Nature and religion have long been intertwined. We have seen that a significant part of human religiosity has affinity with what I have been calling dark green religion. Nature-based spirituality has both deep roots and new expressions. As environmental alarm has intensified, this sort of religion has been rekindled, revitalized, invented, ecologized, localized, and globalized. What remains mysterious is the extent of its near-term influence and long-term impacts, as well as whether we are witnessing the emergence of a global, civic, earth religion.
In 2002 I traveled back to Africa to look for clues regarding the influence and prospects of dark green religion. My objective was to observe the United Nations World Summit on Sustainable Development (the WSSD), which was to be held near Johannesburg, South Africa. The WSSD drew over thirteen thousand accredited delegates representing approximately two hundred nations, as well as representatives of corporations and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). It was envisioned as a meeting to make progress toward the implementation of Agenda 21, a detailed vision for sustainable development articulated at the Rio Earth Summit a decade earlier. Progress was also envisioned for other environmental agreements made at Rio, such as the Convention on Biological Diversity.
As I listened to the rhetoric leading up to the WSSD, it occurred to me that the ambitious stated goal was to make sustainability the axial social organizing principle of human civilization. The prolegomena to the meeting, indeed, seemed to echo Al Gore’s 1992 challenge to humanity in Earth in the Balance, “We must make the rescue of the environment the central organizing principle of civilization.”1 This book was written a year before the Earth Summit, before Gore became vice president of the United States (in 1993), and more than eight years before Gore failed in his bid to become president when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled controversially that there would be no recount in the disputed voting in Florida. When I read Gore’s book I was stunned to see a mainstream U.S. politician articulating so many themes commonly found in the dark green religious milieu: Gore contended that Western civilization had become dysfunctional and destructive and that the roots of the environmental crisis were “spiritual.” When making such statements, Gore knew he was going out on a limb: “As a politician, I know full well the special hazards of using ‘spiritual’ to describe a problem like this one. . . . But what other word describes the collection of values and assumptions that determine our basic understanding of how we fit into the universe?”2
Gore also knew that in American politics it was dangerous to say anything that might appear to deviate from mainstream Christian understandings. He carefully acknowledged that the notion of dominion in the Abrahamic traditions could promote environmental stewardship, saying this depended on one’s interpretation of the tradition. But despite such statements and his life-long identity as a Christian, he expressed greater affinity with themes common in dark green religion: “If we could find a way to understand our own connection to the earth—all the earth—we might recognize the danger of destroying so many living species and disrupting the climate balance.” After citing with approval James Lovelock’s Gaia theory, he added, “The simple fact of the living world and our place on it evokes awe, wonder, a sense of mystery—a spiritual response—when one reflects on its deeper meaning.” People experience God, Gore added, “in every corner of creation.”3
In pluralistic political contexts, the more diverse the constituency, the more cautious a politician must be when it comes to speaking about religion, for fear of giving offense to one or another group. This makes it difficult to know precisely the nature of Gore’s religious views. Even if he were post-Christian in his deepest beliefs, he could not afford to say so publicly and, moreover, to be effective in pursuing his political objectives, there would be little to gain and much to lose by coming out in such a way. Yet Gore took real risks in writing the way he did. In the United States and many Western countries, a politician would be very unwise to criticize Western civilization or its religious underpinnings. I wondered when reading this book if it represented dramatic new evidence of the escape of dark green religion from its largely countercultural breeding grounds and its penetration of societal mainstreams.
As my airplane landed in Johannesburg and I reflected on how some of the rhetoric surrounding the WSSD cohered with Gore’s earlier writing, I wondered if more politicians would articulate dark green environmental convictions at the event and aggressively promote environmental rescue. I also wondered how, where, and in what ways the activists assembling from around the world, who had for some time been the public face of dark green religion, would engage these powerful political actors.
The stage for this environmental morality play had several venues. The main event was held at the Sandton Convention Centre, where the governmental delegates huddled and lobbyists from diverse nongovernmental sectors (business, environmental, religious, human rights, indigenous, and more) gathered in an effort to influence them. Nearby the IUCN (the United Nations–sponsored International Union for Conservation of Nature) held a forum with natural and social scientists from around the world. There were two other official venues: Ubuntu Village was the more privileged one, where nation-states and selected civil society actors, including the lobbyists for industries and NGOs with strong connections to the UN, hosted their displays and seminars. The Nasrec Exposition Grounds was farther away, both geographically and in terms of political power. It was the main site where religious groups and representatives of diverse grassroots organizations gathered, including indigenous peoples, fishers, farmers, environmentalists, peace activists, and social-justice campaigners.
Another important site related to the WSSD was an Anglican boarding school near the convention center. This was where the Peoples’ Earth Summit (the PES) was held. The events there were neither organized nor accredited by the United Nations. Instead, the PES was hosted by well-known international environmental organizations, including Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth, and the Earth Island Institute, as well as by foundations and educational institutes such as the Gaia Foundation, Schumacher UK, and the magazines Resurgence and The Ecologist.
