C H A P T E R 1 1

ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS

Jeff Golliher

CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION (JEFF GOLLIHER) ........................................................................................................... 437
Environmental philosophy and ecology as values criticism ........................................................ 437
The earth and sustainable communities ................................................................................... 445
Has a global ethic emerged? .................................................................................................. 446
Conclusions: biodiversity and the sacred ................................................................................. 448
ALL MY RELATIONS: PERSPECTIVES FROM INDIGENOUS PEOPLES (CHIEF OREN LYONS) ...................................... 450
HOMELESS IN THE ‘GLOBAL VILLAGE’ (VANDANA SHIVA) ........................................................................... 452
SPIRITUAL BELIEFS AND CULTURAL PERCEPTIONS OF SOME KENYAN COMMUNITIES
(MARY GETUI) .................................................................................................................................. 455
ECOFEMINISM: DOMINATION, HEALING AND WORLD VIEWS
(ROSEMARY RADFORD RUETHER) ........................................................................................................... 457
TWO CONCEPTIONS OF BIODIVERSITY VALUE (JOHN O’NEILL AND ALAN HOLLAND) ........................................ 460
Sustainability and natural capital ............................................................................................ 461
Time, history and biodiversity ................................................................................................. 461
KANTIAN AND UTILITARIAN APPROACHES TO THE VALUE OF BIODIVERSITY (MARK SAGOFF) .............................. 463
Two frameworks for decision-making ...................................................................................... 463
Is human well-being the only obligation? ................................................................................. 465
SELLING PIGEONS IN THE TEMPLE: THE BLASPHEMY OF MARKET METAPHORS IN AN ECOSYSTEM
(TIMOTHY C. WEISKEL) ....................................................................................................................... 466
NATURE AND CULTURE IN THE VALUATION OF BIODIVERSITY (BRYAN G. NORTON) .......................................... 468
New beginnings ..................................................................................................................... 469
Valuing biodiversity in place ................................................................................................... 470
ON BIORESPONSIBILITY (JAMES A. NASH) .............................................................................................. 471
BIODIVERSITY, FAITH AND ETHICS (DIETER T. HESSEL) ................................................................................. 474
INTERBEING: PRECEPTS AND PRINCIPLES OF AN APPLIED ECOLOGY
(JOAN HALIFAX AND MARTY PEALE) ...................................................................................................... 475
The ramifications of dualism ................................................................................................... 475
Shifting the emphasis to relationships ...................................................................................... 476
PSYCHOSPIRITUAL EFFECTS OF BIODIVERSITY LOSS IN CELTIC CULTURE AND ITS
CONTEMPORARY GEOPOETIC RESTORATION (ALASTAIR MCINTOSH) .............................................................. 480
Celtic nature poetry ................................................................................................................ 480
Cauterization of the heart? ..................................................................................................... 481
Towards a cultural psychotherapy ........................................................................................... 482
THE ECOLOGY OF ANIMISM (DAVID ABRAM) ........................................................................................... 483
WHERE IS THE ENVIRONMENT? (JAMES HILLMAN) .................................................................................... 486

435
 RECONNECTING WITH THE WEB OF LIFE: DEEP ECOLOGY, ETHICS AND ECOLOGICAL LITERACY
(FRITJOF CAPRA) ............................................................................................................................... 489
Deep ecology and ethics ......................................................................................................... 489
Ecological literacy .................................................................................................................. 490
FORMING ‘THE ALLIANCE OF RELIGIONS AND CONSERVATION’ (TIM JENSEN) ................................................ 492
Common key-concepts of the religions ..................................................................................... 494
Religiously based projects ....................................................................................................... 496
The ‘greening’ of world religions ............................................................................................. 497

TEXT BOXES
BOX 11.1: ART AND ENVIRONMENT, OR LOOK HERE (MARGOT MCLEAN)

BOX 11.2: WE MUST TRY TO HEAR OTHERS (FINN LYNGE)

BOX 11.3: TEN THESES FOR BIOLOGICAL DIVERSITY AND ETHICAL DEVELOPMENT (DENIS GOULET)

BOX 11.4: TOWARDS A GLOBAL ENVIRONMENTAL ETHIC (J. BAIRD CALLICOTT)

BOX 11.5: ‘ALL THAT IS – IS A WEB OF BEING’ (WILLIAM N. ELLIS AND MARGARET M. ELLIS)
BOX 11.6: OF PANDAS AND RELIGION: THE ROAD TO ASSISI (MARTIN PALMER)

BOX 11.7: ‘COMMUNING BEFORE SUPERMARKETS’AND ‘BRINGING IN THE SHEAVES’ (CARTER REVARD)
Ethical, Moral and Religious Concerns
Jeff Golliher
Introduction (Jeff Golliher)
Environmental philosophy and ecotheology
as values criticism
This chapter examines the principal philosophical,
cosmological and ethical ideas that inform secular
as well as religious views about biodiversity and the
unravelling web of life. Special attention is also given
to the ecologically-rooted beliefs of the major world
religions. Although definitions of religion are espe-
cially ambiguous, they provide an appropriate point
of departure. Geertz’s (1965) classic anthropologi-
cal definition includes the following: ‘a system of
symbols whose function is to establish pervasive
moods and motivations and to formulate conceptions
of a general order of existence with an aura of factu-
ality that those moods and motivations seem realis-
tic’. The function of religion is central to Geertz’s
definition, while its focus on the ‘general order of
existence’ characterizes its cosmological scope. This
view of religion is important because one’s appre-
ciation of cosmology is broadly equivalent to our re-
spect for and knowledge of ecological systems
(Reichel-Dolmatoff 1976; Metzner 1994).
Most scholars interpret the time frame of
10,000BP as a great cosmological divide and a
threshold of significant historical transition in hu-
man culture. A number of complex, interrelated cul-
tural changes occurred about this time, for example
intensive cultivation based on the domestication of
plants and animals, the rise of patriarchies, class
stratification, and the origin of cities, to name a few;
and with them, a clear emphasis on world rejection
emerged on the human scene (Ruether, this chap-
ter). This cultural divide has a bearing on popular
assumptions about the meaning and purpose of reli-
gion. Traditional cosmologies are sometimes inter-
preted, especially through Western eyes, as
inherently ‘spiritual’ rather than ‘religious’, because
they effortlessly integrate intimate connections with
nature and practical knowledge of ecosystems with
everyday patterns of living. Anthropological studies
suggest that the term ‘religion’ as it is often under-
stood in modern industrial societies can be mislead-
ing when it is used to describe traditional, indigenous
or pre-modern cultures (Getui, this chapter). Moreo-
ver, Jensen (this chapter), who notes that indigenous
cosmologies cannot be described in a single, mono-
lithic manner, dispels the ‘myth of primitive ecologi-
cal wisdom’ on which many modern religious
reconstructions of history are based.
The fragmentation of modern industrial socie-
ties into separate realms (e.g. political, economic,
religious) is a recurring pattern in the historical proc-
ess of cultural evolution. To maintain unity, modern
cultures coalesce around values shared by different
institutions in a reciprocal and mutually reinforcing
way. Max Weber’s (1904) classic sociological account
of the relationship between the Protestant work ethic
and the rise of entrepreneurial capitalism illustrates
this pattern. Thus, ‘the religion’ of modern societies
includes much more than the official beliefs held by
religious institutions; it draws upon the values,
moods and motivations of the entire interlocking
political, economic and religious complex. From an
ecofeminist perspective (Ruether, this chapter), this
process has been aptly described as the ‘uprooted-
ness of development’ (Shiva, this chapter). The dis-
tinction between institution and experience may be,
in itself, a product of the separation of spirit from
matter, culture from nature, and ethics from science.
An opposition between spirituality and religion
implicitly shapes the nature of ongoing debates about
environmental ethics and the meaning of ecology. It
underlies the great significance attributed to sha-
manistic experience among spiritual seekers in the
West, but it can also lead to warnings from indig-
enous peoples about the potentially disingenuous
nature of ‘white shamanism’ (Rose 1992). Western
explorations in shamanistic traditions may assist
ecologically and spiritually uprooted people to re-
gain connections with the sacred through nature. Yet
without a genuine commitment to work on behalf of
indigenous peoples in terms of basic human rights,
these spiritual explorations amount to another ex-
ample of Western cultural exploitation.
Individuals in any society are expected to be
morally responsible in the context of their cultural
norms. A larger perspective, however, is required to
account for the mental, spiritual and ecological cri-
sis of modern times. In this regard, Hillman (1988)
makes an enlightening distinction between universe
and cosmos. In the mechanistic Cartesian world-view,
‘universe’ connotes desacralized, empty space filled
with ‘discrete islands of phenomena requiring
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 437
complex explanatory connections’. In an ecology-
based world-view, ‘cosmos’ refers to a ‘body of life’.
In the former, the universe becomes significant when
people attribute meaning to it; in the latter, the cos-
mos is meaningful in its own existence.
It would be misleading to assume that modern
industrial culture has been entirely devoid of a cos-
mology since the onset of the Enlightenment or the
rise of Christianity. A Western cosmology exists, but
it has been shaped by certain anthropocentric,
mechanistic and dualistic assumptions underlying
the ideal of unlimited progress. These themes have
figured prominently in the politico-economic systems
of capitalism and communism, and both have fuelled
the systematic genocide of indigenous and traditional
peoples and the plunder of much of the natural world
– rationalized by the assumption that nature is ei-
ther dead or simply a warehouse of resources to be
consumed for human benefit. Orr (1992) summarized
the strangely mirror-image relationship between
capitalism and communism in this way: ‘Communism
has all but collapsed because it could not produce
enough; capitalism is failing because it produces too
much and shares too little ... Neither system is sus-
tainable in either human or ecological terms’.
Any discussion of ecology and cosmology rests
upon difficult questions surrounding four interrelated
ethical positions: cultural relativism, moral relativ-
ism, moral pluralism and ethical monism. These are
controversial and highly abstract subjects, yet they
encapsulate assumptions about the nature of unity
and diversity in human affairs and continuously
shape the conduct of international, intercultural and
interreligious relations. Cultural relativism recog-
nizes that different cultures embody different ways
of perceiving the nature of right and wrong
(Herskovits 1964). The philosophical position of
moral relativism, which is more extreme, holds that
there is no ‘objective’ (i.e. rational) standard for
making moral judgements (Singer 1979). The com-
plex implications of moral and cultural relativism
have a huge bearing on efforts to meet the challenges
of the environmental crisis. For example, one would
reasonably have expected the inter-faith religious
leaders who gathered in Assisi (Jensen, this chap-
ter; see also Appendix 2) to form a unified moral
response around environmental issues. Their com-
mon interest in reversing ongoing extinctions, for
example, would contradict the position of moral rela-
tivity, at least among the world’s religions. (Appen-
dix 2 provides a summary of statements of the
religious groups that participated in the Assisi Con-
ference.) Yet, the moral responses of the Assisi par-
ticipants might differ or come into conflict when local
decisions concerning energy usage, the rights of non-
438 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
human species, or the environmental impact of eco-
nomic development projects are taken into account.
Examples like this enter into the debate be-
tween the philosophical positions of ethical monism,
which seeks to discover or derive a set of master
principles, a meta-ethic, to guide the global commu-
nity as a whole, and moral pluralism (Stone 1988),
which challenges the assumption that a single glo-
bal ethic can be reconciled with the complex moral
and ecological dilemmas of everyday living. These
positions not only reflect the complex and politically
charged relationship between unity and diversity in
religious and ecological terms, but also call atten-
tion to the historical legacy of Western and Chris-
tian colonialism. Callicott (Box 11.4), for example,
argues that the formulation of a global ethic which
does not compromise the integrity of local cultures
and ecosystems is a necessary and worthy goal; while
Jensen (this chapter), who has the evidence of his-
tory on his side, adopts a more cautious perspec-
tive. He points to the possibility that one or more of
the world religions might, even unintentionally, at-
tempt to seize the present ecological crisis as a self-
serving opportunity for ‘green’ proselytizing and/or
institutional expansion under the guise of protect-
ing diversity.
Nevertheless, religious and philosophical con-
tributions to the environmental movement aim to
raise our holistic awareness of the fact that a global
crisis actually exists by deepening our understand-
ing of ecological interdependence. David Quammen
(1996) puts it this way: ‘the web of life is unravel-
ling’. These arresting words force us to consider both
the virtually unimaginable scale of current extinc-
tions and the possibility that the human capacity for
creative imagination will diminish as biological di-
versity is lost. People may disagree about the rate
of ongoing extinctions or its causes, but the subject
of the debate itself has an eerie, surreal quality that
deeply disturbs the human psyche. Disturbances of
this kind may be a distinctively spiritual and eco-
logically-grounded response to an unprecedented
event in the cosmos. Eco-psychologists (e.g. Roszak
1992) claim that these disturbances originate, ulti-
mately, not within human consciousness but from
the web of life of which human consciousness is a
part. The fact that ‘disturbance’ has also emerged
as an organizing principle in the scientific study of
ecosystems appears to support this psychological
possibility (Capra, this chapter).
Disturbance is no longer regarded as a depar-
ture from the normal functioning of ecosystems or
communities, whose ‘health’ was previously defined
by the criteria of balance and harmony. Instead, theo-
rists see ecosystems in a state of constant flux
(Pickett and White 1985). From a psychological per-
spective, the implications of this shift are profound.
For example, should psychological disturbance in
response to extinctions and ecosystem destruction
be interpreted as a form of emotional imbalance or
mental aberration? To pose this question does not
mean that the terms ‘ecosystem health’ and ‘mental
health’ should be discarded, but it does suggest that
such disturbing responses in the human psyche are
signs of hope: an awakening of our forgotten, but
instinctual interconnections with nature that give
birth to new forms of artistic imagination.

Box 11.1: Art and Environment, or Look Here

Margot McLean

When speaking about art and the environment one must ask a few questions: What constitutes envi-
ronment? Is it to be perceived mainly as habitat? If so, what habitat? How does the public connect
with ‘environmental issues’, and how does the scientific study of ecological processes bear on the
mind and hand of the artist? Does the artist follow trends or advance societal consciousness? What
are the spiritual connections, and can a work of art challenge our habitual perceptions of how we look
at the world – how we ‘see’?
As a visual artist, I would like to take up one of these issues; namely, the challenge to our habits of
seeing. How we ‘look’ at what’s there, how we see the world, is directly related to how we regard it,
and therefore what we do with it. The more unconscious we are of our surroundings, the less we have
to take them into account and the more likely we are to neglect or abuse them. This is one purpose of
the artist: to make our perceptions more conscious.
Another purpose is to change perceptual habits, which is not a simple task in a place like Manhattan
where the pace is moving faster and faster and information overwhelms our perceptual apparatus.
Here, in New York, we are a culture that ‘looks’ just long enough to identify and classify. It’s easy, but
do we observe what is actually here? A tree, a mouse, a building – the world becomes generic. Moreo-
ver, doesn’t this inability to see diversity in the things around us add to our acceptance of a monoculture
and the loss of biodiversity? What about that particular tree that has been growing in that particular
place for the last 200 years, holding that specific ground together with its roots which spread halfway
across that town. Do we even have the capacity to respond to a particular tree rather than to trees in
general? I believe we do; however, there is a risk in seeing. The risk is that some unknown emotion,
some unknown feeling may be exposed, uncovered. To look carefully is to be surprised.
Artists have always tried to show things in a different way: to break habitual images and make fresh ones.
Artists are the culture’s image-makers. In our increasingly conservative climate, politically, art has taken
a marginal role in the shaping of philosophies and psychologies, and therefore has had little influence on
our thinking about the environment. This political climate is self-serving and human-centred. My notion of
environmental art is other than human-centred. Perhaps it is ‘place’ centred, allowing specific faces of the
world – particular animals and plants – to speak to human consciousness through the work.
For many years, my work focused on the more political aspect of our ecological crisis – which I
consider as my finger-pointing work. But I moved away from the more in-your-face kind of preaching
art because I realized I had failed to allow the spirit of what was being painted to enter into the piece.
It remained a political idea. A good idea, but not what I was trying to accomplish. It felt as if I were
worshipping at an altar that was far too strict, closing out other voices and emotions. I wanted to
create a prayer to those things other-than-human – a space where the viewer could enter and not be
preached at, but be left alone to look. Whatever it was that invoked in me to paint, that is what I
wanted to reverberate out to those who looked.
The first step in restoring the value of the ‘other-than-human’ world is to see the image of things as they are
– before scientific knowledge analyses it, before its place in the human scheme of things is assigned, before
our judgements about beauty and ugliness, good and bad are formed. The image will reveal meaning.
There is an objectivity in the eye perceiving the image of an animal, a street, a chair – and I think this
objectivity is like that of scientists and therefore of equal importance to understanding the world. This
creative eye allows things out there to show themselves beyond one’s own personal opinions and
feelings. David Ignatow once wrote: ‘I should be content to look at a mountain for what it is and not as
a comment on my life’.

ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 439

 Grounded in the study of ecosystems rather
than ecopsychology or ecotheology, the ‘biophilia
hypothesis’ (Wilson 1984; Kellert and Wilson 1993)
affirms a profoundly deep bond between humans and
the natural world, a connecting tissue that reminds
us of our extended family and evolutionary origins.
Wilson (1993) suggests these four areas for a bio-
diversity ethic: (l) biodiversity is the Creation; (2)
other species are our kin; (3) the biodiversity of a
country is part of its national heritage; and (4) bio-
diversity is the frontier of the future. They focus our
attention clearly on the hopeful possibility that work-
able alternatives to our present course can be found
with the sound application of wisdom and ingenuity.
Sagan and Margulis (1993) suggest that present bio-
diversity losses may be ‘balanced by an increase in tech-
nological diversity’. This arresting statement offers an
alternative to the pessimistic choice between perpetu-
ating our dependence on a few unsustainable forms of
technology or pursuing their complete elimination.
Debates about the ecology of disturbance and
hope form part of a larger critical discussion of val-
ues and a related commentary on the political sig-
nificance of environmentalism. The writing of
Thomas Berry (1988) demonstrates that the greater
purpose of religion and philosophy today is to un-
dertake this critical task, and he is joined by a large
number of environmental philosophers. Some of
these commentaries represent the creative analysis
of environmental philosophers conducting their re-
flective work in good faith. Others, which constitute
manipulative attacks on environmentalism, inten-
tionally confuse the issues at hand.
Having said that, the challenge of ecology to
the Western emphasis on individualism sometimes
results in the charge of ‘environmental fascism’
(Ferry 1992), specifically in reaction to religious and
liberal-democratic movements to extend legal rights
to animals. The assumptions that form the basis of
this critique are these: (l) an elevation of the moral
standing of non-human beings unjustly diminishes
humanity’s place in the cosmos; (2) the extension of
legal rights to nature cannot in itself be understood
as a sign that any given culture has become more
humane or ecologically benign. To counter charges
of this kind, Irene Diamond (1994) points out that if
genocidal efforts to eradicate indigenous peoples by
the sterilization of women had happened to a spe-
cies of tree or animal, ‘the outcry that would have
arisen would have been difficult to ignore, yet be-
cause it happened to Indian women little is even
known of what was happening’. Moreover, Callicott
(1994a) notes that environmental ethics are not a
substitute for the humanistic tradition of moral phi-
losophy, but an addition to it.
440 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
Fox (1990), who would agree with Diamond,
challenges the charge of environmental fascism in
his observation that ecosystems place limits on the
behaviour of all creatures. Democracies based on
ecological principles would encourage their members
to pursue their diverse interests, but ‘no one is above
the law’ – which is precisely the moral failure of fas-
cist regimes. In addition to this quasi-legal princi-
ple, according to Fox, an ecologically-rooted
democracy would promote the ideal that ‘no one is
above the ecology’. Ecofeminists make a similar claim
with reference to cultural, economic and political
systems built on a domination ethic (Ruether, this
chapter). For example, efforts to replace the earth’s
biosphere with a human-created technosphere
amount to a form of institutional violence. They not
only epitomize the values and goals of patriarchal
domination, but also expose its false premise that
natural processes can be overcome by technological
means.
Many of these complex issues rest on the dis-
tinction between our images of nature as opposed to
nature itself, and on the question of whether any
cultural knowledge of nature can ever be truly ob-
jective. Unlike ‘post-modern deconstructionism’, the
question here goes well beyond the recognition that
all forms of cultural knowledge are ‘interpretations’
of reality; it also addresses the ideological impact of
these interpretations on the environmental move-
ment and society as a whole (Soulé and Lease 1995).
For example, much of the environmental movement
internationally is located in and shaped by media-
saturated urban subcultures which have little con-
tact with or knowledge of ‘natural’ ecosystems. Thus,
urban subcultures might elevate the significance of
cultural meaning to a point where the objective sta-
tus of the natural world is replaced by myths about
it (Soulé 1995). Likewise, it has been wisely argued
that distorted images of nature and indigenous eco-
logical knowledge (Jensen, this chapter) might en-
ter into the thinking of the environmental movement
(or of its opposition) and this could undermine ef-
forts to protect biodiversity – although it is unclear
how this might actually happen. Rapid advances in
the technology of ‘virtual reality’ would complete this
nihilistic movement by replacing the web of life with
an electronic web of images, symbols and texts
(Shepard 1995). Hillman (this chapter) takes up a
portion of this complicated matter by addressing the
meaning of ‘environment’ in a way that deconstructs
and recreates the richness of human experience in
urban settings.
Environmental philosophers generally identify
three approaches to the academic field of ethics (e.g.
Callicott 1994a): (l) an anthropocentric approach in
 Box 11.2: We Must Try to Hear Others

Finn Lynge

Humanity is torn between diverse identities on the one level and strong currents towards greater unity on the
other, and we are only at the beginning of finding out what is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ for humankind as a whole.
(Robert Muller 1984)
These prophetic words have been highlighted by remarkable developments and initiatives on the in-
ternational scene, as policy-makers try to safeguard not only biological diversity, but cultural diver-
sity as well. The 1980s saw the upsurge of basic concerns about the ethical dimensions of conservation
and the proper assessment of indigenous peoples in the use and management of nature. Ethical issues
seemed to spring primarily from a growing public concern for animal welfare, while questions of
defining the proper place for indigenous peoples in the consultation and decision-making processes of
nature management appeared from human rights-oriented NGOs.
Obviously, the two concerns ought not be in conflict with one another since both deal with rights and
duties on the part of humans. But in practice, the two have often clashed. The anti-seal-skin cam-
paigns, for example, have reoccurred since the 1970s depending upon public sentiment for the endear-
ing pups. These campaigns have resulted in the collapse of the international market for seal skins,
followed in turn by the collapse of the traditional Inuit economy. Seal skins are the only traditional
product of any consequence that the Inuit of the Arctic are able to market internationally, and Inuit do
not take pups. The Inuit seal hunt is certainly encompassed by the two international human rights
conventions of 1966, which guarantee that under no circumstances may a people be deprived of their
capacity to live by their own natural resources. However, when it comes to the seal-skin issue, practi-
cally no government has ever taken occasion of these conventions to assume an appropriate leader-
ship role in the shaping of public opinion.
In Tanzania, Western conservationists have been operative in motivating the government to drive the
Maasai off their traditional lands in order to create the – admittedly wonderful – natural reserves of
Serengeti and Ngorongoro. There has never been any proper consultation with the aboriginal peoples
of these lands, the Maasai or others, not to mention efforts towards creating mechanisms for their
participation in the decision-making process. Decidedly, in the Serengeti case, there has been, and
still is, a breach of the human rights of the local populations.
Two more examples need to be mentioned because of the attention they command in public opinion:
the campaigns against the fur trade, which are threatening the livelihood of remaining Indian cultures
of North America, and the campaigns against the trade in elephant ivory, which are contested by
States where elephants abound. In both cases, governments are faced with problems that cannot be
resolved simply by pointing to the principle of sustainability. There is no problem with the abundance
of the animal populations in question. They can readily be harvested in a sustainable manner. The
problem lies elsewhere. As it is stated in Caring for the Earth (IUCN/UNEP/WWF 1991): ‘Perhaps
there is no issue over which human rights and animals have collided with such emotional force. Such
conflicts reveal radically different cultural interpretations of the ethic of living sustainably. Ethical
principles need to be developed to resolve these dilemmas.’ Genuine global co-operation over the
principles underlying good nature management depends upon ‘the recognition of the interdependent
wholeness of humanity’.
We have a right to be listened to, and the fact that some countries have the economy to put up satel-
lites and dominate media and communications does not give them the moral right to impose their own
conservation rationale on others. That is no easy programme to set up. In the debate for and against
consumptive use of nature, polarization has become virtually extreme, and in the rare cases where
dialogue is attempted, the counterparts pose rather like two groups of people trying to shout some-
thing to one another, each from their side of the Grand Canyon. You can see the others moving their
arms and legs, but you cannot hear what they are saying.
Yet, there is no way around it. We must try and hear the others. In matters of conservation and nature
management there must be room for cultural diversity. Otherwise things will simply not function.
Animal rights as an ethical issue also entails respect for human rights, for the human being is also an
animal, and therefore the rights of all animals intertwine. The human rights of the 300 million indigenous

ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 441

 Box 11.2 (continued)
peoples of the world are also an ethical issue. They are entitled to co-decision in matters that touch
upon the environments that are theirs.
Nowadays, people actually believe that they have risen above nature, including the act of killing
animals. The fact, of course, is that every person who wears a leather belt or leather shoes has an
animal on their conscience. It is easy enough to convince people of that. The matter, however, be-
comes more difficult to deal with when the spotlight is shifted to synthetic materials. Superficially, a
nylon jacket is proof that man is in a position to rise above the Stone Age and the necessity to kill an
animal in order to protect himself from the elements. The person who wears a fake fur has no animal
on his conscience and does not clothe himself at the expense of nature. But is this really true?
No! The overwhelming threat against many plant and animal species – biodiversity – comes from two
sides: an ever more imposing invasion of wild animals’ habitats by industry and housing, and the long-
distance pollution of the pristine lands that remain. All scientific evidence shows that the invisible
pollution of the air, water and food chains around the world is a threat of a magnitude and gravity
never seen before. Air- and water-borne pollution with dioxin, heavy metals, persistent organic chlo-
ride compounds such as PCB and other toxins are not registered in the Arctic where there is no
production of any such substances. The result is a decrease in fertility among marine mammals, birds
and fish of all sorts.
Where does all this pollution come from? Among the biggest offenders is the synthetic material indus-
try. Very few industrial processes bring with them such obnoxious chemical pollutants as does the
production of fake fur, synthetic turf, thick plastics, nylon materials and the like. When one buys a fake fur,
no animal has been directly killed for the fulfilling of your wishes. On the other hand, one contributes to an
invisible process that is far more dangerous for animals than the activities of hunters.
The worst part of it is that consumers are unaware. We have all seen pictures of top models being
hired to protest the use of animals furs. But who has ever heard of protests with nude people bearing
signs that read, ‘I’d rather be naked than wear a fake fur’? Perhaps it is true that some of us resort to
such acts!
The real problem lies deeper. Many view the killing of a few living, beautiful animals as far more
repulsive than the more theoretical notion of some species becoming less reproductive – even though
the latter, unlike the former, could threaten the survival of the species as a whole. It is a matter of the
public having come to consider the killing of animals as by itself unethical. When modern consumers
find animal furs repulsive, it is not only due to their wish to avoid animal suffering. Many people
simply find the very thought of where the skin comes from extremely unpleasant. They suffer from the
anxiety of getting close to nature.
I personally have several times had the pleasure of taking European big-city tourists to the open-door
market in small Greenlandic towns where it is possible to pick out your own lunch from among the
freshly-shot game. This is where hunters sell their wares. There, one finds eider and auk, halibut and
seal, small cetaceans, caribou and musk ox, all just brought in from nature’s big storeroom – and
whole animals mind you, not neatly cut and plastic-wrapped as in a delicatessen. Here, you can point
at a cavity between bloody intestines and say: ‘I would like a slice of that liver, please’. It is then
delivered to you in a bag that you have brought along for the occasion.
The reaction from the European friends is always clear: This meat market is simply disgusting! It is
too close to nature for comfort.

which human welfare and concerns are regarded as
the primary measure of value; (2) a biocentric ap-
proach which considers criteria, e.g. conation or sen-
tience, for establishing the moral standing of
individual non-human life-forms; and (3) an ecocentric
approach which is informed by the ecology of whole
communities and their interdependent relationships.
Ecocentrism challenges the anthropocentric tradi-
tions of Islam, Judaism and Christianity (Appendix 2);
however, recent ecotheological work on biodiversity
from a biblical perspective also contradicts any
justification of human efforts to dominate our fel-
low creatures (Nash, Hessel, this chapter). Rep-
resentatives of Eastern traditions (Appendix 2;
Halifax and Peale, this chapter), on the other hand,
find the ecocentric approach to be generally com-
patible with their spiritual teachings. Although
some environmental ethicists (e.g. Attfield 1991;

442 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY

Norton 1995) and biologists (Wilson 1993) sug-
gest that the creation of a sustainable society and
new world-view may not require a non-anthropo-
centric model, ‘deep ecologists’ (Naess 1989;
Devall 1988; Fox 1990; Sessions 1995) seek to
dislodge the presumption of human uniqueness
and self-importance from the modern industrial
world-view. In this regard, the term ‘environment’
can be misleading because it creates a rigid, if not
false, distinction between the organism and na-
ture (Hillman, this chapter). Deep ecologists re-
place the distinction between ‘fact’ and ‘value’ (is
and ought) of ‘injunctive’ philosophy with an
‘invitational’ approach for the individual to real-
ize his/her identity as part of ‘the environment’
(Abram 1996 and this chapter). Thus, the hubris
in asking people ‘to take responsibility’ for the
environment is replaced by an invitation to real-
ize the depth of existing ecological relationships.
Ecofeminism traces the impact of unequal gen-
der and power relations throughout whole cultural
systems, and it asserts that anthropocentricism, in
theory, amounts to androcentrism (male-centred val-
ues and institutions) in practice (e.g. Ruether 1992
and this chapter; Adams 1993; Mies and Shiva 1993;
Plaskow and Chirst 1989; Primavesi 1991). The
domination of women and nature operate as twin di-
mensions of the same colonial process. The common-
place use of the term ‘nature’ as distinct from ‘spirit’
indicates the oppressive quality that patterns of lan-
guage can assume as they are shaped by an ethic of
domination. Ecofeminist ethics seek to reshape
androcentric, dualistic concepts of reality based on the
identification of women with the realm of nature (par-
ticularly non-human nature) and men with the realm
of spirit. Dualistic conceptions such as these have as-
signed women an inferior status in cosmological terms
and resulted in the ‘feminization of poverty’, which
correlates to a high degree with the destruction of eco-
systems.
Social ecologists (e.g. Bookchin 1980, 1981) also
hold the position that society and ecology are insepa-
rable. They severely criticize efforts to ‘integrate’ hu-
mankind with nature through a biocentric world-view,
which Bookchin (1992) criticizes as a form of ‘mysti-
cal ecology’ representing escapist tendencies originally
attributed to organized religion by Marxist theory. This
implies that politico-economic theory and practice play
little part in the creation of environmentally sustain-
able societies. Instead, social ecologists argue that
because human beings are already part of the evolu-
tionary process, strategies for achieving a sustainable
society must be based on the transformation of domi-
nant institutions by a dialectical process of ecological
consciousness and practice.
Sagoff (1996 and this chapter) bluntly asks:
‘Why does society care about the extinction of spe-
cies?’ The same person may respond by giving com-
plex, multi-layered answers that reflect deep
conflicts about the meaning and value of nature. For
example, the marketplace assigns values to biodiver-
sity based on cost–benefit indicators and consumer
preferences, while ‘consumers’ may have conflict-
ing opinions about nature both as economically use-
ful and as sacred. Conflict in the way people in
modern societies make moral judgements about na-
ture is accounted for by the scholarly distinction
between use values or instrumental values, on the one
hand, and intrinsic values, on the other (Norton, this
chapter; Sagoff, this chapter; Callicott 1994b). Based
on the difference between usefulness to humankind
and attributes other than human usefulness, this
distinction is more subtle than one might think. The
rationale for biodiversity conservation might be based
on instrumental values in the form of economic use-
fulness (e.g. food or medicine) or because of nature’s
religious usefulness. Instrumental values, then, re-
flect a broad anthropocentric pattern of thinking
about nature solely with respect to human uses (eco-
nomic, religious, aesthetic, etc.), rather than because
nature is valuable in itself.
Another question addresses the source of na-
ture’s intrinsic value: Are intrinsic values attributed
(i.e. subjectively) by humans or do they exist inde-
pendently of human presence (i.e. objectively)?
Rolston (1988) labels the view that nature’s in-
trinsic value is attributed by humans as ‘anthro-
pogenic’ not because it is based on an
anthropocentric perspective but because it fails
to recognize that people can appreciate values that
are ‘objectively’ given. Two additional questions
are of concern to the field of environmental eth-
ics. The first concerns the moral status of instru-
mental values: Are instrumental values, on which
economic behaviour is based, an expression of
moral thinking or are they value free? Some mar-
ket economists maintain that decision-making in
the marketplace is ‘value free’ because it rests on
‘factual’ or scientific principles. Others maintain
that these instrumental values express moral
thinking, regardless of the environmental impact
of free market economies. The second question
concerns the intrinsic value of individuals, classes
of individuals (e.g. species) or whole ecosystems:
What are the criteria for determining which spe-
cies qualify as having intrinsic value? This con-
cern follows long-standing efforts within religions
and elsewhere to protect the rights of animals
(Regenstein 1991). Sentience (awareness) and cona-
tion (the capacity to strive for certain ends) have been
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 443
suggested as criteria on which legal rights can be
extended from humans to other organisms
(Goodpaster 1978; Nash, this chapter). Debate con-
tinues as to whether those criteria apply to the moral
status of whole ecosystems, and the questions them-
selves imply that a high degree of ethical develop-
ment in modern society will be required to reduce
biodiversity losses.
Deep ecologists (e.g. Fox 1990) play down the
distinction between intrinsic and instrumental value
as they seek forms of self-identification with nature
that collapse the subject/object dichotomy. From a
spiritual standpoint, this implies some form of pre-
existing cosmological unity which the individual can
experience first-hand. For that reason, deep ecology
has been compatible with Buddhist-inspired explo-
rations in ‘practical ecology’ (Halifax and Peale, this
chapter), ecopsychology (Abram, this chapter) and
artistic reflections on the interplay between
extinctions and the creative process in humans
(McLean, Box 11.1).

