From men's violence to an ethic of care: Ecofeminist contributions to green criminology

Introduction

An increasingly established and influential area of inquiry, green criminology has made important contributions in placing humanity's destructive impact on the more-than-human world on the criminological agenda. There remains, however, relatively little discussion within criminology of the gendered dynamics of green crimes. Similarly under-explored (with some notable exceptions, see Hunnicutt, 2020; Milne et al., 2023; Sollund, 2020a; Wonders & Danner, 2015) is the relevance of ecofeminist theory to understanding these harms, despite its clear overlaps with green criminological thought. This paper illuminates the means through which ecofeminism can enrich green criminology (and, indeed, criminology more broadly). To do so, we focus on the concept of men's violence and consider how two core areas of attention for green criminologists—environmental harm and violence against nonhuman animals—can be considered forms of gendered, patriarchal, men's violence. Moreover, we argue that rather than seeing different forms of men's violence (against humans and more-than-human life) as being discrete, they should be understood as interconnected and entangled, as ecofeminists have articulated. This also builds on men and masculinities theorists such as Kaufman (1987), who with the “triad of men's violence” highlighted the shared roots of different forms of gendered harm whilst arguably taking insufficient account of the destruction of nature. Finally, the paper aims to explicate how an ecofeminist ethic of care offers a vital perspective to green criminology, by presenting a path away from men's violence towards more peaceful, harmonious human relationships with the rest of our ecology.

It is important to recognise from the outset of this paper that human life is enmeshed with our ecology and the different living entities within it. Whilst humans are unique in our disproportionately destructive impact on the more-than-human world—and thus in our ethical responsibility to mitigate existing and prevent future harms—one cannot easily separate these life forms out from one another or draw neat divisions between them. Indeed, we argue that such separations are central to the legitimisation of men's violence itself. However, we are also constrained by language, which is often rooted in these detached, hierarchical ways of thinking. For example, the terms “environment” and “nature”—which we utilise throughout this article—suggest that humans are somehow situated outside of these phenomena rather than being part of them. As we discuss, the idea that nature or the environment are external to humans (constructed as the masculine default) perpetuates the view that we are superior to them and that they exist as instrumental means to our ends. It is therefore important to acknowledge that the terms we use are themselves sometimes problematic in reinforcing binaries between human and nonhuman worlds. We hope the paper will stimulate reflections on how to unpick these binaries.

Gender and green criminology

Green criminology is concerned with crimes and harms against the environment and nonhuman animals (Brisman & South, 2018). Where some green criminologists mobilise official state-based definitions of crime, examining activities constructed as illegal, others assume a more critical harm-based focus, acknowledging that a vast array of harms are “lawful but awful” (Passas, 2005). For instance, whilst the production and consumption of meat and dairy is a widespread human practice, it inflicts significant harms on the nonhuman animals bred for slaughter and reproductive exploitation, not to mention severe environmental and ecological degradation relating to greenhouse gas emissions, deforestation, excessive water usage, and loss of biodiversity (Sollund, 2024).

White (2013) divides green criminology into three key justice-based approaches: environmental justice, species justice, and ecological justice. Each of these approaches is purportedly informed by an ecophilosophical perspective on the relationship between humans and nature: anthropocentrism, biocentrism, and ecocentrism (Halsey & White, 1998; White, 2013). Environmental justice is concerned with the disproportionate burden of environmental harms and the unequal distribution of “natural resources” (e.g., unpolluted air and water) among humans, therefore adopting an anthropocentric standpoint (White, 2013). Such anthropocentricism can valorise human over more-than-human life, reducing the “natural” world to resources to be extracted and consumed. Environmental harms should, of course, be examined from a social justice perspective, but it is important to value the environment outside its instrumental worth to humans.

Species justice is centred on the plight of nonhuman animals, including individual animals and entire species groups (White, 2013). Green criminologists committed to species justice challenge the instrumentalisation of animals by humans through animal rights or utilitarian-based ethics. The approach is also said to draw on an ecofeminist ethic of care (White, 2013); however, this tends to be mentioned in passing and could be engaged with in a deeper and more sustained way. The species justice approach is said to assume a biocentric ecophilosophical perspective that grants all organisms and entities within the biosphere equal value (Halsey & White, 1998). This orientation opposes anthropocentrism by positing humans as simply one among many species, organisms, and biological entities to inhabit the Earth (Halsey & White, 1998). Where the biocentrism of species justice champions the wellbeing of constituent parts of a given ecosystem, the ecocentrism of ecological justice is concerned with the wellbeing and integrity of ecosystems as a whole. It adopts an ecocentric framework that posits humans as interrelated with all living entities and advocates for the rights of the entire ecosystems (e.g., rainforests, rivers, or the biosphere more broadly) (Halsey & White, 1998).

