Search for Meaning in the Anthropocene: A Dialogue Between Psychology and Theology

Background for the article: We have composed this article as a dialogue between a psychologist and a philosopher of religion. We believe that our various disciplines may contribute to a varied and nuanced understanding of what meaning entails in the context that the Anthropocene represents. Tatjana has done much research on meaning in life, whereas Jan-Olav is concerned with the meaning of religion in a contemporary context. We continue to discover that we have a lot of interests in common—also when it comes to dealing with the present state of planet Earth and our place in it as humans.

Jan-Olav: The Anthropocene as a call to orientation and transformation

Although the notion of the Anthropocene was rejected as a description of our present age by scientists in 2024, it is still worth employing to depict some of the main features that presently characterize the planet. When Paul Crutzen launched it in 2002 (Crutzen 2002, 2006), he pointed to some of the geological-scale changes human actions have caused, such as how between a third and a half of the planet's land surface has been transformed. Moreover, most of the world's major rivers have been dammed or diverted, and fisheries remove more than a third of the primary production of the ocean's coastal waters, and humans use more than half of the world's readily accessible freshwater runoff (Crutzen 2002, 23). Thus, “humans are not passive observers of Earth's functioning: To a large extent the future of the only place where life is known to exist is being determined by the actions of humans” (Lewis and Maslin 2015, 178). Thus, the far-reaching changes that human actions cause to “the life-supporting infrastructure of Earth that may well have increasing philosophical, social, economic, and political implications over the coming decades” (ibid., 178). The Anthropocene is characterized by the fact that “the human imprint on the global environment has now become so large and active that it rivals some of the great forces of Nature in its impact on the functioning of the Earth system” (Bonneuil and Fressoz 2017, 4). It points to human power over the fate of the planet. It does not mean, however, that we can fully control or hamper the developments, control the consequences of our actions, or foresee in detail all that will happen. This experience of lack of control may, in fact, contribute to deterioration in the experience of meaning.

So, what happens with the sense of meaning in a situation like this one? Is the Anthropocene a testimony to the fact that it is humans alone that are the meaning-making species—those who create meaning on the planet by means of our activity, and also the loss of such when we face the threat of destruction and climate catastrophes? Or is the sense of meaning also something we have to detect and realize in other areas than those activities that have shaped the Anthropocene condition?

Because it may be considered raising the question about meaning in life in a way not yet seen, Anthropocene may also have religious and spiritual consequences. The lack of preparedness and immediately accessible resources for dealing with the situation characterizes many religious traditions, including the Christian. The spiritual resources accessible are, for the most part, developed insufficiently.1 Nevertheless, moral and spiritual elements must be recognized as relevant to how we interpret and relate to the situation.2

Accordingly, we argue that the search for meaning in the Anthropocene is not only a question of understanding what we have done, but also a question about how we need to find meaning that not only will orient ourselves to the realities, but also actions that can transform the future to the better. Meaning is related to cognitive, emotional, and intentional elements that motivate human action. Thus, we also must ask if there are potential elements in the Christian tradition that can mediate action and practices that allow us to face the situation. Hence, a re-appropriation that leads to the development of practice-mediating symbols needs careful consideration of potential symbols and experiences with the environment. Such development needs to consider insights and critical lessons learned about the separation of humans from nature, and the realization about how there are other agents in nature than humans, who exist in their own right and whose interests we need to acknowledge for their own sake, and not only for the sake of our own survival. The fundamental tenet here is to understand humans as part of—and therefore participating in—the web of nature—with our capacity for making history. We do not exist separate from nature, but history and nature are weaved together in the totality that theology calls creation. Creation is about connecting and being connected, it is about participating in the sources of life and, therefore, also to participate in the sources of meaning.

Tatjana: For the longest time, the cycles of day and night, the seasons of the year, and the habitat determined what humans could do and what they had to do to survive and thrive. Roles and responsibilities were inherited within communities. With industrialization, these relationships dissolved. More and more people moved to cities, breaking away from family and other traditional community structures. Electricity turned night into day, and transport and storage facilities reduced dependence on seasonal cycles of sowing and harvesting. This onset of human disconnection from natural and social contexts during industrialization also marked the beginning of the Anthropocene, as claimed by Crutzen (2006); an epoch characterized by the extreme impact of human activity on the Earth's geology, ecosystems, climate, etc.

