Environmentalism is often framed as a shared global mission—urgent, scientific, and morally clear. But beneath this apparent unity lies a quieter tension about power, history, and voice. The question is not whether environmental action is needed. It is how it is defined, who defines it, and whose realities it reflects.
Much of what passes as mainstream environmentalism today has been shaped in Western contexts, then projected outward as a universal framework. As scholars of environmental colonialism have long argued, this process mirrors older colonial patterns, where knowledge and solutions flow in one direction while lived realities are sidelined (see Environmental Colonialism, Emory Postcolonial Studies).
Understanding this is not about assigning blame. It is about recognising limits—and doing better.
Who Defines “Sustainable”?
Sustainability is often presented as neutral and technical, guided by metrics, models, and best practices. Yet sustainability is never value-free. It is shaped by institutions, researchers, and funding structures—most of which remain concentrated in the Global North.
These systems decide which environmental problems matter most, which solutions are scalable, and which knowledge counts as credible. As a result, sustainability is frequently framed through Western assumptions about development, efficiency, and progress, even when applied to contexts with entirely different social, cultural, and ecological relationships.
When environmental solutions are exported without examining these assumptions, sustainability becomes prescriptive rather than context-responsive—a continuation of what many describe as the colonial legacy within environmentalism (Human Rights Pulse, Environmentalism and the Legacy of Colonialism).
When Knowledge Travels Without Consent
Indigenous and traditional practices are increasingly referenced in Western sustainability narratives. Plant-based diets, low-impact agriculture, circular living, and community stewardship are praised as pathways to a greener future.
Yet these practices are often adopted without consent, context, or reciprocity. Traditional recipes are relabelled as “vegan.” Land stewardship practices are abstracted into frameworks. Knowledge that emerged from lived relationships with land and ecology is detached from the people who carry it.
This pattern has been widely documented in academic literature on colonialism and environmental change, where knowledge extraction is shown to persist even within conservation and sustainability agendas (see JSTOR, Colonialism and Environmental Change).
This is not collaboration. It is extraction—rebranded as sustainability.
Different Environmental Ethics
A deeper tension lies in worldview.
Many Indigenous and non-Western environmental philosophies do not place humans above nature, nor treat the environment as a system to be managed. Human and non-human life are understood as interconnected, co-dependent, and inseparable. Environmental responsibility is not an external moral duty; it is embedded in everyday life.
Western environmentalism, by contrast, often retains a separation between humans and nature—seeking to optimise, regulate, or minimise harm rather than transform the relationship itself. When this framework is universalised, it risks erasing other ways of knowing and being.
Shifting the Focus: From Consumption to Systems
One of the clearest consequences of this mismatch is where responsibility is placed.
Western environmental discourse frequently focuses on individual consumption—what people eat, buy, or discard—while paying far less attention to land use, production systems, extraction, and historical patterns of ownership and control.
This framing shifts responsibility away from industrial systems and onto individuals, often in regions that have contributed least to environmental degradation. Environmental harm becomes a matter of personal choice rather than political economy.
Moving Forward: From Preaching to Partnership
The way forward is not to abandon environmentalism, but to rethink how it operates.
This means shifting attention from individual behaviour to land use, production, and power; acknowledging the colonial histories embedded in environmental governance; seeking consent and reciprocity when learning from Indigenous knowledge; and supporting Indigenous and local leadership rather than speaking on behalf of communities.
Environmentalism does not need to be louder. It needs to be more attentive.
The future of environmental action depends on creating space for multiple worldviews—especially those that never separated humans from nature in the first place.