This three-pronged green criminological framework is productive for examining the range of harmful impacts of humans on the more-than-human world. However, the role of gender is rarely considered as an important vector of analysis within green criminological research. From an anthropocentric perspective, those who tend to be disproportionately impacted by green crimes are women and other marginalised groups (Bahar, 2023). Meanwhile, men and masculinities are central to the perpetration of violence, whether it be towards the environment, nonhuman animals, or other humans. Furthermore, the division of green criminology into three discrete approaches does not account for the interconnections between these different forms of violence. We argue that seemingly distinct forms of men's violence do not exist in isolation from one another but, rather, are overlapping and interrelated. This will be shown through engaging with the critical insights of ecofeminism.

Enriching green criminology with ecofeminism

There are multiple approaches to ecofeminist thought, so it cannot necessarily be defined straightforwardly; however, it has fundamentally sought to bring together feminist and environmentalist perspectives (Plumwood, 2004). This followed critiques that the environmental movement contains facets of sexism, whilst the women's movement sometimes lacks an ecological consciousness. Ecofeminism then expanded into considering the role of patriarchy in the oppression of the more-than-human world. Ecofeminists draw conceptual connections between women and nature in Western culture, highlighting how women have historically been associated with “lower-order” traits of animality, materiality, and physicality and men with “higher-order” traits of mind, reason, and culture (Plumwood, 2004).

In this paper, we argue that (green) criminologists have much to learn from ecofeminism. There are clear crossovers and shared perspectives between these fields—for instance, in how they seek to break down anthropocentric hierarchies and draw attention to harms against the more-than-human world (Davies, 2023). Indeed, the theoretical development of green criminology arguably owes a (not often acknowledged) debt to ecofeminism in this regard. As we will go on to discuss, ecofeminism also offers radical ways of overcoming the harms highlighted by green criminologists. An ecofeminist criminology is therefore much needed. This would also offer an important space for the development of ecofeminist theory and research, on the range of ways in which patriarchal systems are harming the environment and nonhuman animals. Green criminological and ecofeminist analyses can come together in illuminating the role of men's violence in the destruction of different aspects of the more-than-human world. Feminist scholars have shown that a gendered analysis is crucial to understanding and preventing different forms of violence; if this violence is rooted in patriarchal constructions of masculinity, then we cannot end it without addressing masculine norms and transforming gender relations (Aghtaie & Gangoli, 2014; Hunnicutt, 2020; Walby, 1990). This violence is not limited to humans.

Green criminology and ecofeminism also share a critical focus on the actions of the powerful and how powerful actors such as states and corporations often commit the greatest harms of all whilst receiving scant attention compared to relatively small-scale individual acts defined as “crimes”. However, we would add that there remains a need for greater attention to the role of men and masculinities in this regard, in understanding the masculinised dynamics of such organisations; how and why many elite men (and men more broadly) are so invested in unsustainable, damaging relationships with our ecology; and how these relationships can be changed (Hultman & Pulé, 2019; Pease, 2019). This is one reason why examining men's violence is so important.

It is also necessary to be cognisant of possible tensions in bringing together ecofeminist and green criminological approaches. There are ongoing debates about the extent to which a criminological lens is useful or appropriate. Criminology is limited by its focus on “crime”, itself defined primarily by powerful groups, which helps to explain why harms against the more-than-human world have been comparatively under-examined. Green criminology challenges this limited perspective. In its push to be seen as a legitimate area of study, however, sometimes it can also reproduce this narrow criminological lens, by focusing on the policing and control of the more aberrant green crimes recognised by criminal justice systems whilst more widespread, everyday, and “ordinary harms” (Agnew, 2020) are left unquestioned. The potential for co-option and institutionalisation by the state and/or corporations is one reason why there are calls for criminology to be abolished altogether and for criminologists to broaden their focus to social harm through zemiology (Boukli & Kotzé, 2018; Canning & Tombs, 2021; Hillyard et al., 2004). This would also allow us to more fully comprehend the extent of men's violence, including the different forms it takes and the multiple, interconnecting levels at which it exists.

