The Healthy Masculine in the Metacrisis

If it’s a “man’s world”, and that world is falling apart, what are men supposed to do? Be less like the men of our parent’s generation? Be more in touch with our feminine side? Give more space to women in our organisations and communities? Or could there be something more, perhaps of greater potential, for men to explore and to become? Are there healthy forms of masculinity that humanity needs in a fracturing world? I think so. And that’s the subject I want to share some thoughts on. To share publicly on this topic is new for me, and so I’d welcome your feedback (this blog is open for comments). 

The ‘metacrisis’ – or early-stage societal collapse – is experienced by most of us as more difficulties and disruptions in politics, economics, culture, health and the environment. However, the utility of the ‘metacrisis’ term is in pointing to the interrelatedness of the troubles, and an underlying crisis in the common assumptions, values, beliefs, norms and habits of our societies. Unfortunately, some social commentators avoid that deeper critique when they use the term ‘metacrisis’ to speak of a degradation of the traditional values and economic structures which privilege people like themselves. Contrary to that view, many of us have concluded that the dominant cultural order where men and qualities associated with men are privileged in society (AKA patriarchy) is part of the problem. I covered some implications of that previously, including the importance of listening and learning more from women leaders and Indigenous elders. But that is not the sum total of the implications for men. Instead, a “healthy masculine” could emerge from the crucible of this metacrisis, and I am already seeing dimensions of it. In this essay I will share thoughts on that, arising from personal reflections and participation in both men’s groups and other support groups. 

I’ve written this essay partly as a response to having met men over the last few years who seemed to lose their ‘footing’ when introduced to deep critiques of their identity as white Western males. In some cases they substituted their past certainties by following agendas set by individual women — often usefully, but sometimes involving their uncritical deference to authority. In other cases, I witnessed men rejecting critiques and embracing ‘anti-woke’ calls to reassert their cultural privileges without guilt or moderation. Sometimes that has arrived with vaguely moral assertions that privileging masculinity as we do in patriarchal societies is good for everyone, or the only cultural option available to us. I believe that if there were more ideas about the healthy masculine, and ways to be supported in expressing that, then there could be more positive outcomes from the unsettled feelings that some men experience within the metacrisis. That was one reason for creating a set of Oracle Cards with a friend, Dean Powell, who trains men on how to host men’s groups. It is also some of the thinking underneath the design of the peer mentoring in the Metacrisis Initiative. But now I wish to share some more of that thinking for discussion and development. 

Before considering masculinities, we could usefully consider what qualities become more important for all of us as, whatever our gender, as societies become more unstable. Therefore, in my next essay I will explore how any of us might ‘show’ up better in a context increasingly typified by limits, loss, and instability. In this essay, I will focus on what can be regarded as qualities and transformations particularly relevant to men in a metacrisis. At 4000 words, it’s a bit of an ask for you to get through it — but I think the subject is crucial to how we might soften disruptions and collapse, whether locally or wider than that.

Shifts in our understanding of masculinity

Over the years I have experienced some of the ways that male friends of mine have been exploring what it is to be an emotionally healthy man, without accepting the patterns of the past or becoming paralysed by the critiques of those. They easily express their care, receptivity, and intuition, along with other attributes often associated with the feminine. Nor do they express any sense of competition with leadership by women. They have been focusing on how to live their lives in meaningful ways with integrity. The themes that emerge from their experiments in reclaiming a masculine identity for themselves can be regarded as transformations of qualities that patriarchal cultures have associated with men. I will share them here before reflecting on the extent to which they are qualities that could help us within metacrisis and collapse. In doing so, I am not claiming that such qualities are inherently male, nor only male, but are regarded as particularly masculine in the cultures I’m aware of: 

  1. From control to stewardship: shifting from needing order and managing outcomes to tending processes – for community and collective wellbeing – without assuming mastery.
  2. From suppression to containment: not the absence of emotion, but the ability to hold intensity (fear, anger, grief) without exporting it as harm. This is a disciplined, grounded presence rather than withdrawal.
  3. From individualism to solidarity: using strength (physical, social, economic, mental) in service of nurturing and protection of the less powerful: children, friends, communities, ecosystems.
  4. From certainty to humility: relinquishing the need to “know” or lead through answers, and instead cultivating an ethical orientation amid ambiguity.

Most of the male friends, within whom I have seen these four shifts, have not been particularly interested in either metacrisis or collapse. But I am a subjective observer with that metacrisis in mind as I identify those shifts. Perhaps, therefore, I am only seeing the shifts that are relevant to easing that bigger situation. Nevertheless, separately from any conversation about societal disruption and collapse, some men are undergoing transformations, and helping each other in that, which could also be useful for the difficulties unfolding around us. 