Box 11.3: Ten Theses for Biological Diversity and Ethical Development

Denis Goulet

1. Ethical, or authentic, development requires biological diversity.

2. Ethical development also requires cultural diversity.
3. Ethical development requires plural modes of rationality for two reasons:
to destroy the monopoly of legitimacy appropriated by scientific and technological rationality,
and
to integrate technical, political, and ethical rationalities in decision-making in a circular pattern
of mutual interaction.
4. Ethical development requires plural models of development. There is no single and necessary
path to development predicated on energy-intensive, environmentally wasteful, culturally de-
structive and psychologically alienating models of progress.
5. Ethical development requires a non-reductionist approach to economics. As Schumacher (1973)
insists in Small Is Beautiful, ‘We must conduct economics as if people mattered’.
6. Ethical development requires pluralistic and non-reductionist approaches in technology. Tech-
nology is not an absolute value for its own sake which has a mandate to run roughshod over all
consideration. As Ellul (1980) urges, we must demythologize technology.
7. Ethical development requires an approach to human beings that is not exclusively instrumental.
Human beings are useful to other human beings and, to some degree, are used as aids in satisfy-
ing needs. But human beings have their ultimate worth independently of their instrumental value.
Indeed, if one universal value exists in human life, it is that humans are precious for their own
sake and on their own terms, independently of their utility to others.
8. The biosphere must be kept diverse both as an instrumental value to render ethical development
possible and as a value per se. Like cultural diversity, biological diversity is a value for its own
sake, although it is neither a transcendental nor an absolute value. It is, nevertheless, an end
value: it has value not merely as a means or as an instrumentality serving human purposes.
9. The question, ‘Is it possible to have piety toward nature without accountability to nature’s crea-
tor and to a supreme judge of human affairs?’ cannot be answered definitively and absolutely.
One recalls, however, that all great religions have preached stewardship of the cosmos and re-
sponsibility for nature’s integrity and survival based on ultimate human accountability to na-
ture’s creator or providential conductor.
10. If ethical development is the only adequate support system for biological diversity, reciprocally,
biological diversity is the only support system for ethical development.
Source: Goulet, D. 1993. Biological Diversity and Ethical Development. In: Hamilton, L.S. (ed.), Eth-
ics, Religion, and Biodiversity: Relations between conservation and cultural values. The White Horse Press,
Cambridge, pp. 37–38.

444 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY

The earth and sustainable communities
In the last fifty years, a systems view of life has re-
ceived increasing attention as a subject of scientific
study. The distinguishing feature of the systems ap-
proach is its integrative view of the process of life
and of the organization of living systems based on
complex networks. Gaia theory, which asserts that
the earth is a complex living system, is perhaps the
best-known and most controversial example of this
line of ecological inquiry (Lovelock 1979). Having
rich and diverse intellectual roots (from general sys-
tems theory, gestalt psychology, communication
theory, cognitive science and the study of complex-
ity, to quantum physics, chemistry and biology), the
systems view of life lies at the scientific forefront of
the ecological challenge to the mechanistic world-
view. The theoretical foundation of this field of study
was established largely by Maturana and Varela’s
(1980, 1987) seminal work on autopoiesis as the or-
ganization of living systems, i.e. living systems con-
tinuously renew their own structure and
organizational activity. The richly contextualized
networks of living systems make it difficult to argue
that any particular part of the whole has more in-
trinsic value than another. On the other hand, Fox
(1990) observes that autopoiesis qualifies as a clas-
sical criterion of intrinsic value because living sys-
tems cannot be considered as a means to an end;
rather, living systems operate as ends in themselves.
Recognizing that ecological systems are ‘sus-
tainable communities of plants, animals and micro-
organisms’, Capra (this chapter) infers several
characteristics of living systems which might apply
as principles of sustainability for human communi-
ties. Diversity, which is one of them, indicates resil-
ience and the capacity to adapt to changing
conditions. Sustainable communities are those that
maintain and renew complex networks of interde-
pendent relationships through which information and
resources flow to nurture the whole. The economic,
social and political implications of this principle are
profound, especially in connection with the
‘feminization of poverty’ (i.e. the globalized pattern
of women’s work becoming increasingly unpaid), the
growing disparity between the rich and poor, and the
power of the media to create uniformity around the
values of consumerism – all at the expense of cul-
tural diversity.
The idea that sustainable communities are criti-
cal to biodiversity conservation has long historical
roots which can be traced to Aldo Leopold’s (1949)
‘land ethic’ and the complementary notion of eco-
logical ‘citizenship’, i.e. ‘all individuals are members
of a community of interdependent parts’. Leopold’s
land ethic represents nothing new to most indigenous
peoples, but it has had a clear impact on ‘place-based
ethics’ (Norton, this chapter), the ethos of grass-roots
movements and sustainable communities, and dis-
cussions about the content and purposes of a global
ethic (Callicott, Box 11.4). Although the land ethic
is anthropocentric, it can also be seen as ecocentric
because the exercise of citizenship occurs within the
encompassing biotic community. Much of the sus-
tainable community movement has directed its at-
tention to the political and economic destruction of
small farmers as a result of the ‘green revolution’
(Berry 1977; Jackson et. al. 1984), globalized
agribusiness, the ideology of inevitability that per-
petuates the idea that small, relatively independent
communities will disappear. Increasingly, the sus-
tainable community movement attempts to maintain
the ecological viability of small towns and farms
whose agricultural existence was first threatened
during the sixteenth century when the enclosure
movement destroyed the European ‘commons’
(Rifkin 1991).
The land ethic and sustainable community
movement strongly caution against the belief that
global strategies will be an effective means for solv-
ing environmental problems. Wendell Berry’s (1989)
words on this reflect the common-sense wisdom of
the land ethic: humankind is simply ‘not smart
enough or conscious enough or alert enough to work
responsibly on a gigantic scale’. Following Berry, Orr
(1992) amplifies the ethical problems of inappropri-
ate scale by noting three of its primary consequences:
(l) preoccupation with quantity lessens quality; (2)
with increasing scale, the separation between costs
and benefits increases, making it easier to forsake
ethical responsibilities; (3) increasing scale encour-
ages the accumulation of political power based on
domination. In keeping with a more humble sense of
proportion, the ethic of right scale and the comple-
mentary ethic of sufficiency occupy a prominent po-
sition in the rationale for sustainable communities
by establishing them in local ecological knowledge.
The sustainable community movement rests on
a single principle of environmental ethics: the way
people relate to the earth is reflected in how they
relate to each other. This is particularly evident in
connection with agricultural systems and farming
practices. The technological and economic pattern
of replacing polycultural systems with the cultural
and economic homogeneity of monoculture not only
destroys biodiversity but also uproots local commu-
nities and destroys the livelihoods and cultures of
millions of people (Shiva, this chapter). Sustainable
communities challenge the downsizing and uproot-
ing process of economic globalization. The expansion
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 445
of corporate control over agricultural systems, most
recently through the development of genetically en-
gineered foods and the patenting of seeds and other
life-forms, has extended the enclosure movement on
an unprecedented scale (Shiva 1995a, 1995b, 1997).
This social, economic and political assault on eco-
systems further diminishes the prospects for partici-
patory democracy and local sovereignty by extending
corporate control into the molecular basis of life it-
self.
Has a global ethic emerged?
The impetus to formulate codes of global ethics in
this century originated in the experience and destruc-
tion of the two world wars, the Holocaust, and the
nuclear destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This
previously unimaginable scale of death brought with
it the realization that the persistent threat of world
domination must be countered by a new global insti-
tution for managing human affairs peacefully. Fol-
lowing the League of Nations, the United Nations
was established to accomplish this goal, and in 1948
the General Assembly adopted the ‘Universal Dec-
laration of Human Rights’. Evidence of further de-
struction was realized shortly thereafter when the
environmental crisis captured the attention of vision-
ary scientists like Rene Dubos, whose work advanced
the field of ecology as an academic discipline and
introduced its principles to international policy-mak-
ers. Subsequently, the UN has turned increasing
amounts of time and energy to articulating practical
measures for meeting the global environmental cri-
sis and to forming an international consensus around
a global environmental ethic. Much of this effort
came to fruition at the 1992 Earth Summit through
the passage of Agenda 21, the Rio Declaration, and
the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD).
The formulation of a practical and morally just
global environmental ethic relates to issues of cul-
tural relativism and moral pluralism, and it implies
that these can be reconciled with some form of cross-
cultural unity. Among environmental ethicists,
Callicott (Box 11.4) has argued that a global ethic
might be justified, if it is based on an array of di-
verse cultural interpretations rooted in local ecosys-
tems. The secular, scientific framework of such an
ethic was evident at the 1993 World Parliament of
Religions where the Declaration Toward a Global Ethic
was passed. This event was energized by the World
Wildlife Fund initiated Assisi Declarations, the tire-
less commitment of organizers like Martin Palmer
(1988; Box 11.6 in Jensen, this chapter) and theolo-
gians like Hans Kung (1991). Gatherings such as
these demonstrate that a cosmological foundation
446 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
for environmental ethics must be anchored in em-
pirical knowledge with the understanding that a glo-
bal ethic cannot be achieved at the expense of
diversity.
Roszak (1972) posed essentially the same ques-
tion in connection with the emerging field of ecol-
ogy: Will it become ‘the last of the old sciences or
the first of the new?’ He had in mind the emergence
of a new intellectual paradigm to replace the dualis-
tic one underlying our geographically expanding
materialistic world-view. Twenty-five subsequent
years of ecosystem destruction and biodiversity loss
not only give his question greater urgency, but also
suggest an expansion of its scope: Will the religious,
economic and political institutions of today become
the last of the old, or will they be first among the
new? With questions like these in mind, Todd and
Todd (1984) introduced the term ‘sacred ecology’ to
call attention to the unknowable ‘metapattern which
connects’ all life (Bateson 1979). Some might con-
sider the meaning of ‘sacred ecology’ to be redun-
dant or contradictory, perhaps an expression of
romanticized scientism or heresy; nevertheless, it
draws together the empirical study of natural systems
as a sacred art with the human acts of creative imagi-
nation as embodiments of an ecological process.
On the level of international policy-making, the
emergence of a new paradigm encapsulated by a glo-
bal ethic centres on the terms sustainability and sus-
tainable development, both based on the assumption
that development must be understood in terms of
present economic, social and political requirements
in combination with an environmental ethic that pre-
serves the ecological inheritance of future genera-
tions. Thus, sustainable development rests primarily
within the ethical domain of economic justice, which
has been the source of intense debates between (and
sometimes among) nations of the global North and
South (South Commission 1990) and within the reli-
gious community world-wide (Hallman 1994). This
debate turns on the twin assumptions that sustain-
able development will further the South’s technologi-
cal and economic dependence on the North, while
perpetuating a relatively high level of economic pros-
perity among Northern States and multinational cor-
porations who will continue to exploit natural
resources in the South for their own benefit.
Some environmental philosophers dismiss the
ethic of sustainable development as little more than
a popular cliche; others (e.g. Attfield 1991) acknowl-
edge its faults, but still support its pragmatic out-
line, ethical framework, and the apparently high
degree of political consensus surrounding it. Further-
more, these debates have formed the framework of
an ongoing decision-making process and opened the
 Box 11.4: Towards a Global Environmental Ethic

J. Baird Callicott

With the current and more ominous global dimension of the twentieth century’s environmental crisis
now at the forefront of attention, environmental philosophy must strive to facilitate the emergence of
a global environmental consciousness that spans national and cultural boundaries. In part, this re-
quires a more sophisticated cross-cultural comparison of traditional and contemporary concepts of
the nature of nature, human nature, and the relationship between people and nature, than has so far
characterized discussion. I am convinced that the intellectual foundations of the industrial epoch in
world history are an aberration, and agree with Fritjof Capra that a new paradigm is emerging that
will sooner or later replace the obsolete mechanical world-view and its associated values and techno-
logical esprit.
What I envision for the twenty-first century is the emergence of an international environmental ethic
based on the theory of evolution, ecology and the new physics, and expressed in the cognitive lingua
franca of contemporary science. Complementing such an international, scientifically grounded and
expressed environmental ethic – global in scope as well as focus – I also envision the revival of a
multiplicity of traditional cultural environmental ethics that resonate with it and that help to articu-
late it. Thus we may have one world-view and one associated environmental ethic corresponding to
the contemporary reality that we inhabit one planet, that we are one species, and that our deepening
environmental crisis is common and global. And we may also have a plurality of revived and renewed
world-views and associated environmental ethics corresponding to the historical reality that we are
many peoples inhabiting many diverse bioregions apprehended through many and diverse cultural
lenses. But this one and these many are not at odds. Quite the contrary; they may be regarded as a
single but general and abstract metaphysical and moral philosophy expressible in many conceptual
modes. Each of the many world-views and associated environmental ethics may crystallize the inter-
national ecological environmental ethic in the vernacular of a particular and local cultural tradition.
The environmental ethic based on contemporary international science and those implicit in the many
indigenous and traditional cultures can thus be fused to form a unified but multifaceted global envi-
ronmental ethic. Let us by all means think globally and act locally. But let us also think locally as well
as globally and try to tune our global and local thinking as the several notes of a single, yet common,
chord.
[Excerpted from ‘Towards a Global Environmental Ethic’, In: Tucker, M. and Grim, J. (eds), World-
views and Ecology: Religion, philosophy, and the environment. Orbis, Maryknoll, 1994.]

possibility of an alternative world-view (Norgaard • The current practice of sustainable development

1988). Such a process has been guided by the Earth
Charter, Agenda 21, and the Convention on Biologi-
cal Diversity (Norton 1997b). Some points of refer-
ence for this process are:
• Sustainable development may be feasible, in a
limited way, for economically advantaged na-
tions with the technological and/or financial
resources to accomplish it; but it perpetuates
the South’s economic dependence on dominant
Northern economic institutions.
• Sustainable development perpetuates unjust
political, social and economic structures and
cannot be justified on the basis of spiritual tra-
ditions.
• ‘Sustainable development’ is a contradictory,
anthropocentric concept based on the mistaken
assumption that the earth’s value is primarily
instrumental and utilitarian.
is based on the assumption that the conserva-
tion of nature is dependent on the generation
of economic capital, i.e. ‘the marketplace will
save the earth’.
• ‘Future generations’ is too remote a time frame
and too imprecise as a moral basis (‘inter-
generational justice’) for effective policy-mak-
ing.
Representatives of the religious community
have joined with environmental organizations in rec-
ognizing that biodiversity conservation, if it is to be
successful, must be addressed within the context of
sustainable development (WRI/IUCN/UNEP 1992).
However, the assumption that economic growth must
be the primary vehicle for achieving sustainable ways
of living continues to be a source of debate (Lele
1991). A crucial point of contention is this: Who re-
ceives the benefits of economic growth and who pays

ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 447

its costs? Biodiversity conservation depends on ap-
propriate financial incentives, but in practice money
alone may not help economically disadvantaged na-
tions (Perrings 1995), where biodiversity losses de-
pend on the creation of sustainable societies based
on the principles of ecojustice (IUCN/UNEP/WWF
1991). Dieter Hessel (1996; this chapter) has out-
lined four eco-justice principles constituting a glo-
bal ethic: (l) respect for and solidarity with people
and other creatures; (2) ecological sustainability as
it applies to habitual ways of living; (3) sufficiency,
equitable and just patterns of consumption; (4) genu-
inely participatory decision-making as to resource
management and economic development policies and
projects.
Disappointing results of the 1997 Rio+5 Con-
ference in New York may indicate that further con-
sensus may be difficult to reach. Non-governmental
organizations argue that the integrated goals of
Agenda 21 have been undermined in large measure
by the following factors: (l) accelerated implemen-
tation of a neo-liberal version of economic globaliza-
tion; (2) enormous environmental resources being
regarded as ‘externalities’ (O’Neill and Holland, this
chapter); (3) continuing unsustainable patterns of
production and consumption, primarily in the North;
(4) economic development projects and global trade
policies (GATT, NAFTA, and more recently the Mul-
tilateral Agreement on Investment) that ignore lo-
cal values and deny community participation and
rights; and (5) the North’s refusal to provide finan-
cial assistance and new technologies to the South.
Efforts to implement strategies for sustainable
development through agreements made by nations
are currently ineffective. The more likely catalysts
for change are non-governmental organizations and
local communities working with governments and
corporations (Viederman, Meffe and Carrol 1994).
The Canadian Council of Churches has recently sug-
gested that ‘sustainable communities’ rather than
‘sustainable development’ would be a more appro-
priate organizing principle for a global ethic (Com-
mission on Justice and Peace 1997).
Conclusions: biodiversity and the sacred
Oren Lyons (this chapter), Faithkeeper of the
Onondaga Nation, explains that ‘biodiversity’ really
means ‘all our relations’, and in doing so he ad-
dresses two enlightening questions: Who are ‘all our
relations’? And why should we care about them?
These questions have a deeply spiritual and cosmo-
logical significance that illumines the meaning of on-
going extinctions as a consequence of human action.
These questions are directed to every human being,
448 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
and they work as a test of wisdom, revealing the
depth of our character by the nature of our response.
For the present, most individual and collective
responses to the biodiversity crisis are mixed – and
this is better than no response. Informed responses
are often shaped by the sheer brutality of genocide
and ecocide, both being manifestations of religious
and political persecution. These responses are usu-
ally combined with an ironic blend of hope in and
suspicion of the promise of modern science. It is
possible, of course, that a mutually supportive rela-
tionship among ecofeminism, science and religion
may gradually overturn the dualism of matter and
spirit – and the domination ethic of people against
nature – in favour of a richly diverse living cosmos.
And yet this possible outcome is matched by the
danger of creating theocratic political regimes. De-
spite this, dialogue and collective action among in-
digenous peoples, scientists, economists and
theologians are hopeful. Motivated as much by awe
before the web of life as by commitments to particu-
lar theories or beliefs, people increasingly find com-
mon ground in their shared concern and love for the
earth.
Can modern institutions gain the wisdom to
reverse ongoing extinctions and environmental de-
cline? Perhaps so, and yet it would be dishonest to
offer anything but a realistic view. Beginning on a
smaller scale, the sustainable community movement
bears a certain resemblance to some historic mo-
nastic orders in their creativity, commitment to daily
spiritual practices, and ecological rootedness, but
they alone cannot bear the responsibility of trans-
forming the forces behind modern industrial culture.
Similarly, cost-effective strategies for the preserva-
tion of species and ecosystems may impact on the
global marketplace, but the sheer magnitude of bio-
diversity loss questions the power of consumerism
and modern institutional governance. Perhaps re-
structuring the anthropocentric, utilitarian institu-
tions of religion, economics and government may
reverse biodiversity loss. However, economic globali-
zation proceeds at a rapid pace, claiming more and
more of the web of life as ecosystems are degraded
into exploitable, consumable ‘resources’. To further
this process, the telecommunications industry places
increasing claims on the consciousness of people. A
mutually reinforcing arrangement between the val-
ues of the marketplace and the power of the global
media – which may qualify as ‘religion’ according to
Geertz’s definition – may provide many short-term
human benefits, but it is economically unjust and it
perpetuates an unsustainable way of living.
In that context, the goal of the world religions,
especially those in the West, must be to examine
and redefine their genuine purpose, taking into ac-
count habitual institutional objectives and then com-
paring them, for example, with the spirit and content
of the Assisi Declarations. This is a radical goal. It
represents the courage to rediscover religion’s foun-
dation in the web of life, rather than a willingness to
prolong the captivity of religion by narrow political
and economic interests. It is especially radical at a
time when so many institutions eagerly exploit in
the name of ‘progress’, while gaining the support of
consumers through ‘earth-friendly’ public relations
strategies. If the world religions choose to follow
this familiar route, then they will both forsake the
earth and commit a horrible betrayal of the sacred.

Box 11.5: ‘All That Is – Is a Web of Being’

William N. Ellis and Margaret M. Ellis

We belong to the Webs-of-being – to Earth – to Gaia.

Belonging is the protovalue from which all other values derive.
We belong to the physiosphere, to the biosphere, to the ideosphere.
We belong to Gaia.
As the aborigines said it, ‘We are the ownees of the land, not the owners of the land’.
As Chief Seattle said it, ‘We can not own the land, we are part of the land’.
We belong to and are inseparable from our culture – from one another – from Gaia.
We are interdependent with all that is.
Belonging is scientific fact; and belonging is more than scientific fact.
Belonging is not merely ‘being a member of’, but is being subject to – being in partnership with –
being responsible for.
We belong to – are responsible for – the webs-of-being – the universe – Earth – Gaia.
Belonging-to-Gaia means recognizing that we are enmeshed in the webs-of-being – that our well-
being is dependent on the well-being of Gaia – the well-being of one another.
If we destroy Gaia, we destroy ourselves.
Belonging implies ‘cooperation’ – working with what is – with Gaia – the webs-of-being.
Belonging implies ‘community’. In our face-to-face relationships with people we form community –
we belong to community.
Belonging implies ‘responsibility’. We are responsible for Gaia. We are responsible for one another.
Belonging implies ‘Love’.
We can not separate love (agape) from the fact that we belong to Gaia.
We love because we must love to preserve Gaia – to preserve ourselves – to preserve the webs-of-
being.
Cultures built on values other than belonging are doomed to self-destruct.
A culture built on ‘domination of the earth, and all the animals therein’ is doomed to disappear.
A culture based on ‘self-interest’ is doomed to disintegrate.
A culture based on ‘survival of the fittest’ will not survive.
A culture built on ‘competition’ will destroy itself.
To be stable and sustainable a culture must be based on cooperation, community, responsibility, love,
honesty, caregiving, and the other values which are implied by and intertwined with one another and
with belonging.
We can no more separate ourselves from belonging – from Gaia – and remain a viable culture than an
oxygen atom can separate itself from hydrogen atoms and retain the qualities of water.

ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 449

Because the genuine purpose of religion has never
been to divide, its urgent purpose today must be to
make peace in the present war against the web of
life. To reclaim this mediating purpose may be equiva-
lent to the recovery of an ancient cosmological vi-
sion rather than the discovery of a new one. Either
way, the web is unravelling and the call is one of
loyalty to the vibrating presence that is life itself.
All my relations: perspectives from
indigenous peoples (Oren Lyons)
The Lakota end all of their prayers with, ‘all my re-
lations’. This means more than their families or ex-
tended families. It includes all life upon this earth.
It is the recognition, respect and love for the inter-
connected ‘web of life’ that Chief Seattle spoke of.
It is instruction to the human community of our re-
lationship to the earth. We call the earth ‘mother’ to
emphasize this relationship. It is the recognition that
this mysterious power of the life-force springs from
the seed. This is the great regenerative law of life
upon this earth.
That is why water is the first law of life; all life
needs water to nurture and grow. The laws of the
natural world dictate these immutable realities. This
is what indigenous peoples understand. By defini-
tion, the term ‘indigenous’ means ‘belonging (to)’;
as a native; inherent, innate; and for us it means
from the land or from the sea. People who live in
one place for a long time know who they are. We
understand the long-term rhythms of the earth. We
have intimate contact with the life that surrounds
us because we are dependent upon that life. We per-
sonify the natural forces of nature to remind us how
we relate and to teach our children respect for these
forces. This underscores our connection and our re-
sponsibilities as part of these forces to maintain bal-
ance and harmony. With indigenous peoples respect
is a law: without it there is little chance for harmony
or community.
With respect comes harmony, justice, law and
community: hence, ‘all our relations’. Respect for
the laws of regeneration ensures endless cycles of
life. This is a gift of creation, one that demands ab-
solute fealty. The laws of nature are absolute. There
are no lawyers, evidentiary hearings, juries, judges
or habeas corpus. There is only the law. Violation of
these laws demands retribution and we suffer in
exact ratio to our transgressions. There is no mercy
in the natural law. Human cries go unheeded as do
all the cries in the natural world. It is the law of life
and death. We are dependent upon the earth our
Mother and the nourishment she gives to all life.
The creator laid down the laws of regeneration that
450 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
insures endless cycles of life. The earth does not
need us: we need her. She functions under these
universal laws that are immense beyond our com-
prehension. We, the Haudenosaunee, were instructed
to bind ourselves to these universal laws to ensure
the survival of our people. We know that other in-
digenous nations and peoples understand these laws
and instructions.
This knowledge and understanding gives our
leaders and peoples great vision. This then is what
we can offer humanity – the basis for making long-
term decisions. We are responsible to life in the fu-
ture. We are responsible to coming generations of
life that includes our children. This was made spe-
cific to us by the great peacemaker who raised our
nations into a great democratic confederacy he called
the Haudenosaunee (the Six Nations Iroquois Confed-
eracy). One of his most important instructions to the
leaders he raised was this:
‘When you sit and council for the welfare of the
people, think not of yourself, your family, nor
even your generation. But think of those com-
ing whose faces are looking up from the earth
and make your decisions on their behalf, even
unto the seventh generation coming. This will
insure peace for yourself and insure that the
seventh generation will enjoy the same things
you enjoy today.’
This is good advice for any leader because it
ensures long-term decision-making. There is evi-
dence that the peacemaker’s words continue today
not only in our councils but even to world leaders.
At the opening session of the 1992 Earth Summit in
Rio, Secretary-General Maurice Strong made direct
references to this instruction for the seventh genera-
tion and credited the Haudenosaunee for its origins.
In 1994, President Clinton invited American
Indian leaders to the White House for a discussion
on relationships between Indian nations and the
United States. He closed his address with the sev-
enth generation instructions from the Haudenosaunee.
So the instructions given to us by the Great Peace-
maker a thousand or more years ago lives on today.
Is this not relevant? Is this not proof that indigenous
peoples contribute to contemporary life? We know it
is, and that we continue to contribute to today’s so-
cieties in the area of new ideas, democracy and the
environment.
It was evident from our first encounters with
Christopher Columbus and the white man that our
basic philosophies on life were different. This caused
conflict which continues today. Why? Because in
these past five hundred years, the ethnocide and
genocide practised against our peoples were and still
are not able to change our basic beliefs or destroy
our cultures. We continue to exist and challenge the
systems of religions and philosophies of governance
of our white brothers from Europe.
Biodiversity is another term for life; it is an all-
encompassing term that reflects the technological
societies we live in today. It is a scientific term that
fills another category in a technological world. We
say, ‘all our relations’. Both terms talk about the
same things. But our term reflects association and
love. And that is the basic difference between indig-
enous peoples and Western societies.
Chief Matchewan of the Algonquins of Barriere
Lake said it quite simply: ‘Maybe we don’t know what
government scientists know, but they don’t know
what we know’. He was referring to the mismanage-
ment of their lands (including La Verendrye Wildlife
Reserve) by Quebec officials of Canada.
A contrast to the close relationships of native
peoples to land and life, the Christian philosophy of
the white man deserves to be quoted in full here. It
clearly emphasizes the ego-driven hegemony of Chris-
tian doctrine and because of who says it, cutting trees
down becomes an ethic of American society. John
Adams, one of the founding fathers of the United
States, said this as he outlined his family saga for
Benjamin Rush (July 19, 1812):
‘The first Adams in America was named Henry,
a congregational dissenter from the Church of
England. Persecuted by the intolerant spirit of
Archbishop Laud. He came with eight children.
This Henry and his son Joseph, my Great-grand-
father, and his grandson Joseph, my Grandfa-
ther, whom I knew although he died in 1739,
and John my father who died in 1761, all buried
in the congregational churchyard in Quincy, half
a mile from my house. Each of the five genera-
tions in this country has beared numerous chil-
dren, multiplied like the sands of the sea shore
or the stars in the Milky Way, to such a degree
that I know not who there is in America to whom
I am not related. My family I believe has cut
down more trees in America than any other
name.’ (Drinnon 1980)
Another Adams, Henry, author of The Great His-
tory of the United States (1889–91) and great-grand-
son of John Adams, wrote of white America in 1880:
‘From Lake Erie to Florida, in long unbroken line,
pioneers were at work, cutting into forests with the
energy of so many beavers, with no more express
moral purpose than the beavers they drive away’
(Drinnon 1980).
I think that Henry Adams does a disservice to
beavers by equating them with moral or immoral
human beings. But certainly there is a difference
between quiet beaver dams and the industry of tim-
ber companies. Does this attitude continue today?
Consider a recent report by USA Today.
‘Spotted Owls: The Fish and Wildlife Service
today is expected to propose less strict logging
restrictions in an effort to save timber jobs in
the north-west, home to the rare spotted owl.
The revised plan would restrict logging on 6.9
million acres instead of 11.6 million acres pro-
posed in April. And a Federal hearing in Port-
land Oregon today involved a US Cabinet level
panel dubbed ‘The God Squad’ to allow logging
on 4,570 acres of federal forest along the Or-
egon coast.’
How does this relate to biodiversity? Indigenous
peoples understand the forest as communities; com-
munities within communities. For instance, certain
plants grow around certain shrubs. Certain shrubs
grow around certain trees. This small community
may nurture specific insects that will only flourish
within such a community. In turn, certain communi-
ties attract certain insects and these insects attract
certain birds and other wildlife. Thus you have eco-
logical balance that serves a circle of life. Clear-cut-
ting destroys that community and in doing so affects
human health by destroying a source of medicinal
support; it destroys habitat for insects, birds and
wildlife in a sudden calamity. This action challenges
the laws of regeneration.
Planting one kind of fast-growing tree in its
place with an eye toward future cutting does not re-
place the communities of different trees (the ‘bio-
diversity’) that once were indigenous to that place.
The lesson is clear: economic motivation regarding
what Western society calls ‘natural resources’ oper-
ates against natural law.
We now come full circle on the issue of per-
spectives: the indigenous perspective inherent in the
phrase ‘all my relations’, and the Western perspec-
tive inherent in the scientific term ‘biodiversity’. Both
terms refer to the same reality of life on earth. But
the two perspectives on how this life is viewed are
as far apart today as it they were when Christopher
Columbus made his landfall in the Western Hemi-
sphere.
In my opinion, the indigenous perspective en-
compasses the long-term view of community and life,
and respects the laws of regeneration. The scien-
tific term is more interested in commodification as
the Christian ethic sees all non-human life as under
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 451
the ‘dominion’ of the human beings and more spe-
cifically, Christian human beings. Therefore, life be-
comes ‘resources’.
GATT and NAFTA are international trade agree-
ments that among other things specify natural re-
sources as another component of discussion and
access. The world market is a commodification of
all resources, which includes technologies, human
labour and natural resources. There’s that word
again. ‘All my relations’ gets lost in this clamour of
globalization or the ‘free’ market. We, the indigenous
peoples, have come to understand that nothing is
‘free’ in the Western world. Someone or something
pays for resources. We see the current practices of
some of the international corporations plundering
these ‘resources’ at the expense of future genera-
tions and life on earth as we know it.
We have had to learn English, and the mean-
ings of the language, often at the expense of our own
language. We have had to learn definitions of de-
mocracy, capitalism, communism, socialism and
Christian doctrine. One very important lesson we
learned here in America was that capitalism is not
democracy. Also, that our fundamental ethic of shar-
ing was against this principle of ‘private property’
and that individual rights superseded this right of
the whole, be it community or future generations.
We are alarmed at the lack of balance in today’s glo-
bal markets. Gro Harlem Brundtland spoke to these
issues in her report to the United Nations entitled
Our Common Future (WCED 1987). ‘Tribal and indig-
enous peoples will need special attention as the
forces of economic development disrupt their tradi-
tional lifestyles ... lifestyles that can offer modern
societies many lessons in the management of re-
sources.’
There’s that word again – resources. Until hu-
mankind can truly understand our relationship to the
earth and all of its amazing, beautiful and diversi-
fied life we will destroy ourselves. This battle be-
tween sustainable life-styles and world commerce
is in this and the next generations’ hands. The eco-
nomic forces of corporations are now larger than any
of the world nations. The technology of communica-
tions ‘cyberspace’ is the next area of development
and will further exacerbate the disparity between
the rich and the poor. Knowledge is power and the
instant communication of commerce and develop-
ment will place more power in fewer hands.
The indigenous voice is being heard by some of
the international community. The NGO community
that has developed around the United Nations is gain-
ing strength and credibility and there are many voices
now being raised in unison to meet the environmen-
tal crisis we face today. Environmental newsletters
452 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
often report on one the world’s most influential con-
cerns – the insurance industry. It is interesting to
note that these voices speak loudly in opposition to
the unfettered world market principles of capital-
ism embodied by this industry. They are paying more
and more compensation for hurricane, flood and
earthquake damage. That, we say, is a result of the
overuse of water, global warming, the imbalance of
the human population, and related pressures on the
resources of Mother Earth.
The warnings are all about us if we will only
listen. These warnings come in many forms. Re-
cently, at a meeting of the Onondaga Council of
Chiefs, called to address the antisocial behaviour of
a young teenage boy of our community, we all spoke
to him to enlighten and give positive direction to his
life but it was the eldest member of our council, Louis
Farmer, who spoke what I considered the most pro-
found message. Chief Farmer is partially blind and
walks very slowly. He stood directly in front of the
boy and said:
‘There are fewer and fewer birds singing in the
morning. Each day I listen to their songs, I know
their songs, I know them. Now I notice there
are fewer and fewer songs. The birds are sad.
They are sad because of the way we are acting.
They are sad at how we treat one another and
they are sad because of our conduct. They are
going away and we suffer because of this. We
will miss them and our life will be less because
of this. When they are gone we will have only
ourselves to blame. So I urge you [talking to
the boy] to try hard to do better because at some
time we will depend on you to take care of us.’
Dah Nayto (Now I am finished)
Joagquishonh (Oren Lyons)
Faithkeeper, Turtle Clan
Onondaga Council of Chiefs
Haudenosaunee
Homeless in the ‘global village’
(Vandana Shiva)
Global market integration and the creation of the
‘level playing field’ for transnational capital, creates
conditions of homelessness in real and imaginary
ways. The transnational corporation executive who
finds a home in every Holiday Inn and Hilton, is home-
less in terms of the deeper cultural sense of
rootedness. But the culturally-rooted tribal is made
physically homeless by being uprooted from the soil
of her/his ancestors. Two classes of the homeless
seem to be emerging in this ‘global village’. One
group is mobile on a world scale, with no country as
its home but the whole world as its property; the
other has lost even the mobility within rootedness,
and lives in refugee camps, resettlement colonies
and reserves. The cumulative displacement caused
by colonialism, development and the global market-
place has made homelessness a cultural character-
istic of the late twentieth century.
Dams, mines, energy plants, military bases –
these are the temples of the new religion called ‘de-
velopment’, a religion that provides the rationale for
the modernizing state, its bureaucracies and tech-
nocracies. What is sacrificed at the altar of this reli-
gion is nature’s life and peoples’ life. The sacraments
of development are made of the ruins and desecra-
tion of other sacreds, especially sacred soils. They
are based on the dismantling of society and commu-
nity, on the uprooting of people and cultures. Since
soil is the sacred mother, the womb of life in nature
and society, its inviolability has been the organizing
principle for societies that ‘development’ has de-
clared backward and primitive. But these people are
our contemporaries. They differ from us not in be-
longing to a bygone age but in having a different
concept of what is sacred and of what must be pre-
served. The sacred is the bond that connects the part
to the whole. The sanctity of the soil must be sus-
tained, limits must be set on human action. From
the point of view of the managers of development,
the high priests of the new religion, sacred bonds
with the soil are impediments and hindrances to be
shifted and sacrificed. Because people who hold
the soil as sacred will not voluntarily allow them-
selves to be uprooted, ‘development’ requires a
police state and terrorist tactics to wrench them
away from their homes and homelands, and con-
sign them as ecological and cultural refugees into
the wasteland of industrial society. Bullets, as well
as bulldozers, are often necessary to execute the
development project.
In India, the magnitude of this sacrifice is only
now becoming evident. Victims of progress have, of
course, experienced their own uprooting and have
resisted it. But both the victims and the State have
perceived each sacrifice as a small one for the larger
‘national interest’. Over 40 years of planned devel-
opment, the planned destruction of nature and soci-
ety no longer appears negligible; and the larger
‘national interest’ turns out to be embodied in an
elite minority without roots. Fifteen million people
have been uprooted from their homelands in India
during the past four development decades
(Fernandes and Enakshi 1989). They, and their links
with the soil, have been sacrificed to accommodate
mines, dams, factories and wildlife parks.
One word echoes and reverberates in the songs
and slogans of Indian people struggling against ‘de-
velopment’: mati – soil. For these people soil is not
simply a resource, it provides the very essence of
their being. For large segments of Indian society the
soil is still a sacred mother. ‘Development’ has meant
the ecological and cultural rupture of bonds with
nature, and within society; it has meant the trans-
formation of organic communities into groups of
uprooted and alienated individuals searching for
abstract identities. What today are called ecology
movements in the South are actually movements for
rootedness, movements to resist uprooting before it
begins. And what are generally perceived as ethnic
struggles are also, in their own way, movements of
uprooted people seeking social and cultural
rootedness. These are the struggles of people, tak-
ing place in the ruins wrought by development, to
regain a sense of selfhood and control over their
destinies.
Wherever development projects are introduced,
they tear apart the soil and sever the bonds between
people and the soil. ‘Mati Devata, Dharam Devata’ –
The soil is our Goddess; it is our religion’. These are
the words of adivasi women of the ‘Save
Gandmardhan’ movement (Bahuguna 1986), as they
embraced the earth while being dragged away by the
police from the blockade sites in the Gandmardhan
hills in Orissa. Dhanmati, a 70-year-old woman of
the movement had said, ‘We will sacrifice our lives,
but not Gandmardhan. We want to save this hill
which gives us all we need’.
The forests of Gandmardhan are a source of rich
plant diversity and water resources. They feed 22
perennial streams which in turn feed major rivers
such as the Mahanadi. According to Indian mythol-
ogy, Gandmardhan is the sacred hill where Hanuman
gathered medicinal herbs to save Laxman’s life in
the epic Ramayana. The saviour has now to be de-
stroyed for ‘development’. It has to be desecrated
by the Bharat Aluminium Company (BALCO) to mine
for bauxite. BALCO had come to Gandmardhan after
destroying the sanctity and ecology of another im-
portant mountain, Amarkantak, the source of the
rivers Narmada, Sone and Mahanadi. The destruc-
tion of Amarkantak was a high cost to pay for re-
serves which, in any case, turned out to be much
smaller than originally estimated. To feed its 100,000
tonne aluminium plant at Korba in Madhya Pradesh,
BALCO has now moved to Orissa to begin the rape
of the Gandmardhan hills. Since 1985 the tribals of
the region have obstructed the work of the company
and refused to be tempted by its offers of employ-
ment. Even police help has failed to stop the deter-
mined protest.
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 453
 For communities who derive their sustenance
from the soil it is not merely a physical property situ-
ated in Cartesian space; for them, the soil is the
source of all meaning. As an Australian Aborigine
said, ‘My land is my backbone. My land is my foun-
dation’. Soil and society, the earth and its people,
are intimately interconnected. In tribal and peasant
societies, cultural and religious identity derive from
the soil, which is perceived not as a mere ‘factor of
production’ but as the very soul of society. Soil has
embodied the ecological and spiritual home for most
cultures. It is the womb not only for the reproduc-
tion of biological life but also of cultural and spir-
itual life; it epitomizes all the sources of sustenance
and is ‘home’ in the deepest sense.
The Hill Maris tribe in Bastar see bhum , or soil,
as their home. Shringar Bhum is the universe of
plants, animals, trees and human beings. It is the
cultural spiritual space which constitutes memory,
myths, stories and songs that make up the daily life
of the community. Jagha Bhum is the name for the
concrete location of social activities in a village.
Savyasaachi reports a village elder as saying: ‘The
sun, the moon, the air, the trees, are signs of my
continuity. Social life will continue as long as these
continue to live. I was born as a part of the bhum. I
will die when this bhum dies ... I was born with all
others in this bhum; I go with them. He who has cre-
ated us all will give us food. If there is so much vari-
ety and abundance in bhum, there is no reason for
me to worry about food and continuity’ (Savyasaachi,
forthcoming).
The soil is thus the condition for the regenera-
tion of nature’s and society’s life. The renewal of
society therefore involves preserving the soil’s in-
tegrity; it involves treating the soil as sacred.
Desacralization of the soil takes place through
changes in the meaning of space. Sacred space, the
universe of all meaning and living, the ecological
source of all sustenance, is transformed into a mere
site, a location in Cartesian space. When that site is
identified for a development project, it is destroyed
as a spiritual and ecological home. There is a story
that elders tell to their children in central India to
illustrate that the life of the tribe is deeply and inti-
mately linked to the life of the soil and the forest.
The forest was ablaze. Pushed by the wind, the
flames began to close in on a beautiful tree on
which sat a bird. An old man, escaping the fire
himself, saw the bird and said to it, ‘Little bird,
why don’t you fly away? Have you forgotten you
have wings?’ And the bird answered, ‘Old man,
do you see this empty nest above? There is
where I was born. And this small nest from
454 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
which you hear the chirping is where I am bring-
ing up my small child. I feed him with nectar
from the flowers of this tree and I live by eat-
ing its ripe fruit. And do you see the dropping
below on the forest floor? Many seedlings will
emerge from them and thus do I help to spread
greenery, as my parents before me did, as my
children after me will. My life is linked to this
tree. If it dies I will surely die with it. No, I
have not forgotten my wings.’ (Rane 1987)
The fact that people did not move from their
ancestral homelands, that they continued to repro-
duce life in nature and society in sustainable ways,
was not seen as the conservation of the earth and of
the soil ethic. Instead, it was seen as evidence of
stagnation, of an inability to move on – to ‘progress’.
The stimulation to move on and progress was pro-
vided by the development project, and the uprooting
and destruction it involved was sanitized under the
neo-Cartesian category of ‘displacement’.
Peter Berger (1981) has described development
as the ‘spreading condition of homelessness’. The
creation of homelessness takes place both through
the ecological destruction of the ‘home’ and the cul-
tural and spiritual uprooting of peoples from their
homes. The word ‘ecology’ was derived from oikos,
the household, and ecological destruction in its es-
sence is the destruction of the bhum as the spiritual
and ecological household. By allocating a Cartesian
category to space in substitution for the sacred cat-
egory it becomes possible for development techno-
crats and agencies to expand their activities into the
management of ‘Involuntary Resettlement in Devel-
opment Projects’. An irreversible process of geno-
cide and ecocide is neutralized by the terms
‘displacement’ and ‘resettlement’. It becomes pos-
sible for agencies such as the World Bank to speak
of reconciling the ‘positive’ long-term ‘national’ in-
terests served by development projects and the ‘nega-
tive’ impacts of displacement borne by ‘local’
communities through resettlement and rehabilitation
projects.
Colonialism and capitalism transformed land
and soil from being a source of life and a commons
from which people draw sustenance, into private
property to be bought and sold and conquered. De-
velopment continued colonialism’s unfinished task.
It transformed man from the role of guest to that of
predator. In a sacred space, one can only be a guest,
one cannot own it. This attitude to the soil and earth
as a sacral home, not private property, is character-
istic of most Third World societies.
In the indigenous world-views in Africa, the
world in its entirety appears as consisting of a single
issue. Man cannot exercise domination over it by
virtue of his spirit. What is more, this world is
sacralized, and man must be prudent in the use he
makes of it. Man must act in this world as a guest
and not as an exploiting proprietor.
When the rhythms and patterns of the universe
are displaced, the commons are displaced by private
property. In most indigenous communities, the en-
tire tribe is the trustee of the land it occupies, and
the community or tribe includes not only the cur-
rently living members but also the ancestors and
future generations. The absence of private property
rights and of a territorial concept of space make for
easy dispossession of indigenous communities’ land.
In defining a sacred space, soil does not define
cartographic space on a map, or a territorial unit.
As Benedict Anderson (1989) has shown, the crea-
tion of territorial space in large areas of the world
was an instrument of colonization. Tracing the shift
from cultural space to territorial space in Thailand,
he shows how, between 1900 and 1915, the tradi-
tional words brung and muang largely disappeared
because ‘sovereignty’ was imaged in terms of sacred
sites and discrete population centres. In their place
came parthet, ‘country’ which imaged it in the invis-
ible terms of bounded territorial space. Sovereignty
thus shifted from the soil and soil-linked communi-
ties to sovereignty of the nation state. Laws of na-
ture and their universality were replaced by the laws
of a police state which dispossessed peoples of their
original homelands to clear the way for the logic of
the world market.
In this way organic communities give way to
slum dwellers or urban and industrial jungles. De-
velopment builds new ‘temples’ by robbing nature
and society of their integrity, and their soul. Devel-
opment has converted soil from sacred mother into
disposable object – to be ravaged for minerals that
lie below, or drowned beneath gigantic reservoirs.
The soil’s children, too, have been made disposable:
mines and dams leave behind wastelands and up-
rooted people. The desacralization of the soil as sa-
cred space was an essential part of colonialism then
and of development now. As Rifkin (Rifkin and Peelas
1983) has so aptly stated, ‘Desacralization serves
as a kind of psychic ritual by which human beings
deaden their prey, preparing it for consumption’.
The irony involved in the desacralization of
space and the uprooting of local communities is that
the secular categories of space, as used in develop-
ment, transform the original inhabitants into stran-
gers while intruders take over their homes as private
property. A political redefinition of people and soci-
ety is taking place with shifts in the meaning of
space. New sources of power and control are being
created in relationship to nature and to society. As
relationships between nature and society and be-
tween different communities are changed and re-
placed by abstract and rigid boundaries between
nature and people and between peoples, power and
meaning shift from roots in the soil to links with the
nation state and with global capital. These
one-dimensional, homogenizing concepts of power
create new dualities and new exclusions.
The new borders, evidently, are created for the
people who belong to that land. There are no bor-
ders for those who come in to colonize and destroy
the land. In the words of financial consultant Kenichi
Ohmae:
‘On a political map, the boundaries between
countries are as clear as ever. But on a com-
petitive map, a map showing the real flows of
financial activity, these boundaries have largely
disappeared... Borderless economy... offers
enormous opportunities to those who can criss-
cross the boundaries in search of better prof-
its. We are finally living in a world where money,
securities, services, options, futures, informa-
tion and patents, software and hardware, com-
panies and know-how, assets and memberships,
paintings and brands, are all traded without na-
tional sentiments across traditional borders.’
(Ohmae 1990)
Spiritual beliefs and cultural
perceptions of some Kenyan
communities (Mary Getui)
Kenya is a multi-religious society with the following
religions represented: Christianity, Islam, African
indigenous religion; pockets of Jews, Hindus and
Bahai; and recently there has been an upsurge of
New Age movements originating mainly from the
East. Each one of these religions has its own spir-
ituality which includes views on nature and its con-
servation.
Kibieho (in Ogutu 1992) has noted that African
indigenous religion did not exist as a separate insti-
tution but was interlaced in the fabric of every insti-
tution and element of life. On the same topic,
Bahemuka (1982) emphasized that, ‘There was no
division between what was religious and what was
not religious. Whether a person prayed, ate, danced,
sang, cultivated the land or walked, those were reli-
gious acts for they were performed by a religious
being. It is the level of religious participation that
motivated and bound people together’.
These two authors are echoing Mbiti’s (1969)
famous words that Africans are notoriously religious:
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 455
‘Religion permeates into all the departments of life
so fully that it is not easy or possible to isolate it’.
One aspect of importance that may require under-
lining is that in the African context, harmony and
the well-being of one and all are stressed through
kinship systems which extend to cover animals,
plants and non-living objects (Mbiti 1969). Hence, it
can be argued that African views on nature and con-
servation have a clearly religious significance.
We now turn to an examination of religious and
cultural views on certain parts of nature; namely,
animals and plants. One community that attaches a
lot of importance to animals, especially cattle, are
the Maasai. Kipury (1983) notes that livestock pro-
vide the Maasai with almost everything, ranging from
food requirements to domestic utensils and cloth-
ing. The social and economic role that livestock plays
in Maasai life is of paramount significance. Livestock
is procured and exchanged in kinship relations as
well as for bridewealth. The exchange of gifts of live-
stock between friends and kinsmen is the basis of
social relationships. Cattle are also used in the pay-
ment of civil transgressions as well as for capital
crimes such as homicide. Mbiti (1969) adds that the
Maasai firmly believe that since God gave them cat-
tle at the very beginning, nobody else has the right
to own cattle. As such, it is their duty to raid cattle
from neighbouring peoples without feeling that they
are committing theft or robbery. In other communi-
ties, domesticated animals, cattle, sheep and goats
are also used for sacrificial and other religious pur-
poses, but a Maasai will neither sell nor slaughter
his animal without good religious cause.
With regard to wild animals, Kipury (1983) goes
on to say that traditionally the Maasai were not hunt-
ers and abhorred the consumption of wild animals.
The lion hunt was the only form of hunting permit-
ted, mainly to eliminate predators when they posed
a danger to livestock, and as a sporting activity. They
also attribute a material significance to wild animals
through the exchange of wild animal products, e.g.
buffalo-hide shields, wildebeest and giraffe tails used
by elders as fly-whisks, and ostrich feathers made
into warrior head-dresses with their neighbours the
Dorobo. While the Maasai appreciate these items,
they despise the Dorobo hunters who they see as
having an abnormal desire to kill domestic as well
as wild animals, instead of leaving them to exist on
the basis of their own authentic value.
Two religious features that contribute to the
conservation of nature in Africa are taboos and to-
temic beliefs. Among the Kalenjin, several taboos
are observed. The dietary laws are significant in ways
that might be interpreted as an economic measure:
it is taboo to eat meat and drink milk or blood on the
456 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
same day. The explanation given for this law is that
if one consumes both, the cow or goat which gave
the milk will dry up. In reality, the theory surround-
ing this law arose from the recognition that the hu-
man body needs both milk and meat, but neither may
be plentiful. The idea was to spread it out – use one
today and the other tomorrow (Fish and Fish 1995).
Indeed, this is a conservation measure.
Totemic beliefs, which abound in Africa, are
based on the special relationship a clan may have
with a particular animal or plant, which is not to be
cut or killed – even for food. Abagusii of western
Kenya have animal totems according to clans:
Mobasi Zebra (Enchage)
Monchari Hippopotamus (Eugubo)
Mogirango Leopard (Engo)
Mogetutu Elephant (Enchogu)
It is said that Mobasi, son of Mogusii (the fore-
father of Abagusii), owned many cattle which the
neighbouring Maasai envied. The latter organized a
raid and made off with all the farmer’s cattle. With
the help of others, Mobasi set off in pursuit of the
animals. A fierce battle followed, and many lives were
lost on both sides. The Mobasi stealthily escaped
with some cattle, and this time it was the Maasai
who gave chase. They caught up with Mobasi’s son,
also called Mobasi, who had been left behind by the
rest of the party because he had been weakened by
illness. The younger Mobasi realized the danger he
was in and prayed to Engoro (God) for protection.
As if in answer to his prayer, a multitude of zebra
and wildebeest burst across the open plains. Mobasi
used the length of his rope to loop himself to a flee-
ing zebra (Enchage). There are several reasons why
the zebra saved Mobasi – he talked to it quietly and
reassuringly.
It is also said that if a wild animal cannot smell
the blood of animals in a human being it will treat
the person as a friend. Mobasi had never eaten meat
in his life. The zebra took Mobasi to a safe territory
where the two stayed together in confidence for sev-
eral days. Mobasi then made his way home, riding
his enchage. Proudly Mobasi introduced enchage, his
friend, to his family. In grateful thanks for saving
his life Mobasi swore to protect the zebra and his
descendants forever more (O’Keragori 1995). The
same concept of a good relationship between the
people and animals prevails in the other three ex-
amples of totems.
In addition to cattle and other animals, vegeta-
tion also plays an extremely important role among
the Maasai. For example, the size, shape, sturdiness
and long life of the Orereti tree epitomize the idea of
life; hence, the tree is sung about and invoked in
prayers and blessings. From a very early age, Maasai
children are expected to distinguish between vari-
ous plants and grasses and their uses. Grass is used
in to build houses, for grasping in the hand as a sign
of peace, and for blessing during rituals. Trees and
shrubs provide traditional medicines and herbs, some
of which have a special ritual value. Every ailment
has a traditional treatment, if not a cure, obtained
from the leaves, the bark or the fruit of plants.
Thus, many African indigenous religious beliefs
and the cultural perceptions of Kenyan communities
are geared towards the conservation of nature. These
are aspects of traditional cultures that should be
identified and applied in the contemporary situation
where nature is exploited, violated and abused. Yet,
some of these religious beliefs and cultural percep-
tions may also be counterproductive to the conser-
vation of the environment. For example, the Maasai
attachment towards cattle, which can justify rustling
and the keeping of large, low quality herds, can be
damaging to the environment. These beliefs and prac-
tices require special attention from an ecological
standpoint so that the practice may become economi-
cally and environmentally viable.
Ecofeminism: domination, healing and
world-views (Rosemary Radford
Ruether)
Ecofeminism asks how women and nature have been
linked in the patriarchal domination that has char-
acterized Western and other societies, and also how
the liberation of women and the healing of nature
might be interconnected. This is a very complex in-
quiry that demands a multi-cultural and cross-class/
race perspective. The relation of the domination of
women and the domination of nature needs to be
looked at both culturally and socio-economically.
Anthropological studies have suggested that the
identification of women with nature and males with
culture is both ancient and wide-spread. This cul-
tural pattern itself expresses a monopolizing of the
definition of culture by males. The very word ‘na-
ture’ in this formula is part of the problem, because it
defines nature as a reality below and separated from
‘man’, rather than one nexus in which humanity itself
is inseparably embedded. It is, in fact, human beings
who cannot live apart from the rest of nature as our
life-sustaining context, while the community of plants
and animals both can, and for billions of years did, ex-
ist without humans. The concept of humans outside of
nature is a cultural reversal of natural reality.
This reversal seems to have emerged gradually,
as early gardening changed to plough agriculture,
redefining land as male private property, and urbani-
zation, class hierarchy and slavery over the period
from 10,000 to 3,000 BC. By the time the patriar-
chal law codes of the Babylonians, Hebrews and
Greeks were formulated between 3000 and 500 BC,
a system of ownership had been codified in which
women, slaves, animals and land were all seen as types
of property and instruments of labour, owned and con-
trolled by male heads of families as a ruling class.
As we look at the mythologies of the ancient
Near Eastern, Hebrew, Greek and early Christian
cultures, one can see a shifting symbolization of
women and nature as spheres to be conquered, ruled
over and, finally, repudiated altogether. In the
Babylonian creation story, which goes back to the
third millennium BC, Marduk, the warrior champion
of the gods of the city states, is seen as creating the
cosmos by conquering the Mother Goddess Tiamat,
pictured as a monstrous female animal. Marduk kills
her, treads her body underfoot and then splits her in
half, using one half to fashion the starry firmament
of the skies, and the other half the earth below. The
elemental mother is literally turned into the matter
out of which the cosmos is fashioned (the words
‘mother’ and matter have the same etymological
root). She can be used as matter only by being killed;
that is, by destroying her as ‘wild’, autonomous life,
and making her life-giving body into ‘stuff’ possessed
and controlled by the architect of a male-defined
cosmos.
The view of nature found in Hebrew scripture
has several cultural layers, but the overall tendency
is to see the natural world, together with human
society, as something created, shaped and control-
led by God, a God imaged after the patriarchal rul-
ing class. The patriarchal male is entrusted with
being the steward and caretaker of nature, but un-
der God, who remains its ultimate creator and Lord.
This also means that nature remains partly an un-
controllable realm that can confront human society
in destructive droughts and storms. These experi-
ences of nature that transcend human control, bring-
ing destruction to human work, are seen as divine
judgement against human sin and unfaithfulness to
God.
The image of God as single, male and transcend-
ent, prior to nature, also shifts the symbolic relation
of male consciousness to material life. Marduk was
a young male god, who was produced out of a proc-
ess of theogony and cosmogony. He conquers and
shapes the cosmos out of the body of an older God-
dess that existed prior to himself, within which he
himself stands. The Hebrew God exists above and
prior to the cosmos, shaping it out of a chaos that is
under his control.
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 457
 When we turn to Greek philosophical myth, the
link between mother and matter is made explicit.
Plato, in his creation myth, the Timaeus, speaks of
primal, unformed matter as the receptacle and
‘nurse’. He imagines a disembodied male mind as
divine architect or Demiurgos, shaping this matter
into the cosmos by fashioning it after the intellec-
tual blueprint of the Eternal Ideas. These Eternal
Ideas exist in an immaterial, transcendent world of
Mind, separate from and above the material stuff that
he is fashioning into the visible cosmos.
The World Soul is also created by the Demiurgos,
by mixing together dynamics the Same and the Other.
This world soul is infused into the body of the cos-
mos in order to make it move in harmonic motion.
The remnants of this world soul are divided into bits
to create the souls of humans. These souls are first
placed in the stars, so that human souls will gain
knowledge of the eternal ideas. Then the souls are
sown in the bodies of humans on earth. The task of
the soul is to govern the unruly passions that arise
from the body.
If the soul succeeds in this task, it will return
at death to its native star and there live a life of
leisured contemplation. If not, the soul will be rein-
carnated into the body of a woman or an animal. It
will then have to work its way back into the form of
an (elite) male and finally escape from bodily rein-
carnation altogether, to return to its original
disincarnate form in the starry realm above. Plato
takes for granted an ontological hierarchy of being:
the immaterial intellectual world over material cos-
mos, and, within this ontological hierarchy, the de-
scending hierarchy of male, female and animal.
In the Greco-Roman era, a sense of pessimism
about the possibility of blessing and well-being within
the bodily, historical world deepened in Eastern
Mediterranean culture, expressing itself in apoca-
lypticism and gnosticism. In apocalypticism God is
seen as intervening in history to destroy the present
sinful and finite world of human society and nature
and to create a new heaven and earth, freed from
both sin and death. In gnosticism, mystical philoso-
phies chart the path to salvation by way of with-
drawal of the soul from the body and its passions
and its return to an immaterial realm outside of and
above the visible cosmos.
Early Christianity was shaped by both the He-
braic and Greek traditions, including their alienated
forms in apocalypticism and gnosticism. Second-cen-
tury Christianity struggled against gnosticism, reaf-
firming the Hebraic view of nature and body as God’s
good creation. The second-century Christian theolo-
gian Irenaeus sought to combat Gnostic anticosmism
and to synthesize apocalypticism and Hebraic
458 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
creationalism. He imaged the whole cosmos as a
bodying forth of the Word and Spirit of God, the sac-
ramental embodiment of the invisible God. Sin arises
through a human denial of this relation to God. But
salvific grace, dispensed progressively through the
Hebrew and Christian revelations, allows humanity
to heal its relation to God. The cosmos then grows
into blessed and immortalized manifestation of the
divine Word and Spirit which is its ground of being.
However, Greek and Latin Christianity, increas-
ingly influenced by neo-Platonism, found this mate-
rialism distasteful. They deeply imbibed the Platonic
eschatology of the escape of the soul from the body
and its return to a transcendent world outside the
earth. The earth and the body must be left behind in
order to ascend to another, heavenly world of disem-
bodied life. Even though the Hebrew idea of resur-