The Gaia Foundation’s website shows the interlocking relationships among those inspiring and attending the PES, all of whom are involved in dark green religion: “The idea of creating a ‘Gaia’ Foundation emerged in the early 1980s, from Liz Hosken, Edward Posey and a group of ecological pioneers from the South, including Prof. Wangari Maathai (Kenya) and the late José Lutzenberger (Brazil). Their common vision was to demonstrate how human development and wellbeing are derived from the health and understanding of the living planet (Gaia), and indeed the Universe itself, of which we are an inextricable part.” The website also noted that (the late) Sir Laurens van der Post, a South African author, documentary producer, and conservationist, was the foundation’s first patron, and Thomas Berry its current one. Both are good representatives of dark green religion.4 Resurgence (which is affiliated with Schumacher UK and inspired by the writings of E. F. Schumacher, who wrote Small Is Beautiful in 1973, a classic text in dark green religion) and The Ecologist (and its publisher Edward Goldsmith) have also been influential promoters of dark green religion.5
The main event at the PES was a five-day World Sustainability Hearing, which featured an array of speakers, including grassroots activists battling for sustainability and environmental justice in a wide variety of ways and places, prominent activist-intellectuals, and also natural scientists and social scientists describing how certain technologies and policies harm people and the environment. The speakers generally agreed that the global extension of market society, which governments and corporations nearly everywhere promote, erodes or thwarts democracy while devastating the environment and the poor. Sixteen of the presenters were also Goldman Environmental Prize winners, an award that often goes to those engaged in dark green religion.6
The critical mythos of the hearing reflected dark green themes, including the conviction that most people used to lived sustainably but that a fall from an earthly paradise occurred, resulting (variously, depending on the speaker) from agriculture, hierarchy, patriarchy, monotheism, technology, and capitalism, all of which disconnect us from nature and produce greed, indifference, and injustice. The globalization process itself was said to destroy traditional and sustainable agro-ecosystems. This involved, in essence, an increasing and sacrilegious commodification of life, according to these critics, which in turn depended on the theft of intellectual property from indigenous people and the destruction (if not theft) of their lands. According to this declensionist narrative, globalization—fueled by corporate greed and power and a corresponding erosion of democracy—thus destroyed both biological and cultural diversity.
Although much of the analysis at the hearing and during other PES events was scientific and political, nature spirituality was also prevalent. Much of what occurred there reminded me of radical environmental wilderness gatherings, where the boundary is always thin between activism, entertainment, and nature-venerating ritual. Evenings were filled with strategy sessions and planning for protests as well poetry, music, and drumming. Indigenous people were accorded a special role, once again reflecting the dark green religious belief that, at their best and least assimilated, indigenous cultures offer practical and spiritual wisdom about how to live close to nature.
One evening there was a sunset ritual orchestrated by sangomas, traditional healers in southern Africa. Sangomas typically use medicines derived from plants or animals (sometimes ritually sacrificed), and through ritual processes calling on ancestors for support, they seek to prevent misfortune and to promote health and happiness. As seen previously, some scientists have lauded indigenous traditions as repositories of valuable ecological and pharmaceutical knowledge—this perspective was prevalent at the PES and accounts in part for the respect accorded practitioners of traditional African religions. During one sunset ceremony I attended, for example, the sangomas took turns beseeching the ancestors for help in reharmonizing life on earth. Since African traditional religion has a reputation for being more anthropocentric and less inclined to nature reverence than indigenous religions in many other regions, I was intrigued. After the ritual, I asked Bertram Fredericks, one of the sangomas from South Africa, how African traditional religion intersects with the kind of environmental concerns that had drawn people there from around the world. “The ancestors live in a corporeal world alongside and near to our own,” he told me. This surprised me because my previous impression was that ancestors are believed to be spiritual beings living in a nonmaterial domain. To allay my confusion he explained that the line between the earthly world and that of the ancestors is thin and that rituals bridge these worlds: “Since both realms are corporeal and connected, so is their well-being.” He added, “We must take good care of the earth so that when we are ancestors we will also inhabit a healthy world.” This understanding of the relationship between the well-being of humans currently alive, their ancestors, and the earthly environment may be a new, religious-ecological hybrid. It is certainly one of many forms of nature-related religion being constructed and promoted as awareness grows regarding the severity of anthropogenic environmental decline.
Jane Goodall was in heavy demand at official WSSD venues, but she also gave a presentation at the World Sustainability Hearing, expressing Gaian and animistic spirituality and respect for indigenous peoples. Explaining that the stuffed chimpanzee she carried with her symbolizes their voices, she said, “I like to take the voice of animals into places where I speak.” As she does regularly in her talks, she also asserted that “the chimp has done more than any other animal to show us how we are part of it all.” She added, “Hopefully in the West we are moving toward the wisdom of indigenous people” and, striking a Gaian note, “Mother Earth is crying out for help today.”
