By Olivia Fuchs
‘I used to think that the top global environmental problems were biodiversity loss, ecosystem collapse, and climate change. I thought that with 30 years of good science we could address these problems, but I was wrong. The top environmental problems are selfishness, greed, and apathy, and to deal with these we need a spiritual and cultural transformation.’ – James Gustave Speth, Environmental Lawyer (2013)
Speth (2013) emphasises the need for a ‘spiritual and cultural transformation’ pointing to the fact that we human beings no longer lack an understanding of the facts of climate change and biodiversity loss, but that we need to find ways of making deep and lasting behavioural change. His observation implies that there are both inner spiritual dimensions and outer cultural transformations needed for behavioural change to become lasting and sustainable. How do we do this? How can we integrate the grief, pain and fear in the face of ecosystems collapse and climate change already happening around the world? How can we take responsibility as citizens of the Global North who have and are still causing most of the carbon emissions that are leading to global warming and work towards ecological justice? And how can we empower ourselves and others to overcome our ‘selfishness, greed, and apathy’ to take action and contribute to the spiritual and cultural transformation Speth suggests?
In the attempt to answer these questions I have been drawn to making connections between Deep Ecology and my understanding of the Buddhist teachings as well as my Buddhist practice. In this article I will begin to explore the concepts of our ‘ecological selves’ or ‘eco-selves’, a phrase coined by Arne Naess with reference to his ideas on self-realization and to the Buddhist concept of the Bodhisattva and the process of inner spiritual transformation, which Josei Toda called ‘human revolution’.
Deep Ecology
Arne Naess first mentioned ‘Deep Ecology’ as a concept in 1973 to differentiate a spiritual, long-term view of ecology from the contemporary shallow or anthropocentric approach to ecology, which usually focuses on short-term, technological solutions to solving the ecological and climate crisis. Shallow ecology is human-focused in nature and pursues business as usual, without questioning the underlying values, methods and purposes or the relationships of human beings with each other, with themselves and with the natural world.
In contrast Deep Ecology examines the root causes of the crisis, questions the underlying values and principles we live by, and it pursues long-term sustainability by trying to develop alternative behaviours and patterns of action. Deep ecology expresses the belief that our current environmental problems are symptomatic of deeper problems in our societies, which need to be addressed on a fundamental level. It explores and emphasizes the need for individual and cultural change as well as developing a long-range approach that creates institutional practices that are constantly evolving, self-organising and creative. It aims to act as a worldview encompassing a diversity of cultural and religious traditions, a platform of principles aiming to affect policy and behavioural change, and a movement.
There has been criticism of Naess’ attempt to create an overarching worldview, but I believe he was trying to establish a premise that people with diverse cultural and religious backgrounds can subscribe to. This is in my opinion similar to the principle of itai doshin or ‘unity in diversity’ in Nichiren Buddhism. A unifying purpose, such as taking away suffering and bringing joy, or creating a sustainable world based on the respect for all life, can bring people from diverse cultures and backgrounds together and encourage the celebration of each others’ differences in the process.
The intent of Deep Ecology, which is based on Gandhian principles of non-violence and has to some extent been influenced by Buddhist ideas, is to contribute to the flourishing of human and nonhuman life on earth. Similar to Buddhism it acknowledges the inherent value of all life forms, independent of their usefulness for human purposes, and articulates how present human interference in the various eco-systems is excessive and entirely unsustainable. By adhering to the principles of Deep Ecology Naess proposes that ‘the resulting state of affairs will be deeply different from the present and make possible a more joyful experience of the connectedness of all things.’ (Naess 2004). Here we can see a connection with our Buddhist concept of pratītyasamutpāda (skt), ‘the co-arising of phenomena’ explored later in this article.