Men's environmental violence

Used largely in relation to humans, the concept of violence is also valuable in capturing the extent to which human activities—both deliberate and unintended—are causing death and destruction to other life forms (and often with violent knock-on effects for other humans). Akin to the concept of “ecocide” (Agnew, 2020; Higgins et al., 2013), environmental violence can be defined as avoidable human actions or omissions which—knowingly or not—detrimentally impact the natural environment (including individual flora and fauna, as well as non-living natural entities and ecosystems such as air, mountains, rivers, and seas). The degradation of the environment rarely affects one life form in isolation; it also impacts other entities within and surrounding them, which are entangled in interdependent relationships with one another as part of an ecology. (Nonhuman animals are frequently significant victims in this regard, but we believe the harm of nonhuman animals carries unique characteristics which mean it should be considered a form of violence in its own right). For instance, deforestation not only involves the killing of trees but also many other living things whose lives are dependent upon those trees. As mentioned, the concept of “environmental violence” does have limitations, in that it suggests that humans are not part of this same environment—that it is something “out there”, external to us, rather than what we are all constantly part of and interacting with, shaping and being shaped by. However, these problems do provide insight into the nature of the violence itself: that we are mistreating, attacking, and abusing the rest of the natural world (and not just other humans or nonhuman animals) as if it is separate from us.

Less discussed but articulated powerfully by ecofeminist scholars and activists (e.g., Mies & Shiva, 2014; Warren & Cady, 1994) is how ecocide and environmental violence are gendered, sharing commonalities with different forms of men's violence. This may seem counter-intuitive, since environmental violence is often enacted by organisations and institutions as opposed to individual men. The focus of discussions about men's violence is arguably too often placed solely on individuals, however. If we consider the organisations and institutions with the most culpability for environmental extractivism and harm, they tend to be highly masculinised. Regarding perhaps the most large-scale example of environmental violence in human history, global heating, the fossil fuel companies primarily responsible for greenhouse gas emissions are dominated by men, both in the boardrooms and on the frontlines of extraction. It is estimated, for example, that only 22% of those working in the oil and gas industry are women and that men hold over four-fifths of decision-making senior and executive-level positions (Von Lonski et al., 2021).

Galtung (1996) has shed light on how violence can be structural and cultural as well as direct and interpersonal. This helps us to understand the range of forms environmental violence can take: from the direct violence of individuals burning down a forest, to the structural violence of a company or government allowing pollutants to be poured into rivers, to the cultural violence of defining nature as a limitless resource for humans to exploit. Galtung's model has been criticised for lacking a gendered analysis, however, given that each of the levels of violence he explicates are significantly shaped by, and help to reproduce, patriarchal social relations (Confortini, 2006). When it comes to environmental violence, as with other forms of violence, men and masculinities are playing a disproportionate role in enacting and driving it (Pease, 2019).

Frequently at the heart of Western hegemonic constructions of masculinity is the notion that men are, and should be, rational and detached from nature, as well as other people (Pease, 2019). This suggests that being a “real man” means having control over one's environment, as well as one's own life and the people in it—especially women and children. It can cultivate a sense of entitlement to treat nature as one wishes, viewing it as a means to one's own ends. Men may, therefore, perceive that “conquering” the land and exerting dominance over nature, as well as over other people, yields the sense of power they are taught to crave—and helps to prove their masculine authority to themselves and others.

This can be observed, for instance, in how driving, flying, and sailing are frequently associated with masculinity. Bigger, faster (and thus more polluting) vehicles are effective symbols of hegemonic status, whilst relying on public transport can be seen as feminising (Balkmar, 2019). Daggett (2018) has written about how, in the United States, White patriarchal dominance can be buttressed by “petro-masculinity”, with the consumption of fossil fuels central to many men's identities, and at the roots of the yearnings for authoritarianism embodied in the Donald Trump presidency. Similarly, Anshelm and Hultman (2014) describe how men's identities within the declining industrial modernity of Western capitalism have been rooted in “industrial/breadwinner” constructions of masculinity. The threats that climate change poses to these investments can make it easier to deny the problem than to recognise and address it, with Anshelm and Hultman (2014) noting that climate denialism appears more pervasive among men. This illustrates how environmental violence, as with other forms of men's violence, is often influenced by insecurities in masculine subjectivities.