With this as her prologue Goodall began a detailed talk about forest conservation in Africa and South America, explained her institute’s collaborations with indigenous peoples and how much she had learned from them, particularly the Mbuti (Pygmies), whom she knew particularly well.7 Along the way she expressed her deep love for the forest: “For me, the forest symbolizes all the things we need. For me, being in the forest is like being in heaven on earth.” Goodall suggested that we all need to be connected to nature for “without a connection something in us is starved”—and people who are malnourished in this way become selfish. She concluded by praising the broad movement she was a part of for spreading knowledge, love, and compassion for all species.8
One evening, the Gaia Foundation sponsored a panel called “A Decade of Commitment.” It featured activists and intellectuals reflecting on how to persevere despite the daunting obstacles faced by environmental and social-justice activists. The repeated refrain was that the required compassion and commitment depends on a deep sense of belonging and connection to the biosphere. Vandana Shiva, a physicist and ecofeminist from India who is famous worldwide among environmentalists, after reviewing many fronts in the environmental struggle, argued that “to be human we have to reconnect to animals, to other species, for we are connected in the earth family. We need to reembed ourselves in the earth community as a way of connecting to human society.”9 Subsequent speakers made similar comments. Jacqueline McGlade, an oceanographer, professor, and advisor to the Gaia Foundation in the United Kingdom stated, “We need to dig deep inside and reconnect with nature if we are to even begin to understand our influence on nature.” She also claimed that telekinesis was happening all over the planet, implying (in concert with New Age thought) that what we envision in our minds has the power to change the realities that we see.10
Responding in part to these such comments, Rory Spowers, the author of a book about the environmental revolution who had affinity with deep ecology, stated, “Consciousness is not secondary to the changes we seek.” Therefore, strengthening the “perennial philosophy” is needed. Here Spowers referenced an idea first articulated by Leibniz and popularized by Aldous Huxley that the mystical branches of all religions, and especially indigenous religions, are grounded in oceanic experiences in which the individual ego erodes and one perceives the self as just a small part of an enormous, sacred cosmos. “The most important thing is connecting,” Spowers stressed. Moreover, “we must emphasize what we are for, earth community, more than what we are against,” which in that evening’s context was understood to be the escalating destruction of nature under the diverse forces of globalization.11
Next to speak was Herbert Girardet, chairman of Schumacher UK. An author and documentary filmmaker, Girardet had long been involved in efforts to defend the rights of indigenous peoples and what he understands as their nature-beneficent spiritualities. As part of this effort, he raised alarm about Amazonian deforestation in a 1989 documentary, Halting the Fires (produced with the Brazilian Octavio Bezerra and broadcast widely on public television in the United Kingdom and United States). With this film and a book released shortly before the Rio Earth Summit, Girardet promoted biocentric spirituality and argued that a dramatic change in consciousness was imperative if we are to save the planet. After discussing what he called the “planetary emergency” and arguing that we need a new alliance among all international NGOs to battle it, he turned to the importance of recognizing our belonging to nature: “Disconnectedness is a major problem. . . . The one thing we are really sure of is our interconnectedness.”12
After Girardet’s reflections, a Euro-African sangoma from Zimbabwe named Colin Campbell, who had apprenticed with sangomas of the Balete tribe in or near Botswana, asserted that indigenous people in Africa “understand that the universe is alive. Everything has consciousness, knowingness.” Moreover, he continued, “The universe constantly speaks. It may not be in the way that we do, but there are different ways of communicating.” Campbell concluded that “we need to seek nature’s guidance” and cultivate our abilities to hear from her diverse entities. To this Helena Norberg-Hodge, an editor at The Ecologist magazine and a board member of the International Forum on Globalization (IFG), after first discussing how the antiglobalization movement is creating new alliances, added, “We need to rebuild communities at the local level and reconnect to nature, and one way to do this is by promoting local food systems.” The IFG was funded in large part by Douglas Tompkins, an entrepreneur and mountaineer who founded the corporations North Face and Esprit; he had an epiphany in the late 1980s when reading Arne Naess and other deep ecologists, after which he left the business world and became one of the major funders of deep ecology and radical environmental projects, while also purchasing large natural areas in Chile and seeking to convert them to nationally managed biological reserves. He would later say that he found great inspiration in the activism of David Brower and the poetry of Robinson Jeffers.13
It is significant that this theme of connection emerged so strongly on an evening dedicated to finding ways to remain committed to the Earth during a time when environmental decline was so obvious and depressing to those gathered. To remain spiritually faithful, the presenters suggested, one must be connected to the source of life, the earth itself. Cormac Cullinan, an attorney and the author of Wild Law, continued the discussion with a Thoreau-like statement that “this connection we share is in nature,” and “it is this wildness that drives evolution.”14 He said repeatedly that we must stress these common values and perceptions if we are to be effective. Ricardo Navarro, a Goldman award winner from El Salvador and then chairman of Friends of the Earth International (which not incidentally, was founded by David Brower after he was replaced as executive director of the Sierra Club), agreed: “Disconnectedness is a major problem. One thing we are really sure about is our interconnectedness.” Cullinan responded, “We’re trying to imagine what it might look like, this new world. The ideology we share is the Earth ideology—we all owe allegiance to the earth.” Vandana Shiva wrapped up the evening: “We need Earth-centered thinking if we are ever going to take the power back” from corporate elites and politicians.