The term ‘ecology’ was first coined by German zoologist Ernst Haeckel in 1873 as ‘the branch of science dealing with the relationship of living things and their environments’. He established the term by combining the Greek word oikos meaning ‘habitat, dwelling place, habitation or home’ with the word logia – the study of. In answer to how this can be applied in practice Naess coined the phrase ‘ecological selves’ and developed the idea of ‘self-realization’ or an ‘ecological approach to being in the world’. He emphasises that we contain multiple selves and that the idea of ‘self’ should not be confused with an understanding of an ego ‘self’. He tries to shift the understanding of the ‘self’ away from a narrow or fixed perception of the ego to that of an identification, or a process of identification. Combining the idea of the individual ‘self’ with their natural habitat ‘oikos’ makes us aware of our interconnectedness with each other and the natural world. Similar to Joanna Macy’s ‘greening of the self’, Naess’ process of ‘self-realization’ towards an ‘ecological self’ can be understood as a form of practice to realise ourselves as fully living in the world, aware of our interconnectedness with all life on this beautiful planet as well as the whole cosmos.
Buddhist thought
We can relate Naess’ idea of self-realization, or the process of identifying with our ‘ecoselves’, with the Buddhist ideal of the bodhisattva, a person on the path towards ‘awakening’ or Buddhahood, one who because of their compassion for all suffering life refrains from entering nirvana. Bodhisattvas are people in the process of transforming their ‘small, egocentric selves’, full of attachment to their desires, and often prey to the three poisons of greed, anger and delusion, into their ‘greater selves’ filled with generosity and compassion towards all living beings, and all of nature.
Ultimately, this is a process of softening the identification with our small ego, the microcosm of the self, and loosening our attachment to it. At the same time we can strengthen an understanding of ourselves as part of the macrocosm of the universe, thereby extending our perception, and potentially our influence. We journey from somebody alienated from ourselves, each other, and our planet, to someone inherently connected with ourselves, each other, and all life. In the process we contribute to bridging the three divides inherent in our age, identified by Scharmer (2018) and his colleagues as the spiritual, social and ecological divides. The three divides express the fundamental interrelated crises of our times:
Spiritually, many of us are alienated from ourselves and our natural habitat. This manifests itself as the increasing isolation of human beings and a growing mental health crisis.
Socially, we are alienated from each other, living in cultures of competition, materialism and social injustices such as racism, sexism, and the increasing divide between rich and poor.
Ecologically, we mostly live in cultures that are alienated from the earth, nature and the cosmos, exploiting and depleting nature and causing the 6th mass extinction in the process.
We can attempt to bridge these divides and develop our ‘ecological’ or ‘eco-selves’ through inner spiritual and outer action-based practice, thereby deepening our understanding of interconnection and, at the same time, contribute to collectively creating a culture of cooperation and creativity that focuses on quality of life rather than materialist pursuits.
In the Lotus Sutra’s ‘Emerging from the Earth’ chapter countless bodhisattvas rise up, emerging from the earth, promising to work towards elevating the spiritual state of humankind. Daisaku Ikeda (2001) suggests that these ‘Bodhisattvas of the Earth’ are ‘eternal activists’ in a state of ‘incomplete completeness’ who partake ‘of a state of life of boundless joy and completion (the effect of Buddhahood)’ while at the same time taking action to take away suffering and lead more people to enlightenment. David Loy applies this bodhisattva ideal to what he calls the path of ‘Ecosattva’ (Loy 2018), a way for Buddhists to engage with the climate and ecological crisis, which involves a double practice of inner meditation and outer activism. This is discussed further by Jake Lyne in his article on the ‘Ecosattva’ but here I would like to draw a connection with the practice of ‘human revolution’ coined by Josei Toda to express the process of spiritual inner transformation, of bringing forth our full human potential, that we can achieve through Buddhist practice. By growing in altruism and compassion we can transform our ‘lesser self’, bound by self-concern and our ego, toward our ‘greater self’ capable of caring and taking action for the sake of others, and for all life and nature. By awakening to our mission here and now, at this critical time in the evolution of humankind, we can develop our ‘ecoselves’, our selves embedded in our natural habitat of the earth, our original home, developing our lived experience of interconnection with nature and all life-forms. We can extend our bodhisattva path to include all living beings and the earth itself, in a continual exchange of dual inner and outer practice, becoming ‘ecosattvas’ in the process.
By doing that we contribute to a collective awakening. As Thich Nhat Hanh said: ‘The Buddha attained individual awakening. Now we need a collective enlightenment to stop the course of destruction.’