The four shifts I’ve described are ones I like to think I’ve embodied in my professional efforts since the Deep Adaptation paper went viral in 2018. At first, a few people with money to fund projects wanted me to work on research papers on how collapse would unfold and to even establish a think tank. Others wanted me to be a spokesperson for advocacy movements on climate and collapse. Neither approach felt right to me and instead I focused on how to convene groups of people to help each other work out how to live positively with our difficult outlook on the future. Sometimes I ‘hit back’ at misleading criticism, as I mentioned in Grist Magazine. But that was because I thought I had a specific capacity for defending the legitimacy of the new networks and communities, and wanted to do my part. My defence was claimed by some as me being ‘patriarchal’, with the implication my arguments should be dismissed. 

In my personal life, I don’t see these four shifts within me quite as clearly. I believe I am increasingly aware of my emotions, and open about them, without acting impulsively from them. I regard my collapse-awareness being key to pushing me in that direction. But if I compare my personal life to others, I am still individualistic, while striving for control and certainty in many areas. I don’t even want to shift such aspects of my character at this time. Reflecting on why, I notice my limited trust in how the world is,  and how people are — something which might come from childhood (and I shared about previously). That’s a reminder to me that some patriarchal habits in men can arise from feelings of insecurity. It is something I’ll explore more on my own in future. 

Reclaiming masculine qualities from patriarchy

Over the years, the lack of confidence I have felt in how to ‘be a good man’ rather than just ‘be a good person’ has not been helped by a lack of discussion about healthy masculine qualities. I have read books on positive versions of manhood, such as the book of that title by Steve Biddulph, but have not come across a structured assessment of the qualities associated with masculinity that can be reclaimed from the toxic patterns within patriarchy. That seems like it could be a useful exercise – so I will try it here. 

Some of the qualities associated with masculinity in many cultures today include strength, protection, courage, rationality, productivity, merit and authority. I am interested in how we could disentangle those qualities from the habits of dominance, extraction, and status performance that typify the culture I’ve termed ‘imperial modernity’ (previously in my book Breaking Together). For each quality, I will explain the potential evolution for the current context of societal metacrisis, and give an illustration from some men I know personally. 

True strength: Not force or invulnerability, but load-bearing integrity. This is the capacity to stay present to difficulty (material, emotional, moral) without denial, displacement or depression. It involves the capacity to remain open-hearted in conditions that could invite shutdown, cynicism, or aggression. It includes endurance, but also permeability: allowing grief, uncertainty, and feedback, to inform action rather than harden into rigidity. This kind of strength shows as reliability under strain, not spectacle. I recall a time when a friend’s business failed. He did not rage or retreat into silence. One morning, after tennis, he told me that he had chatted with his teenage son the day before about how he was feeling sad, scared and ashamed. He wanted his son to know that feeling like that, and expressing it is not weakness. He told his son he would try again. 

True protection: Not control or paternalism, but attempts at safeguarding the conditions for life. This is anticipatory and relational: reducing harm, buffering shocks, and prioritising the vulnerable (people, species, places) without seeking obedience or loyalty in return. This kind of protection operates through stewardship, boundary-setting, and solidarity, not ownership. Over the years, I have had the benefit of seeing some men facilitate gatherings with this quality. They establish agreements on how to interact and then, without fanfare, swiftly and firmly remind anyone who deviates from those agreements, thereby enabling fair and fluid participation. 

True courage: Not conquest or risk-seeking, but bold truth-aligned action under uncertainty. This is the willingness to face social, material, or reputational cost in order to act with integrity, such as speaking honestly, withdrawing from harmful systems, or stepping forward to serve, without guarantees of success. I thought of this when hearing from a friend who had previously worked in construction. Back then, racist jokes were routine, but at one point he couldn’t let it slide. He told them that although he’d laughed along for ten years it had to stop. He lost a couple of friends on the crew, but knew it was the start of a better way of working. 

True rationality: Not narrow instrumentalism, but context-sensitive discernment. The ability to reason with multiple ways of knowing: empirical evidence, lived experience, ethical reflection, and intuitive knowing. This kind of rationality recognises uncertainty, avoids false precision, and resists optimising one variable (e.g., profit, efficiency) at the expense of system viability. It might be upsetting for some people to read me write about this, but most of the guys in my men’s group disputed the claims and policies from medical authorities during the early years of the Covid-19 pandemic. They took the time to assess the questionable logic behind some policies, find the relevant data, and learn about existing pandemic response plans. Rather than suspend their judgement to avoid being shamed, they chose personal responsibility and sought to help their neighbours with advice and health support (both physical and mental). 

True productivity: Not maximising production or ignoring its consequences, but bringing intentions into reality while leaving relationships intact or strengthened. One’s desire to act and provide is applied to meaningful ends within real ecological, social, and personal limits. This kind of productivity includes ongoing awareness of context rather than clinging to outmoded plans. In my time as a newbie organic farmer, I have met many men who adjust their commercial expectations to the realities of partnering with nature rather than dominating it. There are more risks, and less quick financial rewards, but the outcomes are multiple and important. 