These interrelated ideas, that we need “earth-centered” values and loyalty, hints at the possibility that what is emerging here is a kind of earth nationalism or civic earth religion. It seems clear that such an ideology, where it exists and is emerging, is grounded in a spirituality of belonging and connection to an earth and universe considered sacred.
The themes present during this “Decade of Commitment” panel were promoted in a variety of ways elsewhere. Immediately outside the panel’s location, for example, there was an experiential exhibit called “A Walk through Time: From Stardust to Us.” This involved a series of visually stunning photographs and artistic renderings on large panels, with a few words on each depicting different moments in the unfolding of the universe from the big bang onward. Though there was not enough space to do so at the Johannesburg meeting, the panels ideally are placed at a distance proportional to the distance in time they represent—the walk itself is then a kind of ritual pilgrimage from deep time to the present. Indeed, the display was designed to evoke a feeling of humility and reverence for this beautiful and mysterious universe, including the diversity of life on earth. This message was most clear toward the end of the panels, where viewers realize what latecomers they are in this cosmic odyssey: “The deep-past lives in each of us, in all of us—each cell, each thought. Walking through the grand pageant of life on Earth can be humbling, sometimes overwhelming. It is also exhilarating. Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?” A panel titled “The Future” quoted Thoreau’s nature-reverencing aphorism “in wildness is the preservation of the world.” It then urged “infinite gratitude for the past . . . joy in the present . . . commitment to the future.” A final panel presented excerpts from the Earth Charter, which represents another new form of earth-related religious production that consecrates a scientific narrative of cosmological and biological evolution and urges protection and reverence for the entire community of life.
Interestingly, the “Walk through Time” was created by employees of Hewlett-Packard as part of the company’s sponsorship of the Earth Day celebration in 1997, showing again that it is not only environmental activists who are engaged in activities that have affinity with dark green religion. The “Walk” was later entrusted to the Foundation for Global Community for further dissemination. The foundation’s mission statement reflects the kind of biocentric spirituality of belonging and connection commonly found in dark green religion.15
Toward the end of my time in Johannesburg, I arranged an interview with two of the leaders of the African tree-planting Greenbelt Movement, founded by Wangari Maathai, who became internationally famous in 2004 when she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Nanga Tiango, an attorney for the movement, expounded on the philosophy of connection and the ethics of kinship animating it. Although he had not been present at the “Decade of Commitment” session, he spoke in concert with it, stating that we must “reconnect” to nature and recognize that “we are all part of the universe, that man is not superior to the other animals. . . . We are all part of the earth and we should preserve it, both for use by other species, and for future generations.” He also demonstrated another form of nature-related religious bricolage by explaining how he and other Africans are blending traditional African religion, Christianity, and environmentalism. “Christians are for the protection of the universe,” he told me. “Christians want to be linked with the ancestors [and to] preserve nature for future generations.”16
Equally interesting for understanding the ways in which dark green religion is hybridized within the global environmentalist milieu was his musing about how colonizers who once suppressed African traditional religions were now proclaiming that they are valuable. Tiango added that Africa’s native religions have traditional ecological knowledge and values concerning how to protect the commons. These traditional religions even teach “how to communicate with the mountains,” he told me. Tiango was surprised at this shift in attitudes by people of European heritage but delighted that it was becoming acceptable to fuse his traditional African religious feelings with science and ecological concern, as well as with his Christianity. His views in this regard were shared both by his partner at the WSSD, Gathuru Mburu, and by his mentor, Wangari Maathai.17 This is another example of how religion is dramatically changing in the ecological age through a host of often mutually reinforcing influences.
At the WSSD’s official venues, religion was also engaged as diverse groups tried to influence international policies related to nature. And it was not only at the antiglobalization side meetings that dark green religion was in play.