Arguably one of the most fundamental and all-encompassing contributions that Buddhism makes conceptually to collective awakening and a shift in consciousness is the metaphor of Indra’s Net, a vast interconnected web encompassing the entire universe with a beautiful jewel at each intersection which reflects all the other jewels, always interacting, at times initiating and at others responding. This image explains the concept of pratītyasamutpāda (skt), ‘the co-arising of phenomena’ in which the part contains the whole and where it is impossible to ‘isolate a separate, continuous self’ (Macy 1990). It is an expression of ‘radical interrelationship’ (Barnhill 2001) encompassing both identity and difference, which is translated variously as ‘dependent origination’, ‘interdependent co-arising’ or ‘interbeing’ showing how complex the concept is and how difficult it is to convey in words. The metaphor of Indra’s web expresses the ‘relational dimension’ of Buddhism, the interrelatedness of all things, which encompasses ‘not just all sentient beings but every aspect of the ecosystem’ and ultimately the entire ecosphere (Sponberg 1997).
Indra’s net tries to express the paradox of how the individual parts articulate themselves in all their uniqueness, and how at the same time they are part of an all-encompassing whole. It shows the infinite possibilities of how individual agency can affect the whole system, at the same time emphasising that our Western understanding of an independent individual self is a delusion. The Japanese Buddhist concept of ‘esho funi’, the indivisibility of self and environment, expressed as ‘two but not two’, is another way of articulating how the individual part is embedded in its environment. Nichiren Daishonin applies the metaphor of a ‘body and its shadow’ in 13th Century Japan to express the reflection and interdependence of the individual and their environment:
‘To illustrate, environment is like the shadow, and life, the body. Without the body, no shadow can exist, and without life, no environment. In the same way, life is shaped by its environment.’
and
‘Buddhism is like the body, and society like the shadow. When the body bends, so does the shadow.’
Here we can begin to understand how our inner spiritual change combined with our consequent actions can affect changes in our environment. By focusing on quality of life, including ephemeral qualities such as compassion, community, creativity, connection and joy, rather than ever-increasing higher standards of living, we can collectively contribute to the future we want to experience, building resilience in the face of systems collapse.
Language and metaphor
One of the ways in which shifts in consciousness are expressed and reflected is in our use of language, stories and metaphors. Lakoff and Johnson (1981) have found that metaphors are ‘pervasive in everyday life, not just in language’. Metaphors express and influence our conceptual systems which in turn affect our thoughts and actions, and paradigm shifts entail changes in the metaphors that guide us. The language we use therefore expresses how we experience life, simultaneously influencing how we think and feel. By investigating and changing our language we can shift perception, understanding and motivation. As Reed and Rothenberg (1993) said: ‘a questioning ecology sees beyond the forest and the trees to the root metaphors and acts of how humanity has framed the world’. The metaphors we envisage can turn our understanding of life on its head, or gently nudge us in a different direction as we have already seen in the example of Indra’s net. New metaphors can promote transformative ways of being, relating, experiencing, collaborating and co-creating the world.
Poetic expression can also be very powerful and there are many instances in which Buddhist teachers and proponents of deep ecology have used language to shift consciousness. An influential poetic metaphor, sometimes seen as the beginning of the deep ecology movement was Aldo Leopold’s ‘Thinking Like a Mountain’. He created the term in relation to a wolf’s howl as heard from the perspective of a mountain. It came from his personal experience as a young man, when he killed a wolf getting to her just in time to see life die away in the wolf’s eyes. He had thought that fewer wolves would mean a hunter’s paradise but ‘after seeing the green fire die’ he sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with this view (Leopold 1949/2020). This experience sparked a new deepened understanding of his own relationship within the natural world.
‘Thinking like a mountain’ suggests having a different and more contemplative and reflective perspective. It implies a longer, geological time frame through which to understand the natural world, and it changes our experiential sense of belonging to the Earth. Integrating a perspective of geological ‘deep time’ (Macfarlane 2020) it provides a radical and transformational new way of experiencing life and compelling us to think in the future, contemplating the effects of our present actions on future generations. The phrase ‘thinking like a mountain’ was taken up by deep ecologists John Seed, Joanna Macy and Pat Fleming (1988) in their book of the same name and has become one of the catch phrases of the deep ecology movement.
