By: Cherie Nicole Salo

If you asked an ecologist, a biologist, or even the average person on the street whether humans are a part of nature, most would likely reply: “Technically, yes. Humans are animals, animals are a part of nature.” But does this understanding truly translate into the way we study and engage with ecology?

Anthropocentrism, defined by Dr. David Keller in his book Environmental Ethics: The Big Questions, as the belief that “human beings, and human beings only, are of intrinsic value… and that non-human nature is valuable for human purposes,” has long shaped Western attitudes toward the environment. One example of these values in practice, even if not consciously, is the terminology utilised in restoration ecology. Terms such as “intervention,” “interference,” and “disruption” are often used to describe human activity. Although ecologists may consciously agree that we, as humans and animals, are a part of nature, such terminology more so likens humans to be an intrusion upon her, and a disruption to her natural processes. Similarly, the idea that ecosystems are best “left alone” reinforces the notion that nature exists separately from us. Yet it is easy to understand why this view persists.

Industrial exploitation of natural resources has made humanity’s relationship with the environment difficult to view positively. Though ecologists and corporations often clash, both tend to share the same underlying belief that humans and nature are separate. While their goals may differ—protecting the environment to maintain ecosystem services versus exploiting it for economic gain—the overall belief that some kind of boundary exists between humans and nature is shared. This is, of course, a generalisation of western environmental philosophy (which can hardly be described as a monolith), but it is not difficult to understand why such a generalisation exists. Human populations worldwide have long become disconnected from the wild, and emphasis on maintaining a symbiotic and constant relationship with the natural environment has been lost in many cultures. American historian Lynn White Jr, in The Historical Roots of Our Ecological Crisis, attributed this dualism between humans and nature to Christianity. His interpretation provoked controversy, yet he made a broader observation: the loss of animism. In antiquity, every tree or stream was thought to possess a genius loci (guardian spirit). Before cutting a tree, one first sought to appease its spirit. 

It has been argued that dualism allows for apathy towards and exploitation of the environment. This logic largely applies to members of the public unaware of ecosystem services, as well as industrial businesses whose apathy stems from prioritising economic gain. In contrast, the assigning of spiritual identities to non-human organisms—seen in past European paganism as well as contemporary indigenous cultures—means decisions to manipulate natural environments are done with careful consideration and respect. Thus, ecosystem functions are maintained regardless of whether the individual’s goal was environmental stewardship or self-preservation from offended spirits. While animism faded in many western civilisations, its echoes remain, and holistic worldviews have continued to re-emerge in modern environmental thought.

A major turning point came with ecologist Aldo Leopold’s A Sand County Almanac. Leopold wrote: “when we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.” His concept of the Land Ethic— the idea that soils, waters, plants, animals, and humans are all members of one moral community— helped define the philosophy of ecocentrism. Ecocentrism values the health of the entire ecosystem, granting intrinsic worth to all its living and non-living components. 

Yet ecocentric values are hardly new. Many Indigenous and non-Western cultures have long upheld similar beliefs. The Māori of New Zealand, for example, consider features of the land such as rivers and forests to be living ancestors with their own personhood. In Japanese Shintoism, 神 (kami, gods/spirits) inhabit all living and non-living things, from crows and foxes to trees and rocks. Several Native American traditions revolve around reciprocity, specifically balancing what is taken from and given to nature to maintain kinship. Each worldview embeds respect for the non-human world within spiritual and moral frameworks.

If anthropocentrism enables exploitation and ecocentrism fosters respect, could embracing ecocentrism solve the environmental crisis?

Not entirely. Ecocentrism, too, has its critics. Some may define the philosophy as one which promotes equal intrinsic value of all components of an ecosystem (thus, humans would be equally as important as all other members of a community), others define it as prioritising the health of the wider ecosystem over humanity. From this argument stems concerns of misanthropy, as well as infringement on human rights under the guise of conservation. 

Examples of conservation occurring in tandem with social injustice has already been seen numerous times throughout history. One such example was the forced displacement of Native Americans to establish U.S. national parks, like Yellowstone, throughout the 19th century. This displacement contributed to the loss of treaty rights for hunting, cultural erasure, forced assimilation, and served the Europeans’ broader goal of ethnic cleansing. 

Critics also argue that extreme ecocentrism could justify authoritarianism or even eco-fascism, where environmental preservation becomes a pretext for oppression. Yet anthropocentrism has been equally prone to excess, having justified conquest, exploitation and supremacy. Both frameworks, when taken to extremes, can lead to harm.

While ecocentrism’s greatest strength is perhaps that it naturally evokes holistic values towards nature, it evidently has its own share of advantages and disadvantages and should be regarded with nuance, particularly in a cultural and political context. Anthropocentrism, meanwhile, should not be dismissed outright, as it can also coexist with holistic respect for nature, depending on cultural interpretation.

Confucianism provides one such example. Originating in 6th-century BC China, Confucianism is often viewed as a social philosophy rather than an environmental one. Yet at its heart lies a deep belief in the interconnectedness of all things. Because humans are part of a cosmic order, Confucian thought teaches that moral beings must live in harmony with nature. It is, in this sense, both anthropocentric and holistic: humans occupy a central moral role but are obligated to care for the world they inhabit. 

Hinduism expresses a similar concept through धर्म (dharma), which is a multifaceted idea referring to the moral duties of the human individual to uphold the balance of the overall universe. To act in accordance with dharma is to live respectfully within the rhythms of nature. Both Confucianism and Hinduism, thus, are examples of anthropocentric ideas coexisting with a holistic view of nature. Within a conservation and restoration context, both belief systems emphasise an intrinsic moral obligation for stewardship rather than simply maintaining ecosystems to reap the benefits of their services. Anthropocentrism is thus more nuanced than its critics may give it credit for. However, representation of cultures and beliefs beyond the boundaries of Western ecology is necessary to fully capture that nuance.

Environmental dualism, the separation of humanity from nature, remains deeply embedded in modern ecological thinking. The promotion of a holistic relationship between man and nature is sure to benefit the success of conservation and restoration, and cultures across the globe show that holism can be taught regardless of whether human-centric or nature-centric values are prioritised.