At the Nasrec Exposition Grounds, for example, environmental organizations and representatives of a host of religions were present, as were aid, development, and social-justice groups affiliated with them. To name a few: World Vision (an evangelical Christian relief organization), the Conference of Catholic Bishops, the Network of African Earthkeeping Christian Communities of South Africa, the Jesuits, the Arab Network for Environment and Development, the Green Front of Iran, the Khoi-San Indigenous Peoples Cultural Village, the World Wildlife Fund (with displays urging devotion to “Mother Earth”), United Global Citizens (from Korea), Soka Gakkai (an international organization founded in Japan and based on Buddhist principles), the World Council of Churches, and the Baha’is. The Earth Charter was presented in an educational seminar. Meanwhile, Tibetan Buddhist monks labored over a sand mandala, a symbol of interconnectedness and change.
Despite the official recognition of civil society that the Nasrec venue represented, its distance from the main conference center symbolized how environmental and religious NGOs were at the periphery of the WSSD in terms of power and influence. Yet there was evidence that religious environmentalism and dark green religion were more influential at the WSSD than Nasrec’s peripheral location might suggest.
Such evidence could easily be found at Ubuntu Village, the official WSSD exposition site, where a “Sacred Space” had been constructed. According to the sign at its entrance, this space was “to enable groups to manifest the vital contribution of the spiritual dimension to . . . Sustainable Development through rituals, ceremonies, prayer, meditations and other sacred activities.” A variety of activities occurred throughout the week, including a “Spirituality and Sustainability” ceremony on the final day of the conference. During this ceremony there were prayers, chants, and rituals from spiritual leaders from many traditions—Buddhist, Baha’i, Sufi, Christian, Hindu, and indigenous (including African sangomas and Maasai elders). After a number of them offered prayers and comments, Linley Black, an attorney from New Zealand, announced that the Earth Charter had been positively mentioned in the just-released draft of the political declaration being prepared by the national delegates. She said that she hoped this language would survive the last-minute negotiations, adding resolutely, “We are not going to let Mother Earth cry alone without our support.” She then read the most overtly religious passages from the Earth Charter and asserted that the fourth pillar of sustainability was spirituality.18 (In the environmental milieu, the ecological, economic, and social dimensions of life are commonly considered the three pillars of sustainability).
Robert Ohero, chair of the Tiano Indian Committee from the Caribbean Islands, then took up Black’s theme of respect for Mother Earth, offering a song in the spirit of unity and solidarity and in thanks to Mother Earth. A Maasai elder spoke afterward, saying that “in the Maasai tradition too, we’re all relatives.” After offering a traditional prayer for rain and healing, he added that prosperity, love, and relatedness all go together. While a variety of beliefs were expressed during the ceremony, common themes included the mutual dependence of humankind and nature.
Ubuntu Village was also the location for an impressive exhibit featuring the Earth Charter, sponsored by Soka Gakkai, the Japanese lay Buddhist organization founded in 1930. The group had made environmental sustainability and support for the Earth Charter as a key part of its international identity and mission.19 Thabo Mbeki, president of South Africa, visited the exhibit with his wife; this was after he had, during his official opening address at the WSSD, cited the Earth Charter as part of “the solid base from which the Johannesburg World Summit must proceed.”20 Interestingly, at a forum devoted to the Earth Charter at the Ubuntu venue, András Szöllösi-Nagy, deputy assistant director general of UNESCO, invoked religious imagery referring to the charter’s principles as “new commandments.” He was neither the first nor the last to liken it to earlier divine commandments.
Another Earth Charter event, this one sponsored by the Earth Council, was featured in the IUCN Exhibition Hall. Keynote speakers at this “Celebration of the Earth Charter” included Jan Pronk (special envoy to the summit representing UN General Secretary Kofi Annan), Carlos Rodriguez (minister of the environment in Costa Rica), Parvez Hassan (former chair of the IUCN Commission on Environmental Law), and Steven C. Rockefeller (cochair of the Earth Charter’s international steering committee).
Toward the end of the session, an artist from the United States, Sally Linder, described the Ark of Hope that she and craftsmen had created to help promote the Earth Charter. The ark was made from a sustainably harvested tree in Germany and the words of the charter were printed on papyrus and placed inside the ark’s lid, so they were readable when the lid was opened. On four sides of the ark, artists had painted scenes representing earth, water, fire, and air, and on the top, spirit; also included were symbols from indigenous cultures and the world’s largest religions traditions. Anyone familiar with the Ark of the Covenant in Abrahamic religions, in which, according to the biblical tradition, the Ten Commandments and other holy relics were placed, would recognize the religious and ethical implications that this new ark—and of its implied environmental covenant between nature and humankind.21
The WSSD was not a religious event, of course. Yet a religious dimension was apparent at some of the side events. There were even times when an event had a religious dimension that closely resembled religious ritual. Speeches and a theatrical performances during the WSSD’s “Welcome Ceremony,” as well as the events where similar spiritual and ethical themes were expressed later in the week, can be read as earth-venerating rituals. They seemed designed to evoke certain feelings and to pose ethical challenges. In the case of the “Welcome Ceremony,” the spiritual and moral challenge posed was directly if subtly to the governmental delegates who would soon be in the midst of high-stakes negotiations.