Whilst it can sometimes be difficult to identify individual actions or actors responsible for environmental violence, it is clear that these harms are frequently shaped by masculinist norms and values. Climate change is a significant example and has been described by Nixon (2011) as “slow” violence—gradual, incremental, seemingly invisible, but causing widespread destruction to both people (especially in marginalised communities) and planet. It is men who predominantly hold responsibility for this violence. The lack of women in delegate representations at annual Union Nations Climate Change Conferences provides one illustration of how they and other worst-hit groups (such as First Nations communities) have been systematically excluded from climate decision-making, whilst predominantly male politicians lead us to environmental catastrophe (Pearse, 2017). MacGregor (2009) has described the masculinisation of climate change responses, with science and technology—often represented by what Hultman and Pulé (2019) call “ecomodern masculinities”—looked to for solutions, whilst the violent and unequal social order driving the climate crisis remains untouched. Of course, all humans are contributing to global heating but some much more than others. Men, on average, contribute higher carbon emissions (especially those who are wealthier and in the Global North) whilst expressing lower levels of concern about climate change than women (Pearse, 2017; Pearson et al., 2017). Indeed, men may fear that caring for the environment is seen as “unmanly” or that addressing it poses threats to their “freedom”. One strident example of this is the “frontier masculinity” influential within extractive industries in settler colonial settings such as Australia and Canada, where environmentalism is perceived as constraining the righteous conquering of the land (Carrington et al., 2011; Letourneau, 2023).

Another significant issue is how environmental violence can exacerbate other kinds of harm and heighten the conditions for further violence. For instance, in the highly masculinised Australian mining industry, mining sites are associated not just with violence against the Earth but with high levels of domestic and sexual abuse (Carrington et al., 2011). Meanwhile, research in some contexts suggests that a hotter climate can amplify rates of interpersonal violence (Tiihonen et al., 2017). The climate crisis is also likely to increase conflict and war as resources become scarcer (Agnew, 2012; Brisman et al., 2015). The impact on women and children is particularly significant. There is much evidence that climate change is intensifying gender-based violence, including family violence in the home in the midst of natural disasters and sexual violence and exploitation against displaced women and children, as well as violence against women environmental activists (Enarson & Pease, 2016; Thurston et al., 2021). This is not to suggest that environmental breakdown causes men's violence however or that it is a simple consequence of increased stress. If dominant constructions of masculinity expect men to be “in control”, the loss of control in the wake of disaster may lead some to seek to compensate by exerting greater dominance in other parts of their lives, including over their families (Pease, 2019). This is just one example of how climate change risks deepening gendered and other inequities (MacGregor, 2009). It is, however, important to avoid anthropocentric framings of men's environmental violence as damaging simply because of the fallout for humans, which can obfuscate the value of all life forms and ecosystems in and of themselves and the need to protect them.

Men's violence against nonhuman animals

Whilst men's violence against nonhuman animals often sits under the banner of environmental harm, it has distinctive features that warrant attention. This is particularly important because conventional criminology has perpetuated an anthropocentric bias, dismissing the victimisation of animals by humans as a valid subject of analysis (Beirne, 1999; Cazaux, 1999). As highlighted by Beirne (1999), when the abuse of animals is taken up by criminologists, the primary concern tends to be that it might be an identifier, risk factor, or precursor to violence against humans. We maintain that men's violences are invariably interconnected; there is a link between men's inter- and intra-species violence. However, in arguing this, we contend that men's violence against the more-than-human world should not be subordinated to that against humans.

The link between inter- and intra-species violence is well-established (Beirne, 2004; Dadds et al., 2002; Fitzgerald et al., 2009; Brisman et al., 2013). The “progression thesis”, for instance, postulates that violence against animals during childhood and adolescence is a precursor to violence against humans (Beirne, 2004). The importance of examining and, ideally, preventing violence against humans is not in dispute; however, the valorisation of human over animal life inadvertently perpetuates speciesism—that is, discrimination against nonhuman animals based on the assumed superiority of humans (Ryder, 2009). Anthropocentric and speciesist criminological frameworks are problematic, as Taylor (2011) suggests, because they “reinforce the forms of oppression which create and maintain … violence in the first place” (p. 251). This highlights the need for a non-speciesist criminology (Beirne, 1999; Cazaux, 1999).

Non-speciesist criminologists have developed new frameworks for understanding violence against animals; for example, Beirne (2014) proposes the term “theriocide” to refer to human actions, whether intentional or unintentional, that cause their death. Theriocide can be perpetrated by individuals and groups or on institutional and structural levels and ranges from insidious practices (e.g., the production and consumption of animals) to more overt and deliberate acts (e.g., companion animal abuse in domestic settings) (Beirne, 2014). More work, however, is required in applying a decidedly gendered lens to examining violence against animals—and in recognising it as an issue of men's violence. Regardless, there is some promising work being carried out in this space.