rection of the body was retained, increasingly this
notion was envisioned as a vehicle of immortal light
for the soul, not the material body in all its distaste-
ful physical processes, which they saw as the very
essence of sin as mortal corruptibility. Eternal life
was for the disembodied male soul freed from the
material underpinnings in the mortal bodily life, rep-
resented by woman and nature.
Classical Christianity was deeply ambivalent
about its view of nature. One side of Patristic and
Medieval thought retained something of Irenaeus’
sacramental cosmos, which becomes the icon of God
through feeding on the redemptive power of Christ
in the sacraments of bread and wine. But the re-
deemed cosmos as resurrected body, united with God,
is possible only by freeing the body of its sexuality
and mortality. The dark side of Medieval thought saw
nature as possessed by demonic powers that draw
us down to sin and death through sexual tempta-
tion. Women, particularly old crones still perversely
retaining their sexual appetites, are the vehicles of
the demonic power of nature. They are the witches
who sell their souls to the Devil in a satanic parody
of the Christian sacraments.
The Calvinist Reformation and the Scientific
Revolution in England in the late sixteenth and sev-
enteenth centuries represent key turning points in
the Western concept of nature. In these two move-
ments the Medieval struggle between the sacramen-
tal and the demonic views of nature was recast.
Calvinism dismembered the Medieval sacramental
sense of nature. For Calvinism nature was totally
depraved. There was no residue of divine presence
in it that could sustain a natural knowledge or rela-
tion to God. Saving knowledge of God descends from
on high, beyond nature, in the revealed Word avail-
able only in Scripture, as preached by the Reform-
ers. Calvinism dismantled the sacramental world of
Medieval Christianity, but it maintained and
re-enforced its demonic universe. The fallen world,
especially physical nature and other human groups
outside the control of the Calvinist church, lay in
the grip of the Devil. In the Calvinist church, women
were still the gateway of evil. If women were com-
pletely obedient to their fathers, husbands, minis-
ters and magistrates, they might be redeemed as
‘goodwives’. But in any independence of women lurks
heresy and witchcraft.
The Scientific Revolution at first moved in a
different direction, exorcising the demonic powers
from nature in order to reclaim it as an icon of di-
vine reason manifest in natural law. But, in the sev-
enteenth and eighteenth centuries, the more animist
natural science that unified material and spiritual
lost out to a strict dualism of transcendent intellect
and dead matter. Nature was secularized. It was no
longer the scene of a struggle between Christ and
the Devil. Both divine and demonic spirits were
driven out of it. In Cartesian dualism and Newtonian
physics it becomes matter in motion, dead stuff mov-
ing obediently according to mathematical laws know-
able to a new male elite of scientists. With no life or
soul of its own, nature could be safely expropriated
by this male elite and infinitely reconstructed to aug-
ment their wealth and power.
This Western scientific industrial revolution has
been built on injustice from its beginnings. It has
generated enormous affluence and power for a glo-
bal elite, but one based on exploitation of the land
and labour of the many for the benefit of the few,
with its high consumption of energy and waste. It
cannot be expanded to include the poor without de-
stroying the basis of life of the planet itself. We are
literally destroying the air, water and soil upon which
human life and planetary life depends. The critical
question for ecofeminism is: can this global system be
changed and is it useful to focus particularly on the
woman–nature connection in our struggle against it?
Most male ecologists focus on new forms of
‘technological fixes’ that will prevent environmen-
tal disaster without really challenging the present
system of wealth and power. Any focus on women is
seen by such men as trivial at best. Some feminists
also look at ecofeminism with suspicion because it
seems to ratify patriarchal thought patterns in which
women are identified with nature and hence with the
non-rational and somatic side of the human–nature
split. If women are to be liberated we must affirm wom-
en’s full humanity. This means affirming women’s equal
capacity for rationality and agency, not by continuing
to identify women with non-human nature.
Ecofeminism needs to evaluate this challenge.
Patriarchal culture does not merely denigrate women
and nature as inferior or evil, but it also idealizes
both women and nature. We have in our cultures two
images of woman as nature in complementary ten-
sion: woman as evil nature, associated with sin, sex
and death, and woman as bountiful, ever-nurturing
nature, nature as paradise. Ecofeminists, while re-
pudiating the first stereotype of woman and nature,
often uncritically take over the second stereotype.
We need to question not only the negative images of
women and nature as inferior, as the source of sex,
sin and death, but also nature as paradise, as ever-
bountiful mother.
In order to shift from a patriarchal world-view
that justifies the exploitation of women, other sub-
jugated humans and nature, to one that would sup-
port an ecofeminist perspective, I suggest eight
interconnected transformations of our world-view:
1. A shift from a conception of God as holding
all sovereign power outside of and ruling over na-
ture; to a conception of God who is under and around
all things, sustaining and renewing nature and hu-
mans together as one creational biotic community.
2. A shift from a mechanistic view of the physi-
cal world as composed of inert ‘dead’ matter pushed
and pulled from outside; to a view of the world as an
organic living whole, manifesting energy, spirit,
agency and creativity.
3. A shift from an ethic that non-human enti-
ties on the earth, such as animals, plants, minerals,
water, air and soil have only utilitarian use value for
humans for industrial development, production, con-
sumption and profit; to a view of all things as having
intrinsic value to be respected and celebrated for
their own being.
4. A shift from a psychology that splits mind
from body, mind from physical nature, setting mind
as the superior reality that is to rule over body, the
bodies of dominated people and the bodies of non-
human nature; to a holistic psychology that recog-
nizes ourselves as psychospiritual–physical wholes
in interrelation with the rest of nature as also psy-
chospiritual–physical wholes who are to mutually
interdepend in one community of life.
5. A shift from a view that patriarchal domi-
nance is the order of ‘nature’, for creation and soci-
ety, the necessary way to keep right order in all
relations; to a recognition that patriarchal dominance
is the root of distorted relations, and that we must
shift to gender equality, equity and mutual interrela-
tions between men and women in all aspects of life.
6. A shift from the concept of one superior cul-
ture (white Western Christian) to be imposed on all
other peoples to ‘save’ and ‘civilize’ them; to a re-
spect for the diversity of human cultures in dialogue
and mutual learning, overcoming racist hierarchy and
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 459
defending particularly the bioregional indigenous
cultures which are on the verge of extinction.
7. A shift from an economy of maximization of
profits that treats nature as ‘material resources’ to
be used, and as the depository of waste without ac-
countability; to an economy of sustainable life that
will renew nature from generation to generation.
8. A shift from a politics of survival of the fit-
test that allocates resources and power to the most
powerful; to a political community based on partici-
patory democracy, community-based decision-mak-
ing and representation of the welfare of the whole
bio-region in making decisions.
Two conceptions of biodiversity value
(John O’Neill and Alan Holland)
Discussions of biodiversity illustrate with clarity a
particular approach to environmental values: what
might be called the itemizing approach. It is an ap-
proach that dominates much ecological and economic
thinking about the environment. A list of goods is
offered that correspond to different valued features
of our environment, such that increasing value is a
question of maximizing one’s score on different items
on the list, or at least of meeting some ‘satisfying’
score on each. We have something like a score card,
with valued kinds of objects and properties, valued
goods, a score for the significance of each, and we
attempt to maintain and where possible increase the
total score, the total amount of value. The approach
involves a form of consequentialism: we assess which
action is best in a given context solely by its conse-
quences, by the total amount of value it produces.
On one level this approach to biodiversity might
seem surprising. Diversity is not itself a discrete item
in the world, but appears rather to be a property of
the relations between several items. It refers spe-
cifically to the existence of significant differences
between items in the world. Biodiversity refers to
the existence of actual and potential differences be-
tween biological entities. It is standard to distinguish
between levels of differences: genetic diversity, spe-
cies diversity, ecosystem diversity and habitat diver-
sity. It is also possible to distinguish within the
standard scientific approaches between kinds of dif-
ferences: numerical or the number of species; dimen-
sional – in the degree of separation, or distinction,
along a dimension such as genotype; material – dif-
ferences in the substance(s) and structural proper-
ties of which things are composed; relational –
differences in the kinds of interactions between or-
ganisms; causal and historical differences in the way
in which things have come into existence, e.g. salmon
and lungfish are phylogenetically similar, but have
460 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
very different evolutionary histories and origins. Fi-
nally, biodiversity is often used as a concept that
refers to the potentials of environments rather than
their state at any point of time: to maintain biodiver-
sity is to maintain the capacity of a system to diver-
sify rather than to maintain the actual diversity at a
given point of time. Given these features of biodiver-
sity, it is an unlikely candidate for an itemizing ap-
proach to environmental choice. However, when it
is made operational, it is invariably approached in
terms of itemization. Consider in the context of en-
vironmental policy-making the following definition
of biodiversity formulated by the United States Gov-
ernment Office of Technology Assessment:
‘Biodiversity refers to the variety and variabil-
ity among living organisms and the ecological
complexes in which they occur. Diversity can
be defined as the number of different items and
their relative frequency. For biodiversity these
items are organized at many levels, ranging
from complete ecosystems to the chemical
structures that are the molecular basis of he-
redity. Thus, the term encompasses different
eco-systems, species, genes, and their relative
abundance.’ (US Office of Technology Assess-
ment 1987)
While the definition captures many of the stand-
ard observations about biodiversity, it tends to an
approach that focuses on the number and relative
frequency of different items: ecosystems, species and
genes. As it is operationalized, one is offered an itemi-
zation of species and habitats and the injunction to
maintain or enhance the numbers on the list: hence,
red lists of endangered species or lists of threatened
habitat types.
This itemizing approach also lends itself to eco-
nomic valuations of the significance of biodiversity
loss – a fact that may help to explain why it has
found favour. Environmental valuation requires de-
fined commodities. As Vatn and Bromley (1994) note:
‘A precise valuation demands a precisely demarcated
object. The essence of commodities is that concep-
tual and definitional boundaries can be drawn around
them and property rights can then be attached – or
imagined’. Thus by operationalizing the concept of
biodiversity in terms of a list, one can arrive at a
surrogate that can be commodified. Like the super-
market list, one can ask how much individuals are
willing to pay for each item in order to arrive at a
measure of the full economic significance of losses.
A trolley full of itemized goods does offer the possi-
bility of putting an economic valuation into negotia-
tions: ‘While we cannot say that similar kinds of
expressed values will arise for protection of biodiver-
sity in other countries, even a benchmark figure of,
say, $10 per person for the rich countries of Europe
and North America would produce a fund of $4 bil-
lion’ (Pearce and Moran 1994).
What is wrong with this itemizing approach?
Before attempting to answer that question we should
make clear at the outset that we are not objecting to
itemization per se. There is nothing wrong with pro-
ducing red lists of endangered species or lists of
threatened habitat types to be maintained. They can
serve an important function, not least as ways of
indicating the significant losses in biological vari-
ety. However, they tell at best an incomplete story
about environmental values: indeed, their problem
is that they omit the story of environmental value
entirely. The consequence is a failure to capture sig-
nificant environmental losses and inadequate policy
responses as a result.
Sustainability and natural capital
‘Sustainability’, like ‘biodiversity’, has become one
of the key phrases of the politics of the environment
and everyone is in favour of them. They often ap-
pear together – biodiversity goals form a central com-
ponent in the pursuit of ‘sustainability’, while in the
economic literature sustainability is construed in
terms of ‘capital’. It requires each generation to leave
its successor a stock of capital assets no less than it
receives. In other words, it requires that capital –
explained also as capital wealth or productive po-
tential – should be constant, or at any rate not de-
cline, over time. A distinction is standardly drawn
between natural and man-made capital: man-made
capital includes not just physical items such as ma-
chines, roads and buildings, but also ‘human capi-
tal’ such as knowledge, skills and capabilities;
natural capital includes organic and inorganic re-
sources construed in the widest possible sense to
cover not just physical items but also genetic infor-
mation, biodiversity, ecosystemic functions and
waste assimilation capacity. The distinction between
the two forms of capital is taken to generate two
possible versions of the sustainability requirement,
each with variations: (i) that overall capital – the
total comprising both natural and man-made capital
– should not decline, or (ii) that natural capital in
particular should not decline (Pearce et. al. 1989).
This distinction generates a debate between
‘weak’ and ‘strong’ sustainability. The debate turns
on the degree to which ‘natural capital’ and ‘man-
made capital’ can be substituted for each other. As
the distinction is set up, proponents of ‘weak’ sus-
tainability affirm that natural capital and man-made
capital are indefinitely or even infinitely substitut-
able (Jacobs 1995; cf. Daly 1995). Proponents of
‘strong’ sustainability, on the other hand, hold that
because there are limits to the extent to which natu-
ral capital can be replaced or substituted by human-
made capital, sustainability requires that we
maintain the level of natural capital, or at any rate
that we maintain natural capital at or above the level
that is judged to be ‘critical’. Sustainability is taken
to involve the protection of ‘critical natural capital’
– that biodiversity which cannot be ‘readily replaced’
and a set of ‘constant natural assets’ that do have
possible substitutes through re-creation and trans-
location. The terms in this context do have a strained
meaning, which is acknowledged.
What are the criteria of adequate ‘substitutabil-
ity’ or ‘replaceability’? Capital, both natural and man-
made, is perceived as a bundle of assets. Insofar as
it concerns biodiversity, the concept of ‘capital’ fits
well with the itemizing approach. We have a list of
valued items, habitat types, woodlands, heathlands,
lowland grasslands, peat-lands and species assem-
blages. We maintain our natural capital if, for any
loss of these, we can recreate another with the same
assemblages. The promise of the approach is its flex-
ibility. If a road potentially runs through some rare
habitat type, say a meadow land, or an airport run-
way is to occupy woodland that contains some rare
orchid, we can allow the development to take place
provided we can recreate or translocate the habitat.
The issue becomes one of the technical feasibility of
replacement: on this turns the distinction between
‘critical natural capital’ (CNC) and ‘constant natu-
ral assets’ (CNA).
Time, history and biodiversity
Time and history are not just a technical constraint
on the realization of certain results, a certain spread
of valued items – species and habitats. The problem
here concerns our understanding of what is the value
in ‘biodiversity’, and what is the source of concern
in the loss of biodiversity. If it were simply a case of
maintaining and enhancing biological diversity un-
derstood as lengthening a list of species, habitats
and genetic material as such, then we are confined
only by the limits of our technical creativity. We can
‘create’ habitats, say fenlands, for species and the
tourist industry. Indeed, if it is just a list a varieties
we are after, the creation of Jurassic Park and ge-
netic engineering both would ‘enhance’ biological
diversity in the sense of increasing the total of spe-
cies and genetic variety we have at our disposal.
However, while that might make a contribution to
the entertainment industry and, the undoubted risks
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 461
aside, has some potential instrumental value for
human health, it rather misses what is at stake in
worries about biodiversity loss.
Time and history do not enter into problems of
biodiversity policy solely as technical constraints on
the possibility of recreating certain landscapes with
certain physical properties; for example, particular
habitats are valued precisely because they embody
a certain history and processes. The history and proc-
esses of their creation matter, not just the physical
attributes they display (Goodin 1992; O’Neill 1993,
1997). The temporal ‘technical constraints’ of the
UK biodiversity plan are in fact a source of the very
value of habitats that could not in principle be over-
come. We value an ancient woodland by virtue of the
history of human and natural processes that together
went into making it: it embodies the work of human
generations and the chance colonization of species
and has value because of the processes that made it
what it is. No reproduction could have the same
value, because its history is wrong. In deliberations
about environmental value, history and process mat-
ters, and constrains our decisions as to what kind of
future is appropriate. We value forests, lakes, moun-
tains, wetlands and other habitats specifically for
the particular history they embody. Geological fea-
tures have histories with no human component, while
landscapes often involve the interplay of human use
and natural processes. Most nature conservation
problems are concerned with flora and fauna that
flourish in particular sites that are the result of a
specific history of human pastoral and agricultural
activity, not with sites that existed prior to human
intervention. The past is evident also in the conser-
vation of the embodiments of the work of past gen-
erations that are a part of the landscapes of the old
world: stone walls, terraces, old irrigation systems
and so on. And, at the local level, the past matters
in the value we put upon place (Clifford and King
1993). The value of a specific location is often a con-
sequence of the way that the life of a community is
embodied within it. Historical ties of community have
a material dimension in both the human and natural
landscapes within which a community dwells.
The natural world, landscapes humanized by
pastoral and agricultural environments, the built
environment – all take their value from the specific
histories they contain. We do not enter into or live
within ‘natural capital’. Our lived worlds are rarely
natural and are not capital. We live in places – habi-
tats if one likes – that are rich with past histories,
the narratives of lives and communities from which
our own lives take significance. We need to take the
narrative and temporal dimensions seriously. The
way not to get hold of these biodiversity problems is
462 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
to attempt to itemize the ‘values’ of the various items
which feature in the situation and pursue the policy
of ‘maximizing value’.
Place and nature cannot be faked. What mat-
ters is the story of the place. This renders many ‘ordi-
nary’ places that are technically ‘easily reproducible’
places less open to substitution. Take ponds, which
are a feature of landscapes that matter to many on an
everyday level: dew ponds, village ponds, local ponds
are relatively easy to recreate at the level of physical
features such as species variety. However, the repro-
ductions would simply not be the same places with
the same meaning for a community. It is this pond
that was used by people long ago to water their live-
stock, where for generations we in this local com-
munity have picnicked, fed ducks, looked for frogs
and newts – this pond that we want to preserve.
Another pond built last year could never do as a sub-
stitute simply because its history is wrong. We want
to preserve an ancient meadowland, not a modern
reproduction of an ancient meadowland, not because
it is difficult to reproduce but simply because it
wouldn’t be an ancient meadowland.
While the approach we recommend in some
ways adds constraints, the appeal to history also
relaxes inappropriate constraints on change. One
unsatisfactory feature of a great deal of biodiversity
management is the way it attempts to freeze history
at a certain point. This point has special relevance
for ‘biodiversity management’ in the context of ‘wil-
derness’ or ‘nature’ preservation in national parks
of the ‘new’ worlds. Nature parks are created and
legitimized through an ahistorical wilderness model
of nature conservation which puts considerable em-
phasis on the values of wilderness, understood as
nature untouched by humans, and of ‘ecological in-
tegrity’, understood as the integrity of ecological
systems free from human interference. This wilder-
ness model has developed historically from an im-
age of nature as an unspoilt wilderness that contrasts
with the domesticated environments of Europe
(Anderson and Grove 1987; R. Grove 1995;
MacKenzie 1988). However, the nature or wilderness
to be preserved represents landscapes at a particular
point in their history prior to which it is deemed a wil-
derness. The point is that of European settlement. The
parks of South Africa, for example, were set up to pro-
tect the pristine landscape ‘just as the Voortrekkers
saw it’ (Reitz, quoted in Carruthers 1989). As the in-
fluential report of the Leopold Committee, Wildlife Man-
agement in the National Parks in the U.S.A., put it:
‘As a primary goal we would recommend that
the biotic associations within each park be
maintained, or where necessary recreated, as
 nearly as possible in the condition that prevailed
when the area was first visited by the white man.
A national park should represent a vignette of
primitive America.’ (Cited in Runte 1987)
The appeal to wilderness becomes a way of
avoiding coming to terms with a troubling historical
dimension to environmental evaluation. In the con-
text of conquest and colonization the wilderness
model of nature has a legitimating role – to render
invisible the people whose home one has appropri-
ated. Consider the fate of some of the Maasai who
have been excluded from national parks across
Kenya and Tanzania (Monbiot 1994) – for example
the Maasai suffering from malnutrition and disease
on scrubland bordering the Mkomazi Game Reserve
from which they were forcibly evicted in 1988. At-
tempts to evict indigenous populations from the Ka-
lahari reveal the influence of the same wilderness
model: ‘Under Botswana land use plans, all national
parks have to be free of human and domestic ani-
mals’ (The Times, 5 April 1996). Nor is the policy of
enforced eviction confined to Africa. Similar stories
are to be found in Asia where the same alliance of
local elites and international conservation bodies has
led to similar pressures to evict indigenous popula-
tions from their traditional lands. In India, the de-
velopment of wildlife parks has led to a series of
conflicts with indigenous populations. Thus, in the
Nagarhole National Park there are moves from the
Karnataka Forest Department to remove 6,000 tribal
people from their forests on the grounds that they
compete with tigers for game. The move is supported
by international conservation bodies: hence the re-
mark of one of the experts for the Wildlife Conserva-
tion Society – ‘relocating tribal or traditional people
who live in these protected area is the single most
important step towards conservation’ (cited in Guha
1997). The wilderness model fails to acknowledge
the ways parks are not wildernesses but homes for
their native inhabitants, and indeed the degree to
which the landscapes and ecologies of the ‘wildern-
esses’ were themselves the result of human pasto-
ral and agricultural activity.
It is surprising that biodiversity has become
identified with an atemporal itemizing approach to
environmental values. Even at the biological level,
history has a role: salmon and lungfish are
phylogenetically similar, but have very different evo-
lutionary histories and origins. The point should be
extended to the appreciation of the richness of natu-
ral and human histories embodied in the habitats
and worlds into which we enter. To render them all
managed in a uniform manner for the sake of ‘bio-
diversity’ would be to lose one source of richness.
Moreover, it would unlikely realize its result. Bio-
diversity is used as a concept that refers to the
potentials of environments, not just their state at any
point in time: to maintain biodiversity is to maintain
the capacity of a system to diversify, rather than the
actual diversity at any point of time. For that we
need to focus on the processes of change, and the
maintenance of plurality in process, not at the static
maintenance of systems at some artificially frozen
point in time. The belief that there is some defined
set of ideal management systems for biodiversity that
can be globally exported and imposed on local popu-
lations is one that is likely to be inimical to the main-
tenance of biodiversity.
Kantian and utilitarian approaches to
the value of biodiversity (Mark Sagoff)
Two frameworks for decision-making
The utilitarian approach to environmental protection,
by comparing the benefits and costs of policies, ap-
peals to common sense. It also appeals to the choices
people make or would make in trading freely with
each other. A perfectly competitive market – that is,
one in which property rights to all assets are fully
defined, owned and enforced, and in which the costs
of bargaining are low – will allocate these assets to
those who are willing to pay the most for them, and
in that sense those who benefit most from their use.
As a general rule, such an ‘efficient’ market estab-
lishes the economic value of resources, including
plants and animals, by setting prices in response to
supply and demand. The economic value of the re-
source, in other words, is its ‘exchange’ or ‘marginal’
value – the amount it fetches in a market in compe-
tition with other goods and services.
The Kantian deontological approach to valuation,
in contrast, relies on deliberative processes associ-
ated with representative democracy, through which
society enacts rules that reflect its identity and es-
tablish its aspirations. Policy-makers then deter-
mine, first, how to characterize a problem, and
second, how to respond to it in a way consistent with
these politically determined rules, goals and values.
In this democratic process, society takes economic
factors into account, of course, since to will a par-
ticular outcome one must also will the means to
achieve it. But a policy, in serving legislated pur-
poses, may be justified primarily on ethical rather
than on economic grounds – however clever society
may be in using economic analysis to achieve the
policy most effectively and at the lowest cost.
These two frameworks for decision-making dif-
fer in the way they conceive the decision-maker and
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 463
in the kinds of choices to which they are applied. In
the utilitarian perspective, the decision-maker is the
individual; he or she starts with – indeed, is con-
ceived in terms of – an ordered set of preferences.
These preferences are assumed to reflect judgements
the individual makes about what will benefit her or
him. If preferences are always connected in this way
with individual welfare, a competitive market, be-
cause it maximizes the satisfaction preferences,
weighted by willingness to pay, across all members
of society, will maximize social utility. If one assumes
that the goal of environmental policy is to maximize
welfare or utility, then governmental intervention is
unnecessary when markets function efficiently. Ac-
cordingly, policy analysts conclude that the ‘asser-
tion of market failure is probably the most important
argument for governmental intervention’ in environ-
mental matters where issues of social equity are
secondary (Cowen 1992).
Many economists argue that markets fail to
‘price’ endangered species correctly because they
are ‘public goods’. (How species are ‘public goods’
may not be clear, since the habitats of many endan-
gered species may be privately owned land, and the
plants and animals themselves, like all plants and
animals, can generally be captured, bought and sold.)
To ‘correct’ this market failure, these economists
have developed scientific methods for measuring the
value of species, primarily by asking how much peo-
ple are willing to pay to preserve them. If people
state a high willingness to pay (WTP), economists in-
fer these people must believe that the existence of the
species in some way benefits them. This is because
economists equate WTP with expected welfare.
In fact, people generally state a high WTP to
protect species because they think extinction is
morally wrong rather than because of any conse-
quences they believe extinction may have for them
(Kempton et al. 1995). This kind of WTP, as we shall
see, may have nothing to do with expected welfare
or utility. Accordingly, it may have no relation to eco-
nomic value. People who believe on moral principle
that extinction is wrong – for example, out of a reli-
gious view about Creation – may be willing to pay a
‘fair share’ to rescue a species. To act on such a
moral principle, however, is not to satisfy a prefer-
ence related to one’s own welfare or well-being. Prin-
ciples and the demands they make on personal
behaviour are the appropriate objects of legislation
– hence the Endangered Species Act. Preferences
and the expected utility they reflect are appropri-
ately left to markets.
Yet, the market prices of rare or endangered
species, such as Furbish’s lousewort, even if negli-
gible, reflect their economic value, which is to say,
464 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
these prices measure, as accurately as possible, the
contribution of plants and animals to social welfare.
If the point of public policy is to maximize welfare,
there is then no need for governments to protect
endangered species, since markets generally func-
tion efficiently in allocating those resources. For
example, a shopping mall developer may bid more
than a drug or seed company for the land a rare plant
inhabits. If the landowner sells to the developer, the
result represents a normal market outcome, not a
market failure. Human beings simply benefit more –
they realize a greater welfare gain – from the con-
struction of the mall than from the protection of the
plant. The developer has a more profitable use of
the land than anyone else, including drug, seed or
other companies.
The Kantian view recognizes that markets gen-
erally succeed as well as is feasible in providing con-
sumer goods and services. Markets generally
succeed, in other words, in maximizing the welfare
or well-being of individuals within resource con-
straints. Accordingly, if the purpose of environmen-
tal policy were to maximize the welfare of individuals
across society, there might be little need for govern-
mental action, especially with respect to endangered
species. Markets as they are serve this purpose as
well as possible.
The Kantian approach, however, denies that
maximizing social welfare is the goal of environmen-
tal policy. Kantians insist that public policy should
respond to human values, of course, but these in-
clude moral principles not just personal preferences.
A person who supports the Endangered Species Act,
on this view, may do so because he or she thinks the
principle it legislates morally binds our nation as a
matter of what is objectively right. Of course, the
utilitarian also has a view of what is intrinsically or
objectively right, namely the satisfaction of prefer-
ences weighed by WTP and taken simply as they
come. From the premise that only welfare, so de-
fined, possesses intrinsic value, the utilitarian con-
cludes that no one should or perhaps could pursue
any other goal for its own sake. This rules out on a
priori grounds the possibility that people could value
species protection as a goal justified in itself rather
than as a means to further their welfare or well-be-
ing.
Both the Kantian and the utilitarian agree that
public policy should be based entirely on the values
of the members of society. Human beings assign all
the values. From the premise that only human val-
ues count in public policy, the utilitarian too hastily
concludes that only human welfare counts in public
policy. The utilitarian thus assumes that people can
or should value intrinsically only their own
well-being. Since any other morality is ruled out, all
value is economic value, commensurable as a means
to utility.
The Kantian position, in contrast, distinguishes
between economic and ethical value. Economic value
has to do with what people want to buy to benefit
themselves. Moral value, according to the Kantian,
involves a judgement a person makes that something
is good or bad, right or wrong, from an objective or
universal point of view. Thus, a person who believes
that Furbish’s lousewort will never benefit her or
him may, as a matter of principle or moral obliga-
tion, insist nevertheless that society should go to
great lengths to keep that species from extinction.
Through political process, citizens convene upon
values, goals and characteristics they aspire to
achieve as a community. These may have little to do
with the kinds of preferences these individuals typi-
cally reveal in markets.
A Kantian theory differs from the utilitarian
approach, moreover, in recognizing that markets,
however competitive or efficient, may reach morally
obnoxious outcomes. When citizens find these out-
comes ethically abhorrent – prostitution, child la-
bour and the sale of narcotics are examples – they
legislate against them. Laws against prostitution are
justified not because the sale of sex is inefficient
but because it is (deemed to be) immoral. Similarly,
society legislates against extinction on moral not
economic grounds. No ‘just so’ story about market
failure or public goods has to be told. Society may
be justified in preserving species, the deontologist
argues, whether or not the benefits exceed the costs.
This non-utilitarian approach to decision-making
applies paradigmatically to objects which, given their
symbolic, historic and spiritual significance, are val-
ued more because of their meaning than because of
their use. Kant (1959 [1785]) draws this distinction
as follows: ‘That which is related to general human
inclination and needs has a market price... But that
which... can be an end in itself does not have mere
relative worth, i.e. a price, but an intrinsic worth,
i.e. a dignity’.
Both the utilitarian and the Kantian approaches
provide frameworks for rational choices – one by
emphasizing consequences for preferences, the other
by appealing to principles and procedures appropri-
ate to the identity of the decision-maker in the given
situation. The first approach asks the economic ques-
tion: ‘What will maximize the well-being of the indi-
vidual over the long term?’ The second approach asks
the political and ethical question: ‘What do we stand
for as a society?’ Which conception of the common
will or the public interest is correct? Which rules
should we follow with respect to problems such as
pollution, the extinction of species, or wilderness
preservation, given our history, culture and sense of
shared identity?
In a recent book, James G. March (1994) pro-
vides a theoretical understanding of these two alter-
native approaches to decision-making. When
decision-makers adopt the economic approach,
March explains, they choose among given alterna-
tives ‘by evaluating their consequences in terms of
prior preferences’. When they adopt the principle-
based or Kantian framework, decision-makers, ‘pur-
sue a logic of appropriateness, fulfilling identities
or roles by recognizing situations and following rules
that match appropriate behaviour to the situations
they encounter’. As members of a society determine
who they are and what they stand for as a commu-
nity and, accordingly, the appropriate rules by which
they are to regulate economic activity, the duties of
deliberation take precedence over the algorithms of
aggregation. In this framework for decision-making,
according to March, the reasoning process, ‘is one
of establishing identities and matching rules to rec-
ognized situations’.
Is human well-being the only obligation?
The question before us, then, may be this: Are we to
protect species because of the sacredness of nature
or the efficiency of markets? The answer depends
on who we think we are – what we stand for as a
community and a nation. Economic theory tells us
one thing, but cultural history tells us another.
Two reasons for protecting endangered species
have been identified: (1) because we need, use or
like them; and (2) because we ought to do so. It is
the fundamental thesis of mainstream economics that
the second reason can be reduced to the first. From
the mainstream perspective, the nation ought to pro-
tect species only to the extent that to do so promotes
human welfare. This framework assumes that all
values are instrumental values except welfare, which
is the one goal that this framework suggests is worth
pursuing in itself or for its own sake.
Should one accept the proposition that human
welfare or well-being is the only object that has in-
trinsic value and therefore grounds for obligation?
Oddly enough, when one considers what mainstream
economists mean by ‘welfare’ – that is, the satisfac-
tion of preferences taken as they come – one sees
that it fails to provide a basis for any moral obliga-
tion. Indeed, ‘welfare’ or ‘well-being’ as these terms
appear in mainstream environmental economics have
no connection with anything, such as happiness or
contentment, that people outside economic science
would think of as a good thing.
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 465
 When environmental economists speak of ‘wel-
fare’ or ‘well-being’, what do they have in mind? They
do not mean what utilitarian philosophers like
Bentham and Mill meant by these terms, namely,
pleasure or happiness. Rather, contemporary econo-
mists usually define ‘welfare’ in terms of the satis-
faction of preferences taken as they come, bounded
by indifference, and weighed by the amount people
are willing to pay to satisfy them. The question
arises, then, of what ‘welfare’ defined in this way –
that is, in terms of preference-satisfaction – has to
do with welfare or well-being as Bentham, Mill and
others understand it, i.e. contentment or happiness.
The answer is, nothing. Preference-satisfaction,
which mainstream economic theory seeks to maxi-
mize, correlates with neither happiness nor with well-
being as these terms are understood in the
philosophical tradition and in ordinary discourse.
Study after study has shown that no covariance holds
between preference-satisfaction and any conception
of welfare or well-being not simply defined in terms
of it. The empirical evidence is conclusive in show-
ing that the satisfaction of preferences, after basic
needs are met, does not make us better off, in spite of
the contrary assumption of mainstream economics.
If we take the Kantian point of view, in con-
trast, we have no difficulty in understanding that
individuals respect species as good in themselves
and that people perceive in these creatures proper-
ties that are admirable and therefore worth protect-
ing for their own sake. We have no difficulty
understanding that citizens may legislate moral goals
other than the one mainstream economists endorse,
i.e. the satisfaction of preferences taken as they come
weighed by willingness to pay. The laws in which we
reflect public morality within constitutional constraints
are not to be taken as themselves data for economic
analysis, as if they expressed preferences related to
welfare. Rather, environmental law simply rejects the
approach of environmental economics – it repudiates
contemporary utilitarianism in favour of a different
conception of public morality and collective choice.
Selling pigeons in the temple: the
blasphemy of market metaphors in an
ecosystem (Timothy C. Weiskel)
And Jesus entered the temple of God and drove out all
who sold and bought in the temple, and he overturned
the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those
who sold pigeons ... (Matthew 21:12)
There is a growing sense of frustration and disgust
bordering on holy outrage among scientists and citi-
zens around the world as we witness the evident
466 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
collapse of political leadership on matters of grave
environmental concern. The situation is both deep
and pervasive and it intrudes at the level of our lan-
guage of analysis and our metaphors of perception.
Over the last several decades, much of our pub-
lic discourse about the environment has been reduced
to a series of catchy clichés and mantras suggesting
that nature is an economy, the ecosystem is a mar-
ketplace, and that our relationship to it can and
should be calculated in terms of cost–benefit analy-
sis. With our money capital we are exhorted to in-
vest in the environment as part of a prudent portfolio
from which we are encouraged to think that, with
proper management, we can obtain a continuous flow
of goods for our infinite gratification.
In this context, the value of biodiversity is ex-
tolled for its future market potential as a source of
food, materials for our creature comforts, the drugs
which may well some day hold the cure to cancer
and other illnesses of civilization. As one might ex-
pect in an increasingly service-driven economy, we
are being made more aware of the services that na-
ture provides for us which would be very expensive if
their true costs were to be calculated. In short, the
magnificent richness and manifest wonder of biologi-
cal diversity in creation has been abusively flattened
and crudely crammed into the impoverished concepts
of ‘market commodities’ and ‘ecosystem services.’
One of the most sophisticated and comprehen-
sive attempts to assess the market value of ecosys-
tem ‘goods and services’ was recently published by
Robert Costanza (1997) and his colleagues, in Na-
ture. The article, entitled ‘The Value of the World’s
Ecosystem Services and Natural Capital’, has re-
ceived world-wide attention through an Internet dis-
cussion group devoted to it. The thirteen economists
and ecologists who compiled the analysis on the basis
of reviewing many previous studies acknowledged
the problems inherent in assigning market values to
nature. As they put it, ‘... although ecosystem valu-
ation is certainly difficult and fraught with uncer-
tainties, one choice we do not have is whether or
not to do it’.
Clearly such a pre-emptive statement generates
more disputes than it settles. It may well be true
that economists feel they have no choice but to un-
dertake a market valuation study in their role as
professional economists. But what does such an ex-
ercise by one group of specialists imply about other
forms of valuation? What about the valuations of
political leaders, scientists, citizens or those who
strive valiantly to protect biodiversity for its own
sake? Must they – must we – all sign on unquestion-
ingly to the economists’ sophisticated commodifi-
cation of the ecosystem? The implication of the
article is, ‘if you are rational, of course you must’!
[But see article in Nature 395, 1 October 1988, ‘Au-
dacious bid to value the planet whips up a storm’.]
What is so revealing and disturbing about the
logic throughout the article is the blithe assumption
that because economists can make their valuations
‘explicit’, these valuations should somehow be ac-
