Few texts in the field of religion and ecology have been as vigorously debated, and as widely cited, as Lynn Townsend White, jr.'s¹ disputed 1967 article, “The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis” (hereafter referred to as “Historical Roots”). There, he observed that “Christianity bears a huge burden of guilt” for the ecological crisis and that “[m]ore science and more technology are not going to get us out of the present ecological crisis until we find a new religion, or rethink our old one” (1206). Environmental problems, White contended, were rooted in the biblical notion of dominion found in Genesis 1:28 and buttressed by anthropocentrism and ecologically exploitative modes of science and technology that stemmed from the ideas and values of Latinized medieval Christianity. The responses to these controversial—and highly misunderstood—assertions were immediate and voluminous. Scholars produced hundreds of books and articles, most of them in direct reply to White's critiques of Christianity (Jenkins , 285–86). In time, the “Lynn White thesis,” as the argument in “Historical Roots” came to be known, has been quoted before Congress (Whitney , 158), summarized in Time Magazine and The New York Times (Whitney , 31), and has been repeated so often that it has been deemed “a virtual cliché” (Hall and Macleod , 154) and declared a “cultural given” (Attfield , 32). Several fields of study emerged from the ensuing academic debate including environmental ethics, ecotheology, the multifaceted field of religion and ecology, and the philosophy known as deep ecology (Whitney , 158; Callicott , 40–41; Whitney , 32; Jenkins , 285–86).

As fruitful as the discussion over White's thesis has been, I want to set these debates and this reductionistic view of White aside. White the critic of Christianity is a straw man that I have little interest in knocking down. Instead, I propose a different approach for understanding his work, one that focuses on democracy. The solution to the rapidly worsening ecological crisis, White eventually concluded, lay in rethinking humans as participants in a vast, ecological biodemocracy of all living and nonliving things governed by a profound sense of Christian comradeship and compassion with the more‐than‐human world (White ). Here, I understand the term biodemocracy as way of thinking about governance, policy, and culture as expanding beyond the human political community to include what the Earth Charter refers to as the “community of life” (, Preamble).

What rethinking and recovering this democratic aspect of White's thought accomplishes, I argue, is that it challenges scholars to move beyond purely adversarial interpretations of White's argument. It also brings a new framework for meaningful attempts to reconcile White's thought on democracy with the Earth Charter and its assertion that “we are one human family and one Earth Community with a common destiny” (2000, Preamble).

White's Early Interest in Democracy

Although the Lynn White thesis is well known to most scholars of religion and ecology, little attention is paid to the ideas and motivations present in White's scholarship that set the stage for “Historical Roots.” A close reading of White's larger body of work, considered alongside the assessments of his life and scholarship written by his contemporaries, not only reveals White to be a complex and sophisticated interpreter of history, but also highlights the deep reservoir of ideas and motivations which led him to his interest in the crossroads of religious and democratic ideas and humanity's abuse of nature. To argue my case in this article, I supplement this broad reading of his published work with materials drawn from the more than sixty boxes of White's archived notes, personal and professional correspondence, unpublished manuscripts, and other materials housed in the Special Collections at Mills College and at the University of California Los Angeles.

When one reads beyond “Historical Roots” in this manner, it becomes evident that any attempt to study his thought must include two inextricably intertwined aspects of White's professional identity. First, it would be impossible to interpret White's thought without foregrounding his unwavering belief in the power of his own faith, Christianity, to shape society toward more humane and egalitarian forms (White , ; Hall and Macleod ). To this end, White devoted a great deal of effort to the simultaneous promotion of Christian ideals and democracy (Thomas ; White , n.d.b). Second, it is crucial to note that White's scholarship cannot be understood outside of his constantly evolving and deeply insightful work as a pioneering historian of medieval technology. From the very outset of his publishing career in the late 1930s, White expressed a positive affirmation of technology's ability over the long course of history to democratize human life. Evidence of this is present in such wartime speeches as “The Crisis in Democratic Leadership” () and “The American Subversion” ().

For scholars interested in White's understanding of the relationship among religion, science, and technology, and particularly those in the field of religion and ecology, it is important to recognize White's theological grounding and formal training. From a very early age, White showed a strong interest in theological matters. With a seemingly insatiable passion, he earnestly discussed Christian ethics and theology with those near to him, particularly his father, Lynn Townsend White, Sr. His father, who was a Presbyterian minister and the first professor of Christian Social Ethics at the San Francisco Theological Seminary, not only influenced White's socially liberal faith, but also inspired White to pursue theological training.