The ceremony began with a welcoming speech by Thabo Mbeki. He introduced the ceremony, and thus the summit, with a cosmogony that identified evolution as the process by which the biosphere came to be. He also explicitly mentioned a nearby archeological site, Sterkfontein, where fossils of the prehuman Australopithecus, dating back four million years, had been found in long-forgotten caves. Designated a World Heritage Site by the United Nations two years previously, this Cradle of Humanity was invoked in many of the summit’s speeches and ceremonies, including in Mbeki’s inaugural address to the convention and these words during the “Welcome Ceremony”: “We welcome the peoples of the world to the place that is recognized as the cradle of humanity. The Johannesburg World Summit for Sustainable Development is therefore, for all of us, a homecoming, a return to the base from where all humanity evolved to cover the globe.”22 Here the evolutionary cosmogony, grounded in the scientific consensus that humanity emerged from Africa, was used to convey kinship among all human beings.
Many other speakers made reference to the Sterkfontein fossils during the WSSD, and pilgrimages were made to the caves themselves. Jane Goodall accompanied Mbeki and UN General Secretary Kofi Annan on a visit. After viewing the Australopithecus, in his speech at the caves, Mbeki again stressed how this site connects us to our evolutionary history and thus to each other. In this, his comments paralleled those in his “Welcome Ceremony” talk. But then he elaborated, suggesting that the evolutionary story implies a broader kinship, for the site not only demonstrates that Africa is everyone’s home and that we all have “common ancestors,” it also “traces the evolution of the significant part of our Earth as well as the interdependence of peoples, plants and animals, thus, in many ways [it is] teaching all of us how we can co-exist and ensure enduring prosperity for all species.”23
In the pageant that followed the “Welcome Ceremony,” the affinity for dark green religious themes continued, clearly expressing a nonsectarian reverence for “Mother Earth.” It began with a young boy recalling his grandmother’s stories about earlier times when the gods were everywhere and “animals could speak and do unbelievable things.” His grandfather then spoke to him and his sister, invoking the Cradle of Humanity as he showed them a fossil stone from Sterkfontein. After explaining its significance, he exclaimed that it showed that “Africa is the mother of all human beings!” His granddaughter, squealing with delight at this idea, implored her grandfather to say more. He responded dramatically: “In the beginning there was the wind!”—immediately, the lights faded and stormy music began.
As the music grew louder, as if out of nowhere, Africa’s famous and distinctive baobab tree slowly arose. Its limbs, represented by human actors covered with smaller branches and leaves sprouting from them, waved in the wind. The baobab was a fitting symbol for the emergence of life because it is woven into some indigenous origin myths and provides habitat for a wide array of organisms. As the tree towered higher and higher, a mysteriously voiced narrator slowly and solemnly extolled the wonder of this great tree.
The second act depicted Eden and seemed designed to evoke a sense of the sublime in nature. Dressed in elaborate and beautiful animal costumes, the performers danced joyously and harmoniously to African-inspired rhythms and music around a beautiful water hole. Few watching this scene would be unmoved by it. But then the mood suddenly changed as the music became ominous, the lighting changed again, and the plants and animals vanished. The family returned and looked around pensively. Finally the boy asked, “What happened, Grandfather, to this beautiful earth? Where are the forests, the animals, the beautiful birds and colorful flowers?” The Grandfather responded, “Life began with the earth, then came the plants, the animals, and finally the human beings. Yes! We are all children of Mother Earth. That is why we must take care of her and be her custodians. She is the hand that feeds us and the heart that heals us. But . . . greed and foolishness are eating deep into the fabric of humankind. We are failing to love and care for Mother Earth.”
At this point the family turned around and watched, with the audience, as the music became more dissonant and a huge iconic earth descended. Upon this orb apocalyptic scenes were then projected, depicting people and animals suffering and dying as a result of environmental degradation caused by logging, industrial pollution, and war. After this bleak imagery the boy plaintively asked, “Mommy, is there anything we can do?” She answered positively, “Yes my child, there is much that you can do, for as I speak, the leaders of the nations are gathering. But their task is not an easy one, for the life and health of Mother Earth depends on their decisions.” The mood and music then shifted once again, this time back from dystopian to utopian as a score of beaming children marched in, carrying dozens of large banners celebrating the earth and its beauty, human goodness, and the hope represented by the summit itself.
