (sacred) architecture does provide. The environment in which I then operate is not just the physical, but extends to the metaphysical.
For somewhat similar reasons, I disagree with your point 4; for me, the act of passage through a doorway partakes of a ritual movement from one state of being to another. Traditional architecture is rich in this sense of gesture and ceremonial transition, so the notion of sweeping a curtain aside to pass through, of allowing it to sometimes partially close the opening, to act as a screen, like a veil that reveals as it conceals, which is something that I find more satisfying.
When I look at nature, I see the flap in many guises, in the eyelid, the fingernail, and the overhang of the brow. By contrast, I don't see the butt joint in (animate) nature; and even tectonic plates, where they meet, slide upon one another. I see your reductionism to a minimal serviceable opening as a machine aesthetic, that reduces the richness of spatial gesture and of depth of meaning to an idealized homogenized purity of instantaneous transition and transformation. But I would like to dwell, as I pass through, to metamorphize; as I would like the rain to take its time, in shedding itself from my shelter, to pond and to drip, and to evaporate...
So the tent/tarp/shelter becomes not just a highly functional machine, but an expression of something deeper, of some valued insight into the heart of nature.
At this point, I think I can sense the stars preparing to barf on me, so I had better shut up. As I said at the start, you may well be right; and I appreciate your insights and speculations...