knowledged by society at large as the pre-eminent
basis for determining public policy. The term ‘explicit’
in this context appears to mean the ability to pro-
vide numerical estimates in the form of monetary
values. All other forms of valuation by implication
are not considered explicit. Of course, all choice is
predicated on valuation. But beneath this truism, the
unstated implication is that all forms of explicit valu-
ation must necessarily take the form of monetary
valuation. Otherwise they can be dismissed because
they lack clarity and can lead to moral disputes.
The difficulty arises in that there is a superfi-
cial element of truth in talking about aspects of na-
ture with market metaphors. Beans and barley,
pork-bellies and pigeons, are regularly sold for cash
in markets around the world. The power of these
metaphors resides ultimately in the fact that they
require no thought. They work instead on a sublimi-
nal level, and they therefore succeed in controlling
our behaviour by mobilizing primordial beliefs and
automaton calculations rather than rational thought
and considered judgement.
Social scientists and students of language have
provided insightful analyses of just how this subtle
process operates. Metaphors are far more important
than simple figures of speech (Lakoff and Johnson
1980) because they entail and provoke a whole se-
ries of reflexive reactions, associated images and
unconscious mental processes. Thought is short-
circuited by symbol, and groups of symbols are linked
to one another in wide networks of implicit images
which channel, direct and sometimes preclude
thought. In effect, metaphors come in packages, and
the power they exercise in generating thought de-
rives not from their truth claims but rather from their
‘extensibility’ – that is, their power to spawn an in-
ternally coherent, imaginary vocabulary to mirror
certain aspects of the parallel external world. The
substantive connection between any given metaphor
and the reality it purports to illumine may be very
tenuous indeed. Indeed, given the selective and par-
tial nature of any metaphor, associative imagery may
obscure rather than clarify important aspects of re-
ality. Such is the case when economic metaphors are
used to describe ecological realities. Chomsky (1989)
calls this ‘thinkable thought’.
Economic metaphors function to define the
range of so-called ‘responsible’ public thought. For
instance, environmental goals which are widely ac-
knowledged to be desirable and good but which are
thought to be ‘expensive’ are often characterized as
‘unrealistic’. In this manner, a certain conception of
‘economic reality’ is swiftly invoked to label specific
kinds of thoughts or proposals about the environ-
ment as out of bounds (‘unrealistic’, ‘unreasonable’,
‘too idealistic’, etc.) for public discussion. Whether
or not the particular notion of ‘economic reality’ in-
volved corresponds to anything more than an ex-
tended fiction is never questioned because market
metaphors have been accepted as the governing
framework for responsible discourse.
Perhaps the most insidious feature of the per-
vasive use of economic metaphors in our environ-
mental thinking takes the form of the subconscious
question, ‘Can we afford a sustainable environment?’
Strictly speaking, of course, this is a meaningless
question because all questions of worth are predi-
cated upon the prior and continuing existence of a
valuing agent. Thus, it would be logically and physi-
cally impossible to ‘afford’ anything over time if the
environment of the valuing agent ceases to exist.
The evident absurdity of the question, however, is
not confronted within the mind-set of the market men-
tality because the question itself is never overtly posed.
It remains implicit. It lurks in the background, condi-
tioning every decision we make and suggesting on a
subliminal level that a viable ecosystem is not a ‘luxury’
no longer available to the mass of humankind.
Society cannot solve a collective problem sim-
ply by multiplying private solutions that try to opt
out of that problem. All this accomplishes is to gen-
erate the collective problem on yet a bigger scale.
Nevertheless, from within the internally coherent
fantasy world of market metaphors there is no van-
tage point from which individuals can see that the
private solution is a delusion. Indeed, as consumers
we are urged to think that the market alternatives
are the only solutions available. Alternate identities
that we hold as parents, members of faith communi-
ties, volunteers, community members and global citi-
zens, etc. are simply wiped away as we are taught
that the only legitimate goal of public policy is to
protect the ‘rights of the consumer’. Even the much-
vaunted defence of the taxpayer on the part of politi-
cians who say they will reduce taxes is publicly
justified in order to provide citizens with more money
to spend as consumers in the open market. The role
of citizen–consumer is so thoroughly conflated in
public discourse that we are made to feel that ‘buy-
ing American’ or simply buying anything at all is a
patriotic act to keep the economy growing.
Market commentators encourage us to think
that self-interest, greed and unbridled competition
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 467
are an expression of the natural order of things –
the only order that has ever existed or could ever
possibly exist in the ‘real world’. We live in a world,
they assure us, characterized by ‘the survival of the
fittest’, by which they seem to mean ‘survival of the
fattest’. While overt acts of graft and corruption grab
the headlines from time to time, there is a much more
subtle and pervasive corruption of perspective which
has also taken hold of all public leadership. By giv-
ing unquestioned priority to market metaphors our
leaders have narrowed their vision to such an ex-
tent that they know the cost of everything and the
value of nothing.
Public leadership needs now to define, declare
and defend the public good in terms that transcend
private self-interest. There are no doubt connections
between public good and private gain, but to justify
the former exclusively in terms of the latter is a fun-
damental mistake in moral reasoning. Without pub-
lic leadership that can understand this fundamental
difference and learn to defend the public good in its
own right, industrial civilization will become irre-
trievably consumed in a scramble for private profit
and personal advantage in a dismal world of dimin-
ishing resources.
The Secretary General of the United Nations,
Kofi Annan, expressed this fear with a riveting sense
of urgency in his opening remarks at the Rio+5 con-
ference in New York: ‘Failure to act now could dam-
age our planet irreversibly, unleashing a spiral of
increased hunger, deprivation, disease and squalor.
Ultimately, we could face the destabilizing effects of
conflict over vital natural resources ... We must not
fail’ (IPS 1997).
In past epochs, individual religious and spir-
itual figures emerged to warn society of this kind of
impending doom. Prophets of old inveighed against
gluttonous consumption based on inequity and iniq-
uity, and they warned societies of the physical con-
sequences of failing to mend their ways. Perhaps
more importantly, they served to remind societies of
the natural order of the created world and the proper
place of humankind in it. Amos, Jesus of Nazareth
and Mohammed of Medina all arose in the ancient
Near East with strikingly parallel messages in this
regard. Jews, Christians and Muslims to this day
retain scriptural traditions that remind them that the
earth does not ultimately belong to humans, nor will
their mistreatment of the earth or their fellow crea-
tures go unpunished.
In these religious traditions, arrogant, self-cen-
tred behaviour with regard to the created order is
thought to be morally wrong, however expedient or
profitable it may prove to be for individuals in the
short run. We are not fully informed by the preserved
468 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
text, but one suspects that selling pigeons in the
temple prompted a sense of moral outrage on the
part of Jesus of Nazareth not because the prices were
a bit too high but because such activity involved a
fundamental confusion of sacred space with the
market place.
Nature and culture in the valuation of
biodiversity (Bryan G. Norton)
What is the value of biodiversity? The question is
deceiving in its simplicity, and it is wise to avoid
assuming, prior to careful analysis, the form that its
answer will take. Note first that the definite pronoun,
‘the’, already suggests there is a single answer –
that however many ways different people use, enjoy,
worship and respect wild living things, there must
be a unitary or at least synoptic answer to the ques-
tion of biodiversity values. This suggestion of uni-
tary value has gained credibility in many circles from
a fear of relativism – the view that every valuation
of wild life is so conditioned by local situations that
judgements of nature’s value add up to nothing more
than the subjective and irreconcilable feelings of
many different persons in many different cultures.
Most discussions of how to evaluate nature in
general terms have been based on one or the other
of two theories of the value of nature – ‘economism’
and ‘deep ecology’. The former holds that elements
of nature have instrumental value only, and should
be valued like any other commodities; the latter, that
elements of nature have ‘inherent’ or ‘intrinsic’
value, and that these elements are therefore deserv-
ing of preservation for their own sake.
These two value theories tends to polarize dis-
cussions on biodiversity. Environmentalists from
developed countries tend to espouse intrinsic val-
ues in nature, advocating the preservation of natural
areas intact and free of economic usage, while peoples
from developing countries tend to value nature for its
uses and developmental potential. In international
policy forums it is common for spokespersons for the
developing world to complain – with considerable
justification – that First World countries have already
exploited and converted their forests and are now
asking the Developing Countries to forgo forest-
based development and attendant increases in their
standard of living. The tension regarding why and
how to value nature therefore has practical effects,
making it more difficult to forge North/South and
other coalitions to protect biodiversity.
It is important to recognize that these opposed
value theories rest on a cluster of highly vulnerable
assumptions (Norton 1997b). Both economists and
deep ecologists accept a sharp dichotomy between
values that are ‘inherent’ and those that are instru-
mental; further, both groups proceed to use this sharp
dichotomy to separate nature into beings/objects that
have, and those that lack, ‘moral considerability’.
Economists and deep ecologists, then, agree that
there must be some special status for those beings
that have non-instrumental value – they simply disa-
gree regarding which objects in nature actually have
this special status. For economists, the special sta-
tus is co-extensive with the human race; for the deep
ecologists, moral considerability is co-extensive with
a much larger subset of nature’s components. Either
way the sharp distinction between ‘instrumental’ and
‘inherent’ values ensures that questions of environ-
mental value are posed in all-or-nothing terms. For
the economist, ‘Should we protect this river?’ be-
comes, ‘Does this river have net positive economic
value (for humans) or not?’ For the deep ecologist,
it becomes, ‘Does this river have inherent value?’
Both economists and deep ecologists think
there is only one kind of ultimate value; they differ
only in how widely they define that value. While
economists and deep ecologists sometimes appear
to exhaust the possibilities available in the litera-
ture for understanding environmental values, and
while these proponents espouse positions that seem
to be in polar opposition to each other, the impor-
tant thing to realize is that both positions rest on a
complex of highly vulnerable assumptions. First, both
positions assume there is a sharp distinction between
‘instrumental’ and ‘inherent’ values. Further, both
assume that the best way to achieve a unified theory
of environmental values is to identify some charac-
teristics shared by entities in the environment that
are valued. In fact, both these assumptions are un-
justifiable (Norton 1997) as I have argued elsewhere.
Furthermore, it seems unlikely to me that either of
these all-or-nothing, monolithic theories of value will
prove rich enough to guide difficult, real-world
choices regarding what should be saved, where con-
servationists should concentrate their efforts, and
how they should set priorities. But should that not
be precisely the role of a theory of environmental
value in the conservation policy process?
New beginnings
An alternative approach is needed to environmental
value theory and to environmental evaluation – avoid-
ing the constraining assumptions of valuation in
terms of commitment to a single value principle.
Callicott (1989) notes that ‘value’ is ‘a verb, not a
noun’, and emphasizes the experiential aspect of
environmental valuation as the acts of individuals.
But he attempts to use these subjective judgements
as a basis for the classification of objects into cat-
egories of instrumental and intrinsically valued items
such as species and ecosystems (Norton 1995). I
support a more radical position – that we need a
theory of environmental valuation based on the
premise that a theory for classifying objects as
instrumentally or inherently valuable is unnecessary.
Once we adopt the value-as-verb idea and also re-
ject the sharp dichotomy between intrinsic and in-
strumental valuings, the task of classification will
be simpler. The starting point should be individuals,
who live and act within their cultures and have posi-
tive and negative experiences in their interactions
with the processes of nature.
The goal must be to achieve some systematiza-
tion and clarification, and eventually to provide some
means of forging common policy from the diversity
of individual valuational acts. In contrast to the usual
approaches to environmental valuation discussed
above, one must begin by recognizing the diversity
and cultural specificity of acts of valuing, respect
these diverse starting points, and then work toward
a specification of common factors in these valuations.
Rather than attempting to fit all locally experienced
values into pre-conceived general theories, a more
general consensus about nature’s values must be
developed. In this way it can be seen that environ-
mental values are a product of countless local dia-
lectics between experiencing members of local
cultures and the ecological communities in which
those cultures are embedded. These local dialectics
are driven by a common striving of all people to adapt,
to choose appropriate activities and institutions, and
to live meaningful, fulfilling lives within their par-
ticular contexts. Each local dialectic is dynamic and
changing, subject to new information and evidence,
both from within the culture and – increasingly in
the modern world – from other cultures, but it is
place-based.
Values are a part of a constant and ongoing proc-
ess by which people, acting in cultural contexts,
develop new and more appropriate strategies and
new adaptations. The place-based approach entails
respect and gives a sort of ‘internal validity’ to natu-
ral values espoused by a culture at a particular time.
These values are also clarified, modified and im-
proved over time through new sources of informa-
tion and through experimentation with new choices
and new strategies. These values may converge, and
in the interest of international co-operation we hope
they do. But in this process there is no way to con-
clude, in advance, that such a consensual outcome
is unnecessary or pre-destined, and certainly there
is no way to specify the nature of that consensus
prior to the process of consensus-building.
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 469
 Theoretically, this approach holds that it is im-
possible even to value or save natural objects and
processes independently of the local interaction of
nature and culture, and it steers us away from at-
tempts to identify what is of ultimate value in na-
ture. That determination can only emerge within an
ongoing, iterative and re-iterative process, as indi-
viduals – acting within the cultures that give their
actions meaning – evolve in response to new situa-
tions and information.
Valuing biodiversity in place
The idea of place owes much to the Darwinian idea
of evolution through natural selection. Darwinian
selection necessarily depends upon variation, and
upon differential success of differing actors under
diverse local conditions – particular individuals with
particular characteristics either survive, or fail to
survive, in many local interactions with varied en-
vironments. All biological evolution is in this sense
local. Success in biological evolution, at the or-
ganism level, is survival and reproduction of one’s
genes in subsequent generations. Success on the
cultural level is the survival of a viable commu-
nity in a place.
The place-based idea can also be examined from
a historical perspective by drawing insight from the
relatively new subdiscipline of ecological history. The
formative book from this perspective is Cronon’s
Changes in the Land (1983) in which he challenged
on historical grounds the ‘wilderness’ ideal where
natural systems are considered to be most healthy
and most diverse in the absence of human distur-
bance. Cronon showed that the New England land-
scape had been intentionally managed by the Native
American (Indian) tribes of New England for millen-
nia prior to the arrival of Europeans, and that any
ideal of a ‘pristine’ wilderness is a mental and so-
cial construct. Cronon argues that, ‘The replacement
of Indians by predominantly European populations
in New England was as much an ecological as a cul-
tural revolution, and the human side of that revolu-
tion cannot be fully understood until it is embedded
in the ecological one’. Besides forcing us to re-think
the nature of ‘pristine’ reserves as a management
ideal in most situations, Cronon’s work points to-
ward two further important consequences for bio-
diversity policy. First, he supports the importance of
dynamic models tracing system processes. Second,
he shows how social values and institutions shape,
and are shaped by, the interaction of human popula-
tions with their local environments; and he also
shows how external demands, such as the need to
produce goods tradable in world markets to obtain
470 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
money to buy the various necessities, have indirect
– but huge – impacts on the landscape.
Another way of examining the idea of place and
its function in valuing biodiversity is by focusing on
an important aspect of the work of Aldo Leopold
(1949) who recognized that the tendency of individu-
als to value things from a local and personal per-
spective is susceptible to dangerous bias if it is not
balanced by a longer and larger perspective. In ar-
guing that we must learn to think like a mountain,
he realized that we naturally focus on dynamics that
are relevant on the human, perceptual scale – the
scale on which individual humans act economically,
seeking food and shelter. The need to integrate these
various levels is, in my view, the central idea of
Leopold (1949) who recognized that, in addition to
perceiving and valuing the world in economic time,
we must also think in the multi-generational (‘eco-
logical’) time of mountains and wetlands.
Learning a new way to perceive is a cultural
task and it is an essential element in developing a
successful public policy, which can only be accom-
plished in democratic countries through dialogue
among scientists, politicians and the public. The
policy dialogue must originate from many local view-
points, and flow upward through higher levels of
generality, integrating individual, economic and en-
vironmental concerns on all levels. Creativity in natu-
ral systems occurs when an organism or population
responds in a new way to the natural dynamic in which
it lives. New adaptations are given meaning and sig-
nificance by virtue of their response to constraints im-
plicit in larger, slower-moving systems. It is this
dynamic that creates environmental values.
If there is rapid alteration of the larger context
in which those behaviours evolved and gained mean-
ing, today’s genetic and cultural adaptations become
irrelevant more quickly than new ones can evolve.
Leopold illustrated this point by noting that, in the
American South-west, the Pre-Columbian Pueblo
cultures survived and reproduced themselves for
many generations in the fragile, arid ecosystems of
the area; but the arrival of European settlers and
their grazing culture led to drastic declines in the
quality of the environment in just one or two gen-
erations, because agricultural methods adapted to
Europe were applied in an arid ecosystem. Leopold
saw survival in conjunction with a slowly evolving
environment as the ‘objective’ test of whether a cul-
ture has found ‘the truth’. Note that, on this approach
to objectivity, the truth lies in adaptation to local con-
ditions, but that local conditions must be understood
as occurring within a longer and larger context.
Thus, nature and culture are intimately and
inextricably intertwined. The tendency to value
biodiversity by placing elements of nature in cultur-
ally independent categories gives way to an accept-
ance that valuation emerges from culturally shaped
actions – attempts to enjoy and adapt to local situa-
tions – at a local level. Similarly, the diversity of a
landscape – and the associated microhabitats that
are available to support diverse organisms and spe-
cies – is in the modern world a function of the com-
plex dynamic of persons and cultures adapting to
changing surroundings. If cultures become more
homogenous, we can expect landscapes to become
more homogenous as a direct and indirect result.
Conversely, if we hope to save the biodiversity of the
earth, we must also save the special dialectics that
have emerged in those local places. This is not to
suggest that we should attempt to halt cultural in-
teraction and the development of more cosmopoli-
tan cultures, which would be futile, but it does mean
that the world economy and the world-wide media
culture must be considered no more than an ‘over-
lay’ on local cultures.
The search for locally based, and culturally di-
verse, values in nature need not rule out an associ-
ated search for generality and universal values in
nature. But these should emerge ‘from the bottom
up’ and cannot be imposed from above, based on
grand dichotomies and universal principles of value.
Advocates of categorical valuation procedures that
have dominated economics and environmental eth-
ics are not, therefore, mistaken in their goals – to
identify some general principles of environmental
valuation – but wrong in that they seek these values
by a top-down, a priori method, and in that they at-
tempt to enforce universal values downward from
above.
Recognizing that peoples and cultures of the
world exist at very different stages of technological
and economic ‘development’, and coupling this rec-
ognition with the idea that all environmental values
emerge from local dialectics between culture and
nature, it is possible to characterize a common source
of the values in nature, which I refer to as the ‘crea-
tivity’ of nature (Norton 1997). ‘Creativity’ includes
both the productivity of stocks such as biomass –
fruits and lumber, for example – that can be used for
food and shelter; and also the ability of natural sys-
tems to diversify across time and create new forms
and new interactions through ecological and evolu-
tionary forces. The creativity of nature, in this sense,
is the sum total of the outputs of ecological and evo-
lutionary processes.
Peoples, in their diversity and in their local
adaptations as well as in their individual, day-to-day
choices, can only make use of, find meaning in, and
enjoy nature and its processes and products if they
have a range of options available to them. From the
standpoint of a person living within a culture and
within a particular natural habitat, who uses or en-
joys a biological ‘resource’, nature is valuable (what-
ever their uses or enjoyments might be) because it
makes available to them a range of choices. Cultural
practices in the use of resources simply represent
choices that have become habituated. From the view-
point of nature, on the other hand, these options and
choices simply reflect the ways in which local natu-
ral systems create and sustain products and experi-
ences. A depauperate landscape offers fewer, and
often less culturally meaningful, options. And so it
is here, at the nexus of individual choice, cultural
practice and nature’s productive and creative capaci-
ties that we should search for the general and uni-
versal aspects of nature’s values to humanity.
On bioresponsibility (James A. Nash)
One of the most important questions on the frontier
of ethics – and certainly the most perplexing as well
as the most neglected one – concerns the moral sta-
tus of non-human species and their incarnations. The
basic question is: do ‘otherkind’ have moral claims
on humans – and, of course, only on humans, as the
only moral agents on the planet – for moral consid-
eration of their interests?
In my view, the most fruitful ethical approach
to this question is to redefine responsible human
relationships with the rest of the planet’s beleaguered
biota, and to ground these human responsibilities
not only, weakly, in human utility (for example, eco-
nomic arguments) or even generosity (for example,
kindness), but also, strongly, in concepts of distribu-
tive justice in consideration of the vital interests of
otherkind. I call this approach ‘bioresponsibility’. It
is a basic moral response to the fact of biodiversity.
It recognizes that, in justice, our responsibilities arise
in response to other’s rights; our duties are defined
in reference to other’s dues.
Bioresponsibility raises a host of questions that
are mind-numbing in their novelty, if not their com-
plexity. The main questions seem to be the follow-
ing: Who or what belongs within the covenant of
moral relationships, having justifiable claims on
humanity? Does the covenant cover whales, voles,
owls, trout, frogs, beetles, nematodes, redwoods, lil-
ies of the field, fungi, bacteria, plankton, rocks and
rills, hills and rivers, etc.? Where should we draw
the line, if at all, on moral consideration? Do all spe-
cies and their members have equal moral standing,
as biotic egalitarianism argues, or is some graded
valuation, proportionate to moral significance, nec-
essary to give due consideration to morally relevant
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 471
differences among species? Do abiotic elements
(such as water and minerals) have a moral status in
themselves? In view of the predatory and exploita-
tive character of the biosphere, in which humans
must destroy other life-forms and their habitats in
order to satisfy our basic needs and to exercise our
peculiar powers of cultural creativity, how can we
balance the intrinsic and instrumental values of non-
human life?
My purpose here is to offer a basic and brief
review of biotic rights as one important part – not
the whole – of adequate ecological ethics. By ‘rights’,
I mean simply specified standards of just relation-
ships. Biotic rights are the moral claims against
humans, and only humans, for the imperative condi-
tions of well-being for other species and their mem-
bers. Several clarifications about biotic rights are
necessary to note at this point.
First, biotic rights are not moral absolutes, con-
trary to one of the most common misinterpretations
of ‘rights’. Indeed, the concept of biotic rights is
absurd when interpreted absolutistically: that would
preclude human survival. Instead, rights are prima
facie or presumptive moral claims, which means they
can be overridden for a ‘just cause’ such as self-de-
fence against a pathogen or an agricultural pest, the
satisfaction of basic human needs, or even the cull-
ing of an alien species to protect an ecosystem. Hu-
mans, of course, are unavoidably predatory
consumers and self defenders in trophic relation-
ships. But what the concept of biotic rights demands
of us in this context is a moral justification for any
harm that we do to otherkind, and a limitation of such
harm only to the extent that it can be so justified.
Second, biotic rights are not equal rights with
humans. Indeed, ‘biotic egalitarianism’ – for exam-
ple putting mosquitoes, molluscs and mammals, in-
cluding humans, on the same moral plane, as deep
ecologists do – is, in my view, inherently unjust, be-
cause it ignores morally relevant differences. We
ought to show respect for other species in propor-
tion to their value-experiencing and value-creating
capacities. This allows for graded valuations among
species and, indeed, a moral preference for humans
over all other species in conflict situations, because
of our rational and culture-creating capacities. Bi-
otic rights deny the exclusivity of human values and
rights, but they do not diminish the fundamental
importance of human values and rights.
Third, in focusing on biotic rights I am not sug-
gesting an alternative to ecosystemic concerns. For
a fully adequate ecological ethic we need a basis for
respecting both life-forms (individuals, populations
and species) and collective connections, that is, the
‘ecological common good’ or diverse and whole eco-
472 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
systems in a healthy ecosphere. The individualistic
and holistic poles are not alternatives; they are com-
plementary sides of a comprehensive ethic. In fact,
the idea of biotic rights finds its fullest practicality
in the quest of the ecological common good.
Finally, biotic rights are not narrowly individu-
alistic. In fact, in most cases, we cannot respect or-
ganisms, such as microbes, individualistically. It is
totally impractical, if not absurd, to try. Neverthe-
less, we can best respect the biotic rights of these
and other organisms collectively or corporately, by
protecting ecosystems from our profligate consump-
tion, production, pollution and reproduction, as well
as from our imprudent interventions.
Biotic rights, of course, need a moral justifica-
tion. Rights cannot be assigned arbitrarily; they need
a reasonable basis, some moral status that warrants
appropriate entitlements from human beings. The
usual criteria for recognizing moral claimants are
sentience (above all), rationality, moral agency, self-
consciousness, linguistic ability, etc. All of these
seem to be sufficient conditions for the recognition
of moral claims, but they appear to be anthropomor-
phically biased and non-ecological. They recognize
moral status on the basis of human characteristics
and values. Among animal rights advocates, for ex-
ample, this status covers highly evolved animals,
such as mammals, but it leaves the rest of the biota
– the vast majority of animals, as well as all plants
and species of other taxonomic ‘Kingdoms’ – with
the instrumental status of ‘things’.
In contrast, the one necessary criterion for the
recognition of biotic rights that I find compelling is
conation – that is, a striving to be and to do, char-
acterized by aims or drives, goals or urges, purposes
or impulses, whether conscious or non-conscious, sen-
tient or non-sentient. At this point, organisms can be
described as having ‘vital interests’ – that is, needs or
goals – for their own sakes. These conative interests
provide a necessary and minimally efficient status for
at least elementary moral claims against humans.
Conation as the basis of moral rights covers all
organisms – fauna, flora, etc. – but it also excludes
abiotic elements, such as minerals and gases, be-
cause they cannot have interests for themselves.
Nevertheless, in excluding abiotic elements from
rights-coverage, humans have no licence for abuse.
All life-forms are dependent on the abiotic elements
in the biosphere. Non-living elements must be treated
with care as instrumental or systemic values, be-
cause they are the resources and habitations of all
creatures. We have indirect duties to ecosystems
because we have direct duties to the host of crea-
tures that partially constitute, and are interdepend-
ent in, these ecosystems.
 Grounded in conation, biotic rights apply to both
individuals and species, because individuals and spe-
cies seem to be constitutive of one another – insepa-
rable and interdependent. Even if a species as a
genetic lifeline from the past for the future is not
conative in itself (which I doubt), that claim would
not contradict a theory of biotic rights grounded in
conation. The reason is that a species as a genetic
lifeline is not only the aggregation of conation in
present populations but also the carrier of conation
for all future generations. So, we can argue that rec-
ognizing the rights of species is essentially the same
as recognizing the rights of future generations. Spe-
cies can be said to have at least anticipatory rights in
the sense that we can reasonably expect that they
will exist and have vital interests, unless we deprive
them of that potential. Therefore, the human com-
munity has anticipatory obligations to preserve
otherkind’s conation for the future.
On these foundations, I propose the following
bill of biotic rights as some of the prima facie just
claims for the vital interests of all non-human spe-
cies and their members against the human commu-
nity. (Additional rights may apply to some highly
evolved organisms, such as primates, as they do to
humans, if their essential needs so require.)
1. The right to participate in the natural dynam-
ics of existence
This right allows otherkinds to work out their own
interactions and adaptations without human protec-
tions or interventions, unless one can make an ethi-
cal case for these. It includes the right to flourish by
being free in natural settings, without unjustified
domestication or captivity. It doesn’t treat predators,
like felines or canines, as moral offenders. The moral
role of humans in wildlands is to protect wildlife from
injustices, of which humans are the only perpetrators.
2. The right to healthy and whole habitats
These systems of existence, despite ambiguities,
provide species and their members with the only
possibilities of realizing the good for their kind and
performing their special functions for the ecological
common good. In fact, the genetic identity of all crea-
tures has been shaped by environmental adaptations,
and the interests of species deteriorate with
dehabitation. The preservation of healthy habitats,
therefore, is the most effective means of promoting
the good of otherkind. The ecological common good
is a basic right in itself and the precondition of all
other biotic rights – or even human rights. At this
point of habitat preservation, the concern for indi-
viduals and species most clearly intersects with ho-
listic concerns.
3. The right to reproduce their own kind without
humanly-induced chemical, radioactive, hybridized
or bioengineered aberrations
The powers of genetic reproduction are a fundamen-
tal feature of an organism’s ‘reason for being’ and
the prerequisite of species’ preservation. Thus, this
right is respect for genetic integrity, evolutionary
legacies, and ecological relationships. It entails, for
example, a variety of moral constraints and public
regulations on genetic engineering. It means also
that if we are proposing to ‘artificialize’ a species,
we need a significant moral justification to do so that
goes beyond simplistic versions of utilitarianism.
4. The right to fulfil their evolutionary potential
with freedom from human-induced extinctions
Extinctions are a natural part of the evolutionary
process, but human-induced extinctions are unjust.
They deprive individuals of one of their conative
drives and species of future generations. They elimi-
nate new evolutionary radiations. Respect for bio-
diversity, therefore, entails perpetually sustaining
viable populations of non-human species in healthy
habitats until the end of their evolutionary time.
5. The right to freedom from human cruelty, fla-
grant abuse or profligate use
This right implies that kindness is not only a matter
of benevolence but also of justice. Equally, it implies
the ecological virtue of frugality, caring, constrained
usage and, therefore, minimal harm to otherkind –
in human production and consumption. Frugality is
the earth-affirming instrument of distributive justice,
to ensure ‘enough’ scarce goods on this planet for
all species (unless we can provide a powerful justifi-
cation to the contrary in particular instances, such
as destroying a human pathogen).
6. The right to reparations or restitution through
managerial interventions to restore a semblance
of natural conditions disrupted by human abuse
Under optimum conditions of wildness, it seems best
generally to adopt a laissez-faire strategy and let ‘na-
ture take its course’ without the dubious benefit of
human managers. Previous human disruptions, how-
ever, mean that interventions – for example, pollution
controls, captive breeding programmes, and the cull-
ing of aliens – are often necessary to enable a return to
an approximation of original ecosystemic interactions.
7. The right to a ‘fair share’ of the goods necessary
for the flourishing of species and their populations
Of course, a ‘fair share’ is a very vague criterion,
and defining it is extremely difficult, especially when
some destruction of otherkind is necessary.
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 473
Nevertheless, it is a criterion that the human com-
munity must struggle to define in order to stifle human
imperialism over the rest of nature – evident particu-
larly in human over-development and overpopulation.
One conclusion, however, seems clear: biotic justice
imposes obligations on the human community to limit
our economic production and our sexual reproduction
to prevent the excessive destruction of wildlife and
wildlands. If other species are ends or good for them-
selves, then our economic and population policies need
to pursue what Herman Daly calls the ‘biocentric opti-
mum’ in contrast to the ‘anthropocentric optimum’
which presently prevails as the norm (Daly 1993).
Both humans and non-humans are wronged when
problems of excessive population and production are
‘resolved’ by the further sacrifice of non-human spe-
cies and their habitats. We already use far more than
any reasonably defined ‘fair share’ of this world’s goods.
These human dilemmas are best resolved not by the
tacky tactic of pitting the poor against endangered spe-
cies and habitats, but rather by confronting directly
the prime sources of both poverty and ecological deg-
radation: over-consumption by economic elites, human
overpopulation, and economic maldistribution.
The debate about the moral status of otherkind
is also finally about ourselves. What is the place of
humans in the scheme of things? What are the rights
and powers of humankind in relation to the rest of
the biophysical world? What are the moral obliga-
tions that arise from our being parts and products of
nature? These are not biological or ecological ques-
tions in themselves: they are metaphysical and ethi-
cal questions that cannot be ignored.
Contrary to some critics, a commitment to bi-
otic values does not mean indifference to the human
project. The purpose is not to substitute biotic val-
ues for anthropic ones, but rather to supplement the
latter with the former and to weave them together
coherently for the enhancement of both.
Biodiversity, faith and ethics (Dieter
T. Hessel)
Globalized economic enterprise generates a pattern
that destroys otherkind, threatens humankind, and
even diminishes God. As Wallace (1996) puts it:
‘God is so internally related to the universe
that the specter
of ecocide raises the risk of deicide; to wreak
environmental
havoc on the earth is to run the risk that we
will do irreparable,
even fatal harm to the Mystery we call God.’
474 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
Religious views and practices, viewed instru-
mentally as resources to meet the environmental
challenge, are typically evaluated by how well they
foster basic human attitudes of wonder, thanksgiv-
ing, humility, respect for persons, reverence for other
life, and a sense of belonging to planet earth in the
cosmos. Environmentalists judge the authenticity of
religion by its cultivation of human spirituality (or
spirited humanity) that cares deeply for the earth
community. But the converse is also importantly true:
richly biodiverse places – nature’s living temples –
are essential (though not in themselves sufficient)
for healthy religions and cultures. The human spirit
is always shaped in an ecological context, even if
organized religion in that place fails to meet its spe-
cial obligation to care for the earth.
So what ought humans to do? The answer em-
bodied by the ecumenical movement evolving over
the last three decades is to foster theological recon-
struction and ethical engagement oriented to ‘eco-jus-
tice’ with a rich understanding of ‘just, participatory
and sustainable societies’, and the imperatives of ‘jus-
tice, peace and integrity of creation’. In this spiritu-
ally-grounded moral perspective, all beings on earth
make up one household (oikos), which benefits from
an economy (oikonomia) that takes ecological and
social stewardship (oikonomos) seriously. Humans
everywhere must learn to revalue the natural world,
and to welcome diverse cultures as well as the myriad
species, while working for a just and sustainable
community. ‘Eco-justice’ provides a dynamic frame-
work for thought and action to foster ecological in-
tegrity while struggling for social and economic
justice. Eco-justice occurs through constructive hu-
man responses that serve environmental health and
social equity together – for the sake of human well-
being with otherkind. The basic norms of an eco-
justice ethic are:
• solidarity with other people and creatures –
companions, victims and allies – in earth com-
munity, reflective of deep respect for creation;
• ecological sustainability – (environmentally fit-
ting) habits of living and working that enable
life to flourish while using appropriate technol-
ogy on a human scale;
• sufficiency as a standard of organized sharing,
which requires basic floors and definite ceilings
of equitable or ‘fair’ consumption;
• socially just participation in decisions about
how to obtain sustenance and to manage com-
munity life for the good in common and good of
the commons.
These norms illumine an overarching impera-
tive: humans should pursue – in reinforcing ways –
what is both ecologically fitting and socially just.
Solidarity comprehends the full dimensions of earth
community and of inter-human obligation. Sustain-
ability gives high visibility to ecological integrity and
wise behaviour throughout the resource-use cycle.
The third and fourth norms express the distributive
and participatory dimensions of basic social justice.
The observance of each ethical norm reinforces
and qualifies the others. All four are core values that
become corrective criteria to guide personal prac-
tice, social analysis and policy advocacy. They pro-
vide, of course, only the starting point for hard
thought and tough choices, and the four norms some-
times come into conflict. For example, democratic
participation is often (mis)used to privilege the role
of humans at the expense of the norm of ecological
sustainability. As Bakken (1995) puts it, ‘The full
range of social justice values that belong to the eco-
justice paradigm includes liberty, community and
dignity, as well as equality or equity. Depending on
the situation, each of these [social justice] values
can reinforce or be at odds with caring for the bio-
sphere. For instance, environmental protections of-
ten restrict the liberty of some people to do certain
things, but they can also enlarge liberty by giving
persons and communities the freedom to engage their
natural environments in more satisfying and respon-
sible ways. With regard to equity, the costs and ben-
efits of environmental protection are often unjustly
distributed – but, as the ‘environmental justice’
movement reminds us, so are the costs and benefits
of toxic pollution and environmental degradation’.
The point to be emphasized is that a rounded
understanding of sustainable society and community
life encompasses all four interrelated eco-justice
norms as essential to a healthy future. These norms
express moral consensus about what the earth com-
munity requires; the norms also have plural expres-
sion that is respectful of cultural–biotic diversity and
alert to situational need.
The authentic human vocation is to respect cre-
ated reality, to love near and distant neighbours in
the spirited community of being, and to meet com-
mon needs on a basis of ecological integrity com-
bined with social equity.
Interbeing: precepts and practices of
an applied ecology (Joan Halifax and
Marty Peale)
Advocacy on behalf of the earth’s ecosystems is of-
ten conducted as if we were at war. For this reason,
the Fourteen Precepts that Thich Nhat Hanh drafted
for the Order of Interbeing (the Tiep Hien Order in
the Lam Te (Lin Chi) and Lieu Quan Schools of Zen)
in the wake of the Vietnam War are sound guidelines
for an environmental activist. The Order is dedicated
