In 1964, Françoise d’Eaubonne coined the term ‘ecofeminism’ to unite feminism and ecology, attempting to highlight relationship between the two and how they function as one. The awareness of the connection between women and Nature, she argued, is fundamental if both feminism and environmentalism are to progress. To arrive at this conclusion, ecofeminism draws links between the way women and the environment are treated – specifically, in the modern era under the rule of a capitalist patriarchy. A significant contribution of capitalism, it can be argued, has been the institutionalised devaluation of certain groups of people, such as minorities, people of colour and women, particularly in terms of their economic value. Countless feminist works (Simone de Beauvoir’s ‘The Second Sex’ (1949), Rosemary Radford Ruether’s ‘New Woman, New Earth’ (1975) and so on) have argued that history of women and their role in the economy shows clearly that the social oppression and immobilisation of women is fundamentally an economic issue, hence why the systemic symbiosis between capitalism and the patriarchy is so tight-knit. A key characteristic of the patriarchy is the inevitable existence of a devalued population (of women, of LGBTQ+ people etc), which feeds neatly into the unequal social relations established by capitalism – both come together to ensure maximum profit, unequal division of labour as a result of gender roles, and industrialisation at the expense of Nature (and, as ecofeminism would argue, of women).
Rosemary Radford Ruether, an American feminist scholar and catholic theologian, argued that neither women’s liberation nor a solution to the current ecological crisis can be achieved given the nature of our current society, whose main form of relationship is one of domination. The thriving of the rich under capitalism relies on the suffering of the poor; the dominance of man under patriarchal rule relies on the subordination of woman. The current social dualisms – where one is posited as the dominant ‘Subject’ and the other as the submissive ‘Other’ – provides no solid foundation for respect for the environment (and, by extension, respect for women), and only further promotes a complete ‘rejection of the earth and all its works’ and a ‘culture against nature’ (‘New Woman, New Earth’).
Women have always been connected to the earth. Before private property was established and Nature was still humanity’s principal resource, women’s work on the land was economically valuable; this close relationship with the land was largely symbiotic and proportional. However, with the discovery of metals came the invention of weapons and agricultural machinery, and the appropriation of land began. Here marks the beginning of man’s alienation of Nature, and indeed man’s alienation from woman.
This alienation was somewhat intensified by the emergence of the new ‘Western rationalism’ around the time of the Enlightenment in 17th and 18th century Europe. The hierarchical dualisms formerly in the background of human relationships came to the forefront of human experience, such as man/woman, matter/spirit, culture/Nature, reason/emotion and so on (with the latter being necessarily devalued in each case to allow for the reign of the former). Ruether sees these dualisms as representing the ‘fundamental patriarchal revolution of consciousness that sought to deny that the spiritual component of humanity was a dimension of the maternal matrix of being’ (‘New Woman, New Earth’) – essentially, this mode of thought only further solidified the alterity of Nature and of women.
However, in distinguishing so concretely between man and woman, and linking so definitely woman to Nature, ecofeminism is arguably susceptible to criticism for adopting an essentialist view of gender.
Given the distinction between sex and gender, two approaches to gender have arisen – the essentialist view and the existentialist view. An existentialist view gender largely disregards biological difference – that is, the differences between males and females – when assessing the differences between men and women. Instead of turning to biology to explain gender roles, it states that they are the product of social norms. Though it appreciates the importance of people’s bodies to their identity, it argues that traditionally feminine characteristics (such as ‘submissiveness’ and ‘timidity’) are not grounded in biology, but are instead the products of society. This is the view of gender more widely accepted nowadays, particularly in liberal circles.