In 1928, prior to entering seminary, White had determined that he would become a scholar of medieval history (White and Harmon , 24). However, following a deeply held sense, inherited from his father, that religious ideas and values had a profound shaping force on history and social change, White was struck by the dearth of religious knowledge in the historical scholarship of his day. To remedy this, White sought out ways to improve his own knowledge of theology so that it might better inform his own doctoral studies. “I decided that before I went on [to study history], I wanted to get a thorough knowledge of Christian systematic theology,” White reflected during a biographical interview in 1983, “[s]o I decided to go to Union [Theological] Seminary” (White and Harmon , 24).

At Union—and this is a matter of great importance for understanding and reassessing White's thesis—he studied at the feet of Reinhold Niebuhr (White , 60). Niebuhr's thought would have a profound effect on his theological, political, and ultimately his ecological outlook for the remainder of his life. “[M]y debt to Niebuhr is very great,” White stated, “because theology became real [for me] as a human activity” (White and Harmon , 29). By this, White meant that his studies with Niebuhr instilled in him a sense that theology was not an abstract, intellectual exercise. Rather, theology became an embodied, efficacious mode of being that stretched beyond the personal into the social and political. Theology, in this sense, was a shaping force in history that merited serious study and that also demanded thoughtful action. And, although Niebuhr remained at the forefront of his thought, it should be noted that White drew inspiration from the work of a number of other theologians such as Karl Barth, Rudolf Bultmann, and Søren Kierkegaard, to name but a few (see, for example, White and Harmon , 28; White n.d.a, 4; White n.d.b, 11; White n.d.d, 11–12). He was particularly inspired by the work of Paul Tillich, whom he considered to “one of the greatest contemporary theologians” (White , 421).

From this theological grounding, White entered into the public sphere in the early 1940s with a keen interest in promoting both the inward and the outward work of theology and democracy. But, despite being optimistic regarding the contribution that science, technology, and Christian theology could make to the building of a better world, White's relationship with Niebuhr tempered his bright‐eyed optimism with Niebuhr's Christian Realism (n.d.b, 10). Understood theologically, Christian Realism reflects White's belief in the unconquerable sinfulness of human nature (cf. Niebuhr's work in general). In a political sense, it indicates a tentative distrust in the human ability to create a society premised on anything resembling utopian ideals (White n.d.b, 10; White , 1–6). For this reason, one might hypothesize that in his early years, White would have been skeptical, yet still supportive, of the ideals and goals built into the Earth Charter.

Loneliness and Alienation

After his time studying with Niebuhr, White found theology to be a useful explanatory tool for interpreting cultural trends and historical change at a societal level. He was particularly interested in the concept of spiritual alienation. In 1955, twelve years before the publication of “Historical Roots,” he observed that “[t]he great disease of the twentieth century is loneliness” (, 1075). Humanity, he postulated, was caught in a self‐imposed downward spiral of spiritual and psychological alienation. He argued that humanity's sense of connection—its sense of community—had been slowly shrinking since at least the Middle Ages and that humanity could not continue on in isolation much longer. Whether discussing racism, nationalism, or other issues such as war and violence, he maintained that at the root of most contemporary social ills was a deep “spiritual need” for a renewed “sense of communion” with humanity, God, and the natural world (, 1075).

In the early 1960s, White's concern with alienation and his interest in theology and democracy began to take root in new and unexpected ways. During this time, he began to correspond and converse with radical ecological thinkers such as Alan Watts and George Sessions, and, perhaps most importantly, his friendship with Aldous Huxley bloomed. Confronted with a nascent awareness of environmental issues, White's fears about humanity's physical and spiritual loneliness became suddenly ecologically imminent. Whereas previously White had thought of loneliness primarily in terms of separation from God, from other humans, and from cosmos in an abstract sense, in the 1960s he reoriented himself and began to see ecological alienation as inextricably linked with spiritual alienation.

Together, White and Huxley spoke at the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions in 1962 (Huxley et al. , ). It was in this talk that White outlined the basic framework of his argument in “Historical Roots” that the eradication of animism and the disenchantment of nature by Christianity laid the foundation for ecologically harmful uses of nature. Elsewhere, he observed that this ecological conundrum presented a significant challenge to Christian theology. “Although few yet realize it,” he mused in an unpublished text, “Christian theology is today in a creative ferment unmatched since the sixteenth century. […] Christians are still in the process of clarifying in their own minds whether their duty to praise God and love their neighbors should or can be extended to God's nonhuman creatures, whether organic or inorganic” (n.d.c).