The hopefulness with which the WSSD began on the 26 August had disappeared by its conclusion on 4 September. By all accounts, very little was accomplished, and those hoping the nations would move toward adopting the Earth Charter were disappointed when, during the final negotiations, specific reference to it was stripped from the summit’s political declaration. This may have been, at least in part, because some religious groups were unwilling to support the charter and because others opposed it directly. Apparently the Roman Catholic Church was opposed, despite a personal appeal from Mikhail Gorbachev to Pope John Paul II to support it. The two main reasons for the discomfort, according to Steven C. Rockefeller, was its language about women’s reproductive health, which some took as code for abortion rights, and the capitalization of the word Earth, which some considered to symbolize Pantheism.24
After it became clear that the WSSD would not lead to dramatic international environmental cooperation, a large contingent of civil society staged a walkout, mocking the nations with the chant, “You won’t, we will!,” putting a brave face on devastating defeat. Even Kofi Annan, who normally would be responsible for touting the accomplishments of this UN-sponsored meeting, could only claim afterward that they had prevented retrenchment on many issues, forestalling a return to the state of affairs before the Earth Summit a decade earlier.
Despite the abject political failure, and disappointment that the Earth Charter had gained little political traction, there were signs at the WSSD that dark green religion and many of the themes typical of it were extending their global reach. Although the Earth Charter cannot be said to be the new sacred text for dark green religion, it does express many dark green themes and it did gain a higher profile and some support at the WSSD. Moreover, some of its language about human responsibilities to “the greater community of life” remained in the official Johannesburg Declaration, and during the summit strong statements of support for the charter were articulated by a number of world leaders and civil society groups.25 From the “Welcome Ceremony” to the Johannesburg Declaration, the WSSD suggested that dark green religion had escaped its countercultural breeding grounds and was contending for the hearts and minds of the international community.
By now this much should be clear: dark green religion is no phantom. By combining a flexible definition of religion with a framework for understanding its main forms, and adding a wide range of examples, the apparition has materialized.
Instead of being represented by a single charismatic leader and sacred text, it has many. Without an established religious hierarchy, its devotees nevertheless recognize their gurus and saints, ritual innovators and practitioners, opponents and enemies. Without official institutions registering as religious bodies, it nevertheless has institutions devoted to promoting its beliefs and practices. It not only has precipitated its own organizations and institutions, it has been infiltrating a wide variety of existing institutions in its quest to overturn the dominant order and create a sustainable world based upon a reverence for life. It seeks to end the world now unfolding, in order to prevent the end of the world as we have known it.
Are we witnessing the emergence of a global, civic, environmentalist, earth religion? Decades ago, Paul Ehrlich suggested that such a quasi religion was needed, and so did the political theorist William Ophuls, who argued that such a religion was a necessary basis for a sustainable society. Another political theorist, Daniel Deudney, aptly labeled the notion terrapolitan earth religion.26
Grasping the meaning of terrapolitan earth religion begins with understanding “civil” or “civic” religion. These synonyms denote a kind of nationalism in which a nation is invested with transcendent meaning and sacred purpose, and group identity and loyalty are forged through such shared perceptions.27 The overall message is that God (diversely understood) is responsible for establishing the nation and securing its future. The nation is consecrated in a variety of ways, for example, through myths about its sacred dimensions and calling, sermons and texts (speeches and political documents), and rituals (festivals, parades, pageants, inaugurations). The nation is also sacralized by the way it modifies environments: through architecture, including the construction of monuments, memorials, governmental buildings; and through zoning and landscape design, such as with the designation and shaping of parks and other public spaces. An important aspect of civic religion, especially in religiously diverse nations, consists of references to the divine that are generic—not specific to just one tradition. In this way religious references do not hinder the kind of “we feeling” needed to create a sense of a shared identity and sacred calling, a prerequisite to patriotism. Civil religion may also include ethical obligations that can have a prophetic dimension: if the people do not fulfill their duties, divine blessing and protection might be withdrawn, likely with devastating consequences. Deudney noted as well that nationalism also involves “an identity and loyalty based upon the experiences and feelings of connectedness to a particular place or area.”28 This point about connection suggests why civil religion might be easily fused with dark green religion.