to alleviating suffering, fostering peace, raising
awareness of non-duality, and raising awareness of
the interpenetration of all beings. Thich Nhat Hanh’s
teachings reveal the depth of the suffering he wit-
nessed and felt throughout the war that had raged
for a quarter century, leaving 1,500,000 countrymen
dead and forests defoliated across his tropical home-
land – and they reveal the depth of his compassion.
The precepts translate an awareness of ‘no sepa-
rate self’ into daily life. They also translate contem-
plative and engaged practice into daily life as ‘no
separate act’.
What we see, then, informs our understanding
of ourselves as intricately and intimately related in
our world. What we do, then, actually weaves each
of us more richly into the world as one who listens,
one who responds personally and skilfully to chang-
ing conditions, and one who moves other forms of
Being as s/he is moved. These are key aspects of an
applied ecology.
The ramifications of dualism
Environmentalism, by definition, sets up a division
between a human being and the rest of the world.
‘Environment’ means ‘that which surrounds’. Al-
though the word presents the world as an integrated
context within which each being lives, it is problem-
atic in that it splits organism from surrounding.
While we undeniably perceive a distinction, the no-
tion that any two things or two actions are separate
is dangerously misleading.
Perhaps, because the word ‘environmental’ sets
up a duality of organism and surroundings, it should
come as no surprise that the language of environ-
mental activism has grown divisive and combative.
Marty was engaged in environmental work in Alaska
and Washington, D.C. for over 15 years. She re-
counts:
‘We spoke all the time of ‘losing this battle’
against logging on Kuiu Island or ‘winning that
fight’ against dumping mining effluent into
Berners Bay. We congratulated ourselves for
‘outnumbering the opposition’ at public hear-
ings. We knew how many congressmen or leg-
islators were ‘in our camp’ and how many we
needed to ‘win over to our side’ on any given
vote. Our strategic thinkers knew where ‘the
weakest link’ was in ‘the opposition’s’ case or
coached us to ‘go for the jugular’. We dispar-
aged the oil company executives as we listened
to their rationale for drilling in the coastal plain
of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. And we
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 475
 felt absolutely justified in our vilification of the
Fish and Game Commissioner’s proposal to hunt
whole wolf packs with AK-47s from helicopters.
We were at war, and the ‘veterans’ had their
‘war stories’.
In 1986, Marty was working for the Northern
Alaska Environmental Center in Fairbanks. The or-
ganization was suing the Alaska Department of En-
vironmental Conservation for failure to enforce
existing water quality regulations: at issue was
chronic sediment and arsenic discharge from placer-
mining operations upstream from an Athabascan vil-
lage. The Environmental Center was not suing
miners. It was not advocating enactment of more
stringent regulations. It was simply insisting that
the State enforce existing regulations. The North-
ern Center won the lawsuit.
The following day, a woman came into the front
room of the little house in which the Center oper-
ated. She had two children in tow. They came in and
stood there between the shelves of tee-shirts and
note cards and the old metal desk, and she said, ‘OK
then, you feed them’. They were the children of a
miner whose work was suspended because the North-
ern Center had won that lawsuit against the State of
Alaska. The woman who brought them so that the
environmentalists could see them was their mother.
Marty remembers:
‘I had to stop and sit down. I knew I could bake
bread for them every week – and I knew that wasn’t
what she meant. They needed more than my gener-
osity; they needed my understanding, and they
needed a way to support themselves. I began to see
that there was no value in winning the environmen-
tal battles, lawsuit-by-lawsuit and bill-by-bill, if hun-
ger, bitterness and hatred flowed in the wake of
‘justice’. I began to have a sense of my own insensi-
tivity to other people, and to see the despair and
anger that had grown in the absence of personal con-
tact. I began to see that the environmental commu-
nity was losing ground even as we were winning in
the courts.’
Shifting the emphasis to relationships
‘Ecology’ is ‘the science of relationships between
organisms and their environments’. Literally, the
word means ‘the study of home’, and the field of study
includes humans along with all other components of
ecosystems.
Unlike ‘environment’, the definition of ecology
emphasizes relationships. For this reason perhaps,
the words ‘ecology’ and ‘ecological’ are used, in not
quite a strict sense, by many people who wish to
476 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
invoke patient attention to the details and dynamics
of existence without invoking the dichotomy and the
resulting emotional charge associated with ‘environ-
ment’ and ‘environmental’. While the definition of
ecology places an emphasis on relationships between
things, it falls short of acknowledging the in-flowings
that blur the distinctions by which we rather arbi-
trarily distinguish things. Thich Nhat Hanh has
coined the word ‘interbeing’ to address this dynamic
of interpenetration.
What do we mean when we speak of ‘an ap-
plied ecology’?
‘To apply’ means ‘to make use of’. In the sci-
ences, ‘applied’ refers to research that is need-driven,
research designed to generate results that will be
applied to a current problem. When we refer to ‘ap-
plied ecology’, we invoke an investigation of beings,
communities, landscapes, energies and systems that
is need-driven. We call for an investigation charac-
terized by attention to detail and relationships. We
have a clear intention to apply our observations in
our day-to-day lives. And we reaffirm that such an
investigation will inform our understanding of our-
selves as intricately and intimately related to our
world.
There are two bodies of practice in an applied
ecology. One is to heighten awareness. The other is
to engage – to literally reincorporate – the insights
of interconnectedness, as we move in the fabric of
Being as a whole.
When activism takes the form of raising aware-
ness about the relationships between our individual,
incremental decisions and the signs of strain in the
world, then our actions can be constructive. When
activism includes listening, it remains rooted in hu-
mility. When activism is conducted with respect for
the perspectives, the needs and the fears of those
who do not see the world the way we do, it can be
compassionate. When activism includes a reassess-
ment of the way we live our own lives, it can be com-
munity-building.
Let us consider, then, what shift can occur when
we apply the Precepts of the Order of Interbeing to
environmental activism. The First Precept states,
1. Do not be idolatrous about or bound to any
doctrine, theory or ideology, even Buddhist
ones. Buddhist systems of thought are guiding
means; they are not absolute truth.
This suggests that, even if we have studied the
ecology of the boreal forest, we must not assume
that we know what is best for the forest. It suggests
that neither an environmentalist nor an industrial
logger knows absolute truth. It reminds us that
suffering is based in beliefs that are profoundly mis-
guided. Our world-view and the knowledge informing
it is often an obstacle to our deeper understanding. The
First Precept encourages us to develop a stance of ab-
solute tolerance and complete openness and to expand
the boundaries of our understanding. It invites us into
a vital process of inquiry, reminding us that narrow-
ness produces conflict and suffering, and that our true
mandate is freedom from suffering for all beings.
2. Do not think that the knowledge you pres-
ently possess is changeless, absolute truth.
Avoid being narrow-minded and bound to
present views. Learn and practice non-attach-
ment from views in order to be open to receive
others’ viewpoints. Truth is found in life and not
merely in conceptual knowledge. Be ready to learn
throughout your entire life and to observe reality
in yourself and in the world at all times.
The Second Precept reminds us that knowledge
is relative, and we are shown the door of compas-
sion and interbeing as a way of deepening our un-
derstanding and opening ourselves to the viewpoints
of other beings. This suggests that we should not
enter into a discussion with hopes of changing the
minds of people who do not share our views unless
we too are open to the possibility of changing our
minds in light of what they may have to tell us. It
points to the possibility that what we know now
might not to be true ten years from now or a hun-
dred years from now. It invites us to be open-minded
and aware of the inevitability of change and the in-
terconnectedness of phenomena.
3. Do not force others, including children, by
any means whatsoever, to adopt your views,
whether by authority, threat, money, propa-
ganda or even education. However, through
compassionate dialogue, help others renounce
fanaticism and narrowness.
This Precept points to freedom, freedom of
thought and mind, and a call for us to respect the
viewpoints of others. It also calls us to enter into
‘compassionate dialogue’, which means truly under-
standing the viewpoints of others. This suggests that
personal discussions based in compassion are the
most effective means of informing and engaging any
individual in change. Neither arguments for economic
security nor new legislation are conducive to broad-
ening understanding and building community.
4. Do not avoid contact with suffering or close
your eyes before suffering. Do not lose
awareness of the existence of suffering in the
life of the world. Find ways to be with those
who are suffering by all means, including per-
sonal contact and visits, images, sound. By such
means, awaken yourself and others to the real-
ity of suffering in the world.
This Precept indicates that each of us would
do well to become more aware of the suffering in
our own lives and in the world in which we live, in-
cluding those who do not agree with our way of think-
ing and living. It suggests that environmental
advocates should look deeply into the lives of those
who will be affected by their efforts and engage in
constructive initiatives to address hunger, fear, eco-
nomic insecurity and other forms of suffering that
lead to environmental damage. The placer-miner’s
wife could not have more clearly demonstrated the
capacity for personal contact to transform the na-
ture of conflict. It also calls us to look for the causes
of suffering and to work with the internal and social
forces that give rise to suffering. This Precept is
about stepping out of our protected corners and work-
ing for the well-being of others. It embodies the true
spirit of the Mahayana, which is to help ourselves and
others be free from ill-being. If we look deeply, we see
that when one being suffers, all beings suffer.
5. Do not accumulate wealth while millions are
hungry. Do not take as the aim of your life fame,
profit, wealth or sensual pleasure. Live simply
and share time, energy and material resources
with those who are in need.
This Precept suggests that environmental ac-
tivists live their own lives in a way that does not tax
the earth or themselves. It invites us to examine the
inevitable ramifications of our patterns of consump-
tion as well as the stressful and driven lives that
many of us lead. In the Sutra on the Eight Realiza-
tions of the Great Beings, it says, ‘The human mind is
always searching for possessions and never feeling
fulfilled. This causes impure actions ever to in-
crease’. A ‘pure action’ is the sharing of time, en-
ergy and material resources with those who need
them. This lays a foundation for voluntary simplic-
ity and deep ecology, a life that sees and confirms
the interconnectedness of beings and actions, and
their causal relationships.
6. Do not maintain anger or hatred. Learn to
penetrate and transform them when they are
still seeds in your consciousness. As soon as
they arise, turn your attention to your breath
in order to see and understand the nature of
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 477
 your anger and hatred and the nature of the per-
sons who have caused your anger and hatred.
The Sixth Precept tells us to recognize that the
seeds of anger are within us, whether or not we are
angry. The practice of mindfulness has the potential
for transforming these seeds before they sprout. If
anger does arise, we can turn our awareness toward
the anger in order to understand its roots. In the
environmental movement, there is often a great deal
of anger expressed. Environmentalists have been
hung in effigy by loggers. Loggers have been vilified
by environmentalists. Anger does not solve problems.
It creates them. We need to be aware of blaming a
person for his or her position or perspective. That
person has been shaped by his/her experience as
surely as we have been shaped by our own. We are
asked to understand the roots of our anger and the
roots of the anger expressed by those who confront
us. This understanding can give rise to compassion.
7. Do not lose yourself in dispersion and in your
surroundings. Practice mindful breathing to
come back to what is happening in the present
moment. Be in touch with what is wondrous,
refreshing and healing both inside and round
you. Plant seeds of joy, peace and understanding
in yourself in order to facilitate the work of trans-
formation in the depths of your consciousness.
This Precept suggests that an environmental
activist step out of the business, the urgency and
the assumptions that direct his/her activity. Being
in the present moment, looking deeply into reality,
helps life become real and of value. It invites the
practitioner to a more wholesome and kind way of
living, strengthening the mind and heart. Thich Nhat
Hanh has said that this is the heart of the Precepts,
and points to our struggle with forgetfulness and
lack of understanding.
8. Do not utter words that can create discord
and cause the community to break. Make every
effort to reconcile all conflicts, however small.
This suggests that advocacy that divides a com-
munity will cause more suffering than any suffering
it aims to alleviate. Reconciliation is built of small
initiatives; peace is built through personal relation-
ships. It suggests that I begin it.
9. Do not say untruthful things for the sake of
personal interest or to impress people. Do not
utter words that cause division or hatred. Do
not spread news that you do not know to be
478 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
certain. Do not criticize or condemn things that
you are not sure of. Always speak truthfully
and constructively. Have the courage to speak
out about situations of injustice, even when
doing so may threaten your own safety.
This suggests that antagonistic, divisive lan-
guage is not an effective tool for increasing under-
standing about our relationship to the earth;
impatience rules us when we reason that our ends
justify our means. We are each responsible for in-
creasing awareness in our communities through hon-
est, compassionate, responsible and constructive
dialogue. Raising awareness about the injustice
which our over-consumption visits upon other spe-
cies may call for all of us to simplify our lives and
relinquish illusions of security. This Precept also
points to the value of silence.
10. Do not use the Buddhist community for per-
sonal gain or transform your community into a
political party. A religious community, however,
should take a clear stand against oppression
and injustice, and should strive to change the
situation without engaging in partisan conflicts.
Thich Nhat Hanh has said, ‘although religious
communities are not political powers, they can use
their influence to change society. Speaking out is
the first step, proposing and supporting appropriate
measures for change is the next. Most important is
to transcend all partisan conflicts. The voice of car-
ing and understanding must be distinct from the voice
of ambition’. In many ways, for many activists, envi-
ronmentalism is a religion. Our lives are dedicated
to an entity, a whole realm of being, which is far
greater than any one of us. We strive to live by a
code of ethics. There are places we hold sacred, and
we go to them for renewal. But like certain religious
organizations, environmental groups can have more
than a touch of partisan fanaticism. This Precept
suggests that, while we work against injustice, we
do so without generalizing, without a platform that
does not take into account the well-being of our ad-
versaries, and without an aim to govern others.
11. Do not live with a vocation that is harmful
to humans and nature. Do not invest in compa-
nies that deprive others of their chance to life.
Select a vocation that helps realize your ideal
of compassion.
This Precept urges us to ‘walk our talk’. It di-
rects us to live and work in a way that is not damag-
ing to people or the natural world, even as we oppose
injustice. This Precept is about Right Livelihood,
which points to practising a vocation that is based
in compassion, and engaging in that vocation in a
mindful way. Again, we are asked to look at our pat-
terns of consumption. Although we might be a dedi-
cated environmental advocate, we could be supporting
others in harmful vocations through our style of life
and work.
12. Do not kill. Do not let others kill. Find what-
ever means possible to protect life and to pre-
vent war.
At the 1992 Retreat for Environmentalists, the
Twelfth Precept, ‘Do not kill’, was interpreted as
referring to all life. When it is understood to refer to
all beings, he explained, several stages of working
with the precept unfold. The first step is to ‘take the
precept’, to affirm that one is determined to live by
it. The second is to realize that one cannot always
live up to this guideline, because the beets we eat,
the organisms in the dry wood we burn, and the tiny
creatures in the soil upon which we walk die in sup-
port of our lives. This realization leads the practi-
tioner straight back to the First Precept which
advised us not to be bound to any doctrine, even
Buddhist ones. There is no black and white; there is
at best a very personal exploration of the landscape
of Being. The third stage, Thây said, is to confer with
members of our community about the difficulties we
face and the insights we have, as we succeed and
fail to abide by the guideline not to kill. It is this last
practice, he taught, that builds community.
This precept is extremely important for envi-
ronmental activists, because it reminds us that we
cannot afford to be righteous. We, too, are responsi-
ble for taking life, consciously or otherwise. We can-
not point the finger at offenders as if we were not
also implicated in harming. The humility that this
engenders, and the honest communication that Thây
requests of us, are antidotes to our tendency to al-
ienate ourselves and polarize our communities.
13. Possess nothing that should belong to oth-
ers. Respect the property of others, but prevent
others from enriching themselves from human suf-
fering or the suffering of other species on earth.
This Precept means, ‘Do not steal’. Like the
one before it, we violate this guideline, daily, as we
wear leather, eat honey and eggs, build with lumber
from the mixed hardwood forest, and clear a corner
of a field for a garden plot. Everything that supports
our life comes from another creature or another crea-
ture’s habitat. Even the sunlight we intercept with a
solar panel would have otherwise provided energy
for a plant or warmed a thrush’s nest. This precept
sheds light on the depth of suffering created by over-
consumption and environmental degradation – and
the significance of voluntary simplicity. The stand-
ard of living we maintain in ‘the First World’ is sup-
ported by people and ecosystems around the world
who grow our coffee and sell their rainforests for a
song. It also points to social and economic injustice.
How we define and legitimize theft must be called into
question by any individual who strives to live by this
Precept. And daily practice heightens appreciation of
the lives that contribute their energy to our own.
14. Do not mistreat your body. Learn to handle
it with respect. Do not look on your body as
only an instrument. Preserve vital energies
(sexual, breath, spirit) for the realization of the
Way. Sexual expression should not happen with-
out love and commitment. In sexual relation-
ships, be aware of future suffering that may be
caused. To preserve the happiness of others,
respect the rights and commitments of others.
Be fully aware of the responsibility of bringing
new lives into the world. Meditate on the world
into which you are bringing new beings.
This Precept affirms that we must conduct our
lives and our work in a way that does not lead to the
collapse of systems that support life, including our
own bodies. Living in a way that leads to mental or
physical illness it disrespectful of the gift of life and
is harmful to our communities. This Precept also
suggests that our lives serve to support our spiritual
growth. It suggests that our physical, manual efforts
are not our only means of working in the world. It
suggests that we not become preoccupied with our
bodies or other material aspects of the world, but
keep a bearing on the Way, on love and commitment,
and on the capacity and opportunity for new beings to
flourish in the world and bodies they inherit. It also
reminds us that overpopulation is causing immeasur-
able suffering to beings everywhere. We are admon-
ished to consider the world our children will inherit.
The Precept speaks to activists who exhaust
themselves as if their well-being were not as essen-
tial for the earth as that of the earth is for them. It
speaks also to the activist who might otherwise fall
into a habit of assuming that the state of a temper-
ate rainforest or the Bering Sea cod fishery were
more important than the calling for her to develop
compassion. Marty says that it occurred to her after
more than a decade of advocacy that perhaps all the
ranks of Douglas fir and wolves, fin whales and con-
dors have stood up and will continue to stand up
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 479
among humans, one after another, risking their lives
to crossfire, to see if we have yet learned to put down
our weapons, to see if we have yet learned to en-
gage with compassion.
Psychospiritual effects of biodiversity
loss in Celtic culture and its
contemporary geopoetic restoration
(Alastair McIntosh)
In 1743 the last wild wolf in Scotland was shot by a
hunter named McQueen on the territory of my tribal
clan, Mackintosh, in the upper reaches of the
Findhorn River (Harting 1972). Three years later,
and in the same region, the last battle to be fought
on mainland British soil, Culloden, put an end to the
old culture of the Scottish Highlands in an act of
internal colonial conquest by the consolidating Brit-
ish state. This marked the onset of the ‘Highland
Clearances’, whereby some half a million people were
forced off their land to make way for sheep ranching
and blood sports. Today, Scotland retains a feudal
system in which nearly two-thirds of its private land
is owned by only about 1,000 people – one fiftieth of
one percent of the population.
It was doubtless coincidence that a significant
element of ecocide, the wolf’s local extinction, pre-
ceded cultural genocide. But in terms of psychohis-
tory, it is possible that the events were connected.
Gaelic traditions of (Celtic) Scotland and Ireland
suggest that we must understand the psychospiritual
impact of historical processes of degradation in our
relationship to nature in order to create an authen-
tic human ecology. This lies at the core of ‘sustain-
able development’ and, from a Celtic cultural
perspective, it is in part a spiritual process. Spiritu-
ality is about interconnection, thus the loss of the
wolf, or any other depletion of biodiversity, can be
seen as a loss of an aspect of our extended selves.
Such a principle of deep ecology is therefore ger-
mane to indigenous Celtic spirituality.
Celtic ‘bards’ or poets were in touch with the
equivalent of our song-lines and dreamtime. A grow-
ing body of evidence, much as yet unpublished, points
to their shamanic role and technique, including
things like the use of tigh n’ alluis or Irish sweat
lodges for dercad meditation, leading to a state of
sitchain or mystical peace (Ellis 1995). However, from
the repressive 1609 Statutes of Iona onwards, the
bards’ role in maintaining cultural and ecological
processes was repressed or marginalized. As in so
many colonized traditional societies around the
world, poetic power, by which the deep Spirit was
expressed through socio-political structures, was
replaced by the power of money and money as power.
480 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
Celtic nature poetry
The earliest recorded Celtic nature poetry reveals
an acute sensitivity to the wild which is often inter-
mingled with Christian devotional material. It illus-
trates Celtic Christianity’s most distinctive feature
– God and nature. The highest flowering of early
Celtic nature poetry, from the eighth to the twelfth
century, reveals a creation-centred theology that
anticipated, by at least a millennium, modern
ecotheology and deep ecology.
Consider the representative passages I have
linked together here, mostly from Seamus Heaney’s
translation of Sweeney Astray. Heaney draws on a
relatively late, seventeenth century Irish manuscript,
but one that had probably taken shape in the ninth
century, which starts with the Battle of Moira of
637CE. In it, Suibhne or Sweeney, a seventh-cen-
tury Irish or possibly Scottish ‘king, saint or holy
fool’, is sent ‘mad’ in battle by a cleric’s curse. This
was a shamanic madness or geilt. It projects him on
a journey where he falls in love with nature and be-
comes a poet of deep ecology. He reconciles easily
such ‘paganism’ with Christ, but frequently chal-
lenges the clerical efforts then being made to build
an institutional church. Transformed by the ‘curse
and miracle’ of his affliction into a bird, Suibhne flies
around Ireland and the west of Scotland, where he
contemplates for six weeks in St. Donan’s Cave on
the Hebridean Isle of Eigg. And he proclaims:
‘I perched for rest and imagined cuckoos call-
ing across water, the Bann cuckoos, calling
sweeter than church bells that whinge and grind
... From lonely cliff tops, the stag bells and
makes the whole glen shake and re-echo. I am
ravished. Unearthly sweetness shakes my
breast. O Christ, the loving and the sinless, hear
my prayer, attend, O Christ, and let nothing
separate us. Blend me forever in your sweet-
ness ... I prefer the badgers in their sett to
the tally-ho of the morning hunt; I prefer the
re-echoing belling of a stag among the peaks
to that arrogant horn ... Though you think
sweet, yonder in your church, the gentle talk
of your students, sweeter I think the splen-
did talking the wolves make in Glenn Bolcain.
Though you like the fat and meat which are
eaten in the drinking halls, I like better to
eat a head of clean water-cress in a place
without sorrow ...’ (Heaney 1984: 19, 20, 43;
Jackson 1971: 255)
Typical of actual historical accounts that re-
veal the importance of nature is a Gaelic song,
translated by Michael Newton (personal corre-
spondence) as ‘O Green Morvern of the Hills’. It was
written by Donald Mackinnon, ‘Domhnull Ruadh’,
a West Highland bard, between 1845 and 1860.
MacKinnon laments both the ecological and the
social changes heralded after a wealthy Londoner,
Octavius Smith, bought the ‘property’ in 1845 and
cleared the indigenous people away to other lands
on the tall ships to create space for ecologically
devastating sheep ranching.
O green Morvern of the hills
You look full of despair and sorrow
The situation has become very desperate
That you might turn completely into a wasteland
The reason for my sadness
Is to be gazing at your hills
Down beside the Sound of Mull
Toward the ships of tall masts
It is your non-native lords
Who left the natives dispossessed
And who let the people who don’t belong to you
Dwell in their place ...
They called you ‘land of the woods’
And there was a time when you deserved that
But today your woods have been denuded
By the people of the pale-faces
A modern example, that emphasizes the need
for healing such alienation or ‘anomie’, comes from
Clydebank, an industrial town down the river from
Glasgow. Here my friend, the contemporary Gaelic
poet who was born there, Duncan MacLaren (per-
sonal communication), dreams of his people’s Heb-
ridean origins and yearns for rustic frugality rather
than the multiple deprivation of urban decay where
unemployment, during the 1980s, exceeded thirty
percent:
Bruach Chluaidh. Bidh Bruadar air uair agam ‘s
tu nad eilean air bhog eadar Barraidh ‘s ceann an Neimh
... Clydebank – I sometimes dream that you are an
island afloat between Barra and the end of Heaven
and that the only speech on the tongues of your peo-
ple is the language of the Hebrides and the mists
would put a poultice on your stinking houses and it
wouldn’t be vomit on the street but bog-cotton and
your rusty river would be a dark-green sea. And, in
the faces of your people, the wrinkles of their mis-
ery would only be the lash of wind and waves and
your grinding poverty would somehow be diminished
... agus thigeadh lughdachadh air do bhochdainn
chraidh.
Cauterization of the heart?
The evidence I have touched upon from the bardic
record suggests that the human heart became cau-
terized by historical vicissitudes – broken and sealed
off from its cause of suffering. Could it be that, at an
unconscious level, most of us still carry such ech-
oes of that painful past? Could it be that we accumu-
late the effects of bygone extinctions, degradations
and colonizations, and that these inhibit our ability
to act; bind us in our apparent powerlessness to re-
solve the major issues of our times? Is there a paral-
lel here with other forms of ‘intergenerational
trauma’ such as sexual abuse, addiction and violence
that can be handed down from generation to genera-
tion within families?
Robert Burns (1759–1796), the most acclaimed
bard of Scotland, lived in the immediate aftermath
of Culloden. In his two-verse poem, Strathallan’s La-
ment (1767), he brilliantly illustrates the psychol-
ogy of despair that lies behind cultural genocide. I
have alluded to how ecocide depletes culture. Here
we see the counterpoint – repression of culture set-
ting in place the preconditions of ecocide. Burns
stands himself in the shoes of the fifth Viscount
Strathallan whose Highland father was killed by the
forces of the British state at Culloden (1746). He
portrays this battle as having left behind an emo-
tionally vacant modern world ‘without a friend’; one
in which the ravishes of neither nature nor friend-
ship (the ‘busy haunts of base mankind’) could be
appreciated. The ability to feel had indeed been cau-
terized; the very ability to perceive reality, altered.
As the thatched houses of peasant farmer and fisher
crofters were set ablaze by the ‘butcher’
Cumberland’s vanquishing troops – who had been
ordered to give ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’s’ retreating
soldiers of the 1745 Jacobite uprising ‘no quarter’ –
the soul of a people resisting the unacceptable heart-
lessness of the forces of modernity was dealt a near-
mortal blow:
Thickest night, surround my dwelling!
Howling tempests, o’er me rave!
Turbid torrents wintry-swelling,
Roaring by my lonely cave!
Crystal streamlets gently flowing,
Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.
In the cause of Right engaged,
Wrongs injurious to redress,
Honour’s war we strongly waged,
But the heavens deny’d success.
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 481
 Ruin’s wheel has driven o’er us;
Not a hope that dare attend,
The wide world is all before us,
But a world without a friend
(Mackay 1993: 287)
Towards a cultural psychotherapy
I consider that the renewal of community and the
cultural spirit comes about in considerable degree
through re-connection with the deep poetics of place
– that is, with the totems and their expression of
underlying psychospiritual dynamics. This is broadly
what the Scots poet Kenneth White (1992: 174) calls,
‘Poetry, geography – and a higher unity: geopoetics’.
Such a mythopoetic underpinning rehabilitates, af-
ter four centuries, the repressed bardic tradition. But
can what amounts to a psychotherapy be effective
as a change agent?
Conscientization, as Freire (1972) would call
it, partly through a geopoetic approach, was used
over a seven-year period in helping to bring about
land reform on the Isle of Eigg in the Scottish Hebri-
dean islands (McIntosh 1997). A community of some
sixty-five people were assisted, by me, many others,
and not least themselves, to waken up to their his-
tory, grasp a vision of what it could be like if seven
generations of oppressive landlordism were put be-
hind them, and develop the unity and media know-
how that enabled them to repel the landlord’s 1994
attempt to evict 12 percent of the population for no
apparent good reason, except, perhaps, that they
were starting to speak out and take responsibility
for their own emancipation. The process finally re-
sulted in the island coming into community owner-
ship on 12 June 1997. Partners with the community
in the process were both the local authority, High-
land Council, and the Scottish Wildlife Trust – a
unique unity of social and conservation interests.
Part of the community’s empowerment process
involved erecting two standing stones – one of which
had last stood some 5,000 years previously when
the ancient forests were at their maximum post-gla-
cial extent. Another part entailed an only-half-jok-
ing identification with legends about Amazonian ‘big
women’ on Eigg by some of the women activists who
played lead roles. A further element was the organ-
izing of the first traditional feis (music festival) to be
held in modern times. This restored a respect for
indigenous arts and knowledge, as communicated
by some of the elderly residents who had thought it
would die with them. For some, the two pairs of ea-
gles resident on the island, and the oystercatcher
associated with St. Bride (Bridgit, the Goddess
482 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
Brigh), and the little flowers through which ‘God can
be seen’, played privately empowering roles.
I have used a similar geopoetic process in my
work opposing the proposed Isle of Harris ‘super-
quarry’. This would turn the biggest mountain in the
south of this National Scenic Area in the Outer Heb-
rides into road aggregate. Initially, the community
were 90 percent in favour of the quarry because of
promised jobs. It was clear that conventional argu-
ments alone were not sufficiently going to shift lo-
cal opinion. Working in close liaison with other
objectors, I arranged for the Rev. Prof. Donald
MacLeod of the Free Church College in Edinburgh
and Canadian Mi’Kmaq Warrior Chief and sacred
peace pipe carrier, Sulian Stone Eagle Herney, to give
evidence at the inquiry with me on theological
grounds. This approach reached to the taproot of
vernacular values in what is a deeply Calvinist cul-
ture. The relevance of Stone Eagle was that, although
not a Christian, his people were also alienated from
their tribal lands – ironically, in large measure, by
cleared Highland settlers. They are now subject to a
super-quarry threat at their sacred mountain, Kluscap
(Kelly’s Mountain). In effect, the theological testi-
mony drew out a Judeo-Christian ecology which re-
ceived extensive local, national, and international
media coverage.
At the conclusion of the government public in-
quiry on Harris (which has yet to report its findings),
the island’s chosen representative, John MacAulay,
summed up the cultural, economic and environmen-
tal importance of the mountain. He said, ‘It is not a
‘holy mountain’ but is certainly worthy of reverence
for its place in Creation’. (‘Let the people of Harris
decide on their own future’, West Highland Free Press,
9 June 1995, 5).
Reverence towards nature and one another is
the keystone of ‘sustainable development’. As if to
corroborate, the Irish-born Scottish-based theologian
Fr. Noel O’Donoghue makes use of words almost
identical to those chosen in Mr MacAulay’s full state-
ment to describe what he calls ‘the mountain be-
hind’ such mountains: He writes in the context of
discussing Kathleen Raine’s poetry in his book which
uses as its title an expression of hers, The Mountain
Behind the Mountain:
‘The mountain behind the mountain is not the
perfect or ideal mountain in some Platonic
sense ... [I]t is neither an ideal nor a mythical
mountain, nor is it exactly a holy or sacred
mountain made sacred by theophany or trans-
figuration. No, it is a very ordinary, very physi-
cal, very material mountain, a place of sheep
and kine (cattle), of peat, and of streams that
 one might fish in or bathe in on a summer’s day.
It is an elemental mountain, of earth and air
and water and fire, of sun and moon and wind
and rain. What makes it special for me and for
the people from which I come is that it is a place
of Presence and a place of presences. Only those
who can perceive this in its ordinariness can
encounter the mountain behind the mountain.’
(O’Donoghue 1993, 30–31).
Thus the ancient Celtic world-view has a place
even in modern political debate. It suggests that to
open ourselves to sustainable life-ways, we must cut
through the conspiracy of silence that marginalizes
the cultural and the spiritual in modernist and
postmodernist nihilism. Only then can we hope to
know the wolf that remains alive in our souls; the
mountain behind the mountain; the ecological self
underlying the urbanized self. Only then can we
glimpse the further reaches of reality, which is the
sole font of values often perceived but dimly.
The ecology of animism (David Abram)
Late one evening, I stepped out of my little hut in
the rice paddies of eastern Bali and found myself
falling through space. Over my head the black sky
was rippling with stars, densely clustered in some
regions, almost blocking out the darkness between
them, and more loosely scattered in other areas,
pulsing and beckoning to each other. Behind them
all streamed the great river of light, with its several
tributaries. But the Milky Way churned beneath me
as well, for my hut was set in the middle of a large
patchwork of rice paddies, separated from each other
by narrow two-foot high dikes, and these paddies
were all filled with water. The surface of these pools,
by day, reflected perfectly the blue sky – a reflection
broken only by the thin, bright green tips of new rice.
But by night, the stars themselves glimmered from
the surface of the paddies, and the river of light
whirled through the darkness underfoot as well as
above; there seemed no ground in front of my feet,
only the abyss of star-studded space falling away
forever.
I was no longer simply beneath the night sky,
but also above it. The immediate impression was of
weightlessness. I might perhaps have been able to
reorient myself, to regain some sense of ground and
gravity, were it not for a fact that confounded my
senses entirely: between the galaxies below and the
constellations above drifted countless fireflies, their
lights flickering like the stars, some drifting up to
join the clusters of stars overhead, others, like grace-
ful meteors, slipping down from above to join the
constellations underfoot, and all these paths of light
upward and downward were mirrored, as well, in
the still surface of the paddies. I felt myself at times
falling through space, at other moments floating and
drifting. I simply could not dispel the profound ver-
tigo and giddiness; the paths of the fireflies, and their
reflections in the water’s surface, held me in a sus-
tained trance. Even after I crawled back to my hut
and shut the door on this whirling world, I felt that
now the little room in which I lay was itself floating
free of the earth.
Fireflies! It was in Indonesia, you see, that I
was first introduced to the world of insects, and there
that I first learned of the great influence that insects,
such diminutive entities, could have upon the hu-
man senses. I had travelled to Southeast Asia in or-
der to study magic; more precisely, to study the
relationship between magic and medicine, first
among the traditional sorcerers, or dukuns, of the
Indonesian archipelago, and later among the
dzankris, the traditional shamans of Nepal. One as-
pect of my research was somewhat unique: I was
journeying through rural villages not outwardly as
an anthropologist or academic researcher, but as a
magician in my own right, in hopes of gaining a more
direct access to the local sorcerers. I had been a
professional sleight-of-hand magician for five years
back in the United States, helping to put myself
through college by performing in clubs and restau-
rants throughout New England. I had, as well, taken
a year off from my studies in the psychology of per-
ception to travel as a street magician through Eu-
rope, and toward the end of that journey had spent
some months in London, England, exploring the use
of sleight-of-hand magic in psychotherapy, as a
means of engendering communication with dis-
tressed individuals largely unapproachable by clini-
cal healers. The success of this work suggested to
me that sleight-of-hand might lend itself well to the
curative arts, and I became, for the first time, inter-
ested in the relation, largely forgotten in the West,
between folk-medicine and magic.
It is thus that, two years later, I embarked upon
my sojourn as a magician in rural Asia. There, my
sleight-of-hand skills proved invaluable as a means
of stirring the curiosity of the local shamans. For
magicians, whether modern entertainers or indig-
enous, tribal sorcerers, have in common the fact that
they work with the malleable texture of perception.
When the local sorcerers gleaned that I had at least
some rudimentary skill in altering the common field
of perception, I was invited into their homes, asked
to share secrets with them, and eventually encour-
aged, even urged, to participate in various rituals
and ceremonies.
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 483
 But the focus of my research gradually shifted
from questions regarding the application of magical
techniques in medicine and ritual curing, toward a
deeper pondering of the relation between traditional
magic and the animate natural world. This broader
concern seemed to hold the keys to the earlier ques-
tions. For none of the several island sorcerers that I
came to know in Indonesia, nor any of the dzankris
with whom I lived in Nepal, considered their work
as ritual healers to be their major role or function
within their communities. Most of them, to be sure,
were the primary healers or ‘doctors’ for the villages
in their vicinity, and they were often spoken of as
such by the inhabitants of those villages. But the
villagers also sometimes spoke of them, in low voices
and in very private conversations, as witches (or
lejaks in Bali), as dark magicians who at night might
well be practising their healing spells backwards,
(or while turning to the left instead of to the right)
in order to afflict people with the very diseases that
they would later work to cure by day. Such suspi-
cions seemed fairly common in Indonesia, and often
were harboured with regard to the most effective and
powerful healers, those who were most renowned
for their skill in driving out illness. For it was as-
sumed that a magician, in order to expel malevolent
influences, must have a strong understanding of
those influences and demons: even, in some areas, a
close rapport with such powers. I myself never con-
sciously saw any of those magicians or shamans with
whom I became acquainted engage in magic for harm-
ful purposes, nor any convincing evidence that they
had ever done so. (Few of the magicians that I came
to know even accepted money in return for their serv-
ices, although they did accept gifts in the way of
food, blankets and the like.) Yet I was struck by the
fact that none of them ever did or said anything to
counter such disturbing rumours and speculations,
which circulated quietly through the regions where
they lived. Slowly I came to recognize that it was
through the agency of such rumours that the sorcer-
ers were able to maintain a basic level of privacy. If
the villagers did not entertain certain fears about
the local sorcerer then they would likely come to
obtain her or his magical help for every little malady
and disturbance, and since a more potent practitioner
must provide services for several large villages, he
would be swamped from morning to night with re-
quests for ritual aid.
This privacy, in turn, left the magician free to
attend to what he acknowledged as his primary craft
and function. A clue to this function may be found in
the circumstance that such magicians rarely dwell
at the heart of their village; rather their dwellings
are commonly at the spatial periphery of the
484 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
community or, more often, out beyond the edges of
the village – amid the rice fields, or in a forest, or a
wild cluster of boulders. I could easily attribute this
to the just-mentioned need for privacy, yet for the
magician in a traditional culture it seems as well to
serve another purpose, providing a spatial expres-
sion of his or her symbolic position with regard to
the community. For the magician’s intelligence is not