Most violence—encompassing, but not confined to, violence against nonhuman animals—is perpetrated by men and shaped by the internalisation of masculine expectations. Sollund (2020b) draws on the insights of ecofeminism and masculinities theory to consider the extent to which wildlife trafficking and the killing of endangered carnivorous animals can be considered crimes of hegemonic masculinity. Nurse (2013) further maintains that crimes such as hunting and shooting free-born animals are motivated by power and control, thrill-seeking, and reckless behaviour shaped by masculine norms. Other crimes against free-born animals, such as illegally trading in wildlife—e.g., collecting ivory, taxidermied animals, and birds’ eggs—can be conceptualised as capturing, conquering, and displaying wild animals, demonstrating (hu)man's domination over nature (Sollund, 2020b). Whilst analyses of wildlife crimes are undoubtedly crucial, further consideration of violence towards domesticated animals (particularly, the production and consumption of farmed animals) is needed to avoid reinforcing the view that animal harm is aberrant and extraordinary, rather than firmly rooted in everyday practices within patriarchal and advanced capitalist societies.

Nurse (2013) develops an offender typology for crimes against both domesticated and wildlife animals: traditional offenders, economic offenders, masculinities offenders, hobby criminals, and stress offenders. Whilst he acknowledges that “[a]nimal abuse is significantly influenced by masculinities” (p. 66), “masculinities” only feature in the categories of “masculinity offenders” (who adhere to masculine norms by harming animals to exert power and control) and, to a lesser extent, “stress offenders” (who harm animals due to their own experiences of victimisation—typically at the hands of other men—and the need to release stress). We agree with the identified link between masculinities and animal abuse but take this argument further in maintaining that violence more broadly is inextricably bound to masculinities given that, for example, most of the offenders responsible for all of the harms Nurse describes are likely to be men.

Although not widely analysed within green criminology, veg(etari)an ecofeminism offers a rich foundation for examining the interrelation between masculinities and men's violence against animals. Adams (1990) argues that within patriarchal cultures, meat is a symbol of men's dominance. Meat-eating is constructed as “manly” and is synonymous with attributes such as “strength” and “virility” (Adams, 1990). Globally, men eat more meat than women and are less likely to become vegetarian or vegan (Aavik, 2024). Men who reject meat are often mocked for being “sissies” and “soy boys” (Burrell, 2023). Nevertheless, men adopting a veg(etari)an diet can be a powerful act of feminist allyship insofar as it marks the renunciation of a core symbol of patriarchy (Adams, 1990).

Ecofeminists—and, increasingly, non-speciesist green criminologists—have revealed a link between men's violence against nonhuman animals and women, positing speciesism and sexism as intersecting forms of oppression. For instance, Fitzgerald et al. (2009) reveal a connection between men's slaughterhouse employment and high arrest rates for violent crimes, including rape and sexual assault. Beirne (2007, 2019), similar to Adams (1990), notes an overlap between speciesist and sexist language, whereby women are derogatorily referred to as “bitches”, “cows”, “bunnies”, “cougars”, and “pieces of meat”.

The consumption of flesh—whether it be the sexually objectified flesh of women or the literal flesh of nonhuman animals—is an expression of the subjugation of women and animals under patriarchy. Adams (1990) reveals that through the process of sexual objectification, women's bodies are metaphorically carved up and fragmented—reduced to breasts, legs, buttocks, etc. This is illustrated in common retorts like “are you an arse or a boobs man?”. This metaphorical butchery is prevalent in contemporary porn culture, as is the practice of putting women on display so as to control and dominate them. A popular 2000's men's magazine in the United Kingdom and Australia, Zoo Weekly, featured images of objectified women; the name of the magazine connotes women as wild animals, tamed and displayed for the benefit of (heterosexual) men—this practice can also be seen in pornography and so-called gentlemen's clubs. Meanwhile, animals are literally carved up and fragmented through the process of butchering (Adams, 1990), they are put on display in zoos, and their body parts are collected as trophies.

Speciesism and sexism—and violence against nonhuman animals and women—are therefore intertwined. More specifically, cultural violence (Galtung, 1996) within the context of patriarchy, manifesting through speciesist and sexist representations, functions in tandem with more tangible and direct acts of violence enacted by men. Nevertheless, Adams (1990) maintains that in recognising the overlap between the metaphorical and literal butchering of women and animals respectively, the plight of animals should not be subordinated to that of women. Given the interconnections of men's violences and corollary interconnected oppression of animals and women, women's liberation cannot be attained without the liberation of animals—as well as other marginalised groups, more broadly (Adams, 1990). What is needed is an intersectional politics of “total liberation” that recognises the interconnectedness of multiple forms of hierarchical domination—including sexism, speciesism, colonialism, anthropocentricism, racism, and ableism (Best, 2014). This highlights the necessity of human, nonhuman animal, and Earth liberation within a heterogeneous but united movement (Best, 2014; Pellow, 2020).