By whatever name, civic religion has many critics. The political left, following Feuerbach and Marx, has long considered religion a force that obfuscates the ways elites oppress others and that justifies political domination, and the left views civil religion as no different. Postmodern critics, meanwhile, are always alert for hegemonic narratives that erase cultural differences and promote totalitarianism. They would no doubt be suspicious of any narrative that positively construes the globalization of dark green religion. Some religious critics find civic religion idolatrous because it involves trusting and relying on the nation rather than God. But Deudney believes that “Gaian Earth Religion,” “Terrapolitan Earth Religion,” and “Earth Nationalism” are significantly different and far less dangerous than other forms of civic religion; given its basis in environmental science and its recognition of ecological interdependence, he believes that such religion erodes nationalism by replacing it with loyalty to the planet.29 “One reason for believing that the emergence of ‘green culture’ will replace or moderate state and ethnic nationalism rather than make it more truculent,” he contended, “is that environmental awareness brings with it awareness of the interconnected and interdependent character of the earth’s diverse inhabitants.”30 This is a compelling argument I would summarize this way: The traits typical of dark green religion—such as a stress on ecological interdependence, an affective connection to the earth as home and to nonhuman organisms as kin, and the overturning of anthropocentric hubris—are unlikely to promote either the suppression of others or lead to cultural homogenization, let alone virulent strains of nationalism. This is in no small measure because both biological and cultural diversity are highly valued as the fruits of evolution.31
Deudney also argued that earth religion is needed because secular understandings simply cannot inspire the “here feelings,” the feelings of belonging to place, that are needed to undergird the widespread transformations upon which the planetary future depends.32 When I spoke with Ximena Arango, the Colombian ecologist introduced previously, and explained the fears that some express toward nature-based spiritualities, she responded simply, in a way that paralleled Deudney’s argument. Oppressive behaviors, she said, do not follow an understanding that “everyone is a part of the earth.”33
Deudney’s attempts to ameliorate fears of earth-based religiosities and identities is part of an ambitious effort toward the comprehensive “green” transformation of all aspects of human life that is essential to prevent catastrophe.34 Deudney avers that existing political systems are, however, religiously, ideologically, and structurally constrained and incompatible with the form of political sovereignty, one “situated in an intergenerational public,” that is needed. Legitimate authority must, in contrast, be both international and include future generations, and provide the basis for a new “federal-republican Earth constitution.” Moreover, this constitution must be “terrapolitan,” reflecting loyalties and identities rooted in the earth.35 This in turn depends, Deudney contends, on the globalization of Gaian Earth Religion as the basis for earth nationalism. Deudney signaled his sympathy for Lovelock’s Gaia hypothesis by adding that “Gaia is the most salient metaphorical structure spanning the divide between ecological science and Earth identity narratives.”36
Ardent nationalists, devotees of many of the world’s religions who maintain they have unique spiritual insights, and those on the alert for hegemonic globalism in any form, will be hostile to Deudney’s terrapolitan vision. Deudney anticipated their objections. To those who fear Gaian earth religion and that a federal-republican earth constitution would become another repressive fundamentalism, Deudney argued that this would be unlikely because “Earth religion is a relative rarity—a moderate worldview with a scientifically credible cosmology.” Moreover, “Unlike restraint based on hierarchical domination, republican political orders are complexes of mutual power restraint.” Nor, he continued, would an international system based on a federal-republican earth constitution involve world government or overturning existing environmental laws and treaties. Indeed, “Such an Earth constitution would . . . not be consistent with a centralized and hierarchical world state or government” because it would not vest power in one group of living people but rather in all living and future ones. Nor would such a constitution overturn existing environmental laws and treaties; rather, it would “establish a system for voiding measures and acts inconsistent with its principles.”37
Deudney personally disavows belief in nonmaterial spiritual beings, including views that in this book I have called Gaian Spirituality. Given his affinity with Lovelock, he is another good example of Gaian Naturalism. As a practical political matter, however, he thinks both naturalistic and spiritual forms of Gaian earth religion would suffice, concluding that Gaian religion is “well suited to serve as the ‘civic religion’ for a federal-republican Earth constitution. It potentially could underpin the social norms and behaviors of restraint that are necessary to achieve a sustainable society . . . providing a system of meaning that can span generations and foster a sense of transgenerational communal identity.” Deudney thus sees great potential in Gaian religion, even suggesting that “the multiple existing processes of environmental governance formation now underway can be viewed as subcommittee meetings of an Earth Constitutional Convention.”38 Included in these processes would be the various United Nations meetings called to address the world’s interconnected environmental problems.
How likely are such transformations? In many ways, Deudney’s vision is radical. But he assumes that existing international political and economic systems are the fulcrums for the needed changes, which is a moderate stance compared to those who hope for the collapse of industrial civilization or who are pursuing a bottom-up bioregional revolution. While appreciative of the bioregional impulse, Deudney insists it is no panacea, because any reorganization along bioregional lines would be unlikely to occur “without widespread violence and dislocation.”39 This is a key reason he focuses on reforming the international system.
Is a decentralist Gaian revolution a real possibility? Given the global nature of so many environmental problems and the mobility of capital, as inspirational and valuable as decentralist environmentalism might be, it is clear that it cannot constrain the abuses often perpetrated by those who control great concentrations of wealth and power. Decentralized authority cannot constrain international powers, which is why something like Deudney’s strengthened international governance is essential to halt and reverse destructive environmental trends.40
To summarize the question: How likely is it that dark green religion, including a possible terrapolitan form, might ameliorate the worst tendencies of the current international system, or provide a basis for a sustainable planetary future? The diverse examples in this book, which document the emergence and globalization of dark green religion, provide substantial evidence of its near-term and growing international influence. But to consider its prospects and likely long-term impacts, we must carefully examine both the expansion of such religion as well as the obstacles to it and enemies of it.