The Last Best Hope of Earth? Bron Taylor and the Limits of Dark Green Religion

Bron Taylor, Professor of Religion and Nature at the University of Florida, and editor-in-chief of the Encyclopedia of Religion and Nature (2008), may be the best interpreter of environmentalism as a religious project working today.  His latest book, Dark Green Religion: Nature Spirituality and the Planetary Future (2010), argues that the constellation of spiritual and naturalistic worldviews which hold nature as sacred can be described as part of a new religious movement, one that might replace traditional religions and help save our planet from ecological disaster.

In the wide-ranging interview for the The Religious Studies Project, Taylor traces the history of the greening of religion, the growth of a naturalistic cosmology based on Darwinian science (that for many has replaced traditional religions like Christianity), the coalescence of a new form of religiosity Taylor dubs “dark green religion,” how conceptualizing this phenomena as religion can be analytically useful, how the narrow-mindedness of new atheists like Richard Dawkins can limit their analyses, and whether dark green religion will transform human culture and the future of life on earth.

In this response, I will focus on a few key points that Taylor makes in the interview, and then offer a brief reflection about his book Dark Green Religion.

In the interview, Taylor begins by critiquing the “greening of religion” hypothesis, which holds that (primarily Western) religions can respond effectively to the environmental crisis by becoming more environmentally-friendly [cf. Roger Gottlieb’s A Greener Faith: Religious Environmentalism and Our Planet’s Future (2006)].  For Taylor, it is not clear whether traditional religions like Christianity are actually turning green or whether they are just reflecting the society in which they are situated (as society is becoming more environmentally conscious).  Insufficient evidence exists to support the claim that religion is driving people to become better caretakers of the earth, he claims.  Despite the plethora of optimistic research about the greening of religion, I think Taylor is correct to sound this note of caution in interpreting earth-friendly religions like contemporary liberal Christianities.  Even after greening these religions, the tradition-bound, dominion-theology roots of our ecological crisis will remain.  Still, Taylor should provide a fuller explanation of why this is so.  However, pushing further, I wish Taylor would address the often-uncritical embrace of Eastern and indigenous religions as paragons of environmentalist ideas and practices.  Sometimes the portraits of non-Western religions painted by environmentalists are too rosy, belying complicated relationships with nature that remain underexplored.  For example, many of the dark green religion subjects Taylor discusses in his book do not think critically about the social and physical construction of wilderness, still assuming an idyllic natural state untouched by humans, one granting little to no agency to indigenous populations, as if native peoples leave no footprints.  Taylor could have complicated and improved his analysis by discussing this issue.

Next, tackling the perceived division between science and religion, Taylor discusses three major responses to Darwinian evolution in Western culture: rejecting evolution, grafting an evolutionary worldview onto a religious one (e.g. Catholicism, liberal religions), or embracing atheism and agnosticism.  However, for Taylor, even atheists and agnostics seek meaning and a moral sensibility, often finding them in nature, such as through the mythic meaning-providing aspects of the Darwinian evolutionary narrative.  Many who self-describe as “spiritual but not religious” may fit into this mold, in a more pagan or animistic vein, as might the scores of scientists who use religious rhetoric to describe their findings and experiences in nature.  Even an atheist like James Cameron, the director of Avatar, has deep environmental concerns and passions, such as kinship ethics, a theory of intrinsic value, an awareness of the interdependence of all life on earth, a humble sense of being one species amongst others (even noting cross-species continuities and animal consciousness), and an evolutionist, cosmological narrative of common origins.  Following E. O. Wilson, Taylor argues that kinship ethics, for example, is part of the emotional repertoire of human beings, that spiritualities of fellow-feeling are cross-culturally present across time.  Thus, as Taylor rightly shows, the supposed divide between religion and science—as well as between religion and irreligion—is messier than most commentators allow.