An essentialist view of gender, on the other hand, states that the differences between men and women are naturally and biologically grounded. It also derives a normative command from a natural state – for example, women should have children because they can. So, there are certain characteristics that are ‘essential’ if one is a man or a woman. However, this approach is considered quite problematic, and also not wholly scientifically viable. In claiming the universalisation of certain gendered characteristics, gender essentialism not only misrepresents both men and women worldwide, but also allows itself to be used as a justification for oppressive mindsets. The categorisation of men and women in this way is arguably what has led women to be historically marginalised, not to mention dismissing those who do not fit into these constrictive, dualistic categories. In short, it seems contradictory to the aims of feminism – and, by extension, ecofeminism.
But does ecofeminism itself rely on this essentialist reasoning? In grouping woman with Nature, does ecofeminism presuppose some sort of intrinsic relationship between the two that cannot be found between man and Nature? In what way are men and women different – according to ecofeminism – for this to be the case?
Particularly in the US and Britain, it is often the case that ecofeminists are accused of gender essentialism, as they portray women as having a unique connection with Nature. The other option here is to take a more constructivist approach – one of historical materialism – to show not that women have a connection with Nature not because they are women, but because that is what has been the case throughout history. This is similar to de Beauvoir’s approach, in that ‘man is not a natural species: he is a historical idea’ and that ‘humanity is not an animal species: it is a historical reality’ (‘The Second Sex’). Nevertheless, there appears to be a dichotomy between ecofeminist approaches: essentialism or historical materialism, never both.
What Mary Mellor proposes in ‘Feminism and Ecology’ (1997) is a necessary integration of both, in a push for a kind of ‘ecological holism’ – the issue with this dichotomist thinking is that is falls into the aforementioned ‘fruitless and destructive dualism’ (Maria Mies) lauded by modern patriarchy. Furthermore, she criticised the strictly academic approach to the issues highlighted by ecofeminism (femicide, exploitation, the climate crisis etc), arguing that this restrictive and elitist approach leads necessarily to idealism, in that it is too divorced from reality and human experience. So, whereas historical materialism (taken by itself) is too rooted in academia, gender essentialism is too rooted in biology, and doesn’t account for the nuances of lived experiences. So, both are too experientially detached. As a result, it isn’t necessarily the case that ecofeminism relies on an essentialist view of gender.
In Chapter 4 of ‘Feminism and Ecology’, Mellor responds to essentialist critiques of ecofeminism –these responses are somewhat necessary, given the apparent incongruousness of essentialism in modern day feminism. Mellor refutes the need for essentialism in ecofeminism by distinguishing between ‘affinity ecofeminism’ and ‘socialist ecofeminism’, the latter with which she and Ruether identify. On the one hand, affinity ecofeminism centres itself around a spiritual connection between woman and Nature; alternatively, socialist ecofeminism promotes a more structuralist analysis of the relationship. Here, it is evident that accusations of essentialism largely fall within the ‘affinity’ approach, given that it claims women are ‘essentially closer’ to Nature than men. Here, Mellor argues not that women are more ‘embedded’ within Nature, but are instead that they are more aware of their ‘embeddedness’.
Ecofeminism is therefore valuable, as this interpretation of the ‘human-Nature relationship’ can be examined in a way that brings to light structuralist tendencies within society that perpetuate women’s affinity with Nature, and subsequent oppression given the nature of society. This is not to say that, in order for women’s liberation to be achieved she must be liberated from Nature – instead, I believe this calls for a social reassessment of the values we currently hold to be worthwhile (rationalism, individualism, modernism, materialism etc). Ruether also argues in this way not for a ‘New Woman’ who must reject Nature, but for a ‘new humanity and socialist politics’ and a new human consciousness that does not only consider class relations, but also ecological and gender relations. Given the social implications ecofeminism can highlight through its unique, holistic approach – bringing together feminism, ecology, politics and economics – a promotion of socialist ecofeminism which focuses more on the ‘structures of mediation in sex/gendered systems’ is more worthwhile than the approach of ‘affinity ecofeminism’ and its necessary inclusion of gender essentialism, which does not hold to the experiences of most women today and halts the progress of feminism as a whole. Hence, not only does ecofeminism not rely on an essentialist view on gender, but is indeed impeded by it.