True merit: Not credentialism or competitive accumulation, but contribution to collective understanding, healing, and betterment. Worth is evidenced by what one helps defend or regenerate (such as soil, trust, friendships, skills, mutual aid, cultural coherence), especially under stress. It privileges usefulness, humility, and teachability over status signals. This kind of merit can involve commitment to something larger (truth, community, or the sacred) without the need for recognition or legacy. As I considered this quality, I immediately thought of one of my close friends in the UK, who drove a taxi for 20 years. He didn’t have a University degree, and when he chose to study one of my courses, was interested in the learning and the relationships, not the certificate. Driving a cab meant he could discuss all kinds of ideas with people from around the world, and share his wisdom with those who wanted to hear — a kind of guru taxi driver. 

True authority: Not dominance or positional power, but earned trust and accountable guidance. Authority arises from demonstrated care, competence, and coherence over time. It invites scrutiny, distributes decision-making where possible, and remains accountable. Its legitimacy is continuously tested by outcomes for the whole, not by titles. When I was a tutor at the University of Bristol, a friend of mine was studying to be a teacher. I still remember a story she told me which seemed ‘far fetched’ but captures this notion of earning one’s authority. She said a head teacher had been asked to consider suspending a student who was often sleeping in class. Instead, he worked out that the boy was homeless and was often sleeping in his car. Identifying that the child was at risk, he worked with relevant services and friendship networks to find the youth accommodation as well as after school activities. 

Across all seven of these enacted qualities, a common thread is finding power-within and power-with, rather than power-over. They each require receptivity as much as projection. They involve exercising capacities in ways that ground oneself, maintain relationships, respect limits, and enable others to stand, adapt, and participate. They are qualities that correspond to the biological attributes of men relative to women, upon which male archetypes have emerged across cultures. That does not mean they are only accessible to, or admirable in, men but they are usefully witnessed in men without limiting us to the patriarchal expressions of them. 

Why useful, you might ask? I think a benefit of naming some shifts in behaviours, and reclaimed qualities of masculinity, in the way I have done in this essay, is that they help us to recognise ourselves and each other, to then gain support, or provide it. The drawback of listing them is they can come to be regarded as the way we should behave, and thus enable new kinds of oppression and performativity. That risk is greater for attributes associated with the ‘healthy masculine’ or the ‘healthy feminine’, as some of us will want to appear attractive and admired within gendered stereotypes. However, I’ve concluded there is little we can do to avoid people with (perhaps momentary) craving egos from relating to lists of attributes in that way — so that shouldn’t hold us back from discussing them. 

Deeper benefits of masculine archetypes for our challenging times

Recently I have been reflecting on the idea that there could be a far deeper benefit from discussing the healthy masculine, as we reclaim the sacred or divine aspect of the male form from religions that are deeply intertwined with patriarchal control. For instance, it is obvious to anyone who looks into it without the blinkers of dogma, that Abrahamic religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam have each downplayed, deleted, or pigeon-holed, the feminine dimension of the divine. One example is how the early formation of the Christian Church excluded a text about Mary Magdalene that was guiding groups of Jesus-followers in Egypt and elsewhere, along with the associated emphasis on a direct experiential connection with the divine rather than one mediated by a clergy who we should obey. Throughout the centuries, counter movements to patriarchal religious imposition have often equated a reverence for nature as involving the worship of female and/or feminine qualities. However, that is an incomplete response. Our environment, and the whole of Planet Earth, involve both male and female forms in the processes of creation. Thus, we live as much within Father Earth as we do within Mother Earth. Any hangovers in our culture of the ‘sacred masculine’ being assumed to be separate, remote, and single-minded, actually restrict men today from celebrating the fullness of the male form, and our embodiment of it as male human beings (something noted by other writers on contemporary masculinity). Some cultures have a history of iconography related to this, including images of the ‘Green Man’ across Europe and Asia, and a variety of demigods in animist and Indigenous religions across Latin America and Africa. 

Christianity offers us a more ‘upclose’ divine masculine in the form of Jesus, although not explicitly connecting him to processes of the natural world. When the Roman Empire institutionalised the views of St Paul about the identity of Jesus as a demi-God, or even fully-God, for followers to worship, Christianity implied Jesus was (and is) somewhat separate to us humans. Instead, if we regard him as a masculine expression of enlightened humanity, we can more easily celebrate that as a potential for manhood in our own societies. 

Outside of an Abrahamic religious context, men can look towards a variety of earthly-yet-divine masculines, in the figures of Lao Tsu, Siddarttha Gotama, and more. Their teachings don’t require a separation between material or natural, on the one hand, and spiritual on the other (despite subsequent distortions). Therefore, I have begun to wonder whether men who cling to unreconstructed notions of the divine masculine are denying themselves a huge part of their own potential spiritual experience of being alive. Instead, we can come ‘home’ to the aspect of divine consciousness within ourselves. Personally, I feel like I am entering a process of liberation by recognising that. 