We see here a dialectic process of alienation and human self-empowerment. People's alienation from their labor made technological progress possible. Social alienation enabled individual autonomy and freedom; alienation from nature fueled its exploitation, as seen in the depletion of fossil fuels, factory farming, and the mass production of food at low prices.

The lament reflects the experience of humans in modernity: the frame of reference has been lost. There is no longer a universal understanding of up and down. To many, the meaning of life—if it exists—is no longer accessible.

All meaning lost? From meaning of life to meaning in life

This development did and does not necessarily lead to despair. Alongside the industrial revolution, we also witnessed a revolution in human self-understanding. The Enlightenment encouraged individuals to make use of their reason: Sapere aude (Kant 1784, 481–494). The idea of God became a postulate to be put into practice, as Kant (1788) suggested. What do we believe to be true, good, and meaningful? It shows in its implementation, in what we do, and how we live. Thus, the meaning of life manifests in meaning in life—meaning incarnate, if you will.

Empirical research links the presence of meaning in life, also known as meaningfulness, with four specific elements of meaning: orientation, coherence, significance, and belonging (Schnell 2021). These existential experiences anchor us in life, provide existential grounding, and help us face life's challenges. Orientation stands for the direction I pursue in life. Like a compass, it is valuable for making decisions, committing myself, or setting boundaries. Coherence is present when my life makes sense to me: when I experience myself as having integrity with regard to my values and actions, my inner and outer self; when I can be myself and don't have to pretend or bend. Significance is the experience that I matter. I am not irrelevant; I count: I am recognized by others, I can make a difference, I find resonance. Belonging, in an existential sense, means having a place in this world, being part of something bigger than just myself (Schnell and Danbolt 2023).

The four elements of meaning—orientation, coherence, significance, and belonging—can draw on very different sources of meaning. Sources of meaning are orientations that motivate me to act, my purpose. They represent what I experience as ultimately true and good, what I am committed to, and into what I invest time and energy (Leontiev 2007; Schnell 2021). This covers religiosity and spirituality, but also many other orientations that focus on conservation or development, on myself, on close relationships or on a wider context, such as social commitment, nature relatedness, or generativity.

The fact that there are so many routes to meaning and that people in the contemporary West are free to choose their very own meaning in life contributes to autonomy and self-determination. At the same time, it poses a great challenge: How am I supposed to find out what is meaningful?

As meaning presumably is something positive, we expect it to feel good. Yet, the pursuit of happiness is neither promising when it comes to achieving happiness, nor does it lead to meaning (Mauss et al. 2011; Schnell 2021). In contrast to happiness, meaning is not an emotion. Experiences of meaning are grounded in sensations and emotions, actions, and encounters—but they are fundamentally based on an evaluation: from a meta-perspective, given where I came from and where I want to go, where we came from, and where we want to go: What is important, significant, what really matters? Meaning in life requires reflection: who am I and who do I want to be—as an individual and as part of a community? What do I understand by a good, meaningful life—for myself and others? What can I contribute to making this a reality?

These reflections demand self-honesty. They call for a critical view of ourselves and the world around us. However, this is something we humans like to avoid. To a certain extent, it is easier to go through the world with illusions. Psychology therefore refers to them as “positive illusions” (Taylor and Brown 1988), the assumption that I am perfect just the way I am—and actually even better than others (“above-average illusion”); that the world is fair (“just-world belief”); that we have everything under control (“illusion of control”); that everything will be fine, and change is not necessary (“unrealistic optimism”).

Such assumptions strengthen our self-esteem; they allow us to take an optimistic view of the world and keep worry and fear at bay, at least in the medium term. In the long term, positive illusions prevent us from taking a realistic view of ourselves and the world. They thus keep us from acting appropriately. This is particularly harmful in situations of crisis where decisive action is required, such as with regard to climate change.

