“Response” to Theology in the Capitalocene Interventions series

That the engagements of Theology in the Capitalocene by Keller, Maia, Lansdowne, and Slabodsky get to so many of the core issues of the book is both gratifying and stimulating. It makes me hope for ongoing conversations that bring together the constructive work that each of us have been doing.

In my response, I will focus on four themes in response to the four presentations, held together by the concern for deeper and deepening solidarity that each one is addressing.

Catherine Keller notes that what I’m calling deep solidarity “now unfolds as a materialization of the intersectionality across multiple social issues of a radical relationality, in particular a fresh relationality of class.” In other words, solidarity is not merely an ideal or a moral imperative but consists of material practices that emerge in real-life struggles. Theology in the Capitalocene centers these practices in reproductive and productive labor, as nothing would exist without labor. This, I argue, is how we can reclaim and sharpen theologian Paul Tillich’s classic qualification of the “ultimate concern” that determines theology—defined as a matter of being and not-being. I am grateful to Keller for picking up the importance of reproduction and production in my project (in contrast to more common emphases on consumption and redistribution) and for drawing out lines for the implications of solidarity with the planet. In the book, this is developed in the first two chapters on ecology, via the double insight that people and planet are exploited by the same forces, but that on this basis they can also access the agency that is required to overcome exploitation and to develop true alternatives. All of this can be developed further, and I look forward to what will come of this trajectory.

That the problem with the Capitalocene is not just economic or political is picked up by Filipe Maia. This is crucial for my overall argument, which is most concerned about how the Capitalocene shapes people and planet to the core, including the formation of culture, religion, and agency. Maia’s suggestion of what he calls “interspecies solidarity” continues and expands Keller’s call for a closer look at reproductive labor, extending a discussion begun in the book. Reproductive labor, as I argue, is absolutely foundational, as nothing exists without it, including productive labor. Moreover, this kind of labor is typically relegated to women, minorities, and other-than-human flora and fauna and thus doubly and triply exploited. Maia’s proposal that such interspecies solidarity would have the potential of “rendering human labor strange to the capital form” goes to the heart of my concerns, picking up the point that human labor in the world today is the most diverse force already (nowhere is human diversity more embodied than at places of work). Maia’s notion of the “animalization of labor” points in the right direction, further developing my concern that “labor is a primary place of intersectionality where race, class, and gender come together, and it should not be too quickly separated into human and nonhuman” (103).

Carmen Lansdowne engages the question of labor from a different perspective, realizing that things are “more driven by economic and social factors than we are willing to realize.” Her challenge to labor from a Native American perspective reminds us of those who are excluded from labor for various reasons, none of them being the fault of the excluded themselves. I find her argument, which includes a reminder that human beings are “hardwired for solidarity,” in sync with what I am trying to suggest. For all of the importance of productive and reproductive labor in Theology of the Capitalocene, I’ve tried to make it clear that the diversity of labor defies notions of “ableism,” including “people with disabilities, the long-term unemployed, children, and the elderly” as well as “street vendors or casual laborers for whom work is a matter of survival” (102). All that is to say that we need to develop further the broadened notions of human and other-than-human agency that Lansdowne is suggesting, which includes alternative forms of human and other-than-human agency that are too easily ignored in both in euro-Christian thinking (Lansdowne) as well as euro-style neoliberal capitalism that has taken over the globe including many traditional cultures and religions.

I am profoundly grateful to Santiago Slabodsky for noting that deep solidarity is a real alternative to the universal consciousness promoted by parts of Western Marxism. What is needed is not the kind of solidarity (best embodied on the right today, but also an old fantasy for some on the left) that emphasizes marching-in-lockstep and homogeneity. Deep solidarity, as I keep arguing, not only tolerates difference but thrives on it, building different forms of power. Moreover, if organic intellectuals are in danger of towing some party line, or even as pursuing some overly homogeneous political or institutional projects, Slabodsky’s call for inorganic intellectuals is helpful. However, I’m less hopeful that intellectuals are the ones that will shake theology—or anything else—from its slumbers, unless they connect to real-life struggles more intentionally. This is what brings me back to the question of labor, agency, and solidarity one more time: what if the connection is not homogeneous party lines but the common struggles of all those whose productivity is being exploited or extracted in the current system (99 percent of humans have to work for a living, including most of the planet)? As a theologian, this is where I’m suggesting we rethink both humanity and the divine, including whatever intellectuals do and do not do.

I am looking forward to continued conversations about these and many other matters not only with these colleagues and friends but also with anyone who feels moved to think through ways to make it through and eventually out of the Capitalocene. At the Wendland-Cook Program in Religion and Justice, we believe that another world is indeed possible.