18 Christianity, Creation, and the Climate Crisis …
353
combines religious perspectives and contemporary science. Mike Hulme has conceptualised climate change as not just a physical process but also a scientific narrative that
has now expanded well beyond the sciences. Climate change and the Anthropocene,
in his view, are as much an objective physical reality as a sociocultural construct
(Hulme 2009, p. 329). When applying his views to a physical and social narrative
such as the Anthropocene, he argues that climate change is change that modifies
both the physical world (scientifically understood) and social worlds (as understood
in the humanities). Lynch and Veland (2019) reinforce this notion when they argue
that our response to such a crisis challenges human values, government policy and
systems of sovereignty and law. In their work, they encourage us to perceive the
interplay of the physical and social narratives through the theme of ‘myth’. For
them, myth is neither false nor factual but an “underlying narrative by which we
make sense of the world” (Lynch and Veland 2019, p. x), a sociocultural construct
that is informed, but not constrained, by the objective physical reality of the natural
and physical sciences. In addition, Patrick Nunn (2020a) observes that “many ancient
stories, previously regarded only as legends or myths, may be based on observations
of natural phenomena by preliterate peoples” (p. 118).
7
While secular assumptions are deeply embedded in Western-influenced secularised governance frameworks, Erin Wilson (2012) suggests that religious frameworks can bring new perspectives to bear on public policy questions that are informed
by the social sciences in areas such as human rights, aid and development, conflict
resolution, and climate change. She warns us that by foregrounding only secular
approaches, activists and social justice theorists are missing helpful insights originating in the interplay of neo-liberal economic regimes and climate change through
the period of the Great Acceleration.
In the Pacific Islands region and similar contexts elsewhere, the tradition of storytelling as an embodied and embedded religious practice in dealing with wicked problems like climate change is gaining prominence as a promising adaptation strategy
(Buxton et al. 2021). Lisa Stenmark (2015) perceives storytelling as indispensable
when scientific data and discourses have clearly proved insufficient to sway opinion.
Moreover, Alex Evans argues that storytelling increases the possibilities and alternatives available through offering stories which help people to take action in the midst
of uncertainty (Evans 2016). In his study of how three separate Pacific communities
attempted to harmonise the Noah story with scientific discourse, Wolfgang Kempf
(2017) found that in both praxis and politics, it was necessary to take religious (Christian) perspectives seriously within the context of climate change, sea-level rise and
migration.
Hannah Fair (2018) came to similar conclusions, recommending that communities
embrace the “ambiguity, complexity and partiality of story-telling” in her Vanuatubased study of how the Noah story shapes what people are saying and doing about
7 Nunn (2020b) adds a provocative corollary when he states “science could have learned more and
sooner had it treated the ‘stories’ of ancient Australians (and people of other non-western cultures)
more seriously as potential sources of information about the past, had it not pejoratively dismissed
such stories as entertainments rather than expository, characterized the storytellers as ‘literati’ rather
than true scientists communicating their wisdom along unfamiliar pathways” (p. 29).
353
combines religious perspectives and contemporary science. Mike Hulme has conceptualised climate change as not just a physical process but also a scientific narrative that
has now expanded well beyond the sciences. Climate change and the Anthropocene,
in his view, are as much an objective physical reality as a sociocultural construct
(Hulme 2009, p. 329). When applying his views to a physical and social narrative
such as the Anthropocene, he argues that climate change is change that modifies
both the physical world (scientifically understood) and social worlds (as understood
in the humanities). Lynch and Veland (2019) reinforce this notion when they argue
that our response to such a crisis challenges human values, government policy and
systems of sovereignty and law. In their work, they encourage us to perceive the
interplay of the physical and social narratives through the theme of ‘myth’. For
them, myth is neither false nor factual but an “underlying narrative by which we
make sense of the world” (Lynch and Veland 2019, p. x), a sociocultural construct
that is informed, but not constrained, by the objective physical reality of the natural
and physical sciences. In addition, Patrick Nunn (2020a) observes that “many ancient
stories, previously regarded only as legends or myths, may be based on observations
of natural phenomena by preliterate peoples” (p. 118).
7
While secular assumptions are deeply embedded in Western-influenced secularised governance frameworks, Erin Wilson (2012) suggests that religious frameworks can bring new perspectives to bear on public policy questions that are informed
by the social sciences in areas such as human rights, aid and development, conflict
resolution, and climate change. She warns us that by foregrounding only secular
approaches, activists and social justice theorists are missing helpful insights originating in the interplay of neo-liberal economic regimes and climate change through
the period of the Great Acceleration.
In the Pacific Islands region and similar contexts elsewhere, the tradition of storytelling as an embodied and embedded religious practice in dealing with wicked problems like climate change is gaining prominence as a promising adaptation strategy
(Buxton et al. 2021). Lisa Stenmark (2015) perceives storytelling as indispensable
when scientific data and discourses have clearly proved insufficient to sway opinion.
Moreover, Alex Evans argues that storytelling increases the possibilities and alternatives available through offering stories which help people to take action in the midst
of uncertainty (Evans 2016). In his study of how three separate Pacific communities
attempted to harmonise the Noah story with scientific discourse, Wolfgang Kempf
(2017) found that in both praxis and politics, it was necessary to take religious (Christian) perspectives seriously within the context of climate change, sea-level rise and
migration.
Hannah Fair (2018) came to similar conclusions, recommending that communities
embrace the “ambiguity, complexity and partiality of story-telling” in her Vanuatubased study of how the Noah story shapes what people are saying and doing about
7 Nunn (2020b) adds a provocative corollary when he states “science could have learned more and
sooner had it treated the ‘stories’ of ancient Australians (and people of other non-western cultures)
more seriously as potential sources of information about the past, had it not pejoratively dismissed
such stories as entertainments rather than expository, characterized the storytellers as ‘literati’ rather
than true scientists communicating their wisdom along unfamiliar pathways” (p. 29).