Greetings from Juneau, Auden,
. . . My interests are being drawn more and more towards the global
warming issue (whose aren’t?). I am able to involve myself both personally and in a business capacity now and into the future, but am
definitely in the dark on a specific course . . .
Do you believe one can actually find a way to earn a bit of a living
in this emerging (crisis?), and at the same time go home at night
and let the kids know that something good is being accomplished?
My business sense tells me there are many grand opportunities, but
the field seems to be a tempting invitation to intrusive species and
interests. What is reality? What will stand the test of time?
When you get a chance, Auden, could you drop me a line with some
thoughts and possible information links . . .
Bob
In a note dashed o= after work or between tours in the mayhem of a busy day, Bob was asking some of the most basic, consistent, and profound questions humanity has struggled with.
And when I tried to pinpoint exactly what Bob was talking
about, I ended up with words that didn’t square with the biology
background I have, or the empirical perspective the >eld of sustainability and climate has historically followed. The words I
found to describe Bob’s goals came from the religious community—words like grace, dignity, redemption, and compassion.
And it occurred to me that the environmental, political, and
business worlds, in their discussion of climate change and its
solutions, have been missing something fundamental.
There have been scores of books published on climate
change and sustainable business over the last two decades. Most
come from the secular academic or left-leaning environmental
community, or they come from the free market–crazed economists at right-wing think tanks. It’s either pure science or pure
economics. Few of these books address the broader, seemingly
glaring point that no such holistically encompassing opportunity as climate change, nothing with so great a promise to
achieve universal human goals on so large a scale, has been
o=ered up since the establishment of large, organized religions
between two and four thousand years ago. The vision of a sustainable society, with its implications for equity, social justice,
happiness, meaning, tolerance, and hope, embodies the aspirations of most religious traditions: a way of living at peace with
each other, the world, and our consciences; a graceful existence;
a framework for a noble life. Most religions originally evolved to
meet a basic human need for community, understanding, and
mission. Religion, in its original intent, and the sustainability
movement seem to be sourced from the same ancient human
wellspring.
Is it any wonder, then, that so many have come at sustainability, and in particular the climate struggle, with an almost
religious fervor? And that many prominent leaders of this movement—leaders like Al Gore, Sally Bingham, Bill Moyers, and
Richard Cizek—are either ordained or educated in theology?
Indeed, many critics of environmentalism and the current climate “crusade” point out the avid, zealous enthusiasm behind
the movement, as if to say, “What a bunch of wackos.”
But religion has been one of the most important forces shaping society throughout history. If there are some very clear parallels between the goals of most religious traditions and the
goals of a sustainable society, how is it possible to talk about
huge philosophical issues that cut to the core of human desire—
like climate change, which threatens the very nature and existence of life on Earth—without talking about . . . God?
MY INQUIRY into religion and climate change began through
conversations with my friend Mark Thomas, who was at the
time studying for a degree in theology at Berkeley. Mark once
said, “To think God is some old guy sitting in a chair, you’d have
to be insane.” As a member of no religious practice and a lifelong atheist who always felt religion was absurd, the idea was
liberating to me. I was guilty of viewing religion in the most
simplistic terms.
When I talk about religion, I’m talking about its core founding principles, not what seems to be the bulk of popular modern
religious practice in the U.S. As Bill McKibben has pointed out,
in America, the evangelical agenda prominent in politics—with
its unwavering focus on gay clergy, same-sex union, and abortion—has very little to do with the original teachings of any religious faith, let alone Christianity, despite the fact that roughly 85
percent of U.S. citizens call themselves Christian. He notes that
three-quarters of Americans think the line “God helps those
who help themselves” comes from the Bible. But Ben Franklin
said it, and the notion actually runs counter to the founding
ideas of most religions, which focus explicitly on tolerance and
helping the poor.
At the same time, the American religious community—
even the most unmoored element—is on board with climate
action. Leaders typically cite a biblical mandate regarding stewardship, describe Earth as “God’s creation,” and note Jesus’s
OPPORTUNITY TO REMAKE SOCIETY IN THE IMAGE OF OUR GREATEST DREAMS.