A Spiritual Democracy of All God's Creatures

But how is this ecological and spiritual alienation related to democracy? Although rarely noted, White linked democracy in his “Historical Roots” article with the environmental crisis both in terms of causation and remediation (see, for instance, Minteer and Manning ). In his words, “[o]ur ecologic crisis is the product of an emerging, entirely novel, democratic culture. The issue is whether a democratized world can survive its own implications” (1967, 1204). Put simply, White felt that one of the great strengths of democracy is its recognition of the inherent value of all human individuals. This leveling of human society and breaking down of social barriers, White argued, allowed the “fusion” of science and technology. These dual factors were foundational in allowing the wholesale devaluation and exploitation of nonhuman nature. Thus democracy and the contemporary ecological crisis, in White's view, are in many ways inseparable.

I would like to propose that a similar sense of crisis and need for a shared sense of community is expressed in the Earth Charter. Steven Rockefeller, the chair of the Charter's drafting committee, observed that White—along with other ecological thinkers such as Henry David Thoreau, Rosemary Radford Ruether, and Gary Snyder—argued that “our sense of democratic community should be expanded to include the whole community of life” (Rockefeller and Elder 1992, 61). And, although White eventually arrived at a more radically inclusive revisioning of democracy than that found the in the Charter, both are guided by a similar biodemocratic spirit. The Preamble to the Charter states that “[w]e stand at a critical moment in Earth's history, a time when humanity must choose its future. As the world becomes increasingly interdependent and fragile, the future at once holds great peril and great promise. To move forward we must recognize that in the midst of a magnificent diversity of cultures and life forms we are one human family and one Earth community with a common destiny” (2000).

This call for a sense of shared responsibility for, and community with, all life reflects the need to address the overlapping inward and outward aspects of democracy. Biodemocracy, in an outward sense, entails the creation of policy and the need to rethink human modes of ecological and social interaction. Inwardly, the work of biodemocracy necessitates a shift in values and in worldviews. “Community” must mean more than “human community.”

Drawing together his historical observation that humanity's self‐afflicted alienation from the rest of nature has left us spiritually and psychologically bereft and his religious and philosophical commitments to egalitarianism, democracy, and the inherent worth and dignity of each individual, White searched Christian history and scripture for an alternative theological point of view. Borrowing heavily from the “recessive genes” in Christianity, including stories about Saint Francis and biblical sources such as the Book of Daniel and Psalms (White , 61), White developed a theological position of his own, one that relied heavily on St. Francis of Assisi and that centered upon the notion of a “democracy of all God's creatures”:

As the inadvertent founder, it would seem, of the Theology of Ecology, I confess amusement at the speed with which the Churches have abandoned the old scion of Man's Dominion over Nature for the equally Biblical position of Man's Trusteeship of Nature. Since the Churches remain, despite some competition, the chief forges for hammering out values, this is important. I feel that before too long, however, they will find themselves going on to the third legitimately Biblical position, that Man is part of a democracy of all God's creatures, organic and inorganic, each praising his Maker according to the law of its being (1977/78, 108).

The frequency and consistency with which White promoted the idea that his fellow Christians should begin thinking of themselves as part of a “democracy of all God's creatures,” or a “spiritual democracy of all God's creatures” as he often called it, leaves little doubt as to where he stood on the issue. If “Historical Roots” is read alone, outside of the context of his larger body of work, then this biodemocratic notion appears to be but one small aspect of a multilayered and complex thesis. But, when his larger body of work is read, the importance and centrality of this theological position in his thought is overwhelming. In the majority of his publications focused on ecology, White repeatedly emphasizes the theologically normative claim that Christians need to begin thinking of themselves as members of an expansive spiritual “democracy of all God's creatures.” White's interest in this concept dates back at least twenty years prior to the publication of “Historical Roots” (White , 433–34) and he endorses it as a theological position in nearly all of his published works on religion and the environment, including, but not limited to: “Historical Roots” (, 1206), “Christian Impact on Ecology” (Feenstra et al. , 738), “Snake Nests and Icons” (1972, 37), “Continuing the Conversation” (1973, 61), “A Remark from Lynn White, jr.” (1977/78, 108), “The Future of Compassion” (1978, 105), “Ecological Crisis” (White and Watts ), and “Commentary on St. Francis of Assisi” (1982, 19). White's unequivocal endorsement of this biodemocratic notion, especially when all of his texts are read together, is too prevalent to ignore (Riley ).