encompassed within the society; its place is at the
edge of the community, mediating between the hu-
man community and the larger community of beings
upon which the village depends for its nourishment
and sustenance. This larger community includes,
along with the humans, the multiple non-human en-
tities that constitute the local landscape, from the
myriad plants and the diverse animals, birds, mam-
mals, fish, reptiles and insects that inhabit or mi-
grate through the region, to the particular winds and
weather patterns that inform the local geography,
as well as the various landforms, forests, rivers,
caves and mountains that lend their specific charac-
ter to the surrounding earth.
The traditional or tribal magician, I came to
discern, acts as an intermediary between the human
community and the larger ecological field, ensuring
that there is an appropriate flow of nourishment, not
just from the landscape to the human inhabitants,
but also from the human community back to the lo-
cal earth. By his constant rituals, trances, ecstasies
and ‘journeys’ he ensures that the relation between
human society and the larger society of beings is
balanced and reciprocal, and that the village never
takes more from the living land than it returns to it,
not just materially but also with prayers, propitia-
tions and praise.
The scale of a harvest or the size of a hunt are
always negotiated between the tribal community and
the natural world that it inhabits. To some extent
every adult in the community is engaged in this proc-
ess of listening and attuning to the other presences
that surround and influence daily life. But the sha-
man or sorcerer is the exemplary voyager in the in-
termediate realm between the human and the
more-than-human worlds; the primary strategist and
negotiator in any dealings with the Others.
And it is only as a result of her continual en-
gagement with the animate powers that dwell be-
yond the human community that the traditional
magician is able to alleviate many individual illnesses
that arise within that community. The sorcerer de-
rives her ability to cure ailments from her more con-
tinuous practice of ‘healing’ or balancing the
community’s relation with the surrounding land. Dis-
ease, in many such cultures, is conceptualized as a
kind of systemic imbalance within the sick person,
or more vividly as the intrusion of a demonic or ma-
levolent presence into his body. There are, at times,
malevolent influences within the village or tribe it-
self that disrupt the health and emotional well-be-
ing of susceptible individuals within the community.
Yet such destructive influences within the human
community are commonly traceable to a disequilib-
rium between that community and the larger field of
forces in which it is embedded. Only those persons
who, by their everyday practice, are involved in moni-
toring and maintaining the relations between the
human village and the larger animate environment
are able to appropriately diagnose, treat and ulti-
mately relieve personal ailments and illnesses aris-
ing within the village. Any healer who was not
simultaneously attending to the intertwined relation
between the human community and the larger, more-
than-human field, would likely dispel an illness from
one person only to have the same problem arise (per-
haps in a new guise) somewhere else in the commu-
nity. Hence, the traditional magician or medicine-person
functions primarily as an intermediary between hu-
man and non-human worlds, and only secondarily
as a healer. Without a continually adjusted aware-
ness of the relative balance or imbalance between
the human group and its non-human environment,
along with the skills necessary to modulate that pri-
mary relation, any ‘healer’ is worthless; indeed, not
a healer at all. The medicine-person’s primary alle-
giance, then, is not to the human community, but to
the earthly web of relations in which that commu-
nity is embedded. It is from this that her or his power
to alleviate human illness derives, and this sets the
local magician apart from other persons.
The most sophisticated definition of ‘magic’ that
now circulates through the American counter-culture
is ‘the ability or power to alter one’s consciousness
at will’. Oddly, there is no mention made of any rea-
son for altering one’s consciousness. Yet in tribal
cultures that which we call ‘magic’ takes all of its
meaning from the fact that humans, in an indigenous
and oral context, experience their own conscious-
ness as simply one form of awareness among many
others. The traditional magician cultivates an abil-
ity to shift out of his or her common state of con-
sciousness precisely in order to make contact with
the other organic forms of sensitivity and awareness
with which human existence is entwined. Only by
temporarily shedding the accepted perceptual logic
of his culture can the shaman hope to enter into re-
lations with other species on their own terms; only
by altering the common organization of his senses
will he be able to enter into a rapport with the mul-
tiple non-human sensibilities that animate the local
landscape. It is this, we might say, that defines a
shaman: the ability to readily slip out of the percep-
tual boundaries that demarcate his or her particular
culture – boundaries reinforced by social customs,
taboos, and most importantly the common speech
or language – in order to make contact with, and
learn from, the other powers in the land. His/her
magic is precisely this heightened receptivity to the
meaningful solicitations – songs, cries, gestures –
of the larger, more-than-human field.
Magic, then, in its most primordial sense, is the
experience of existing in a world made up of multi-
ple intelligences, the intuition that every form one
perceives – from the swallow swooping overhead to
the fly on a blade of grass, and indeed the blade of
grass itself – is an experiencing form, an entity with
is own predilections and sensations, albeit sensa-
tions that are very different from our own.
In the course of living with traditional magi-
cians and shamans I found my own sensory experi-
ence beginning to shift and transform; I became
increasingly susceptible to the solicitations of non-
human things. In the course of struggling to deci-
pher the magicians’ odd gestures or to fathom their
constant spoken references to powers unseen and
unheard, I began to see and to hear in a manner I
never had before. When a magician spoke of a power
or ‘presence’ lingering in the corner of his house, I
learned to notice the ray of sunlight that was then
pouring through a chink in the roof, illuminating
a column of drifting dust, and to realize that that
column of light was indeed a power, influencing
the air currents by its warmth, and indeed influ-
encing the whole mood of the room: although I
had not consciously seen it before, it had already
been structuring my experience. My ears began to
attend, in a new way, to the songs of birds – no
longer just a melodic background to human speech,
but meaningful speech in its own right, respond-
ing to and commenting on events in the surround-
ing earth. I became a student of subtle differences:
the way a breeze may flutter a single leaf on a
whole tree, leaving the others silent and unmoved
(had not that leaf, then, been brushed by a magic?);
or the way the intensity of the sun’s heat expresses
itself in the precise rhythm of the crickets. Walk-
ing along the dirt paths, I learned to slow my pace
in order to feel the difference between one nearby
hill and the next, or to taste the presence of a par-
ticular field at a certain time of day when, as I
had been told by a local dukun, the place had a
special power and proffered unique gifts. It was a
power communicated to my senses by the way the
shadows of the trees fell at that hour, and by smells
that only then lingered in the tops of the grasses
without being wafted away by the wind, and by other
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 485
elements I could only isolate after many days of stop-
ping and listening.
And gradually, then, other animals began to
intercept me in my wanderings, as if some quality in
my posture or the rhythm of my breathing had dis-
armed their wariness; I would find myself face to
face with monkeys, and with large lizards that did
not slither away when I spoke, but leaned forward
in apparent curiosity. In rural Java I often noticed
monkeys accompanying me in the branches over-
head, and ravens walked toward me on the road,
croaking. While at Pangandaran, a nature preserve
on a peninsula jutting out from the south coast of
Java (‘a place of many spirits’, I was told darkly in
the nearby fishing village), I stepped out from a
clutch of trees and found myself looking into the face
of one of the rare and beautiful bison that exist only
on that island. Our eyes locked. When it snorted, I
snorted back; when it shifted its shoulders, I shifted
my stance; when I tossed my head, it tossed its head
in reply. I found myself caught in a non-verbal con-
versation with this Other, a gestural duet with which
my conscious awareness had very little to do. It was
as if my body in its actions was suddenly being mo-
tivated by a wisdom older than my thinking mind, as
though it was held and moved by a logos – deeper
than words – spoken by the Other’s body, the trees,
the wind and the stony ground on which we stood.
Our inability to discern the shaman’s allegiance
to the more-than-human natural world has led to a
curious circumstance in the ‘developed world’ today,
where many persons in search of spiritual under-
standing are enrolling for workshops in ‘shamanic’
methods of personal discovery and revelation. Psy-
chotherapists and some physicians have begun to
specialize in ‘shamanic healing techniques’. ‘Sha-
manism’ has thus come to connote an alternative
form of therapy; the emphasis, among these practi-
tioners, is on personal insight and curing.
These are noble aims, to be sure, yet they are
secondary to, and entirely derivative from, the pri-
mary role of the indigenous shaman, a role that can-
not be fulfilled without long and sustained exposure
to wild nature, to its patterns and vicissitudes. Mim-
icking the indigenous shaman’s curative methods
without his or her intimate knowledge of the wider
natural community cannot, if I am correct, do any-
thing more than trade certain symptoms for others,
or shift the locus of dis-ease from place to place
within the human community. For the source of stress
lies in the relation between the human community
and the natural landscape in which it is embedded.
Contemporary civilization, of course, with its
massive scale and rapidly globalizing economy, can
hardly be seen in relation to any particular landscape
486 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
or ecosystem; the more-than-human ecology with
which it is directly engaged is the biosphere itself.
Sadly, our civilization’s relation to the earthly bio-
sphere can in no way be considered a reciprocal or
balanced one: with thousands of acres of non-regen-
erating forest disappearing every hour, and hundreds
of our fellow species becoming extinct each month
as a result of our civilization’s excesses, we can
hardly be surprised by the amount of epidemic ill-
ness in Western culture, from increasingly severe
immune dysfunctions and cancers, to widespread
psychological distress, depression, and ever more fre-
quent suicides, to the accelerating number of house-
hold killings and mass murders committed for no
apparent reason by otherwise coherent individuals.
From an animistic perspective, the clearest
source of all this distress, both physical and psycho-
logical, lies in the aforementioned violence need-
lessly perpetrated by our civilization on the ecology
of the planet; only by alleviating the latter will we
be able to heal the former. While this may sound at
first like a simple statement of faith, it makes emi-
nent and obvious sense as soon as we acknowledge
our thorough dependence upon the countless other
organisms with whom we have evolved. Caught up
in a mass of abstractions, our attention hypnotized
by a host of human-made technologies that only re-
flect us back to ourselves, it is all too easy for us to
forget our carnal inherence in a more-than-human
matrix of sensations and sensibilities. Our bodies
have formed themselves in delicate reciprocity with
the manifold textures, sounds and shapes of an ani-
mate earth – our eyes have evolved in subtle inter-
action with other eyes, as our ears are attuned by
their very structure to the howling of wolves and
the honking of geese. To shut ourselves off from these
other voices, to continue by our life-styles to con-
demn these other sensibilities to the oblivion of ex-
tinction, is to rob our own senses of their integrity,
and to rob our minds of their coherence. We are hu-
man only in contact, and conviviality, with what is
not human. Only in contact with what is other do we
begin to heal ourselves.
Where is the environment? (James
Hillman)
According to dictionary definitions, the word ‘envi-
ronment’ means ‘surrounding’. It comes from a
French word, viver, meaning ‘turns around, rings and
circles’. All kinds of things turn around in rings and
circles, and the moment we think of that, we think
about ourselves in the middle of that circle. So the
narrow sense of environment is the immediate world
of things that are mainly natural – things close at
hand. The middle sense of environment is a habitat,
an ecosystem, on which anything depends; it’s inter-
active; we’re involved with it: things that turn on
each other or evolve together, coevolution, turning
around on each other. The widest sense of environ-
ment we find in psychology; for example, with Jung’s
sense of the psyche or the collective unconscious or
Freud’s id. Theodore Roszak made a beautiful point
of saying that the id of Freud and the collective un-
conscious are actually the physical environment. It’s
out there. Or you can say it is the Gaia world of
Lovelock and Margulis or what David Abram calls
the ruach elohim, the breath of God, the whole air,
aquaspheric, spirit, breath world. That is the wider
sense of what encircles or is around.
But where does it stop? Where does the envi-
ronment stop? Are there degrees of the environment?
Is anything around environment? Is anything in this
room, is everything in this room, the environment?
And where does it stop physically, geographically?
My breakfast bananas from Ecuador, where do they
stop? Are they the environment when I’m sitting with
them in the kitchen or I’m eating them? Or does that
include Ecuador where they’re grown? For instance,
the sea sounds outside your bedroom, is that part of
the environment? Where do they stop? And is the inor-
ganic also part of the environment? Because we tend
to think mainly of the organic world as environment.
Then, another major question: How do all these
parts of the environment form a whole? We might
call everything in this room the environment but is
it only because it’s in this room? What forms the
whole of an environment? It could be that it’s a mat-
ter of a foreground and background, that some things
are in the foreground and other things in the back-
ground, and they are less environmental because
they’re in the background. So we take them as less
significant in the environment. But then, what puts
things in the foreground and some things in the back-
ground? In our world today, we take certain things
as very important in the foreground – the air or noise
pollution or the light pollution. For other people or
other parts of the world or other creatures of the
world, these may not be in the foreground at all.
What forms the whole environment? Is it a com-
position? Is there some kind of formal law that makes
for an environment? This would bear on artwork. Is
there a composition that goes into making an envi-
ronment so that we can speak of ‘an environment’.
Must there be a relationship with it? Is it an I-thou
relation? Is that important for environment? Or is
there environment without any relation: We’re just
there in it. Or it’s just there.
Now the gestalt philosophers would say that
there has to be some sort of formal quality that makes
for a whole. It would have to be an expressive form
or an aesthetic frame. Or there would have to be or-
ganic mutuality: The insects depend on the plants
and the plants depend on the soil and the soil re-
quires a certain amount of moisture and the insects
live in the soil and the roots of the plant so there is
an organic mutuality. That is an environment. So you
can’t disrupt any piece of that. But again, what cuts
some things out, or do you include everything in?
These are also aesthetic questions because certainly
when you’re working on a piece of art, you’re cut-
ting some things out and not including everything
that is there.
Or, could there be an inherent tension that re-
quires certain things to stay together and other
things to drop out – an inherent tension that holds a
drop of water? There are barriers all the way through
the world, not just the natural, but there are things
that close in on themselves and keep other things
out. And that becomes an environment. There is a
skin to it, so to speak.
Other questions come up: the relation between
parts of the environment. Whatever you’re using as
the environment, your kitchen or the garden or Gaia,
the planet, whatever world you’re using – are the
parts related internally or externally? This is a philo-
sophical question. If the parts are related internally
to each other, they are necessary to each other and
they are co-present to each other. You can’t have one
without the other. If they are externally related, then
you have to raise the question of how does this re-
late to that. So you have to create some kind of force
or some kind of modality, some bridge, a third compo-
nent, that connects these two things because those
are external relationships.
An internal relationship would be like Yin and
Yang. They are necessary to each other: they are co-
present or coterminate or required. That may be what
is essential for an environment: the parts are inter-
nally related, one to another. So I think ‘environ-
ment’ can be expressed not just biologically; it can be
expressed philosophically as an internal relationship.
And, if an environment is internally related, its parts
could be related not just logically but also invisibly,
and that is what I’m particularly interested in.
There are problems posed by this word ‘envi-
ronment’. The power of the word, ringed around or
encircled, tends to put a ‘me’ in the middle. And
therefore, because of the way we tend to think, I can
do what I want and not notice too much how I affect
the other components of the environment. That’s one
problem posed by the word. Another is that the word
‘environment’, ringed around, evokes the archetypal
image of the enclosed garden, a hortus inclusus, the
Catholic image some may remember. Mary was
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 487
considered an enclosed garden. You see a lot of me-
dieval images of an enclosed garden with a unicorn
in it or Mary sitting in a walled garden. Or Eden,
paradise, the garden surrounded by a river, the four
rivers. This is the idea that the environment is in
some way a sanctuary. That archetypal image of the
enclosed garden motivates a lot of green work by
environmental, green people. The restoration of the
perfect world, the Garden. When the environment
becomes nature and nature becomes touched by that
archetypal fantasy of a walled perfect closed space,
then nature becomes an idealized place.
We return now to the idea that the items that
make up an environment are related or belong to-
gether or fit invisibly. What is the logic of the invis-
ible? I’m trying to get away from the idea that an
environment is just simply what’s there, what’s hang-
ing around and happens to be there and that any-
thing is the environment. For there’s some kind of
internal necessity that this word is covering. This
word is a mask covering something much more than
simply the bushes and trees that we call the ‘envi-
ronment’ or what environmentalists call ‘the envi-
ronment’.
I want to get at what this word ‘environment’
is doing. What is its power? There may be formal
laws that hold. Something invisible is determining
the visible. The word ‘fitting’ is one of those words
Plato was concerned with – appropriate, fitting. Now
perhaps this invisible holding of the environment is
more biological or bioregional, i.e. a mutual organic
necessity that forms a bioregion. Yellowstone Park,
for example, doesn’t stop with the geographic bor-
ders of Yellowstone Park as marked on the map, but
it’s the whole bioregion around it. So when wolves
or bison are protected in Yellowstone and they go
over the border of the park, they’re shot because
they’re outside of the park, but they’re not outside
of the bioregion.
Or, is what holds it together a simple location?
That is, all these things are in the same perceptual
field. They are all in this room so the simple fact
that they’re all here is the law that holds them to-
gether. Simple location. They’re here, present in this
place. It seems to me that that’s not enough of an
idea, just simple location. Because it’s meaningless
that these phenomena all happen to be in this room
at the same time, accidental, a mere collection of
stuff. Unless you’re mystical and say God put them
all here at this place and that’s it.
Maybe what holds them all together is a com-
mon symbolic meaning under a dominant theme such
as the environment of a church where all the things
belong because they are held together by the church.
Or your kitchen, where they’re all held together by
488 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
the theme of the kitchen – the utensils, the pots, the
pans – all the things that belong to the environment.
Or, perhaps it is ‘time’ that gives them an inter-
nal relationship. Then, the invisible glue is time, si-
multaneity. They are all there at the same time. It’s
just chance but they’re all there at the same time
and that makes this environment or that environ-
ment.
These are not biological ways of thinking. I am
attempting to get the word ‘environment’ freed from
where it is, trapped in biology and then trapped in
nature – in our fantasies of nature. So that we can
think more aesthetically. I want to break down the
green approach to the environment and get back to
the city and all the other kinds of environments that
are so crucial.
So what is the invisible logic or force that holds
together the discrete items in a surrounding. Let’s
take a look at the word ‘invisible’. The word has
this little prefix ‘in’, which means two very different
things. It means on the one hand, ‘not’. It’s not vis-
ible – in the same way as inarticulate or inept or
incapable or inconclusive or insensitive mean not any
of those things. The other meaning of ‘in’ as a prefix
has to do with direction, motion, or situation: into,
innate, inherent, interior, inside, going in. This leads
to a lot of confusion. The first meaning of invisible
is what is not presented to the senses. At the same
time, in our minds, it also means what is therefore
inside or interior. If what’s not visible, is not present
to the senses, then you go in to find it. The inside is
not allowed to be presented. But maybe it is!
There are many things that are not visible. We
live under the power of invisibles – all sorts of ideas,
gods, laws, principles, rules. Much of what domi-
nates us is present and invisible. Life is governed by
invisibles. And I’m suggesting now, to make it a lit-
tle shorter here, that ‘environment’ is one of these
invisibles that has come to replace the very idea of
the invisible. It is the presenting of something else
in the midst of the visible. I am suggesting that the
power of the word ‘environment’ is a substitute for
something even more powerful: the invisible. That
is why we can’t quite define what it is. Environment
is not just whatever is around because what is re-
ally always around is something we are unable to
seize, the invisible, which many cultures recognize
all the time, do dances for, perform rituals for, propi-
tiation and smudges, paying careful attention, be-
cause of this invisible that sustains and supports, or
curses if it’s not treated right. Yes, this idea of invis-
ibility invites a more religious and aesthetic, even
pagan, approach.
In our modern materialistic culture today, we’re
using the environment and the foggy notions of it to
replace the invisible. So we need to sophisticate our
thinking; we need to make more specific what envi-
ronment is. For instance, I’m curious to know why
our civilized minds insist that environment equals
‘nature’. Why do we feel when we talk about the
environment that we’re talking about natural things
– rain, rivers, leaves, wood, birds. And yet we live in
cities! By not realizing that the environment is not
merely nature, but is something invisible besides,
we have something that needs to be teased out or
defined in some other way. We say the gods are in
nature, not in the city – the devil is in the city. The
only fantasies we can have then about what to do
about cities is to make them more like the woods or
nature and bring in the parks, green belts,
waterwalls, and so on – as if that were the way to
return goodness to cities. I think it is important to
sophisticate our notion of environment beyond iden-
tifying it with nature. Therefore this invisibility idea
seems to be very important.
I’m working very hard here at getting rid of the
split between city and nature. I’m trying to under-
stand environment as a copresencing of the invisible
and the visible. And I would prefer to drop the word
environment and use the word copresence. But that
isn’t satisfactory either. I think what we go to na-
ture for is this invisible. And we haven’t had enough
teaching in how to discover the invisible in the city.
We have such condemnation of the city, such hatred
of the city and disgust about the city, that we let the
city go and don’t pick up enough of the urban invis-
ible, the radiance of what Plotinus calls ‘divine en-
hancement’ in the city.
Reconnecting with the web of life:
deep ecology, ethics and ecological
literacy (Fritjof Capra)
As our century draws to a close, our great challenge
is to create sustainable communities – social, cul-
tural and physical environments in which we can
satisfy our needs and aspirations without diminish-
ing the chances of future generations (Brown 1981).
A sustainable community is designed in such a way
that its economy, physical structures and technolo-
gies do not interfere with nature’s inherent poten-
tial to sustain life.
One of the main reasons why we do not live
sustainably today is that industrial society is domi-
nated by a mechanistic view of the world, which has
led us to treat the natural environment as if it con-
sisted of separate parts, to be exploited by different
interest groups. Moreover, we have extended this
fragmented view to human society, dividing it into
different nations, races, religious and political groups
(Capra 1982). The belief that all these fragments –
in ourselves, in our environment, and in our society
– are really separate has alienated us from nature
and from our fellow human beings, and thus has di-
minished us. To regain our full humanity, we have to
regain our experience of connectedness with the natu-
ral world, with the entire ‘web of life’, as suggested in
the celebrated speech attributed to Chief Seattle:
This we know.
The Earth does not belong to us;
we belong to the Earth.
This we know.
All things are connected
like the blood which unites one family.
Whatever befalls the Earth
befalls the sons and daughters of the Earth.
We did not weave the web of life;
we are merely a strand in it.
Whatever we do to the web,
we do to ourselves
(Gifford and Cook 1992).
Deep ecology and ethics
Naess’s distinction between ‘shallow’ and ‘deep’
ecology is now widely accepted as a very useful ter-
minology for referring to a major division within con-
temporary environmental thought (Naess 1973).
Shallow ecology is anthropocentric. It views humans
as above or outside nature, as the source of all value,
and ascribes only instrumental or use value to na-
ture. Deep ecology does not separate humans from
the natural environment, nor does it separate any-
thing else from it. It does not see the world as a
collection of isolated objects but rather as a network
of phenomena that are fundamentally interconnected
and interdependent. Deep ecology recognizes the
intrinsic values of all living beings and views hu-
mans as just one particular strand in the web of life.
It recognizes that we are all embedded in, and ulti-
mately dependent upon, the cyclical processes of
nature (Devall and Sessions 1985).
The question of values is crucial to deep ecol-
ogy: it is, in fact, its central defining characteristic.
Deep ecology is grounded in ‘ecocentric’ values. It
is a world-view that acknowledges the inherent value
of non-human life and sees all human beings as mem-
bers of oikos , the Earth Household, a community
bound together in a network of interdependencies.
When this deep ecological perception becomes part
of daily awareness, a radically new system of ethics
emerges (Fox 1990).
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 489
 Within the context of deep ecology, the view
that values are inherent in all of living nature is based
on the experience that nature and the self are one.
This expansion of the self all the way to the identifi-
cation with nature is the grounding of deep ecology,
as Arne Naess clearly recognized (Fox 1990). What
this implies, as Warwick Fox has pointed out, is that
the connection between an ecological perception of
the world and corresponding behaviour is not a logi-
cal connection but a psychological connection. Logic
does not lead us from the fact that we are an inte-
gral part of the web of life to certain norms of how
we should live. However, if we have deep ecological
awareness, or experience, of being part of the web
of life, then we will (as opposed to should) be in-
clined to care for all of living nature. Indeed, we can
scarcely refrain from responding in this way.
Ecological literacy
Reconnecting with the web of life also means that
we can learn valuable lessons from nature about how
to build sustainable communities, because nature’s
ecosystems are sustainable communities of plants,
animals and micro-organisms. To understand these
lessons, we need to learn the basic principles of ecol-
ogy. We need to become, as it were, ecologically lit-
erate (Orr 1992). Being ecologically literate, or
‘ecoliterate’, means understanding the principles of
organization of ecological communities (i.e. ecosys-
tems) and using those principles for creating sus-
tainable human communities. We need to revitalize
our communities – including our educational com-
munities, business communities and political com-
munities – so that the principles of ecology become
manifest in them as principles of education, man-
agement and politics (Capra and Pauli 1995).
To understand the principles of ecology, we need
a new way of seeing the world and a new way of
thinking – thinking in terms of relationships,
connectedness and context. This new way of think-
ing is known as systems thinking. It emerged dur-
ing the first half of the century in several disciplines,
in which scientists explored living systems – living
organisms, ecosystems and social systems – and
recognized that all these living systems are inte-
grated wholes whose properties cannot be reduced
to those of smaller parts (Capra 1996).
Systems thinking has been raised to a new level
during the past twenty years with the development
of a new science of complexity, including a whole
new mathematical language and a new set of con-
cepts to describe the complexity of living systems
(Capra 1996). The emerging new theory of living
systems is the theoretical foundation of ecological
490 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
literacy. Instead of seeing the universe as a machine
composed of elementary building blocks, scientists
have discovered that the material world, ultimately,
is a network of inseparable patterns of relationships;
that the planet as a whole is a living, self-regulating
system (Lovelock 1991). The view of the human body
as a machine and of the mind as a separate entity is
being replaced by one that sees not only the brain, but
also the immune system, the bodily tissues, and even
each cell, as a living, cognitive system (Capra 1996).
Evolution is no longer seen as a competitive struggle
for existence, but rather as a co-operative dance in
which creativity and the constant emergence of nov-
elty are the driving forces (Margulis and Sagan 1986).
The new theory of living systems provides a
conceptual framework for the link between ecologi-
cal communities and human communities. Both are
living systems that exhibit the same basic principles
of organization. They are ‘autopoietic’ networks that
are organizationally closed, but open to the flows of
energy and resources (Maturana and Varela 1980).
They maintain themselves far from equilibrium and
are capable of spontaneously producing new forms
of order at critical points of instability (Prigogine
and Stengers 1980). Their structures are determined
by their histories. They are intelligent because of
the cognitive dimensions inherent in the processes
of life (Maturana and Varela 1980).
Of course, there are many differences between
ecosystems and human communities. There is no
self-awareness in ecosystems, no language, no con-
sciousness, and no culture; and therefore no justice,
nor democracy; but also no greed, nor dishonesty.
We cannot learn anything about those human val-
ues and shortcomings from ecosystems. But what
we can learn and must learn from them is how to
live sustainably. During more than three billion years
of evolution, the planet’s ecosystems have organized
themselves in subtle and complex ways so as to
maximize their ecological sustainability. This wis-
dom of nature is the essence of ecoliteracy.
The new systemic understanding of life allows
us to formulate a set of principles of organization
that may be identified as the basic principles of ecol-
ogy, and to use them as guidelines to build sustain-
able human communities (Capra 1996). The first of
those principles is interdependence. All members of
an ecological community are interconnected in a vast
and intricate network of relationships, the web of
life. They derive their essential properties, and in
fact their very existence, from their relationships to
other things. Interdependence – the mutual depend-
ence of all life processes on one another – is the
nature of all ecological relationships. The behaviour
of every living member of the ecosystem depends on
the behaviour of many others. The success of the
whole community depends on the success of its in-
dividual members, while the success of each mem-
ber depends on the success of the community as a
whole.
Understanding ecological interdependence
means understanding relationships. It requires the
shifts of perception that are characteristic of sys-
tems thinking – from the parts to the whole, from
objects to relationships, from contents to patterns.
A sustainable human community is aware of the
multiple relationships among its members. Nourish-
ing the community means nourishing those relation-
ships. The fact that the basic pattern of life is a
network pattern means that the relationships among
the members of an ecological community are non-
linear, involving multiple feedback loops. Linear
chains of cause and effect exist very rarely in eco-
systems. Thus a disturbance will not be limited to a
single effect but is likely to spread out in ever-wid-
ening patterns. It may even be amplified by interde-
pendent feedback loops, which may completely
obscure the original source of the disturbance.
The cyclical nature of ecological processes is
another important principle of ecology. The ecosys-
tem’s feedback loops are the pathways along which
nutrients are continually recycled. Being open sys-
tems, all organisms in an ecosystem produce wastes,
but what is waste for one species is food for another,
so that the ecosystem as a whole remains without
waste. Communities of organisms have evolved in this
way over billions of years, continually using and recy-
cling the same molecules of minerals, water and air.
The lesson for human communities here is ob-
vious. A major clash between economics and ecol-
ogy derives from the fact that nature is cyclical,
whereas our industrial systems are linear. Our busi-
nesses take resources, transform them into products
plus waste, and sell the products to consumers, who
discard more waste when they have consumed the
products. Sustainable patterns of production and
consumption need to be cyclical, imitating the cycli-
cal processes in nature. To achieve such cyclical
patterns, we need to fundamentally redesign our
businesses and our economies (Hawken 1993).
Ecosystems differ from individual organisms in
that they are largely (but not completely) closed sys-
tems with respect to the flow of matter, while being
open with respect to the flow of energy. The primary
source for that flow of energy is the sun. Solar energy,
transformed into chemical energy by the photosynthe-
sis of green plants, drives most ecological cycles.
The implications for maintaining sustainable
human communities are again obvious. Solar energy
in its many forms – sunlight for solar heating and
photo-voltaic electricity, wind and hydropower,
biomass, etc. – is the only kind of energy that is re-
newable, economically efficient, and environmentally
benign. By disregarding this ecological fact, our po-
litical and corporate leaders again and again endan-
ger the health and well-being of millions around the
world. The 1991 war in the Persian Gulf, for example,
which killed hundreds of thousands, impoverished mil-
lions, and caused unprecedented environmental dis-
asters, had its roots to a large extent in misguided
energy policies.
Partnership is an essential characteristic of
sustainable communities. The cyclical exchanges of
energy and resources in an ecosystem are sustained
by pervasive co-operation. Indeed, since the crea-
tion of the first nucleated cells over two billion years
ago, life on earth has proceeded through ever more
intricate arrangements of co-operation and coevolu-
tion. Partnership – the tendency to associate, estab-
lish links, live inside one another, and co-operate –
is one of the hallmarks of life. In the words of Lynn
Margulis and Dorion Sagan (1986), ‘Life did not take
over the globe by combat, but by networking’.
In human communities, partnership means de-
mocracy and personal empowerment, because each
member of the community plays an important role.
Combining the principle of partnership with the dy-
namic of change and development, we may also use
the term ‘coevolution’ metaphorically in human com-
munities. As a partnership proceeds, each partner
better understands the needs of the other. In a true,
committed partnership both partners learn and
change – they coevolve. Here again we notice the
basic tension between the challenge of ecological
sustainability and the way in which our present so-
cieties are structured, between economics and ecol-
ogy. Economics emphasizes competition, expansion
and domination; ecology emphasizes co-operation,
conservation and partnership.
The principles of ecology mentioned so far –
interdependence, the cyclical flow of resources, co-
operation and partnership – are all different aspects
of the same pattern of organization. This is how eco-
systems organize themselves to maximize sustain-
ability. Once we have understood this pattern, we
can ask more detailed questions. For example, what
is the resilience of these ecological communities?
How do they react to outside disturbances? These
questions lead us to two further principles of ecol-
ogy – flexibility and diversity – that enable ecosys-
tems to survive disturbances and adapt to changing
conditions.
The flexibility of an ecosystem is a consequence
of its multiple feedback loops, which tend to bring
the system back into balance whenever there is a
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 491
deviation from the norm, due to changing environ-
mental conditions. For example, if an unusually warm
summer results in increased growth of algae in a
lake, some species of fish feeding on these algae may
flourish and breed more, so that their numbers in-
crease and they begin to deplete the algae. Once their
major source of food is reduced, the fish will begin
to die out. As the fish population drops, the algae
will recover and expand again. In this way, the origi-
nal disturbance generates a fluctuation around a
feedback loop, which eventually brings the fish/al-
gae system back into balance.
Disturbances of that kind happen all the time,
because things in the environment change all the
time, and thus the net effect is continual fluctua-
tion. All the variables we can observe in an eco-
system – population densities, availability of
nutrients, weather patterns, etc. – always fluctu-
ate. This is how ecosystems maintain themselves
in a flexible state, ready to adapt to changing con-
ditions. The web of life is a flexible, ever-fluctuat-
ing network. The more variables are kept
fluctuating, the more dynamic is the system; the
greater is its flexibility; the greater its ability to
adapt to changing conditions.
All ecological fluctuations take place between
tolerance limits. There is always the danger that the
whole system will collapse when a fluctuation goes
beyond those limits and the system can no longer
compensate for it. The same is true of human com-
munities. Lack of flexibility manifests itself as stress.
In particular, stress will occur when one or more
variables of the system are pushed to their extreme
values, which induces increased rigidity throughout
the system. Temporary stress is an essential aspect
of life, but prolonged stress is harmful and destruc-
tive to the system. These considerations lead to the
important realization that managing a social system
– a company, a city, or an economy – means finding
the optimal values for the system’s variables. If one
tries to maximize any single variable instead of
optimizing it, this will invariably lead to the destruc-
tion of the system as a whole.
The principle of flexibility also suggests a cor-
responding strategy of conflict resolution. In every
community there will invariably be contradictions
and conflicts, which cannot be resolved in favour of
one or the other side. For example, the community
will need stability and change, order and freedom,
tradition and innovation. Rather than by rigid deci-
sions, these unavoidable conflicts are much better
resolved by establishing a dynamic balance. Ecologi-
cal literacy includes the knowledge that both sides
of a conflict can be important, depending on the con-
text, and that the contradictions within a community
492 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
are signs of its diversity and vitality, and thus con-
tribute to the system’s viability.
In ecosystems, the role of diversity is closely
connected with the system’s network structure. A
diverse ecosystem will also be resilient, because it
contains many species with overlapping ecological
functions that can partially replace one another.
When a particular species is destroyed by a severe
disturbance so that a link in the network is broken,
a diverse community will be able to survive and re-
organize itself, because other links in the network
can at least partially fulfil the function of the de-
stroyed species. In other words, the more complex
the network is, the more complex its pattern of in-
terconnections, the more resilient it will be.
In ecosystems, the complexity of the network
is a consequence of its biodiversity, and thus a di-
verse ecological community is a resilient community.
In human communities, ethnic and cultural diversity
may play the same role. Diversity means many dif-
ferent relationships, many different approaches to the
same problem. A diverse community is a resilient com-
munity, capable of adapting to changing situations.
However, diversity is a strategic advantage only
if there is a truly vibrant community, sustained by a
web of relationships. If the community is fragmented
into isolated groups and individuals, diversity can
easily become a source of prejudice and friction. But
if the community is aware of the interdependence of
all its members, diversity will enrich all the rela-
tionships and thus enrich the community as a whole,
as well as each individual member. In such a com-
munity information and ideas flow freely through the
entire network, and the diversity of interpretations
and learning styles – even the diversity of mistakes
– will enrich the entire community.
These, then, are some of the basic principles of
ecology – interdependence, recycling, partnership,
flexibility, diversity and, as a consequence of all
those, sustainability. As our century comes to a close
and we go toward the beginning of a new millen-
nium, the survival of humanity will depend on our
ability to reconnect with the web of life, to under-
stand the principles of ecology and live accordingly.
Forming ‘the alliance of religions and
conservation’ (Tim Jensen)
‘One day in 1953, two men stood on the summit of
Mt. Everest: Sir Edmund Hillary, a Western scien-
tist, and Sherpa Tenzing, a Himalayan Buddhist.
Separated as they were by culture and beliefs, they
had together scaled the highest mountain in the
world and had, for the first time in history, reached
its summit. What they did speaks volumes for the
 Box 11.6: Of Pandas and Religion: The Road to Assisi