Transforming societies around gender roles during metacrisis

I have avoided talking about it thus far, but I know the field of scholarship and activism on gender is huge, involving strongly-held theories and heated debates. Some readers might regard my exploration of a healthy masculine as a pointless task within patriarchy, while others might see it as essential for dismantling patriarchy. Some readers might see the focus on masculinity as yet another form of male-centrered attention, while other readers might see that it is about time I shared publicly on this topic, after my previous essay on women’s leadership, and more than two decades after I began working on women’s rights and feminist-informed methodology. Some may regard the ideas in this essay as wrongly seeking to stabilise either “masculine” or “feminine” as meaningful polarities of identity, whereas others may see me as not sufficiently exploring how the biological differences between the sexes mean we need greater differentiation in our understandings of healthy identities. I regard some of the aggression in such discussions as reflecting trauma, on all sides, and unhelpful for our attention to positive change. Mentioning that trauma might deepen the annoyance of some readers, but, as I mentioned in my last essay on women’s leadership, sometimes us men need to not shy away from receiving unfair criticism, and not react aggressively to it — as we haven’t been on the sharpest ends of patriarchy.

With all of those lively discussions about gender in mind, I want to reiterate that, for all of us, whether men or women, a useful deconditioning from our upbringing and contexts, must include a steady relinquishment of either the orientation towards, or admiration of, dominance, denial, and disconnection, in favour of grounded, relational, and quietly courageous participation in a world that is no longer coherent in the old terms. Such deconditioning doesn’t need us to drop recognition of biological differences and how to positively work with those. 

When I have discussed these ideas with friends, the conversation has often turned to how society might change. Spreading the ‘healthy masculine’ across a fracturing society cannot rely on simple generational replacement, as younger men are also susceptible to retrenchment into patriarchal backlash when anxious. Top down messaging about a healthy masculine is also unlikely to happen in current societies. Perhaps, then, we need to turn to prefigurative politics — enabling and embodying the desired norms within micro-communities first, rather than waiting for macro-shifts. On the one hand, men’s groups can be where the reframed masculine qualities and personal shifts can be supported. On the other hand, community groups, eco-villages, religious associations, activist groups, and peer mentoring circles can seek to embody the kinds of qualities that will help in a metacrisis, whatever our sex or gender. That is something I will return to in my next essay. 

Collapse-aware communities are ripe for this work, yet my experience is that some of them default to either male stoicism (practical survivalism) or feminine-coded emotional expression (grief circles). We should not ignore how the groups that focus on emotional processes are mostly populated by women and the groups focused on practical prepping, or on calculations of the risk and processes of collapse, are mostly populated by men. To address that, I recommend that those of us working with the Deep Adaptation framework include the reclamation of masculinity from patriarchy within discussions and projects related to the 5th R of the framework. This can also be something we talk about in our podcasts, blogs, and social media. Conceptual discussions like this essay can be useful foundations, but sharing our examples will be more impactful, along with our participation in relevant initiatives. Crucially, spread will happen not through shaming old masculinities but through making the ‘healthy masculine’ visible, attractive, and useful. 

As I covered a lot of conceptual ground in this essay, I did not include much discussion of my own experience. When discussing a draft of the essay with a friend who is a coach with some experience of men’s work,  he encouraged me not to leave more personal reflections to a future essay. That got me thinking: is living within and from a healthy masculine identity a priority for me? Rather than it being a joy of my own evolution, I sense it might involve new risks of pain, restriction, and boredom. That feels awkward for me as I learned to be who I am with many privileges. Conversely, such a focus could seem an indulgence when there are other things to do. To prioritise this agenda, I would also need to be more confident about the shifts and qualities I’ve described in this essay, via receiving critique or validation by some experts and elders whom I respect. Perhaps, then, putting this essay out into the world will help that process of building my own confidence in the importance of what I’ve described, and help my own journey into healthy masculinity. Let’s see.

If you are interested in this topic, there are some interesting podcasters exploring such matters. I recently appeared on two of them: reskillience and wisernow.org. In addition, for men, I recommend seeking out a Men’s Group that explicitly seeks to support its participants to express a healthy masculine and doesn’t regard that as being in opposition to feminist concerns. You could share this essay with the organisers to get their reaction. If you want to find a ‘collapse aware’ Men’s Group, you will probably need to start one. Perhaps that could be done under the umbrella of Deep Adaptation. And if you are a woman and have found these ideas to have merit, then I encourage you to share them with the men in your life. Additionally, whatever your gender identity, you would be welcome to join a future cohort of the peer mentoring in the Metacrisis Initiative. I’m looking forward to us discussing these ideas in our next monthly online salon.