Moreover, positive illusions are “positive” only for those who can afford such biases—an affordance that is unevenly distributed. While people in the Global North often feel entitled to a sense of superiority and control, justifying even exuberant consumer behavior as deserved, the Global South endures the repercussions. The consequences are profound: communities face environmental pollution, economic exploitation, social disparities, and the impacts of climate change (see e.g., WHO 2021; WWF 2023).

Nevertheless, the narrative of “the world is ours, and we deserve it” is deeply woven into the Western self-image, making any challenge to these positive illusions feel like an unwelcome intrusion. A meaning orientation asks for a perspective beyond self-centered positive well-being. And yet we have fought for just this well-being, in a conquest over the environment, in the pursuit of material prosperity and the anthropocentric self-confidence that went with it. What is the way forward, from your perspective as a philosopher of religion, Jan-Olav?

Jan-Olav: I remain convinced that where we find meaning, is in relationships and experiencing connections with something more than ourselves. From a theological point of view, that is not only a connection with God, but also with the rest of creation. Your quote from Nietzsche makes this apparent: His experiences is one of profound disconnection and the concomitant lack of orientation, with the consequence that this also makes life less meaningful—and hence, we are thrown back on “creating meaning” in life instead of finding meaning in relationships and connections.

This view makes apparent one point that I think has both theological and philosophical significance: your research focuses on meaning in life, instead of the meaning of life. I think this focuses on the concrete life lived, with all its connections and relationships (or the absence of these), instead of a more generic and abstract approach. The generic approach may therefore be considered hard, if not impossible, to answer, whereas the question about the meaning of my personal life in the here and now—and its eventual absence—is something that is existentially relevant at another level and can be discussed in detail and with reference to individual circumstances. Thus, to look for meaning in life may be a more commendable approach when we speak about a meaningful life in the Anthropocene.

Moreover, when you point to how meaning is related to orientation, that resonates well with how I think about religion in general: religion is primarily about orientation and transformation, and not about believing in some doctrine. Doctrine is thus secondary to experiences that provide chances for orientation and transformation. Let me illustrate these initial points by elaborating further on what they may entail, in light of what Nietzsche and contemporary sociologist Hartmut Rosa writes.

Nietzsche articulates what is lost in terms of points of reference and orientation once humans stop believing in and relating to God as an instance of attachment. Positively, he interprets this as pointing to the limitless possibilities of humans no longer under control and restricted by any divine order—a position that reflects the Anthropocene. However, it also entails that the fundamental conditions for human orientation have disappeared. There is no longer any external instance that serves as comforting, providing warmth, comfort, and consolation. The death of God, the dissolution of attachment to God, leaves the human with no sense of direction—and no means of orientation.3 Furthermore, and interesting if we see this as a tacit gesturing toward the present state, the event Nietzsche described as the death of God has not only positive implications for everyone but entails negative and frightful elements (cf. for more on this parable, see Henriksen 2022, 65ff.).

Nietzsche thus provides profound insight into what is lost in terms of orientation when God is no longer part of what makes it possible for humans to relate and connect to others, and we could add: to nature. Loss of meaning and disconnectedness belongs together. This can also be described in other terms: Alienation, or, theologically, as sin, here meaning that the human being is only referred to or occupied with herself. How to overcome such alienation?

What causes alienation, and how can we overcome it? To answer this point, we can look to sociologist Hartmut Rosa. Rosa sees the controlling approach to reality as an important element that causes alienation, and therefore loss of meaning. Against the backdrop of the Anthropocene, that is highly illuminating. For him, the chances for experiencing the world meaningfully is conditioned by what he calls experiences of resonance. The opportunities for such experiences are found in how we can relate to nature, art, and religion. Resonance entails a more intensified relationship with the world than what is found when we only relate to it in terms of control and domination. His main thesis is that “life is a matter of the quality of one's relationship to the world, i.e. the ways in which one experiences and positions oneself with respect to the world, the quality of one's appropriation of the world” (Rosa 2019, 5).

