Abstract
In this book, Willis Jenkins seeks to address one of the most pressing issues of our times: climate change. Jenkins points out that the ethics of climate change ‘is more complicated than applying received norms to novel objects’ (p. 1). There is no precedent in ethics for climate change. Received ideas of the past do not, according to Jenkins, help to pave the way for moral living in relation to our climate and our planetary world. In short, our response to climate justice is simply without precedent.
Jenkins points out that humanity has become the earth’s habitat instead of the other way around. Previous ecosystems that existed in their own right are now ‘human systems with natural ecosystems embedded within them’ (p. 2). There is no doubt for the author that a problem like climate change forces us to recognize our responsibility for managing the earth as influential participants. But management is a controversial term as it implies that the earth always needs managing. It is clear that whatever route one takes to the issue of climate justice, we must always guard against the tendency to adopt terms or metaphors that suggest a kind of managerialism.
However, as Jenkins tells us, learning to live in harmony with the earth involves ‘managing ourselves.’ Since we are so active in shaping the earth, when oftentimes we ought not to do so, we need a way of managing how we act and behave towards the sacred universe. We need new moral competencies by ‘participating in projects that use their inheritances to create new responsibilities for unexpected problems’ (p. 5). It is not a case of finding new, absolute moral norms to guide behaviour towards the earth, but of digging deeper into our traditions to unearth new ways of living that lie at the ‘grass-roots’ of our communities, however diverse these may be.
Jenkins refers to ‘adaptive’ moral learning in relation to climate justice. This term moves the discipline of ethics away from a ‘one size fits all’ approach to one which emphasizes imagination, creativity, and an engagement with local cultures and communities that we often ignore in our moral discourse. Each chapter of the book shows how religious ethics can intensify the tension between feasible reform and deep cultural change ‘by interpreting problems as demands for moral transformation.’ (p. 11) Jenkins coins a phrase that denotes his approach: ‘prophetic theological pragmatisim’ (p. 11). For Jenkins, faith in God is what drives moral creativity. He is not looking necessarily for norms and principles in the first instance, though one might imagine that these could come at a later creative stage. Instead, he is inviting faith communities to be driven by a creative spirit and faith in God which will drive them to dig deep into their traditions and find creative sources of wisdom that can guide each specific community in the face of climate change.
It is worth pointing out that Jenkins does not believe that faith in God is required for a creative spirit. Rather, faith in God is the source of creativity for the Christian. It may lie in other sources for the non-believer, but we do not get a full chapter on this topic.
Maintaining the above theses throughout his work, Jenkins proceeds through seven chapters, all of which are creatively titled. The book becomes rather provocative towards the later chapters as Jenkins suggests that perhaps the future of Christian ethics lies in sustaining the practices through which future generations might forgive us (p. 323). Mention of forgiveness is novel and interesting. However, it could be argued that this ought not to be the only motif for addressing climate justice, as it takes away from the urgency required in the here and now to do all we can for our world and indeed for future generations. If we focus merely on practices in Christian ethics that might help the future generations to forgive us, we might run the risk of navigating the discipline off the immediate task.
Nevertheless, Jenkins’s stress on uncovering traditional practices within communities is commendable. What is even more commendable still is that his understanding of these communities is not a naïve one. He points out that our cultures—in some cases—might already be too corrupt to enable what he is suggesting as the way forward for Christian ethics in the face of climate change (p. 323).
What Jenkins tries to do—and does so successfully—is to create a generative tension between prophetic imagination and practical realism. His approach is not naïve; it is pragmatic, drawing inspiration from the prophetic imagination contained within the Christian tradition. As he puts it, ‘[m]y prophetic pragmatism supposes that we live in a time of gathering darkness’ that requires ethics to ‘work with the dynamics of damnation’ (p. 324). While some might find this reference rather bleak, others will find it to be a positive depiction of where we are at in terms of our competence to address the threats of climate change. But Jenkins does not end his book on a bleak note—each chapter and indeed the concluding pages suggest that there is hope. If we look at the problems ‘root and branch,’ and acknowledge where the issue or ‘darkness’ lies, we can use our creative imagination to navigate the way forward—under the action of God’s grace and not our own.
This book is a compelling read for anyone interested in the issues of sustainability and climate change. The book will not allow the ethicist to rest easy, especially when Jenkins discusses the tension between damnation and the call to be creative or where he suggests that our traditions may be so corrupt that we are forced into a creative call to address things differently. Perhaps more could be said about how those who do not associate with a mainstream or indeed Christian tradition might approach the question of climate justice, but, overall, this is a fine and original contribution to the debate.