Human beings share the planet with countless millions of other species of plants and animals. Yet despite our being the only species capable of moral reflection, we have not so far shown ourselves to be very good at the business of sharing: a human population of seven billions and rising places severe strains on the ability of other creatures to thrive. But nor, with our technological heavy-footedness, have we been outstandingly successful in preserving a habitable environment even for ourselves. Like the sorcerer's apprentice, we meddle with processes we only imperfectly understand – and there is no sorcerer at hand to correct our mistakes. As Robin Attfield reminds us in his engaging new book, ‘neither nature nor the environment can be considered as given, let alone static’ (121). To treat the world as our private estate is to ignore the fact that while nature's ‘changing systems are affected by human action, human life itself remains dependent on their relatively intact functioning’ (ibid.). As we sow, so shall we reap.

Faced with the current threats of climate change, species loss, environmental degradation and exhaustion of resources, pollution of the air, sea and soil, thoughtful people might well feel a sense of hopelessness in the face of unstoppable decline. But for Attfield, despair is not an option. Problems need to be clearly defined and practical solutions identified. For Attfield, finding and implementing answers requires the efforts of experts in many fields; not just climate scientists, geographers, agronomists, economists, politicians and industrialists, but also philosophers. Like other OUP Very Short Introductions, Attfield's book is less concerned to break new ground than to provide an informative critical conspectus on contemporary debates. In this it succeeds admirably, and its 121 pages of crisply-written text provide what may well be the best brief overview of the state of environmental ethics now available. Not the least of its achievements is to demonstrate how vital systematic reflection on value questions is if policy-making on environmental questions is not to be blind. Among the issues which Attfield singles out for detailed discussion are the following: the reasons why non-human animals and plants should be assigned intrinsic and not merely instrumental value; why human rights are not the only rights; the arguments for bio- and eco-diversity and the preservation of species and the integrity of ecosystems; ethical constraints on ‘sustainable’ development; whether there are duties to preserve a viable environment for future generations of people and animals (whose very existence or non-existence may be dependent on our decisions); the possibilities of political, community and individual action on the environment; responding to climate change.

Attfield begins by describing the origins of modern environmental ethics in the work of Richard Routley, Arne Naess, John Passmore, Holmes Rolston III and others. The second chapter provides incisive analyses of such ‘key concepts’ as ‘nature’, ‘the environment’, ‘moral standing’, ‘ecosystem’, ‘ecocentrism’, ‘biocentrism’. The bearing of general ethical theories (consequentialism, contractualism, deontology and virtue ethics) is discussed in Chapter 4, where Attfield states his own preference for a form of ‘biocentric consequentialism’ that he considers ‘the more consistent, most fruitful, and best [serving] the needs of future generations’; this is to be allied with a ‘broad theory of value’ that assigns intrinsic worth not only to humans and their interests but also to the non-human living realm of animals and plants (55–56). There are chapters on our putative responsibilities to future generations (including an unusually lucid discussion of Parfit's ‘non-identity problem’); the problems of sustainable development and the preservation of species; social and political movements (e.g. ‘deep ecology’, ‘the environmental justice movement’, ‘ecofeminism’, the ‘green movement’); environmental ethics and religions; and the ethics of climate change. This is a veritable multum in parvo, but Attfield's combination of clarity with concision, plus the integrated, cross-referenced treatment of themes, prevents there being any sense of haste or superficial coverage. While he takes it as his brief to describe a wide range of approaches to environmental issues, he is careful to make his own views plain. For instance, some writers have proposed that ecosystems should be thought of as having an intrinsic value which is independent of that of the creatures that inhabit them. To this idea Attfield reasonably objects that, ‘because ecosystems largely consist of living individuals’, we end up counting those individuals twice over if we also – as we should – ascribe to those individuals and their lives their own intrinsic value; furthermore, since ecosystems are constantly changing, they have no clear identity anyway (57–58). He takes issue, too, with those who uphold strong notions of environmental purity and integrity and consequently contend that invasive species of plants and animals should be removed wherever possible. Attfield's more modest proposal is that only those species that undermine the well-being of native ones ought to be eliminated: this would include eucalyptus trees in many parts of the world but not, for instance, ‘well-established species introduced into Britain such as rabbits and horse chestnuts’ (74–75). Here, though, one may perhaps wonder whether Attfield's tolerance is not rather questionably dependent on the mere fact of embeddedness in the scene. Might even the alien eucalyptus trees of the Peruvian Andes start to seem ‘at home’ after another thousand years or so? More argument would be useful here.

I end this review with two mildly critical comments and a question. The first comment concerns Attfield's advocacy of ‘a biocentric ethic, which recognizes the moral standing of all living creatures, present and future’ (58). The rejection of the anthropocentric view that only human interests matter, and the recognition that other species and their well-being have intrinsic value (and not merely instrumental value for us), is plausible and enlightened. But Attfield is less helpful in explaining just how his ‘biocentric consequentialism’ is meant to estimate the relative strength of claims to consideration when the interests of different species conflict. It is one thing to recognise that the creatures dwelling in a patch of virgin rain-forest have interests that count morally, another to determine the ethical course to pursue when an expanding local human population requires new land for farming to keep hunger at bay. It is no adverse reflection on Attfield to remark that neither he nor anyone else has yet come up with a principle or principles sufficiently fine-grained to enable us to make such difficult decisions with any degree of ethical confidence.

The second comment regards the discussion of environmental ethics and religion in Chapter 7. Here, in my view, Attfield is distinctly too kind to the Judaeo-Christian tradition on the relationship between human beings and nature. Stewardship, he notes, ‘is clearly committed to care for the environment and opposed to exploitation and environmental degradation’ (100). But how keen has Judaeo-Christianity traditionally been to advocate stewardship so conceived? Attfield suggests that ‘While the Old Testament confers on humanity ‘dominion’ over nature (Genesis 1; Psalm 8), dominion is misinterpreted if it is taken to authorize human domination’ (97). But this is a very generous (and likely anachronistic) reading of these texts. Psalm 8 asserts that ‘Thou hast put all things under his [man's] feet’, while at Genesis 1: 28 God instructs man to ‘subdue’ the earth. If this is not environmental imperialism then it is hard to know what would be. Moreover, the notion that non-human natural species have intrinsic value is hard to discern in the mainstream medieval theological tradition. But religious traditions should be capable of evolution in the face of present conditions, and Attfield draws an attractive picture of what an expanded religious-based environmental ethic might look like.

Finally, a question. Although Attfield has much to say about the origins of current environmental problems and the various practical and political programmes intended to tackle them, he is relatively subdued in his criticism of the governments, corporations, industrial enterprises and individuals (including citizens of the richer countries) who cause them. (The single passing reference in the book to President Trump is the somewhat bland remark that his decision to withdraw the USA from the 2015 Paris Agreement on climate change ‘could prove disastrous’ (114).) While there is no doubting the depth of Attfield's personal concern about the environment, the question is whether philosophers should display more anger at the appalling damage done to nature, abandoning the style of sweet reasonableness that pervades much of their writing. Ought philosophers to up the ante, setting out the motives for nature's spoliation more forthrightly and firmly: greed, selfishness, callousness, imprudence and short-termism, laziness, failures of sympathy and imagination, the refusal to recognise disturbing facts that stare us in the face? The philosopher's medium may be rational argument, but when the chips are really down something of the fighting spirit of the activist may be called for too.