The language we use and how we express ourselves, reflects our cultures’ ways of understanding the world. It charts our relationships, our ways of conceiving and experiencing ourselves and the world around us. Robin Wall Kimmerer (2020) explains the difference between our English noun-based language, which reflects a culture that is obsessed with things and with separating human beings conceptually from the rest of the living world, and her native indigenous language of Potawatomi. In English only 30% of the language are verbs whereas in Potawatomi 70% of all words are verbs allowing for much greater flexibility and nuance of expression through the use of conjugation and tense. For example, the word ocean ‘bay’ is in Potawatomi wiikwegama – ‘to be a bay’, an everchanging present iteration of water. In English, however, it is a noun defined by humans implying the water is dead, ‘trapped between its shores and contained by the word’ rather than a moving ever-changing event experienced in the now (Wall Kimmerer 2020). The English language tends to divide the world between humans and things. Objectifying nature creates barriers and opens the door to exploitation. By realizing how much language affects our perception, and by developing new ways of expressing ourselves we can potentially influence our ways of being in the world, and vice versa. As Thomas Berry wrote ‘we must say of the universe that it is a communion of subjects, not a collection of objects.’
Narrative is also an important aspect of language and communication, and in many ways we understand our lives as narrative, trying to make meaning through stories. Fisher (1987) suggests that at a fundamental level humankind is ‘homo narrans’. Narrative is one of the main ways of giving coherence to our experience and it is therefore useful to examine its potential, if we want to affect both behavioural and systemic change.
Sharing stories and experiences can provide new perspective, generate empathy, compassion and understanding, create community and resilience, and contribute to healing. By listening to others’ stories and sharing our own truth we begin the process of creating a collective tapestry in which ‘truth … is born between people collectively searching for truth, in the process of their dialogic interaction’ (Bakhtin 1984). Together we can weave a rich narrative tapestry and create a space for a ‘polyphony of voices’ (Bakhtin 1984) that can help us reinterpret some of the old narratives, which have led us to our current state of affairs. By collectively allowing new stories to emerge and by weaving them together into a rich tapestry we can contribute to a ‘cultural transformation’ and restore what Carr (1986) calls a ‘narrative coherence in the face of an ever-threatening, impending chaos at all levels’.
To explore new narratives we may explore sabotage techniques suggested by Brian Eno (2023) in a recent RSA talk, imagining first what we don’t want the future to be in order to then design the opposite. Hypothetical thinking and new ways of conceiving the narratives we live by can also be encouraged by imaginative questions using the word ‘if’. Asking ‘what if’ helps us go beyond the current perceived reality and stimulates what might be (Lederach 2005). ‘If’ is a simple starting point to delve into the imagination, explore possibilities, alternatives and multiple realities. It provides an impetus for the further development of the creative process and can help stimulate the imagination needed to transcend current realities and assumptions, and to re-imagine existing narratives. Aldo Leopold explored this in his essay ‘If I were the Wind’ in which he imagines himself as the wind making music and surging across the grassy sloughs, accompanying the geese on their travels. Being able to imagine ourselves as other beings, as part of the earth, as natural elements, may help us transform how we perceive our ways of being in the world, and contribute to creating new narratives. The supposition of ‘if’ can help us make imaginative leaps towards a deeper understanding of ourselves as part of nature and the more-than-human world (Abrams 1996). It helps overcome our imagined separation of human beings as being separate from ourselves, each other and other beings, and it can lead to a conceptual change. John Seed (1988) explains this potential process of transformation as a ‘spiritual change’, exemplified in how the thought ‘I am protecting the rainforest’ evolves to ‘I am part of the rainforest protecting myself’ or even ‘I am that part of the rainforest recently emerged into thinking’.
Exploring how we can shift our self-perception through our use of language, metaphor and narrative is something we can all do. We can all contribute to shifts in language. We can choose what we say and do, how we think, what actions we take every day to create in this moment the future we want to live. We can decide not to use metaphors that reflect the world as a mechanical or monetised place and to change our language to express how we want to live and be in the world.
