This is not the first point in history when people have recognised that they live at a time of existential crisis and transition: in some periods human beings have believed that something like the ‘end times’ might be approaching. To look at the apprehensions of former times through the lens of historical hindsight can bring a comforting sense of proportion lacking in some current dystopian projections. Yet we cannot ignore the record of many societies that suffered massive trauma, decline and ultimate destruction.1 It seems undeniable that we are, at the very least, living at a time of significant transition. This is evident in rapidly accelerated social change, increasing violence, the continuing risk posed by nuclear weapons, COVID-19‚ and, in particular, the phenomenon of climate change and the tangible evidence it provides that the systems which support life on Earth are becoming increasingly unstable. For some thinkers there is increasing consensus that we are at the very least facing crisis, probably collapse, perhaps even extinction.2
The unprecedented attention given in recent years to a range of ecological questions that coalesce around climate disruption has sanctioned the largely unheeded warnings of environmentalists over the past half-century and more. At the present time, protests and calls for action serve to reflect, and advance, a considerable amount of social ferment which, among other things, is challenging some of the central tenets of Western modernity such as the growth imperative.
The idea that a sharp distinction exists between nature and culture is being repudiated on two sides: by the evidence of increasingly frequent and destructive events such as drought, fire and flood that palpably manifest the reality of human-made climate change; and in the renaming of our present epoch as the Anthropocene (the epoch of the human), an idea that premises an intersection—perhaps it is better described as a collision—between human history and culture on the one hand and earth history and geology on the other. Much about the concept of the Anthropocene is open for further discussion,3 but its basic thesis is now broadly accepted that humankind is a geological agent who has exceeded planetary limits and has irreversibly altered the planet’s geological make-up: the transition into this new geological era is said to be ‘unquestionably the deepest and most profound event in recent history’.4
Given the prominence of the issue of climate disruption, the problem of other forms of violence might seem more marginal. Yet this is far from the case. In recent times military spending has continued to expand, global conflicts have escalated, and technological development has made weapons increasingly lethal. When the overarching questions of ecology, violence and peace are held together, a clearer understanding emerges of their interrelationship. Military activity not only has a destructive impact on the other-than-human world, it also magnifies social inequality and intensifies an ethos of violence. Similarly, environmental factors such as changes in land use or an altered climate can cause famine, poverty and dislocation which in turn lead to social unrest, violence and war: even in times of peace, it can be said that: ‘the production, acquisition and transfer of arms represent a pernicious misallocation of human and financial resources, a profound disregard for the cries of the poor and the cries of the Earth’.5
In light of this, it is unsurprising that there is increasing critique of the centuries-old and already weakened ‘just war’ theory.6 The dominant strand in the Christian tradition, and until recently in international law, the intention of the just war doctrine was to place conditions before the use of force can be deemed just, but instead it has often been used to justify rather than prevent or condemn war. Conscious of the fact that the ‘just war’ concept has little to say about social, economic or environmental justice, and therefore about the present global predicament, several voices in international law, in the UN system, in labour and social movements, in intellectual circles, in the Christian churches and other religious and ethical traditions are calling for a shift from ‘just war’ to ‘just peace ’, and more broadly to the concept of a just and ecologically sustainable peace which seeks a confluence of peace, justice and environment. In the opinion of one of the editors of this book, this confluence will require a fundamental intellectual and ethical shift towards ‘an inclusive ethic which transcends the five maladies of our time: parochialism, populism, militarism, extremism and anthropocentrism’.7
The question of how to make the transition to this inclusive ethos forms the bedrock of this book. Given the increasing globalisation of violence against humans and the wider Earth community, a defining question of our time, and the central focus of this volume, is: Where can humanity turn for guidance and inspiration, and what conditions might be required for a shift to a peace which is just and ecologically sustainable? This collection of essays focuses on some of the theoretical principles—philosophical, ecological and spiritual/religious—that can guide this shift, and considers some of the many ways that it might be expressed in practical and active ways.
This volume necessarily adopts a multifaceted approach. The often rigid division between fields of study that underlay Enlightenment thinking has today become less tenable as the decline of that vision has acknowledged the complexity and diversity of human societies, and as recognition has grown of the interdependence of life forms and their reliance on the good functioning of Earth systems. The issues currently facing humankind can most thoroughly be interrogated by using a number of different lenses and a plurality of narratives. No single approach which focuses on a particular human tendency, a single political-economic approach or one philosophical or religious idea is likely to adequately encompass the scale or complexity of the interrelationship between violence, ecological catastrophe and social justice. A multifaceted approach befits the present time when the validity of the ‘grand narrative’ has been increasingly contested and dismantled. There is therefore a broad thematic scope to this book which gathers Indigenous scholars, peace studies and non-violence specialists, scholars of international relations, philosophers, ecological feminists, ecological theologians and religious scholars, both Australian and international, to address these questions from their combined professional and activist expertise. This multidisciplinary approach reveals and reinforces the integral connections between the key topics of justice, peace and ecology.
Although in many ways international in scope, this volume has taken shape in the Asia-Pacific region and specifically in Australia and its unique situation. Under-acknowledged colonial contact wars, Indigenous relationship to and cultivation of land (Country) and continuing Indigenous calls for social and ecological justice comprise an important part of the book’s framework. Since at least the early 1990s, Australia has been the site of pioneering work in ecological philosophy, ecological feminism and ecological biblical hermeneutics (as evidenced in the internationally acclaimed work of the late thinkers Val Plumwood and Denis Edwards, and our contributors Ariel Salleh, Freya Mathews and Norman Habel). In Australia, issues of imperial power, land use (notably mining),8 water mismanagement and deforestation, inadequate responses to climate change, military alliances, treatment of refugees and asylum seekers, and Islamophobia, such as enacted by an Australian in the tragic shootings at two mosques in Christchurch on 15 March 2019, call for mature reflection, sustained dialogue and appropriate political responses.
The primary thesis of this volume is a fundamentally hopeful one, that a just and ecologically sustainable peace is urgently needed. The chapters of this book reflect the rich variety of its authors’ areas of expertise and practical engagement. Although each contribution is unique, dominant threads from one contributor at times intersect with those of other contributors. This makes for a dense yet holistic tapestry, rich in diversity yet coalescing at distinct points into comprehensive intellectual discourse and suggestions for action that, in the final two chapters and in the two appendices, are drawn together to form principles and actions that begin to articulate some of the foundations of a just and ecologically sustainable peace.
Structurally, the book is divided into three main parts: (I) In Search of a Holistic Approach; (II) Cosmological and Religious Perspectives; and (III) Questioning the Colonial Mindset. Acknowledging the interconnectedness of an increasingly complex world, the book’s tripartite structure enables it both to encompass the international scope of broader intellectual, philosophical, religious and political questions, and address or exemplify those questions in localised and tangible ways.
Part 1 (In Search of a Holistic Approach) sets the scene for the volume as a whole, naming various types of violence and exploring the underlying concept of just peace. Its deeply rooted philosophical and political themes are international in vision even while they also hone in on local or specific questions. All four chapters share a concern with the problem of violence towards the ‘other’ and call, each in its particular way, for a nonviolent ethic that entails dialogue, reciprocity, listening and inclusiveness.
The section begins with Chapter 2 where Joseph Camilleri examines different forms of violence (physical, structural/social and ecological) and notes the premise that violenc...