Comprehending men's violence

These explications demonstrate that it is not enough just to recognise that harms against the environment and nonhuman animals are men's violence. They also show that these violences should not be placed into siloes and looked at in isolation; they are fundamentally intertwined, together with other forms of men's violence. This has long been articulated by feminist theorists. Kelly's (1988) continuum of sexual violence has illustrated how different forms of intrusion, coercion, abuse, and assault by men towards women share a common character—how “‘typical’ and ‘aberrant’ male behaviour shade into one another” (p. 75), constraining and controlling women's “space for action”. Just as with violence against women, men's violence against nonhuman animals and the environment is not (only) extreme or extraordinary but is everyday and routine. Meanwhile, Walby (1990) has theorised how men's violence forms one of the core social structures in the constitution of patriarchy. Kaufman (1987) conceptualised the triad of men's violence to explain how men's violence against women, against other men, and against themselves (in terms of self-destructive behaviours) are interconnected. He argued that they share common roots in the social construction of masculinity, in which men are taught that they are expected, and entitled, to use violence; that they should sever themselves from their own emotions and empathic capacities; and that they should relate to others in dominating ways.

Kaufman (1987) contended that each of the corners of the triad of men's violence is mutually reinforcing, in reproducing the conditions that help other forms of violence to flourish, and must therefore be addressed simultaneously—by dismantling rigid, restrictive, patriarchal norms and expectations of masculinity. Recognising these interconnections is crucial, because it allows us to understand that different enactments of men's violence are not simply individual, isolated acts; they are manifestations of a system based on the maintenance of male dominance. Kaufman's triad, however, does not sufficiently encompass all forms of men's violence. For instance, Hearn (1998) has pointed out that the unique features of violence against children warrant consideration in their own right. We would argue that the framework should therefore be expanded, to also take account of violence against the environment and against nonhuman animals as core expressions of men's violence. This means simultaneously acknowledging that each of these forms of violence have distinct features in terms of targets, justifications, and effects but that they also constantly intertwine and overlap (which is the fundamental purpose of recognising them as men's violence).

One illustration of this is war, which represents men's violence against other humans (both in terms of other combatants and civilians) on a massive scale. It also causes huge destruction to the environment and nonhuman animals, including as a side effect, an exploitable “resource” (e.g., the military use of animals such as horses or dolphins in war), and a deliberate tactic (Brisman et al., 2015). One example of the latter is the United States’ herbicidal warfare campaign during the Vietnam War, in which Agent Orange and other chemicals were dropped over millions of acres of rainforest and fields under the guise of depriving the Viet Cong of food crops and forest-cover, with devastating long-term effects on the plants, nonhuman animals, and humans below (Bui, 2023). This demonstrates how, in the reality of men's violence, the impacts on different living things are often inseparable from one another. (Highly masculinised, ever-expanding militaries are also some of the largest carbon-emitting organisations, in what has been described as the “treadmill of destruction”, yet this goes largely unmonitored; Clark & Jorgenson, 2012). This example highlights the mutually reinforcing links between men's violence and other systems of power, often serving to reproduce not only patriarchy, but also White supremacy and capitalism. The history of settler colonial violence in Australia, for instance, was led by (White, British) men, not only against First Nations people but also against native fauna and flora, and legitimised by a hierarchical system of beliefs which position White, Western men at the top. It is therefore important to recognise with men's violence that some men hold a great deal more power (and culpability) than others.

Insight into the interconnections of men's violence can further be drawn from ecofeminists’ critique of the network of interrelated dualisms underpinning Western thought. These dualisms—e.g., human/nature, masculine/feminine, mind/body, reason/emotion, subject/object, active/passive—separate phenomena into mutually exclusive categories and are structured in a hierarchical relation of domination and subordination (Plumwood, 1991). Plumwood (1991) argues that the divide between humans and nature—which is a central organising dualism within this network—defines what is human in opposition to that which is seen as belonging to nature, including the material and biological realms. Qualities that we share with nature (e.g., sexuality, reproduction, the body) are excluded from what is constructed as human, and the perceived virtues of rationality and transcendence of nature are taken to be uniquely human (Plumwood, 1991). It is worth noting, however, that these dualisms are predominately, although not exclusively, characteristic of Western colonialist thought. Many First Nations cultures, for example, emphasise continuity between humans and nature and are based on kinship and special ties to land and country (Plumwood, 1991).