The claim in this quote suggests that how humans experience the world is conditioned by relationships that go both ways: our experiences in general may be both the cause for and the result of what we appropriate as adequate ways of understanding the world. However, the most important point here is that Rosa identifies the fundamental relationship we have with the world—and thereby also our experiences of it, in what I suggest calling pre-subjective conditions: That is, conditions that are prior to how we come to experience ourselves as subjects with a substantive sense of self in the world. I would argue that to experience oneself as a subject in this latter sense is the result of emotionally charged relationships that color and shape both self and world perception.

The social conditioning of experiencing being in resonance with the world should not get lost for us: love, respect, and esteem are elements that emerge out of positive relationships with other human beings. Hence, emotional relationships with others foster our ability to be in resonance with the world, and thereby, to experience it is a way where we feel deeply connected with it, and with its significance. Rosa can also speak of being “geared more toward creative receptivity, successful interactions, adapting the world to himself rather than mastering it” (ibid., 13). We can now qualify this notion further by speaking about a positive experience of participation that is grounded in pre-subjective elements and relationships, which in turn also lead to a specific understanding of the world's character. It is on this basis that a theological interpretation of the world can be articulated and provide means for both orientation and transformation.

Experiences shaped by and manifesting resonance are not based only on horizontal and diagonal relationships. As indicated, Rosa also acknowledges responsive relationships “to the world, existence, or life as a whole that can be said to constitute the vertical dimension of resonance” (Rosa 2019, 40). Of course, these relationships are of considerable significance for religious experience, in terms of providing contexts of origin, identification, and justification/validation. In these, the subject's counterpart is “perceived and experienced as a totality that exceeds the individual. In experiences of vertical resonance, the world itself in a way obtains its own voice” (ibid.).

The metaphor Rosa uses here is important, because it allows him to say what happens in a world that has lost “metaphysical axes of resonance in the sense of a cosmological or theological resonant order” (ibid.). This loss has appeared after “the emergence of instrumental, rationalistic, and disengaged relationships to the world,” which in turn means that “our cultural relationship to the world threatens to fall mute” (ibid.). However, it does not entail that modernity is devoid of spheres of resonance in which subjects can assure themselves of a responsive relationship with the world. Such spheres continue to exist, and among them are also modern forms of religiosity and spirituality.

The analysis above connects to a lot of what you are doing in your research, Tatjana, but it also carves out a more detailed space for religion in the constitution of meaning in life. I wonder what you think about the above.

Tatjana: I fully agree with your emphasis on the necessity of connectedness and orientation for finding meaning. However, I believe they need further qualification and reflection for living meaningfully and sustainably. Religion can have an important role here.

Let us first take another look at the proposed primacy of resonance, of connection, and participation. Although it is theoretically possible to distinguish between a participative and an antagonistic approach to the world, reality is more complex. People feel particularly connected—and oriented—in in-groups that set themselves apart from others, advocate a clear worldview while negating the validity of other worldviews, and question the equality of all people by implicitly or explicitly asserting their own superiority.

The “positive illusions” described above are reflected here in social processes. The louder and more convinced the primacy of one's own group, one's own nation, is proclaimed, the better it feels for many citizens. The claim of being in control is a populist standard and feeds the need for security. This is particularly relevant in polycritical times like the present. Perceived insecurity makes humans intuitively conservative, and blocks openness for novelty, diversity, and change (cf. Jost et al. 2007, Van Leeuwen and Park 2009).

It is not necessarily love and respect for each other that emerge out of such emotionally charged connectedness; in many cases, it is hate and disrespect. And indeed, collective hatred creates meaning. It motivates and activates, fosters enthusiasm and zeal, prevents doubt and insecurity—and increases a sense of meaning in life (Elnakouri, Hubley, and McGregor 2022) Military personnel report similar experiences during their deployment. Although war is disturbing, morally injuring, and traumatizing (Fischer et al. 2020), it can also be perceived as highly meaningful, as orienting and oriented, significant, coherent, and belonging (cf. MacLeish 2013; Orazem et al. 2017).

Resonance and meaning can be found in shared hatred, in aggression and war. Instead of relying on their emotional force, we need to focus on the context of their emergence, an awareness of the “why” and “for what purpose?”, on the consequences of our action and the responsibility we assume when we act upon the freedom we have. These are existential reflections we are not used to, that need to be practiced.