You can listen to my journey via Reskillience, with Catie Payne, or, more extensively, with Carlotta at WiserNow

Discuss these issues with us by registering for the Metacrisis Salon on May 4th and 5th. 

Comments on an earlier draft of this essay were gratefully received from Kaliya Hamlin, Chris Taylor, Ilena Young, and Matthew Slater. 

Women’s leadership and ecofeminism in the metacrisis

“Our Mother Earth Says Me Too!”

“Our Mother Earth Says Me Too!”

It was a gorgeous but disturbingly warm day in London, seven years ago. I was inviting the crowd to chant with me, as I gave the opening speech of the international rebellion, in Oxford Circus. In the two weeks after April 15th, 2019, the campaign group Extinction Rebellion forced greater attention to how rapid climate change threatens our way of life, not just that of the polar bears. The #MeToo movement was in the news at the time, with people challenging defeatist attitudes on sexual harrassment and sexual violence. Seeing violence towards the environment as arising from the same heartless habits that harm women and girls, I wanted to make the connection in my speech. I also knew that many women were taking leading roles in the new wave of civil disobedience on climate ignorance. I wanted to make the big picture of how we collectively violate the Earth to be felt as something that is also expressed in our interpersonal relations. 

“Today and this week, we will have the honour of seeing mothers and grandmothers putting their bodies on the line for the defence of Life itself. For the defence of your children. So I see the women protesting today as our elders. They are here for you. They are here for me. They are here for all of us. So to our police, I say, when you lay a hand on mothers and grandmothers you will not just be doing your job. It will be your personal decision to participate today, in a process of oppressing women and their wisdom that reaches back thousands of years. An oppression that is at the root of our crisis today. All of us, including the police, can remove ourselves from that chain of destruction. We can refrain from that act of uninvited touch. So I ask you to listen to the loving call of nature in your own hearts. And you might hear that Our Mother Earth Says Me Too.”

After the speech, one of the organisers joked that “the ecofeminists probably had an orgasm.” She was referring to people who regard the same hierarchical, paternalistic and dualistic thinking that enables the domination of women as also enabling environmental destruction. A core idea of ecofeminism is that Western ideology has associated women with nature and men with culture in a way which devalues both women and nature. You’ll know the stereotypes, where body, emotion, and intuition are associated with women and mind, reason, and civilization are associated with men. Whatever the biologically or sociologically shaped tendencies within women and men on such matters, regarding some qualities associated with the masculine gender as requiring prioritisation, is a root cause of both sexism and environmental destruction. In short, ecofeminism perceives that we cannot slow down the ecological crisis without addressing gender inequality, and vice versa. 

The destruction being led by toxic masculine individuals on both the world stage and in bigtech is no surprise to ecofeminists, and seems to add weight to that worldview. The awesome work of women in responding to ecological and social malaise is also a pointer towards the relevance of a gender lens on the era of ‘metacrisis’ that humanity has clearly entered. Last year, a surge in environmental leadership by women’s organisations was described by Inside Climate News. It reported on the group Amazonian Women Defenders of the Rainforest, in Ecuador. They resist oil and mineral extraction on their ancestral lands, which has brought pollution, violence, and sexual exploitation. Their tactics include organizing protests, physical forest monitoring, legal action (such as winning a landmark case at the Inter-American Court of Human Rights), reforestation projects, and building Indigenous-led businesses. There are many other examples of women’s organisations being on the front line in challenging destruction. Sadly, much of that now involves challenging the mining activities of companies that are being supported by professional ‘environmentalists’ who prioritise electrifying everything over a smart, holistic, fair and accountable green agenda: AKA most ‘environmentalists’ you and I know today (see the ‘fake green fairytale’). 

As the effects of accelerating climate change kick in, many women are leading the response in communities. A new film profiles some of that women’s leadership, called ‘Emergence: women in the storm’. I recommend the trailer alone, for its gobsmackingly inspiring string of statements from women who are doing what’s best in a bad situation. It reminded me that when the Deep Adaptation movement was taking off in 2019, I wanted to draw attention to the ideas and initiatives of women on environmental and social issues, so I hosted many Q&As with women leaders. Simona Vaitkute reviewed some of the crosscutting themes from those conversations. One theme she identified was that our environmental imagination needs to move beyond technological fixes and lifestyle changes. Instead, mainstream environmental movements need to drop the “progress story” of managerial salvation. In the place of such failing hubris, we could learn more from communities who have endured oppression and loss – including Indigenous peoples and those in the Global South already suffering climate impacts. The consistent message from the women I interviewed was not to focus on anger or blame, but on healing, including the recovery from a fictional “story of separation” between the Earth, each other, and ourselves. Those women told us of a path forward that involves vulnerability, reconnecting with intuition, and a place for inclusive rituals of healing. 