Martin Palmer, Secretary General, The Alliance of Religions and Conservation

It took a certain kind of courage in the mid-1980s to do what the World Wide Fund for Nature (then
known as World Wildlife Fund) International did. In an era still dominated by a belief in the power of
statistics to shock people into environmental concern and action, WWF saw another way forward.
Ironically, in an era that saw highly emotive and often misguided use of apocalyptic imagery, Garden
of Eden visions and quasi-religious language being used indiscriminately by environmental organiza-
tions trying to awaken public concern, WWF went directly to the religious worlds and asked for help.
By the mid-1980s it was clear to many in conservation that no matter how well-intentioned the envi-
ronmental movement might be, it was failing to deliver the message to the vast majority of people.
More importantly, it was failing to help or make people change their life-styles in order to help save
the world. As David Bellamy, the high-profile British conservationist said at the time, he had been
fighting environmental issues for twenty years and they had all got worse, not better!
It was in this spirit – a spirit of recognizing the need to involve new partners and to seek new motivations
for change – that WWF International, at the suggestion of its President HRH The Prince Philip,
invited the International Consultancy on Religion, Education and Culture (ICOREC) to bring together
five of the world’s major faiths in Assisi, Italy, to see what could be done to draw the faiths into active
ecological work. It was a unique gathering in that the conservation/environment world had never
before sat down with the religions in this way. Indeed, never had so many religions come together at
this level on the topic of the environment. As Prince Philip said:
‘We came to Assisi to find vision and hope. Vision to discover a new and caring relationship with the
rest of our living world, and hope that the destruction of nature can be stopped before all is wasted
and lost. I believe that today, in this famous shrine of the patron saint of ecology, a new and powerful
alliance has been forged between the forces of religion and the forces of conservation. I am convinced
that secular conservation has learnt to see the problems of the natural world from a different perspec-
tive and, I hope and believe, that the spiritual leaders have learnt that the natural world of Creation
cannot be saved without their active involvement. Neither can ever be quite the same again.’ (Assisi
Liturgy 1986)
All the faiths expressed grave reservations about the direction and implicit values of conventional
conservation that gave prominence to economics as the main driving force and rationale for conserva-
tion work. Many faith communities found the mythology of free enterprise capitalism dismissive of
any attempt to work from more altruistic, compassionate or even self-sacrificing models of how to
deal with crises. All too often, faiths were told that what they did on their own lands or within their
own faith communities was fine, but could never work in the ‘real world’. Some faith groups ex-
pressed alarm at the anthropocentric nature of the environmental argument; others at the reliance
upon facts over ethos. The coming together of the faiths presaged an enormous questioning of the
assumptions of conservation.
But in return, the faiths had to face the criticism of the environmental groups, that whilst each faith
had fine teachings, it had done very little about them for centuries. This was one reason why it was so
hard in 1985–1986 to find religious leaders and organizations who could reflect upon their long ne-
glected teachings in the light of real engagement with environmental issues.
The Assisi Declarations reflect this and provide a framework for pragmatic programmes of religiously
led or inspired projects. Within just a couple of years, the Orthodox Church particularly under the
personal and theological guidance of His All-Holiness the Ecumenical Patriarch Dimitrios, had pro-
duced its own environmental statement. The Thai Forest monks, Sri Lankan Buddhist activists, and
the newly emerging Network of Engaged Buddhists all developed their own articulations based upon
experience. By 1995, the United Nations could comment that the Network on Conservation and Reli-
gion had reached untold millions who could not be reached by any other network. It is estimated that
by 1995, some 120,000 religion-based communities had engaged in some way or another with envi-
ronmental issues.

ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 493

real differences between them and their cultures.
Edmund Hillary stuck a Union Jack, the flag of Great
Britain, in the snow and claimed to have ‘conquered’
Mt. Everest. Sherpa Tenzing sank to his knees and
asked forgiveness of the gods of the mountain for
having disturbed them.’ (Edwards and Palmer 1997)
This story illustrates the central part of the
spirit, philosophy and reasoning behind an alliance
between religions and conservation which led to a
call to religious leaders by the World Wildlife Fund
(WWF) to meet with representatives from environ-
mentalist groups in Assisi in Italy in 1986. Their
goal was to explore how the world’s religions could
help in the struggle to save the natural world (see
Palmer, Box 11.6). A diverse, variegated and colour-
ful train of eco-pilgrims made its way towards the
birthplace of St. Francis, the Christian saint, who in
1979 had become the patron saint for many ecolo-
gists. Representatives from the five major religions
– Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam and
Judaism – mixed with secular grass-root conserva-
tionists in an environmental rally and pilgrimage to
discuss the following:
• how the environmental crisis is a mental and
ethical crisis due, in part, to powerful, predomi-
nantly Western and Christian world-views that
encourage materialistic, dualistic, anthropocen-
tric and utilitarian concepts of nature;
• that environmental organizations and politi-
cians are victims of the same economic and
technological thinking that provoked the cri-
sis;
• that alternative world-views and ethics must
be respected to counter current dominant think-
ing; and,
• that the world’s religions constitute enormous
human and spiritual potentials.
The gathering opened by dramatizing the de-
struction of indigenous peoples and Third World en-
vironments: formal apologies were made by the
participants to a Maori warrior obstructing the en-
trance to the Basilica of St. Francis as they proceeded
into the basilica. After elaborate, specially designed
ceremonies, including thanksgiving for creation, re-
pentance, celebration of the religions’ visions of the
future and dedication to implement the visions, the
Assisi Declarations were produced. The Declarations
stated the past neglect of the religions to environ-
mental issues, their present good-will, and the be-
nign potentials of their religious traditions for the
future. ‘The New Alliance’, as it was most fittingly
called by then, was a fact. The cross-cultural aspects,
the theme of the diversity of visions, and the theme
of ‘unity in diversity’ were integral to the project,
494 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
and were also stressed in the introductory speech
by the Minister General of the Franciscans: ‘We are
convinced of the inestimable value of our respective
traditions and of what they can offer to re-establish
ecological harmony; but at the same time we are
humble enough to learn from each other. The very
richness of our diversity lends strength to our shared
concern and responsibility for Planet Earth.
Over the next few years, four other religions
joined (the Baha’is in 1987, the Sikhs in 1989, the
Jains in 1991 and the Taoists in 1995). The Assisi
event was followed up by conferences and interfaith
meetings in many places throughout the world, in-
cluding Canterbury, Washington, D.C. and Copenha-
gen. In 1990 the WWF and the religions published
statements on biodiversity, and in 1997 thousands
of religiously based environmental projects are run-
ning world-wide – some assisted by WWF, some
springing directly from local sources. In 1994 the
United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP)
awarded Prince Philip one of the ‘UNEP 500’ awards
for outstanding contributions to conservation, stat-
ing that the initiative had ‘helped reach untold mil-
lions world-wide with a conservation message
through religious channels’. In 1995 two more meet-
ings took place: one in Ohito in Japan and the other,
called ‘The World Summit of Religion and Conserva-
tion’, in England. Representatives from the nine re-
ligions came up with a joint revised and revitalized
commitment and with revised editions of their former
declarations. ARC was created as a fund-raising
structure, new programmes were designed and old
projects evaluated and continued. According to the
latest newsletter issued by the ARC, the work has
now (1997) inspired the World Bank to initiate con-
sultations with representatives from the religions
and the consultants of the WWF.
Appendix 2.2 and Appendix 2.3 provide sum-
maries of the Assisi Declarations and the subsequent
statements by the world’s major faiths.
Common key-concepts of the religions
Environmental ethics are hard to separate from gen-
eral ethics, just as a way of seeing the natural world
cannot be separated from a general world-view. Like-
wise, the way of perceiving the relation of humans
and nature cannot be separated from the relation
between humans and the divine. The Declarations,
consequently, refer to virtually all the central ideas
in the entire cosmological and ethical systems of the
religions, and this is the secret behind their moti-
vating power.
To confer an idea of the relevant notions and to
demonstrate the common grounds on which the
diverse religions meet, a list of cross-cultural and
cross-religious notions of explicit environmental rel-
evance is rendered below. The list is based on an
analysis of the WWF Declarations and the classical
scriptures they refer to, but other source material
has also been included. The notions are presented
according to an arrangement of the religions in ‘fami-
lies’. A list showing the similarities across the two
‘families’ of the five religions normally designated
‘world religions’ is added.
Buddhism and Hinduism
(a) Mysticism. In both religions the perception
of the relationship between humans and nature is
deeply influenced by the mystic traditions referring
to experiences and ideas of totality, oneness and
unity.
(b) Pantheism. In both traditions we find the
notion that the ‘ultimate reality’, ‘truth’ or the di-
vine pervades everything. In Hinduism this finds its
classical expression in the formula atman = brahman
(the eternal innermost being of humankind, atman,
and the innermost universal being, brahman, is one and
the same). In Buddhism a similar notion is expressed
in concepts of the ‘emptiness’ of everything or in the
concepts of an all-pervading ‘Buddha–nature’.
(c) Ahimsa. In Hinduism as well as in Bud-
dhism, the ideal of absolute and total, active non-
violence (ahimsa) is central to ethics in general and
to environmental ethics. Humankind and nature are,
in the last analysis and final liberating insight, made
of the same ‘soul’, the same ‘emptiness’ or the same
‘elements’. By way of karma and samsara and due to
the central (especially Buddhist) notion of the inter-
relatedness of all things, everybody and everything
must be treated with care and compassion.
(d) Karma-samsara and reincarnation. The idea
of eternal cycles of rebirths, on the universal as well
as the individual level, and the idea that the thoughts
and actions of humans determine the mode and way
of future lives, is – in spite of all differences con-
cerning the notion of soul (atman and anatman) – of
the uttermost importance in both religions and plays
a central role in connection with their environmen-
tal ethics.
(e) The world as a cosmos. The world is con-
ceived of as a well-organized totality, a cosmos. It is
part of humankind’s place and religious duty in this
cosmos, and incorporated in the scheme for attain-
ing final liberation, to help in upholding the cosmic
order.
(f) Morality can be ‘read’ in nature. In both re-
ligions we find the notion that the reason why na-
ture is having a bad time is due to the fact that
humans do not stick to dharma, the universal and
moral order and to the teachings of the Buddha. So-
cial justice and order within the city walls mean or-
der and fruitfulness outside.
(g) Humans are not the owners of the world.
Though this notion is met primarily in theistic ver-
sions of Hinduism, we find it also in Buddhism. Hu-
mankind’s greed and ignorance, and the development
of differences between those who have and those
who have not, lead to the present world of suffering
if not balanced by the utmost aim of final liberation.
The blind attachment to material wealth is a hin-
drance to the final insight and liberation and con-
tributes to the environmental crisis.
(h) Ignorance is a sin. Ignorance is a sin lead-
ing to wrong and detrimental conceptions and ac-
tions. It is often stated that the environmental crisis
is due to humankind’s ignorance and false concep-
tions of the true relationship between the (falsely
perceived) ‘ego-self’, the ‘Buddha–nature’ and the
environment.
Christianity, Islam and Judaism
(a) The concept of God. In spite of the differ-
ences (cf. the Christian idea of The Holy Trinity and
the Incarnation), the three religions share the no-
tion of the one and only, transcendent, eternal God
and Creator. The basic notion of the world as God’s
creation is immensely important for all further dis-
cussions of an environmental ethic, and all the tra-
ditions deal with the ‘problem’ of the created world
as different from, but given by, God. In all three reli-
gions, traditions of the mystics convey notions and
experiences of the relationship between humans,
nature and God bridging the gap between the tran-
scendent God, humans and the created world, no-
tions that at times get close to pantheism or to
pan-en-theism.
(b) The notion of the creation. In accordance
with the notion of the one God as the Creator, they
all share notions of the created world as a cosmos,
an integrated whole. The discourse on the ‘Integrity
of Creation’ is common to all three.
(c) Man’s place in the created world. Man is
something special and certainly differs from the rest
of creation by means of his freedom and capacity for
rational thinking, and the ‘fruits of the earth’ cer-
tainly are there to be used by humans. In contrast to
previous dominant interpretations, especially of the
Biblical texts, modern environmentally oriented
Christians, Muslims and Jews are eager to stress the
idea of humans not as tyrants but as sentient, re-
sponsible and rational stewards and caretakers.
(d) Destroying the world is a sin. On the back-
ground of these notions it becomes evident that de-
struction of God-given nature is a religious and moral
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 495
fault, a sin. It links up with the notion of the original
fall from the mythical, paradisaical closeness to God
as a consequence of human arrogance and rebellion.
Humans wanted to rise above their allotted place to
become god-like creators.
(e) Morality can be read in nature. As in Hindu-
ism and Buddhism we find the idea that the morality
of humans can be ‘read’ in the environment. Peace
and social justice show in fertile fields and women.
Unjust leadership, social injustice and arrogance
show themselves in wastelands, barren women,
plagues – and environmental crises.
The similarities within the families of religions
have to do with the historical developments and past
processes of syncretism. The similarities across the
families, however, must be explained otherwise. To this
end and for the present purpose, it suffices to mention
a few of the most relevant of such explanations:
• In all the religions, humans relate to nature and
the environment vis-a-vis a third factor (the di-
vine, the truth, ultimate reality). This is the
most common specifying criterion in most ex-
ternal definitions of religions as cultural inter-
pretative systems and the decisive factor in the
internal self-understanding of the religions, also
in the light of the environmental crisis. No mat-
ter the empirical specifics nor the epistemologi-
cal and ontological difficulties connected with
it: it is the intricate relations of ‘nature’ and
‘the supernatural’ that matter and make the
religions alternative or supplementary systems
of interpretation, ethics and action.
• In all the religions, popular ideas and practices
co-exist with the theological systems. The popu-
lar ideas and practices are often closely knit to
the historical influences of primitive cultures and
religions and to believers whose religious aims
are more closely related to an economy based on
their direct relations to the near-environment.
• In all the religions, traditions of mysticism in-
fluence the discourse on the divine, humans and
nature. These traditions, no matter how ‘other-
worldly’ they may be, often contribute to bridg-
ing the opposites of the dualistic schemes
otherwise separating the transcendent divine
from the immanent human and nature. The as-
cetic ideals and practices furthermore function
as models for a non-materialistic, non-consum-
erist attitude to life.
Religiously based projects
Hundreds of projects (e.g. reforestation projects;
ecologically sound adjustment of clerical adminis-
trations; creation of educational bodies and
496 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
environmental prizes; organic farming, etc.) differ
from secular ones only because they are initiated
and run by members of a religious community or take
place on lands belonging to religious communities.
These are of immense value in helping to safeguard
biological and cultural diversity.
Special inter-religious events, like inter-reli-
gious services in central and famous churches, have
been celebrated; and even special, cross-religious
rituals have been designed to honour unity and di-
versity. Diversity has been displayed and celebrated
in several festivals and rituals within each religion.
Festivals and rituals linked to the seasons and sym-
bols referring to the natural as well as the super-
natural have been used to introduce a collective
awareness and responsibility for the environment.
There are plenty of examples: only a few can be
mentioned:
• The traditional Christian harvest festivals have
been redesigned and reinvented in order to
make participants remember the ‘gift of God’,
the obligation to share the fruits of the earth
with the poor, and the neglected responsibility
toward the creation of God.
• The Christian Mass (Eucharist, Communion)
has been celebrated and reinterpreted to stress
that the doctrines of Incarnation and final Res-
urrection relate to more than the human being;
namely, the sanctification of the whole of crea-
tion and the resurrection of the cosmos. Con-
versely, to destroy the Integrity of Creation
becomes equivalent to committing a sin for
which you have to repent before you can par-
ticipate in communion.
• The Jewish Sabbath has been celebrated to un-
derscore its cosmic and re-creative implications.
Other Jewish festivals (e.g. Shavuot and
Sukkkot) have been used to strengthen the
bonds between humans, nature and God. Tu
Bishvat, the Festival of Trees, has been cel-
ebrated in connection with active reforestation
programmes and the planting of trees in the
deserts of the Holy Land, in Brooklyn, and else-
where.
• In India, Hindus celebrating the god Krishna
during the pilgrimage to his sacred forests in
Vrindavan have combined this with a tree-plant-
ing project. Participants entering the sacred
precinct are handed trees to plant and are given
information on the deplorable status of the
birthplace of the god.
Several of the conservation programmes linked
to land considered sacred reveal that sometimes it
is the religious concepts and practices that have
contributed to the crisis, and this is acknowledged
by the religious groups participating. Examples in-
clude the Vrindavan project where millions of pil-
grims have for centuries celebrated their god at the
expense of the forest, and reformed practices in con-
nection with the grossly polluted Ganges. The res-
toration and conservation of sacred mountains,
especially the Taoist and Buddhist Sacred Mountains
of China, is a project supported by ARC. A recent
off-shoot of this kind of religious environmentalism
is the large-scale British project called the ‘Sacred
Land Project’. Its aim is to rediscover, reinvigorate
and replant old pilgrimage routes and other sacred
spaces, and it links up with many other projects of
turning Christian churchyards and Muslim cemeter-
ies into ecologically sound spaces. These projects
and devices are all species of a common cross-cul-
tural and cross-religious ‘Divine Command Ethics’
and a globalization of the concept of nature and the
environment, although the exact means of commu-
nication and understanding are bound to local tradi-
tions. Biodiversity, then, has become a word in a
common environmental language, but the message
and the means are based on the diverse cultural and
religious symbolic languages.
The ‘greening’ of world religions
Academic studies of religion and environmentalism
(and public and popular discourses on the matter)
have focused mainly on environmentalist interpre-
tations and applications of so-called primitive reli-
gions, New Age environmentalist interpretations of
these, and the Eastern religions. The involvement
of groups from within the so-called world religions,
however, so far has attracted few academics, and
studies on this aspect of religion, environmentalism
and biodiversity are rare and mostly quite recent.
Before I move on to a survey and critical as-
sessment of some of the ways in which the world
religions are involved in environmentalism and add-
ing to biological as well as spiritual diversity, a few
words are needed about the criticism of the environ-
mentalist interpretations and applications of so-
called primitive religions and Eastern religions
(especially Buddhism and Taoism), including the so-
called New Age environmentalist interpretations and
applications.
The majority of critics have focused on what is
called the ‘myth of primitive ecological wisdom’ and
the kind of ‘primitivism’ used by and practised by
environmentalists as well as by scholars. The crit-
ics voice a wide range of scholarly, ethical–political
and environmentalist concerns. Sometimes the aca-
demic and analytical criticism is primarily trying to
‘get down to facts’, and frequently the scholars are
able to demonstrate that the ‘myth of primitive eco-
logical wisdom’ is, indeed, more akin to the world of
religious myths than it is to the world of realities.
No matter how intimate a relation to what we call
‘nature’, the ‘nature-religions’ and ‘nature-people’
also demonstrate the general differences between
ideals and practices, and their relationship to na-
ture cannot be reduced to the wishes of the twenti-
eth-century urbanized environmentalist. Sometimes
the academic and analytic criticism is combining the
academic interest in facts versus myth with ideo-
logical and ethical (humanistic and Enlightenment
ideas and ideals) and sometimes it is combined with
environmentalist concerns as to how the environ-
mental crisis may actually most rationally and effi-
ciently be handled.
Adopting this last-mentioned perspective on the
matter I shall say only this much on the ‘myth of the
ecological wisdom of primitive cultures and religions’
and ‘primitivism’: primitive religions and cultures,
often conceived of as constituting one single and the
earliest form of religion, have constantly functioned
as the positive or negative counterpart to Western
civilization and life. In the period of environmental-
ism they have predominately functioned as positive,
sometimes even paradisaical, models for an ecologi-
cally sound world-view and society. The period of
environmentalism coincides with a period of New Age
thinking and with many a first people’s fight for cul-
tural and political independence and rights to tradi-
tional land. Consequently, it is no wonder that we
find an amalgam of their and Western concepts of
nature and sound ecological thinking in environmen-
talist organizations, among first peoples themselves
and among many a theologian within the world reli-
gions.
That the popular notions of ‘nature-religions’,
the ‘nature-worship’ and the ‘ecological wisdom’ of
the primitive societies are loaded with problems and
further questions is, thanks to scholars of religion
and anthropologists, a well-established fact, and I
see no reason to elaborate much upon this. Judging
from the history of religions, it actually does seem
that there is no limit to the phenomena, animate and
inanimate, of nature, which have sometimes some-
where been conceived of as sacred and allotted a
place in mythologies and ritualized worship. A jour-
ney through the discipline consequently takes us
through discussions on totemism, animism and dy-
namism, through the corridors of Astral- and
naturmythologische Schulen, through theories of
Korn-damonen, sky gods, sacred trees, waters, earth
– and sacred cows, of course. Yet, after all these
years, the need for empirical studies in the various
relations between the ‘natural’ and the
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 497
‘supernatural’ and for theoretical and methodo-
logical reconsiderations of essential analytical
tools and concepts like ‘religion’, ‘nature’, ‘the
supernatural’, ‘environment’, ‘cosmos’ and ‘chaos’
has only become more pressing.
A combination of the academic interest in reli-
gion with an interest in conservation calls for more
empirical studies evaluating the positive and nega-
tive results of the past and present diffusion and
application of the ‘myth of the primitive ecological
wisdom’. Studies are needed using the traditional
methodologically agnostic approach – permitting the
scholar of religion to bracket the questions of the
truth of the myth while at the same time taking ac-
count of the truth it transmits to believers and us-
ers. More historical and critical analyses of the
possible neo-imperialist and neo-colonialist implica-
tions, the political use and abuse of the myth, in the
West and elsewhere, are also needed. Studies are
also needed to estimate the degree to which the dif-
fusion and use of the myth actually has had a benign
or malign effect on environmentalism, biodiversity
and cultural diversity.
Moving to the related topic of the more general
religious dimensions in contemporary environmen-
talist thinking and acting, I think that religious stud-
ies as well as studies trying to pave the way for
practical environmentalism, could benefit from in-
tensified work in this area. To give a hint of the pos-
sible directions and possibilities of such work, I shall
use an example. My ‘American friend’, who natu-
rally uses computer-steered ventilation of the com-
post, tells about one of his ‘peak-experiences’:
... a month or two ago, as I was standing on top of
a 2.000 cubic yard of compost, one side of which
was loaded with tiny little red master composters
(worms), I realised how humbling it is ... that to
get the best compost ... the best finished product
for growing plants ... 162 pounds for me, 5 years
of college, 1265 years old (born 731), all the read-
ing I had done, able to turn over 1.000 CY of com-
post a day, all this ... and I am dependent on ...
worms ... to make the best compost. Very hum-
bling .. for me.
The expressions and postulated experiences
can be interpreted as parallels to traditional religious
symbolism of the Axis Mundi, the centre of the world,
and to the claims of mystics of their integration in
divine cosmic cycles; and I believe there is plenty of
such unused source material waiting for the scholar
of religion in the world of environmentalism. More
work in this field could also contribute to a better un-
derstanding of the relation between (the combination
498 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY
of) modern scientific and modern religious attitudes
to the environment and to more empirically grounded
discussion about the practical implications of this
relationship: How, where, when and why does the
religious dimension become a hindrance to rational
environmentalism, and how, where, when and why
does it further it?
Turning, finally, to questions about the environ-
mentally benign potentials of the greening of the
world religions, as manifested for instance in the
ARC, I find it important to stress that it certainly
has some benign and powerful potentials. The
greening of the world religions is good for studies in
religion; good for the persons and organizations who
have of their own free will decided to participate;
good and useful because it contributes to our gen-
eral understanding of several important questions
about the relation between world-views, environmen-
tally benign or malign, and the actual state of the
environment; and good and useful because it adds
to our understanding of more or less effective means
of remedy.
I find the reasoning behind the WWF project
fairly sound and balanced. The participation of the
world religions in environmental projects does, in
the light of the dimensions of the crisis and from a
pragmatic point of view, add a substantial and much-
needed amount of manpower to global and local
projects. That representatives from various cultures,
or if you like, various interpretative communities (the
various religions, the communities of natural scien-
tists, economists and environmentalists) co-operate
can lead to mutual inspiration and a balancing of
opposite views and various means. To return to Mt.
Everest: since Mt. Everest in the time after it was
conquered evidently was not protected (at least not
very well if judged by the present state of affairs)
neither by spirits or other Buddhist or materialistic
notions, one may of course say that this only proves
the general discrepancy between world-views and
practice, be they religious or not, and that the
reinterpretative efforts of the religions are not only
somewhat pathetic but also futile. Admitting the rel-
evance and relative truth of such arguments does
not, however, exclude the possibility that religiously
based concepts of nature and a religiously based
environmental ethics may be of some help, nor that
it is a bad idea to combine religious and non-reli-
gious ideas and means. The co-operation, so to say,
of Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing may, in spite
of one’s personal opinions about modern or even New
Age eclecticism, work better than no co-operation.
The cross-cultural, cross-religious and inter-
religious flows of ideas and alternatives lead to new
amalgams and new concepts and practices. Rational
analyses and religious views may very well consti-
tute that unity in diversity, and that combination of
local and global, that is needed. If biological diver-
sity is good for the environment, maybe conceptual
and practical, cultural and religious diversity and
interaction is good too.
Naturally, our American friend on top of the
mountain of compost may, like some Buddhists, Hin-
dus or Christians, entertain some religious ideas and
sentiments, e.g. about the god-given ‘naturally natu-
ral’, which is a hindrance to rational and ecologi-
cally sound solutions. He or they may insist on
concepts of purity running contrary to scientifically
proven methods and means. On the background of
my analyses of the factual environmental projects
within the religions, I must however say that it is
not my impression that the leading figures believe,
so to speak, that faith alone can move mountains.
Notions, not only of the former failure of the reli-
gions to realize their environmentally benign atti-
tudes and views, but also of the fact that not all
believers are good or practising believers, are fre-
quently expressed in the material. In general, the
greening of the religions cannot be interpreted as
an irrational return to some ‘supernatural’ belief in
‘faith healing’. It is, in my opinion, a rather rational
and balanced hope that faithfulness to certain reli-
gious beliefs combined with pragmatic, rational and
scientifically aided thinking and acting, may be con-
ducive to more environmentally benign thinking and
acting. The religions and the adherers certainly will
not be able to make mountains move. They may, how-
ever, contribute to efforts to stop mountains from
turning into heaps of garbage.
Criticism pointing to the fact that none of the
world religions hosted concepts of ‘nature’ and ‘en-
vironment’ and ‘biodiversity’ in the period where they
and their classical scriptures were born, is a criti-
cism that misses a very important fact about reli-
gion: religion and religions are dynamic, historic and
cultural variables, interpretative systems creating
and recreating meaning. The present reinterpreta-
tions done by the religions are to be expected and
quite natural. Mountains may not move, but religions
do, and as stated earlier, the whole idea of the ‘Alli-
ance of Religion and Conservation’ is future-oriented
towards the mobilization of the spiritual and human
potentials within and across the world religions.
Today the religions have re-entered the scene
where global ethical, and therefore political, issues
are discussed and negotiated. I think the environ-
ment may profit from this, but it is, naturally, also
important to ask if the religiously based environmen-
tal ethics will continue to respect the democratic and
open-ended process of pluralistic negotiations? Will
the religious world-views add to the celebrated di-
versity and plurality, or will they – in the long run –
represent a threat to pluralism, democracy and a
rational, secular discourse? So far the ARC seems
to balance the religious and secular interests and
one can only hope that the co-operation continues to
be more of a co-operation than a competition of val-
ues and a struggle for the absolute right and power
to decide and define what counts as really real, re-
ally good, really natural. Cultural diversity and bio-
logical diversity can only be upheld if there is also
respect for religious diversity – and for world-views
and views of nature that are not religious.
ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 499
 Box 11.7: ‘Communing Before Supermarkets’, and ‘Bringing in the Sheaves’

Carter Revard

‘Communing Before Supermarkets’

It’s probably because we were always trying
to have enough money to eat
that I can taste and smell the truckloads
of summer that came by and sometimes
turned jouncing up the long
dirt lane from U.S. Sixty to our house –
they saw kids swarming out in the yard,
white house with a green roof and a big white
two-story garage, haybarn and cowbarn,
nothing around but meadow, no crops, no
rows of corn or hills of watermelons, a lot of hungry kids
that would be wanting what they were taking round
from their truck farms or orchards –
elephantine loads of melons, sometimes the light
green long ones, the striped ones, the dark
green cannonballs, incredible abundance,
or old swaying trucks loaded with bushels of peaches,
apples and apricots, with grapes and pears that I
remember. I wonder, now, where they came from –
over in Sand Creek Valley by the little town
in the Osage Hills, the hamlet really,
they called it Okesa where we
drove once: there we saw a hillside full
of orchards, berry bushes, the sandy bottomland shaggy
with watermelon vines where the great green melons rounded
heavy and warm on the loam –
it struck me staring from the car, how strange
that dirt does turn into their sweet crisp red flesh
and juice in the mouth, that those long vines
can draw the dark earth up and make it melons, and I said
to myself, how does the seed know to make
a watermelon and not an apricot? Then we had brought
our dimes and pennies for a summer’s day, we took

500 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY

 Box 11.7 (continued)
the silver and copper and we turned
them into two huge melons that the blond boy went casually
out into the field and pulled, just those we wanted,
he took our thirty cents and we –
I think we drove away back down to Sandy Creek and in
the pebbly shallow ford we drove out in the water and killed
the engine and we took
the melons from the trunk and in the shallow ripples splashed
each other and the car, we washed the car, the melons
we took them out onto the bank and sat
on a blanket spread across the grass and stuck
a great long butcher knife into the first green melon and it split,
it was so ripe it cracked almost before the knife
could cut it open, the red heart
looked sugar-frosted, dewy with juice and the pieces
broke to our fingers better than to knives,
in the mouth crisp and melting fragrant, spicy nearly,
as pieces of rind were scattered and the ants reporting mountains of
manna climbed and swarmed and buried themselves in our leavings
as we stripped to shorts and underthings and waded down into
the deeper colder pool below the ford where the springs
welled slowly out from under the bouldery bank
at the bend, and swimming I thought,
now the melon is turning into me, and my sisters and brothers,
my mother and father and uncles and aunts and into the
ants feasting there on the melon rinds,
and into the grass and trees growing there, and into the dirt –
and Sand Creek is turning, this day is turning to night, so now
when we go home I’ll remember and it will be turned
into words, and maybe sometime
it would all grow again a long way off, a long way into
the future, and that’s what a few pennies and dimes can do
if you have them, a few seeds, a little rain where creekwaters rise,
and the whole world turns into food for all
the different beings in their times.

© 1993 Carter C. Revard

“Communing Before Supermarkets” from An Eagle Nation, by Carter C. Revard. Reprinted by permis-
sion of the University of Arizona Press.

ETHICAL, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONCERNS / 501

 Box 11.7 (continued)

‘Bringing in the Sheaves’

The ’49 dawn set me high on a roaring yellow tractor,
slipping the clutch or gunning the twenty-foot combine
to spurt that red-gold wheat into Ceres’s mechanical womb.
I’d set her on course and roll for a straight two miles
before turning left, and it got monotonous as hell –
at first all the roar and dust and the jiggling stems collapsing
to whisk up that scything platform and be stripped of their seed,
then even the boiling from under of rats and rabbits scrambling
to hide again in their shrinking island of tawny grain
as the hawks hung waiting for their harvest of torn fur and blood.
So I’d play little god with sunflowers drooping their yellow heads –
would see a clump coming, and spin the wheel right, left, right, straight,
so the shuddering combine swiveled on its balljoint hitch
first right, then left, that great chatter of blades would go swinging
so the tip barely brushed those flowers and left their clump standing
like a small green nipple out from the golden breastline, and next time past
reversing wheel-spins cut free a sinuous lozenge left for the bumblebees,
its butter-and-black-velvet tops limp-nodding over wilted leaves.
But sunflowers weren’t enough, I left on the slick stubble islets
of blue-flowered chicory, scarlet poppies, and just for the hell of it cockleburrs:
“From now on, kid, you run that sumbitch straight!’ the farmer said.
You know, out on that high prairie I bet the goldfinches,
bobwhites and pheasants still are feasting in that farmer’s fields
from the flower-seeds I left out, summer, fall and winter harvests
that make the bread I eat taste better by not
being ground up with it, then or now.

502 / CULTURAL AND SPIRITUAL VALUES OF BIODIVERSITY