Religion can provide valuable guidance here: a religion as you describe it, Jan-Olav, which does not emphasize doctrine but orientation and transformation—or rather “experiences that provide chances for orientation and transformation.”

As your quote from William James so well describes, these are not everyday experiences. They are not intuitive, emotional reactions, but experiences that arise when we “go behind the foreground of existence and reach down to that curious sense of the whole residual cosmos as an everlasting presence” (James 1985, 35).

Religion can be a guide in the exploration of meaning, a companion on the journey into the depth of our lives (cf. Schnell 2015). This journey is not self-evident, static, or the same for everyone. It cannot be answered once and for all. Those who take it encounter themselves and the world anew, beyond illusions. They encounter not only beauty and wonder, but also fragility and brokenness, absurdity, and suffering (Schnell 2022).

A religion that is existentially aware can offer a lot here: safe spaces, welcoming ritual companionship, trustworthy people with time, compassion, and competence in existential conversation—people who have themselves confronted the depth of their lives, the sources of their meaning and being. In this way, beyond ideology and dogma, they can embark on a shared journey, to explore what is of ultimate concern, and to translate this into everyday life: into meaningful decisions and actions, attitudes, and hopes that lie beyond anthropocentric hubris and the illusion of control.

Jan-Olav: I think you point to some very important elements in your response, Tatjana. Especially two things are called for in our assessment of religion these days, and they may be even more obvious after the outcome of the recent election in the United States. First of all, the ambiguous character of religion must be acknowledged. Religion is not necessarily promoting a cluster of positive practices but may also contribute to a polarization that undermines social cohesion as well as personal development. Perhaps one of the points I therefore want to underscore is that religion must have a transformative element that allows peoples and communities to grow both spiritually and psychologically, and this is hard to see in versions of religiosity that engenders hatred and division. That might entail what you suggest: the willingness to let go of destructive images of God that we have learned are contrary to human flourishing.

This leads me to the second point: We need to see religions—including the Christian religion—as something that should be assessed according to its fruits. Then we cannot understand it merely as a way to safeguard doctrine. I see doctrine as a way to legitimize, justify, and explain Christianity as practices—and sometimes as a basis for criticizing practices, too (cf. Henriksen 2019). This means that also doctrines must be seen in light of how they contribute to orientations and transformations that allows communities to be shaped in ways that can foster a good society for all, and which also acknowledge our dependency on the life of the rest of the planet. I think this is the most pressing challenge to Christian spirituality in the present. It is probably only by observing these points that a Christian search for meaning can continue to be a viable option in the Anthropocene.

Tatjana: And, I'd like to add, by fostering a search for meaning that can be shared, independently of worldview.

Yet in addition to the willingness of religions to translate their doctrine and question their real-life consequences, they also need conversation partners who are willing to engage in such a dialogue. Habermas describes this as an ongoing learning process for all sides. Hans-Georg Gadamer succinctly adds what is probably one of the greatest challenges in this process: “A conversation presupposes that the other person might be right” (Gadamer 2000).

I experienced our dialogue, Jan-Olav, as such an attempt to translate our own perspectives while seriously considering each other's positions. We have committed to exploring the effects of the Anthropocene, which not only exposes the environmental crises we face but also underscores the existential and moral dilemmas that accompany our current trajectory, in terms of experiences of meaning and meaningful action.

In a dialectical process of self-empowerment and alienation, people in our part of the world have severed many meaningful connections. We both agree that a meaningful life emerges from a caring engagement with the world, experienced as orientation, significance, coherence, and belonging. At the same time, we must acknowledge that these same experiences can also arise from discrimination, intolerance, or hostility toward those perceived as “the others.” To prevent environments of hatred and division, we need reflective clarity about our own orientations—combined with a preparedness to take others’ orientations seriously.

In this endeavor, a theological perspective can play a transformative role if it emphasizes relationality, interconnectedness, and responsibility and moves beyond the prevailing logic of exploitation and control. Instead of rigidly preserving doctrine, it can offer its competence as a companion for existence.