Those themes were important to two of my friends, who were important women leaders on environmental change and justice and passed away last year. One was Joanna Macy. After she discovered my work on Deep Adaptation, she and I chatted with some fellow travellers, online, once a month for over a year. I had used Joanna’s workshop guidance for years previously, to help people viscerally sense that we are part of a web of life, rather than atop a pyramid of domination. As the Deep Adaptation framework and networks took off, I realised her methods for how we honour and express our difficult emotions about the state of the world would be key. She reminded us that our pain is a result of our love. It was an invitation to escape the dishonest and toxic optimism that the culture of patriarchy promotes, especially in our professional relations.  

I remember when I visited Joanna in her house in Berkeley that there was a wall crammed top to bottom with pictures of all her family and friends. As I looked at it, I immediately had the voice of Ram Das in my mind. A famous American spiritual teacher, associated with the New Age, he once joked that he sometimes fell back into being the lecherous Dick Alpert, and would ask a fan he fancied: “would you like to come up and see my spiritual pictures?” As I looked at Joanna’s wall of love, I thought these were her spiritual pictures. An embodied spirituality, without a separation between life and the divine, is one that does not rely on images of Gods or Gurus. 

Joanna lived into her 90s, but sadly Stella Nyambura Mbau left us much younger. Previously a youth climate activist, she had become a lecturer in Kenya, and worked on the Agroforestry Regeneration Communities initiative. I enjoyed working with Stella, including presentations at COP27 in Egypt. In her quiet voice, she didn’t flinch from a damning critique of the mainstream agenda on agriculture (here and here). She helped me understand how that self-appointed expert on all things, Bill Gates, had rather dumb ideas on how to improve the resilience of farms and farming communities in the face of rapid climate change. The analysis reminded me of one most coherent voices against ‘Gatesian’ managerialist approaches to society — the ecofeminist Vandana Shiva. Over the years, I was pleased to help Stella get her views published for an international audience, even if only in the niche publication Resilience

When discussing these issues, the term “patriarchy” comes up. I need to keep reminding myself that most people think it simply means ‘rule by men’ and that a critique of it means blaming men for all of humanity’s ills. So, the academic in me wants to pause and define terms. For me, and most people who use the term as a useful one for understanding our situation, the term ‘patriarchy’ describes a cultural system that advances characteristics and values that are regarded as masculine, subordinating those regarded as more feminine. That enables societal systems where men typically exert more power, in areas including political leadership, moral authority, social privilege, the control of property, and the value of work. These systems are produced by both men and women, although with differing agency, and can oppress people of any gender, sometimes compounding other unequal hierarchies of identity. The term ‘feminist’ is also widely misunderstood as something only describing women who focus on women’s issues, rather than referring to any of us who recognise that unequal power relations between genders goes against our core values of human dignity, freedom, and self-actualisation. 

Not all women who we might recognise as ecofeminists choose that description for themselves. Any term can ‘pigeon hole’ people, as much as convene them. My own misunderstanding that feminist analysis could only be about women held me back for years from exploring the resonance between my critiques of research methodologies and those made by feminist scholars. When, far later in my career, a committee blocked my institutions’ participation in a ‘women’s leadership’ research consortium, as they regarded it as ‘off topic’ to sustainability, I was reminded that patriarchal ‘pigeon holing’ of the feminine as  niche and marginal remains widespread, and with major implications for resources and attention. I mention that past experience as what’s key today is that we recognise that women leaders can be leaders for all of us, and that feminist critiques in general can be holistic agendas for all of us. 

Ecofeminist inspiration for living in the metacrisis

I think ours is a moment to be bolder in exploring what ecofeminist-related philosophies could help us to see and imagine during the myriad disruptions and breakdowns ahead. Could we better respect, revere, and remunerate, the roles of caring, of nurturing in the home, of dialoguing in our neighbourhoods, and of stewarding the commons? Could we escape, through serious economic redesign, the requirement of transactional value for so much of the paid labour in our societies? Could we have confidently relaxed attitudes about gender identities so that no one feels compelled to fit into a simple binary, whether by behaviour or biological modification? Could we develop healthy masculine identities, rather than merely complain or resist the toxic forms, or swap out more men for women in senior roles? Could we even identify what we like from within the system of patriarchy, if separated from its ills?

Speaking of a bolder agenda for ecofeminism in this age of consequences, one of the founder members of Extinction Rebellion, Skeena Rathor, mentioned to me the idea of ‘rematriation’. The concept arises from the insights and demands of Indigenous women leaders, as they seek to defend or regain stewardship of their lands and space for their cultures. Some think it could become a broader agenda for modern cultures that have lost their connection to the landscapes that hold them and nourish them today. I am hopeful that by introducing ‘Regeneration’ as a 6th R into the Deep Adaptation framework for reflection and dialogue, I am better recognising the way many people are acting on their collapse awareness. I hear that they are nurturing life in various ways, through their love of life rather than belief in a theory of what might ‘save the world’. I am happy to be asking myself and others: how are we nurturing life?

