How secular France is giving faith a voice in the planet's [CENSORED]ure

[DaNGeROuS KiLLeR]

 

 

 

THE political masters of the world are gathering in a Paris traumatised by terror to consider another sort of emergency, climate change; and they are not, of course, starting from scratch. As always happens with summits, there have been months of deliberation by technocrats who have mapped out possible breakthroughs. The unusual thing about this gathering is that mankind's religious guardians have also been preparing for it; their voices have been rising in a crescendo of moral concern.

And surprisingly enough, this spiritual activism has been fostered by François Hollande, the socialist president of a secular republic who has firmly renounced the Catholic faith in which he was raised. "I respect all [religious] confessions. Mine consists of not having any," he once said.  

At least one champion of faith, Pope Francis, needs no blessing from any worldly leader, although he is happy whenever he gets one. The pontiff is currently on a tour of Africa, where people have been impressed by the modesty of his transport (pictured) and his habit of carrying his own bag. In Nairobi, he said it would be "catastrophic" if the summit in France were to fail because of "particular interests" eclipsing the common good. Picking up themes from his green encyclical, issued in June, Francis used his Kenya speech to link climate change with other global woes such as forced migration, human trafficking and bonded labour. He called for a "new energy system" which minimised fossil fuels. Today he is visiting the Central African Republic, one of the most volatile parts of a region where ecological blight has exacerbated ethnic and religious conflict.

Despite some scratchy moments between France and the Holy See (which baulked at accepting an openly gay diplomat as French envoy to the Vatican), the green pronouncements of the pope and other spiritual luminaries have been warmly encouraged by Mr Hollande, say faith-and-religion campaigners. This owes something to Nicolas Hulot, an environmentalist and film-maker who advises the president on climate change. Mr Hulot has a cinematographer's sense that to interest the public in global warming, something more than dry statistics is needed; people need to be touched and inspired, and religion can do that.

When the French president toured typhoon-stricken areas of the Philippines in February, he brought along Patriarch Bartholomew, the "first among equals" in the Orthodox Christian world and a veteran campaigner for the planet. Then in July, Mr Hollande hosted an eye-catching "summit of conscience" that involved faith leaders of many stripes; they ranged from the Orthodox Patriarch to Sufi Muslim sages; from Cardinal Peter Turkson of Ghana (speaking for the pope) to indigenous people from fragile parts of Latin America. The co-organisers included R20, an environmental and green-energy movement started by Arnold Schwarzenegger, the former governor of California, and Alliance of Religions and Conservation, a British-based NGO launched by Prince Philip.

That meeting produced one impressive result: a compendium of snappy videos in which men and women of different faiths and cultures answer the question "why do I care?". In other words, they were challenged to say, to camera and very briefly, what they felt about the planet's [CENSORED]ure and how that related to their beliefs. As a piece of communication, it works vastly better than long sermons or theological treatises.

Recently there was an unexpected followup; President Hollande decided to address the same challenge to fellow leaders at the climate-change summit; they too have been invited to make short sharp statements about the planet, addressing the issue as "a matter of conscience" rather than technical detail. Mr Hollande found time to do this on November 18th, just a few days after the terrorist attacks which plunged Paris into crisis.

In most cases, the political leaders' answers won't be explicitly religious, but the fact that they are being prodded to speak in lofty moral terms is an indirect outcome, at least, of all those eco-religious discussions. Egged on by an unusual array of actors, from the House of Windsor to an actor also known as The Terminator, the most secular of French presidents has grasped the point that man (or at least ecological man) does not live by bread alone. Although both he and his papal namesake would probably agree that bread is pretty important too.