Environmentalism once stood as a deeply humanistic endeavor. Its original purpose was straightforward and life-affirming: to protect and wisely manage natural resources so that human beings could live healthier, more prosperous, and more enjoyable lives. This conservation ethic celebrated human stewardship over nature, viewing a clean and sustainable environment as a prerequisite for human flourishing rather than an end in itself.
The early 20th-century conservation movement, epitomised by figures like Theodore Roosevelt and John Muir, embodied this spirit perfectly. Roosevelt, working with Muir, helped establish and expand America's national parks, preserving vast wilderness areas not to exclude humanity but to ensure future generations could experience and benefit from nature's grandeur.
From the mid-20th century onward, however, a profound shift occurred within segments of the environmental movement. As traditional socialism faced devastating intellectual, economic, and historical failures, many on the academic and activist Left sought new avenues to challenge capitalism and advocate for centralised control. Environmental concerns offered a powerful new weapon.
Philosopher Stephen Hicks, in Explaining Postmodernism (2011), describes this transformation clearly: after socialism's collapse, postmodern strategies reframed old egalitarian impulses in fresh terms. One key manifestation was the reorientation of environmentalism. Where earlier conservationists saw productive human interaction with nature as positive (clearing land, building infrastructure, harnessing resources — all to improve human life), the emerging radical strain imported Marxist notions of exploitation and alienation.
Humans, cast as the dominant and therefore "oppressive" force, were now seen as inherently exploitative toward weaker species and the inanimate environment. Economic growth and wealth creation — especially under capitalism — became viewed not as solutions but as the root problem. Producing wealth was reframed as inherently destructive, leading to the conclusion that the less humans impact nature, the better.
This philosophy crystallised in "deep ecology," which demands radical moral equality between humans and all other life forms — from bacteria to elephants. Human needs and desires were demoted; the ideal became minimal (or ideally zero) human footprint on the planet.
Alex Epstein, in The Moral Case for Fossil Fuels (2015), identifies the core of modern radical environmentalism as the belief that humans should minimise their impact on nonhuman nature. This "anti-impact" standard is profoundly anti-human. Human life and flourishing require transforming the environment — building homes, growing food, generating energy, creating tools. Every act of living involves impact.
If non-impact becomes the moral ideal, the only consistent conclusion is that human non-existence is best. While most people recoil from this extreme, the framework still breeds pervasive guilt for simply existing, producing, and consuming. That guilt makes populations more amenable to sweeping restrictions, central planning, and elite-directed limits on energy, travel, consumption, and reproduction.
Contemporary environmental activism often reflects this more confrontational, accusatory tone — portraying humanity itself as the existential threat.
The degeneration of environmentalism into an anti-humanist doctrine is not inevitable. Countless people still support practical conservation — clean air, protected habitats, sustainable resource use — because these serve human well-being. The tragedy lies in the radical strain that has captured so much cultural and political influence, one that too often treats human ingenuity, progress, and even existence as the problem rather than the solution.
We can and should pursue a cleaner, more sustainable world. But we must do so without surrendering the fundamental premise that human life has unique value and that our creative mastery over nature — when guided by reason, property rights, and voluntary cooperation, as Major Douglas saw — remains the greatest force for good on this planet.
The choice is stark: conservation for human flourishing, or environmentalism as a vehicle for anti-human guilt and control. The original spirit of the movement deserves to be reclaimed.