What the Indigenous elders who Skeena is working with are pointing to is a deeper spiritual subjugation that has been occurring through patriarchal cultures. Over millennia, religious institutions increasingly regarded the living world as less intrinsically valuable than a separate divine entity or realm, which humans could seek to ascend to or reunite with. This deep and subtle alienation with the natural world around us, and not experiencing our own bodies as part of that wondrous nature, is a core revelation from Indigenous teachings. But it is also one revealed in some of the ancient religious texts that were rejected by the Roman Empire when codifying Christian belief. One such text, The Gospel of Mary, spoke about a spirituality centred on inner awakening, unity, and direct experience of the divine. Salvation is not achieved through external authority, doctrine, or hierarchy, but through awakening the divine presence inside oneself. A key theme is the “sacred interbeing” of all existence: all life exists “in and with each other,” reflecting a holistic, relational cosmos where divinity permeates everything. The text shows that in the earliest years of Jesus-followership, Mary Magdalene was regarded as a spiritual authority who embodied intuitive, experiential wisdom rather than institutional power. Excluding her teachings, and, later, even speculating she was a prostitute, reflects the wider pattern of religious institutions suppressing mystical experience and female authority in favour of male-dominated hierarchies.  

I was so pleased to read about her ideas that I wrote and performed the Mariam Mantra. But in the process of discussing the teachings of Mary, and discovering the sub-cultures associated with her, I noticed that patriarchal habits are hard to kick, even amongst those who see themselves as liberating the feminine. For instance, there is a widespread sexualising of Mary Magdalene, where she is portrayed as both sensual and as relevant to us because of her intimacy with Jesus. But if we drop patriarchal assumptions that centre men in our understanding of the world, we can be open to possibilities such as whether she might have been a key teacher of Jesus, or that she might not have desired him intimately. Yes, even Christ could learn from someone; and not be sexually appealing to every woman! Such speculations are just as likely as any, once we drop patriarchal assumptions. And the fact they might jar with some people reflects the power of those assumptions. Without them, questions of whether they were intimate or married become very secondary. 

Ecofeminist ideas can also help us to imagine and inhabit healthy masculinities within the metacrisis. To begin with, men can simply respect and value women more, as well as the qualities that have been categorised in our societies as feminine. However, a healthy masculinity can be more than that. It can retain and repurpose what we culturally associate with masculinity. What is true strength? True protection? True courage? True rationality? True merit? True authority? In a culture that learns from its mistakes, all of those qualities can be reconceived and reborn for everyone, without ‘essentialising’ them as only masculine. That would be smarter than the ideas coming from traffic-hungry pundits speaking to the economically and socially disadvantaged men in late capitalist societies. I am pleased to see a few initiatives explicitly working on this opportunity (such as Starfish Collective). Many men’s support groups embody similar thinking, even if not explicitly recognising feminist critique as having contributed to the building blocks of their approaches. 

Beware the close enemies of ecofeminism

Loads of people talk about feminism and women’s leadership in relation to social and environmental problems. But that doesn’t mean they are not reproducing patriarchy and accidentally oppressing others, and aspects of themselves. Therefore, I can’t finish this essay on ecofeminism in the metacrisis without mentioning the ideas and behaviours which I have witnessed and consider to be the ‘near enemies’ of true feminism. 

First, there is the patriarchal women-washing of dominant organisations and systems. Being a female leader doesn’t necessarily involve the person behaving differently to the role as it has been defined by society before them. Instead, we all know many female executives and politicians who appear to be copies of their male predecessors, whether in terms of their rhetoric or decisions. To avoid any doubt, we could label this with the rather oxymoronic term: patriarchal feminism. It is a superficial feminism, often counter productive, that does little to challenge the masculine-coded values that are considered superior in patriarchy, such as competition, forcefulness, transactionalism, reductive rationality, emotional suppression, hierarchy, and the domination of nature. Instead, it enables a select group of women to participate in wielding power within existing systems and cultures, and to strive for that power in ways that disrespect (or even damage) people in its pursuit.  