To give a small personal example I have recently made a few shifts in expressions. For instance, rather than talking about ‘spending time with’ someone, a phrase that contributes to the view that ‘time is money’, I choose instead to say ‘sharing time with’. For me this reflects an understanding of time being a gift and honours the rich and deep transformation that can happen between, within and through an exchange with others. It also acts both as a reminder to myself and hopefully as a tiny provocation when communicating with others. We can combine a scientific narrative of evolution with poetic and engaged ways of viewing our role as human beings nested within the rest of the world. I would suggest that we can all contribute to creating what Tucker and Swimme (2011) call ‘a transformative cosmological story that engages human energy for a future that is sustaining and sustainable.’
Deep ecology provides a spiritual dimension to the environmental movement and encompasses a holistic and embodied approach that brings together thinking, feeling, spirituality and action (Henning 2002). I hope that our Buddhist philosophies and practices combined with the insights of deep ecology can continue to make contributions to the environmental movement and the ‘spiritual and cultural transformation’ needed. By deepening and widening our understanding and sharing our insights with those around us we can and are contributing to developing our own eco-selves as well as collective enlightenment with the hope of inspiring people to feel motivated to start the change themselves.
Further reading / references
Abram, D. (1996) The Spell of the Sensuous: Perception and Language. USA: Random House. · Bakhtin, M. (1984) Problems of Dostoevsky’s Poetics. Minneapolis: Minnesota Press. · Barnhill, D. and Gottlieb, R. S. (2001) Deep Ecology and World Religions: New Essays on Sacred Ground. State University of New York Press, Albany. · Fisher, W.R. (1987) Human Communication as Narration: Toward a Philosophy of Reason, Value, and Action. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. · Henning, D. (2002/2006) A Manual for Buddhism and Deep Ecology. Special Edition by the World Buddhist University. · Ikeda, D., Saito, K., Endo, T. and Suda, H. (2001) The Wisdom of the Lotus Sutra: a Discussion, Vol 3. World Tribune Press. · Lakoff, G. and Johnson, M. (1980) Metaphors we Live By. University of Chicago Press. · Lederach, J. P. (2005) The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace. New York: Oxford University Press. · Leopold, Aldo (2020) A Sand County Almanac and Sketches Here and There. Penguin Random House, UK. · Loy, D.R. (2018) Ecodharma: Buddhist Teachings for the Ecological Crisis. Somerville, MA: Wisdom Publications. · Macfarlane, R. (2020) Underland: A Deep Time Journey. Penguin Random House, UK. · Macy, J. (1990) The Greening of the Self in Badiner, A. H. (ed) (1990) Dharma Gaia: A Harvest of Essays in Buddhism and Ecology. Parallax Press, Berkely, California. · Naess, A. (2008) Ecology of Wisdom. Penguin Random House. · Reed, P., Rothenberg, D. (1993) Wisdom in the Open Air: The Norwegian Roots of Deep Ecology. University of Minnesota Press. · Scharmer, O. (2018) The Essentials of Theory U: Core Principles and Applications. Oakland: Berrett-Koehler Publishers. · Seed, J., Macy J., Fleming, P., Naess, A. (1988) Thinking Like a Mountain: Towards a Council of All Beings. New Society Publishers, Philadelphia. · Sponberg, A. (1997) ‘Green Buddhism and the Hierarchy of Compassion’ in M.E. Tucker and D.R. William (eds) Buddhism and Ecology: The Interconnection of Dharma and Deeds. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. · Swimme, B. and Tucker, M.E. (2011) Journey of the Universe. Yale. · Wall Kimmerer, R. (2013/2020) Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants. Penguin Random House, UK.
About the author
Olivia Fuchs has been practicing and studying Buddhism for over 30 years and is a local London-based women’s leader in the Buddhist lay organisation, Soka Gakkai International (SGI). She is a Research Fellow of the Centre for Applied Buddhism with a MA in ‘Reconciliation and Peacebuilding’ from Winchester University. Since 2019 she has been the project coordinator of the Eco Dharma Network in the UK, part of Faith for the Climate and EBU Eco Dharma, as well as being involved in Interfaith climate action. During COP26 she was the climate lead for SGI-UK and organised a series of side events on the Climate Fringe. Olivia is an international award-winning opera and theatre director, and continues her freelance career while pursuing her passion for interfaith work, climate action and social change.
This article first appeared in EBU Magazine #10 – Ecodharma (Spring 2023). Download the full issue as PDF or browse all issues.