While Richard Dawkins and other so-called new atheists argue that religion is always poisonous, Taylor claims that their narrow view of what constitutes religion occludes from them phenomena that they support and about which they might agree.  Many atheist scholars use romantic language to describe their wonder at nature, for example.  Additionally, atheistic nature spirituality of the sort Taylor describes has wide cultural traction.  Dawkins should ratchet back his anti-religious rhetoric and read more religious studies literature, such as Taylor’s book, thus nuancing his view of religion.  If he did so, Dawkins might find that dark green religion describes his own naturalistic worldview (see Dark Green Religion: 158-160, 177-179).  New atheists should heed Taylor’s call for greater attention to the contested category of religion and to ways in which they may share central convictions with dark green religion.

In an optimistic mood, Taylor maintains that dark green religion is likely to become a global civil religion, especially as we better understand ecological science and our contemporary environmental predicaments.  Dark green religion may not replace traditional religions ultimately, but it could be the small piece upon which we can all agree.  While it is admittedly difficult to predict the future, Taylor claims that we could be in a gestalt period, a world-transformative moment in our religious and cultural life, one in which the fate of our planet hangs in the balance.  For Taylor, it is reasonable to speculate that religions which originated thousands of years ago will be less prevalent thousands of years into the future, and that dark green religion characteristics will be more prevalent than today’s traditional religions.  Although I am not inclined to indulge Taylor’s crystal ball-gazing, it is clear that he describes a major shift in ecological consciousness and spiritual belonging in his latest book, to which I now turn.

Taylor’s extremely well-read survey of contemporary environmentalist nature religiosity, Dark Green Religion, employs literary, ethnographic, and material cultural accounts to chart a global spiritual movement that seeks to protect the earth and reshape humanity’s role in it.  Chapters in the book define what he terms “dark green religion,” portray its historical tributaries and luminaries, analyze radical environmentalist and surfing spiritualities, examine the globalization of dark green religion through documentaries and the arts and sciences, and explore the role of global institutions such as UNESCO and global sustainability summits as they promote dark green religion.  Traits of dark green religion include an awareness of ecological interdependence, spiritualities of connection and belonging, kinship ethics, a sense of the intrinsic value of all life, contact with nature, and an evolutionist cosmogony (83, 149-151).  Throughout the book, Taylor acknowledges the hybridity and bricolage of dark green religion and its various sources and manifestations, noting that pinning it down to any particular creed, person, or institution would over-simplify a complex phenomenon.  Even in defining dark green religion, Taylor is careful to preserve such flexibility as it suits his interpretive purposes (101, 125).  Wary of using other terms that might carry unintended baggage, such as pantheism, deep ecology, or even nature religion [of the sort described by Catherine Albanese in Nature Religion: From the Algonkian Indians to the New Age (1990)], Taylor acknowledges that his new interpretive category may have limited utility beyond the scope of his book’s arguments (223-224).  In the end, he finds dark green religion to be a global, civic earth religion capable of replacing all other religions and perhaps thereby saving the planet.

One of the strengths of this book is Taylor’s eclecticism, as he draws from many and varied sources to make his argument, pulling quotes from nature writers, magazine ads, nature documentaries, and environmental legislation, for example.  He successfully brings these strands together into a cohesive whole, providing strong evidence for dark green religion’s existence.  He also adroitly explores how naturalistic accounts of the universe can be religious, in a way that moves beyond the claim that science is like religion since it is a totalizing worldview.  As a hybridizing and dynamic religious worldview, dark green religion is evolving and sprouting new forms, a fact that Taylor suggests will help it grow and flourish (185, 189).

Taylor labels dark green religion as “dark” because he wants to show its depth as well as its shadow side, such as elitism and radicalism (e.g. eco-terrorism).  However, he ultimately dismisses the dark side as a fringe that does not represent the mainstream of dark green religion.  This dismissal is unfortunate because it undermines the complexity that Taylor seeks to show, that this religion also has a significant dark side which has resulted in bodily injuries, damaged property, and loss of income.  Moreover, even within environmentalist kinship ethics, troubling choices have to be made, such as those that pit one community’s needs against another’s.  Dark green religion is not a panacea for the world’s problems or for resolving human conflicts.