Second, and related to patriarchal feminism, is when women leaders use deep patriarchal tropes to discipline our dialogue and behaviour. Eternal optimism, for instance, can be regarded as a form of emotional suppression that then invites a level of acquiescence to power. Some of the most senior women in climate science and climate politics have, for years, exhorted us to be stubbornly optimistic. Sometimes that can involve censorship. For instance, there was a period when my XR launch speech was taken offline, due to a woman executive deciding they shouldn’t platform anything so negative. The Deep Adaptation videos only survived due to the founder Stuart H. Scott pushing back (despite being preoccupied with terminal cancer at the time). It led to a split in the organisation, and the birth of Facing Future TV

When critics of ‘collapsology’ imply, or directly claim, that it is harmful or morally deficient not to be optimistic, they are expressing the patriarchal trope of shame. It is true that the concept of shame exists across most, if not all, cultures, but is a particularly powerful means of social control in patriarchal societies. Therefore, a third expression of patriarchal feminism is the use of shame in public discourse. In particular, I have noticed the use of apparently feminist concerns to invite shame upon people that some women leaders disagree with. In my case, a number of senior women, with higher academic rank than myself, used my maleness and age as a basis to frame my response to inaccurate criticisms of my work and character as evidence of my patriarchal attitudes. That was at a time when the backlash against Deep Adaptation from the mainstream environmental professions, and the nuclear industry, had begun. The aim of some of the criticism was to encourage people to feel principled in hostility towards my character, and thereby dismiss the veracity of my analysis of the environmental predicament, as well as anyone who might agree. 

Once again I noticed the patriarchal preoccupation with opportunities for shaming when a newspaper missed what was rare in the story of my interaction with Jeffrey Epstein. I never met him in person, and he didn’t fund my work, but we had phone calls and correspondence. To make amends for the limited interaction I had with him, I spoke about it publicly in 2023. I believed the survivors deserved more attention to his crimes, and that people like me, and the people who introduced us, needed to re-assess why we didn’t take these issues more seriously in the past. It was the launch of my book Breaking Together, and I explained I had learned to have less deference to power and money, and work instead at the grassroots. Nearly three years after that speech, with the release of my emails with Epstein, a local journalist reported on the matter as if I had spoken in response to forced disclosure. That meant some readers would interpret the story as being one of scandal and shame, rather than about someone having pushed for attention to the case and expressing contrition as they shared what they learned. If we can’t welcome people being open about their past limitations in not always quickly or fully standing up for what is right, then we aren’t helping a shift in culture. It would be wrong to assume that any coverage of this topic is pro-feminist. Instead, the survivors want attention to the aims and resources of the networks of power that produced the criminal behaviour by, and associated with, Epstein — and then covered it up. When coverage falls short of that, it could be part of the effort to avoid deeper accountability and change. 

On the one hand, the idea that a guy has no legitimacy or contribution to make in talking about feminist issues, including some criticism of some women’s views and actions on these issues, is prejudiced and counterproductive. On the other hand, it is also true that men like me need to accept there will always be some criticism for sharing our views on these matters, and that some of it might seem unfair and arising from unresolved trauma. I have experienced that a few times in my life, and it was painful to be subjected to anger and condemnation. My initial reaction was to try to understand better and explain myself more fully. With time, I realised that if expressing themselves from a traumatic wound, there is little opportunity for understanding. We men weren’t harmed in the same ways by patriarchy, and we benefited in so many ways (that only ignorant males refuse to see). So sometimes our best contribution is to find the strength not to react. That doesn’t mean always ‘holding space’ for, what might be, trauma-driven responses. Sometimes, it can mean not responding at all. If we have been fortunate and strategic enough to surround ourselves with wise women, then they will be better suited to respond. 

Sources of inspiration and what to support

I am grateful for the way the co-founders of Extinction Rebellion welcomed my work and invited my contribution to their early work. Over the years, I have kept in touch with the three women at the heart of its launch: Clare Farrell, Skeena Rathor and Gail Bradbrook. Each of them have continued to lead, beyond XR, in ways that reflect some of the many dimensions of women’s leadership in the metacrisis. 

Clare Farrell is convening the Humanity Project UK, which is supporting the development of grassroots ‘assembly culture’ towards an agenda for self rule. She is also director for Absurd Intelligence, which she describes as “a thinktank for the shit show”. More recently, Clare has been seeking out the wisdom of those who specialise in spiritual life, to gain insight on “strategies of constructive resistance whilst we hurtle into breakdown” (sharing some on her Substack). Skeena Rathor has become an ‘Elder Guardian’ of a Global Movement on Indigenous Commons. They support efforts at repairing and restoring the world’s water flows, from rivers to oceans and atmospheric processes, which also include large forests. She also focuses on ways that capital flows can be redirected to repair life on Earth. Gail Bradbrook has been developing the model for community resilience in the context of system breakdown, and trialling it in her hometown of Stroud, with the moniker ‘lifehouse’. While continuing to regard reductions in carbon emissions as important, each of them has moved beyond that to work on community resilience and regeneration. Their practical and collaborative responses to “the shit show” echo the leadership in the new “women in the storm” film.

Want to discuss this?

In the next salon of the Metacrisis Initiative we will discuss women’s leadership and ecofeminism in the metacrisis. Skeena Rathor will join us. If you are a member of the initiative, look out for registration information in your inbox in a few days. Meanwhile, as members, you can share your reflections in our community chat on Telegram (if you aren’t part of that, also look out for the reminder in a few days). See you there! Warmly, Jem