For White, the most significant aspect of this notion was the inward change in values and perceptions that would accompany it. Theologically creative though he was, White's outline as to what a “spiritual democracy of all God's creatures” might look like in outward practice leaves much to the imagination. He stated that an essential element of this new Christian ethic “must be man's self‐denying comradeship with the other creatures” (1978, 108). Continuing, he averred that “we must defend the continued existence of our fellow animal, plant, insect, and marine species, as well as the integrity of landscapes, seascapes and airscapes that are periled by human activity, whether or not these in any way affect human existence. We must do this because of our belief that they are all creatures of God, and not from expediency. We must extend compassion to rattlesnakes and not just to koala bears” (108–09).

In practical terms, White recommended that humans stop, or even reverse, their encroachment into the territory of other living and nonliving entities. And, although he felt that humans had a right to defend themselves, for example by using nonlethal means to protect crops from insects, he thought that humanity's use of violence against other living beings went much too far. When speaking of how to build community with nature, he relied heavily on terms like compassion, comradeship, and a language of kinship (see, for example, White , ). It is necessary, he posited, to extend compassion to the rest of nature, even its nonliving components, “so that we and other creatures may flourish together” (1978, 109).

Conclusion

By exploring White's thought on democracy and making connections to the Earth Charter, this article aims at making three contributions to scholarship in religion and ecology. First, it addresses the broad question: How does reading beyond “Historical Roots” and asking questions about White's scholarly and religious life alter how scholars interpret the Lynn White thesis? By rehabilitating White's legacy and by examining the theological, ecological, and democratic components of his thought, I hope to open up scholarship in the field of religion and ecology to alternative understandings of White's arguments. Perhaps environmental philosopher Eugene Hargrove was correct when he postulated, more than a quarter of a century ago, that “it would probably have been better if the Lynn White debate had never occurred” (, xvii). In other words, rather than dwelling on White's critiques of religion and debating the veracity of his claims as so many have done, perhaps it would be more productive to move forward in search of pragmatic, constructive responses to the ecological crisis. White himself was attempting to do so in his work beyond “Historical Roots,” but this aspect of his thought was largely ignored. Perhaps with the Earth Charter and its broadly accessible biodemocracy, scholars can move forward on the pressing ecological issues that humanity is faced with today.

Second, this article sheds light on the need for further exploration of White's theological training and influences. If the scholarly response to White's thesis is to move forward in a productive manner, it is essential that the influence of Niebuhr, Tillich, White, Sr., and others on the development of his theological outlook be examined further. White was forthright in acknowledging the importance of Christianity to his scholarship. When discussing his own intellectual development, to give but one example of White's self‐reflexive religiosity, he stated that his personal preferences led him to “put more weight on the conditioning power of the religious ambiance” in his interpretations of history. “I have,” he continued, “a mens naturaliter theologica” (literally, “a naturally theological mind”) (1970, 60). Theology was central to his methodology. His scholarly work, including “Historical Roots,” is permeated with theological explanations for social change. In light of this, it becomes clear that if scholars are to continue responding to “Historical Roots,” then these responses must begin by understanding White's theology.

Third, by establishing a connection between White's ecotheology and the concept of biodemocracy found in the Earth Charter, I wish to call up further reflection on Christian commitments to community, ecology, and democracy. As religious communities are further challenged to respond to the global ecological crisis, the need to expand notions of community—both conceptually and in practice—as well as the need to take action on policy making is heightened. Not only does an adequate response to the global ecological crisis require the creation of the kind of soft law and policy found in the Earth Charter, but it also requires an expanded theological and practical notion of togetherness. As White said, “We are not alone. We human beings are here in exactly the same sense, and for the same purpose, that sea urchins, banana trees, icebergs, quartz crystals, asteroids, interstellar hydrogen clouds and astronomical black holes are here” (, 10). White's biodemocracy, in this regard, bears much resemblance to Thomas Berry's notion that all are members of a “communion of subjects” (Berry ).

We the people have yet to halt the destruction of most of the world's forests, the rampant pollution of the air and water, and the eradication of Earth's rich biodiversity. In contrast, perhaps We the members of a biodemocracy might put an end to the ecological crisis beginning with the Earth Charter and a reflection upon the radically inclusive sense of community envisioned by Lynn Townsend White, jr.