In its bricolage, dark green religion takes from indigenous spiritualities across the globe and blends them with Western spiritual, cultural, and political ideals.  Taylor fairly represents the appropriation issues at stake, and he also highlights the viewpoints of indigenous peoples in global environmental summits, showing how race and religion become hot buttons within dark green religion.  However, there are also a few places where Taylor and his dark green religion subjects seem to compare apes to indigenous peoples, searching to find our most primitive and commonest characteristics while also raising the status of nonhumans (e.g. 30).  In an evolutionary perspective, comparing people to apes is not necessarily a bad thing, but when only indigenous peoples are compared to apes, then it begins to sound prejudiced.  I would like to hear Taylor’s response to this kind of under-the-surface bias.

The end of the book veers into advocacy of environmentalism and even dark green religion itself, as Taylor claims it can help preserve our planet and our species.  In this vein, he criticizes Christianity and other religions as unable to correct their anthropocentrism; he sees no hope in the greening of religion, instead encouraging readers to embrace the dark green religion he describes (178, 197, 206-207, 218, 221-222, 286).  However, in the book, Taylor needs to provide more evidence as to why other religious worldviews will necessarily fail us, and to engage more fully with Eastern and indigenous religions.  And some readers may question Taylor’s switch from description and analysis to advocacy.

Despite the few quibbles I present here, I admire Taylor’s work greatly.  Although there are many scholars examining nature and religion, few do so as thoroughly and thoughtfully as he does, and no one has presented as convincing a case for a global new religious movement based on environmentalist beliefs and practices.

This material is disseminated under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. and can be distributed and utilised freely, provided full citation is given.

About the Author

Dusty Hoesly is a doctoral candidate in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara, specializing in Religions of North America.  His research focuses on religion and irreligion in the U.S. Pacific Northwest, specifically the values held by people who self-describe as not religious, how those values developed, how they translate into social or political action, and how irreligious people interpret experiences that stand apart from ordinary life.  Incorporating fieldwork, surveys, and historical and material culture research, this project will help explain the growth of religious “nones” in the U.S. and reexamine the categories of sacred and secular in contemporary society.  Other research interests include religion in the American West, comparative secularisms, liberal evangelicalism, and religion and politics.


Albanese, Catherine L. Nature Religion: From the Algonkian Indians to the New Age. Chicago:University of Chicago Press, 1990.

Gottlieb, Roger S. A Greener Faith: Religious Environmentalism and Our Planet’s Future. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006.

Taylor, Bron. Dark Green Religion: Nature Spirituality and the Planetary Future. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010.

5 replies
  1. Avatar
    Maya White Sparks says:

    I am a witch and priestess of interpath nature spirituality. Although I appreciate Taylor’s goals for the earth, I must take exception to his assertions about contemporary pagans. He says that our

    ” hedonistic ethos and the tendency to emphasize ritualizing as a means to ecstatic experience . . . [hinder] political activism.” In my 30 years of involvement in Dianic witchcraft and interpath nature spirituality I have been an environmental activist in my local community. Others in the pagan community have joined with me. I would have expected Taylor to pay some homage to the fact that practitioners of the old nature religions of Europe, often known as witches, stood up to the legacy of persecution in order to keep the original dark green religions alive. Rather, he jumps on the bandwagon of anti-pagan propaganda to dismiss the potential of our religion for inspiring earth-centered activism and the birthing of a sustainable way of being. Also, I believe his definitions of religion are a useless academic exercise that ends up calling self-described non-religious people as religious.