Nevertheless, it is crucial to emphasise that these (predominately Western) dualisms are gendered. They are governed by a patriarchal logic in which masculinity is associated with the dominant sides of the dualism (e.g., humanity, the mind, rationality) and femininity is linked with the subordinate sides (e.g., nature, the body, emotion). As a result, men come to see themselves as separate from, and superior to, other beings relegated to nature, enabling and legitimising acts of violence against them. Nature is situated both “within” and “without”; when men cut off facets of themselves relegated to nature (e.g., their emotions, their bodies), they also inflict violence on themselves, alienating themselves from what it is to be fully human.

Men's violence is not only practiced by individuals but also groups of men and masculinised organisations and institutions and can be structural and cultural as well as direct (Galtung, 1996). Whilst holding individual men to account for their actions is important (e.g., because men in positions of power have much greater responsibility for causing harms such as the climate emergency), individualising the problem can also obfuscate the systemic change needed to stop men's violence. It can hide the complicity we all hold to some degree in the problem, when we participate in the perpetuation of the patriarchal structures and cultures which underpin it, even if not enacting violence directly (Pease, 2019).

It is therefore important to view the different levels of men's violence in a relation of reciprocity, rather than mutual exclusivity. Agnew (2020) posits a range of individual actions (including meat-eating, excessive reliance on cars for transportation, residing in large homes, and consumerist behaviour) as “ordinary harms” that contribute to ecocide, acknowledging that harms enacted by “individuals and larger groups … are symbiotically related” (p. 53). For example, states bolster corporations engaging in harmful practices through supporting the fossil fuel industry and animal agribusinesses that pursue profit with scant regard for the welfare of humans, let alone the more-than-human world. We would add that whilst carried out by specific individuals and groups (often dominated by men), these actions do not occur in a vacuum but within cultures that promote the “mastery” of nature and the treadmill of production which prioritises profit above all (Stretesky et al., 2013).

Of course, women can also be part of masculinised corporations and state institutions and have oppressive relationships with the more-than-human world—because they too have internalised patriarchal logics. For example, dominant constructions of femininity—what Connell (2005) describes as “emphasised femininity”—can be reliant on the destruction of the environment and nonhuman animals, such as in the beauty and fashion industries. These industries, however, rely on feminine expectations that prop up and reinforce a system which primarily serves the interests of men; they are built upon the exertion of power and control over women's bodies. Women are therefore simultaneously complicit in, and victims of, beauty ideals and practices harmful to the environment (e.g., fast fashion and cosmetic packaging), nonhuman animals (e.g., animal testing), and women themselves (e.g., sweat-shops exploiting women and girl workers; see Hewamanne & South, 2023 and the pains of waxing, dieting, cosmetic surgery). Whilst we are all responsible for stopping the destruction of the environment and nonhuman animals then, this especially applies to men and even more so men in positions of power. This is why we favour the term “men's violence” (as opposed to, e.g., “patriarchal violence”): to identify its primary agents and beneficiaries and to hold men both as individuals and as a social group accountable.

Embracing an ecofeminist ethic of care

Drawing on ecofeminist insights, we suggest that an ethic of care is a fruitful framework for green criminologists who wish to dismantle dualistic hierarchical thinking. It also provides a means for moving beyond men's violence to fostering more harmonious relationships with the environment, nonhuman animals, and other humans (including oneself). Gilligan (1982) was among the first to articulate an ethic of care by juxtaposing two gendered frameworks that inform ethical decision-making. The masculine approach, centred on abstract principles such as rights and justice, follows from the construction of the self as autonomous, individuated, and independent from others (Nunner-Winkler, 2016). The feminine approach, on the other hand, is centred on care and responsibility, whereby the self is experienced as inextricably bound to others, and moral judgement is guided by consideration of specific details of a concrete situation (Gilligan, 1982; Nunner-Winkler, 2016). An ethic of care, in other words, emphasises interdependency in ethical decision-making, maintaining that moral judgements should consider the specific circumstances and relationships involved, rather than relying solely on abstract principles or governing rules (Gilligan, 1982). This moves beyond the mutually exclusive categories of “self” and “other”, embracing a relational—or, “self-in-relationship” (Plumwood, 1991)—ontology. Nevertheless, a non-essentialist view of masculinity and femininity is being adopted here. Women are not innately relational and caring, just as men are not innately rational and transcendent. These are socially constructed gender binaries that lead to and perpetuate men's violence itself—and it is these dualisms and resultant violence that an ethic of care seeks to overcome.