    • Avatar
      David says:

      Hi Maya, thanks for commenting. I don’t want to speak for Taylor, but I would take issue with your critiques of his position. Firstly, to critique (Neo)paganism is not necessarily to indulge in “anti-pagan propaganda”, and indeed, it would be antithetical to Taylor’s broader thesis for him to do so. Rather, I think, he’s offering a potential explanation as to why paganism hasn’t become more closely tied with the growth of what he calls “green spirituality” in a political context.

      Also, the Margaret Murray idea of a suppressed pre-Christian, proto-feminist, proto-environmentalist Paganism, which you invoke, is under serious attack, if not discredited altogether. This is particularly the case in the UK, due to the work of Ronald Hutton. This is not, of course, to imply that paganism is therefore without value, far from it. But to state that Taylor must “pay… homage” to this idea seems naieve, at best.

      I find it surprising, therefore, that you should describe “definitions of religion” a “useless academic exercise”, as the pagan council in the UK has been working keenly to be seen as a religion, and receive the legal status thereof, in which they have been largely successful. This simply would not have been possible without a non-denominational, comparative, academic study of religion.

      I leave you with a question: are definitions of “psychopathy” similarly useless if they identify as psychopathic people who don’t self-describe as psychopathic?

      • Avatar
        Maya White Sparks says:

        I don’t appreciate my ideas being called naive; I felt patronized when I read that. I would dispute the assertion that paganism hasn’t become closely tied with the growth of what Taylor calls “green spirituality” in a political context. I asked Taylor to share the data set that led to his conclusion, but he did not respond. It is my experience that many pagans are environmental activists, but I have not had the resources to make a study of it. I have had the experience of doing ritual for the healing of a local river and then become involved in intensive work to protect that river. Others at that ritual were also involved in that ongoing work over several years. I will look up Hutton’s work. But whether Margaret Murray was right or not, most modern day pagans that I know draw inspiration from the old religions and the old religions were suppressed by the Catholic Church. Modern day Christians preach that the devil is working through us, etc. A local witch had to endure threats from certain Baptists who quoted the Bible as saying, “Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.” My assertions are: paganism does fuel environmental action and we pagans are courageous to practice our religion. Regarding your question about psychopathy, it could be argued that people with psychopathic problems often are not able to identify that condition in themselves. Are you saying that people are unable to define for themselves whether they are religious or not?

      • Avatar
        David says:

        Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. There is no one definition of “religion”, so our job as RS scholars is partly to do with identifying which is being employed in a given circumstance, and why. For example, a friend of mine identifies as religious, specifically Catholic, despite never going to church, taking communion or confession, and having been divorced. So he is religious in one sense only. Whereas I know many people who identify as “spiritual but not religious”, yet have beliefs in spiritual beings, so are religious in another sense, whether they realise that or not. Why they reject the term is the interesting part.

        Many Muslims don’t accept that Islam is a religion, yet we describe it as such all the time. In fact, only English-speaking individuals can possibly describe themselves as religious – a cognate term simply doesn’t exist in many languages. What about indigenous religions? Although we say they are religions, the indigenous people themselves don’t describe them as such (at least, not until Westerners told them to) – they are simply the culture they were born into. So are these examples also useless academic exercises? How about the “practitioners of the old nature religions of Europe, often known as witches” – can you produce a contemporary source where one of these individuals describes their practise as a religion?

      • Avatar
        Maya White Sparks says:

        I often use the phrase, “goddess religions.” I am content to utilize the dictionary definitions of religion and spirituality. I would be alright with describing an environmentalist as having a “religious fervor,” but if they do not believe in spirit or spiritual beings, I think it is incorrect to describe their philosophy as a “green religion.”

        Thank you for the opportunity to discuss Taylor’s work. I remain disturbed that he is a professor teaching the value of nature religion for inspiring activism for the earth and yet dismisses the value of paganism. He is in a position of influencing a lot of minds and, to my view, is perpetuating false ideas about practitioners of my religion.

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