Plumwood (1991) extends care ethics into ecofeminist terrain. As previously shown, the logic of dualisms is reliant on separating phenomena into mutually exclusive categories and conferring upon each side a dominant and subordinate status. The positing of a masculinised humanity outside of a feminised nature not only grants men superiority over the environment, nonhuman animals, and women; it also gives men licence to dominate, control, and use these groups as instrumental means to their own ends (Plumwood, 1991). These dualisms form the basis of men's violence; they legitimise the view that men are independent and self-reliant—detached from and above those who are consigned to nature and justified in subordinating them. An ethic of care moves beyond this hierarchy, (re)positioning men as a part of rather than apart from nature. This means revaluating the relationship between humans and nature, men and women, positing them in an egalitarian relation and recognising their interconnection and interdependence. However, whilst acknowledging that humans and nature are caught in an intricate web of entanglement, a degree of human distinctiveness is required for an ethic of care to be possible (Plumwood, 1991). As Plumwood (1991) reveals, an ethic of care requires a relational view of humans as continuous with—but not indistinguishable from—other parts of nature. Whilst humans exist on a continuum with nature, the disproportionately destructive impact we have on the more-than-human world and our ethical imperative to act decisively and urgently to mitigate existing and prevent further harms must be reckoned with.

An ethic of care, we contend, provides green criminologists with a much-needed gendered lens. It brings into question the notion that environmental, species, and ecological justice are contrasting approaches to green criminology, when in fact each one offers an important perspective on the totality of men's interconnected violences; an ethic of care, therefore, provides a holistic path forward. It moves beyond the patriarchal logics that underpin this violence and promotes more sustainable relations between humans and the more-than-human world. This encourages men to recognise their interconnections with other beings and engage in caring relationships with them. Given that nature is constructed as both without (e.g., the environment, nonhuman animals) and within (e.g., one's own materiality, one's feelings, one's senses) and the construction of masculine subjectivity is contingent on severing what is defined as “human” from what is defined as natural, caring relationships enable men to embrace parts of themselves that had formerly been cut off. Just as seemingly different forms of men's violence (against the environment, nonhuman animals, and other humans—including themselves) are best understood as being interconnected rather than isolated, men's engagement in nurture and care has flow on effects to their relationships with the more-than-human world, other humans, and themselves. Understood and applied in this way, an ethic of care has the potential to bring about significant personal and political transformation.

Conclusion

This paper highlights the extent to which harms against the environment and nonhuman animals are gendered; they are forms of men's violence, closely intertwined with other forms of such violence, with shared foundations in patriarchal social relations. We argue that it is vital for green criminology to take greater account of these gendered dynamics and learn from the long-standing insights provided by ecofeminist theorists—not least because they offer a genuinely liberatory path forward, away from the violence, alienation, and crisis entrenched by patriarchal, capitalist, and colonialist logics. This path is based upon the development of an ethic of care, which breaks down dualistic, hierarchical thinking, and recognises—and puts into practice—human interdependence with nature. Fostering a feminist care ethic could also form the basis for transformative practice and activism involving men and boys, which engages them in leaving behind separation, and building meaningful relationships with their own emotional selves, with other people in their lives, with nonhuman animals, and with the environment.

In the same way that men's violence feeds into one another, so do caring relationships with others. For instance, becoming more closely connected with nature can help men feel more rooted in the world, the land, and their communities and to realise their potential to express care and love for others—with positive, reciprocal consequences for their own health and wellbeing. Reducing separation and building mutualistic relationships of care with others, in turn, makes it much more difficult to see oneself as superior or to engage in acts of violence against them. There are therefore significant opportunities and overlaps between, for example, engaging with men and boys about addressing the climate crisis and preventing violence and abuse—such as overcoming a masculine sense of expectation and entitlement to exploit and dominate both the environment and women's bodies. Similarly, helping men to recognise, express, and embrace the emotionality and vulnerability inherent within these relationships—and the anxieties associated with, for example, the climate and ecological crises—can enable and motivate them to become involved in social and personal change and grasp why this is beneficial for themselves as well as others. The task of fostering an ethic of care among men and boys could therefore not be more urgent—for themselves and for all living beings.