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Paula Ruiz del Coro
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Paula Ruiz del Coro2026-05-05 06:48:522026-05-04 19:36:33Green Literature: Confessions of a Recovering EnvironmentalistI want to be completely honest, I was not sure whether to recommend the last book I read in this section. While I was reading it, there were certain moments when I wasn’t quite sure whether it was an environmentalist essay or rather an anti-environmentalist one. The title itself already hints the author’s feelings about the topic: Confessions of a recovering environmentalist. And the author is none other than Paul Kingsnorth, former editor-in-chief of The Ecologist, the leading environmental newspaper in the United Kingdom until it stopped being published in 2009. He’s not someone we would typically label as “anti-environmentalist.” And yet, in this book, Kingsnorth moves along a very blurry line. He does not deny the ecological crisis – quite the opposite – but he speaks about it and about the ways we try to combat it with a sense of unease that can feel deeply discouraging.
The book could be described as an autobiographical essay tracing Paul Kingsnorth’s journey, in which he recalls his years as an activist involved in numerous campaigns, mobilizations, and environmental actions, as well as his time as a writer committed to the cause. In short, a person driven to act by the urgency of the situation. He also reflects on how, little by little, all of that has faded away. The feeling you get while reading many parts of the book is discouragement, seeing that despite all the efforts made, the world does not change its course. The solutions proposed are mere band aids, and even environmentalists themselves give ground, making concessions in order to reach agreements. The author does not “give up” because he stops believing in the ecological crisis or its urgency, but because he stops believing in the environmentalist activism. He questions institutionalized activism, what he sees as an excessive faith in technology, and the ideas of sustainable progress or green capitalism.
“Environmentalism has ended up in a position where no one can do anything but argue about which machines are best suited to keep feeding the relentless growth of our industrial society”
The fact that he lost faith in this “more visible” activism does not mean that Kingsnorth abandoned his values; he continues to live by them in a way he considers more coherent. Not by trying to do everything perfectly and show it – or make it go viral – but rather through a day-to-day, ordinary, and routinary perspective. His activism is more focused on inhabiting the world sustainably rather than on changing it. In the book, he explains how he moved to the countryside. He grows his own food to reduce his dependence on intensive industrial systems. He has adopted practices that many would find uncomfortable or too radical: he installed a composting toilet at home to reduce water consumption. These are not performative gestures – he doesn’t publicize them on social media or build campaigns around them. For him, they are simply the logical consequence of his way of thinking, of his ecological values. This is one of the key themes running through the book: the difference between acting to save the world and simply living according to what one believes is right.

In his own words, Kingsnorth’s proposal is not to abandon environmental concern, but rather for each person to try to create a more sustainable space. To move away from immediate solutions that don’t really fix much.
“I am not talking about defeat or surrender. I am talking about retreating to a place where you can breathe, so you can feel free and human again. From there, all paths are open if you pay attention.”
Confessions of a recovering environmentalist is a different kind of book. Compared to the other environmental essays, it does not fit neatly into the usual categories. It’s not a historical analysis of how we got here, not a solutions-focused book, and not a guide with environmental proposals.
This book exists in a strange limbo that, nonetheless, deserves consideration. When readers finish it, they are not left with clear conclusions, but they are left with many questions in mind.
At the end of the book, Kingsnorth gives concrete form and language to what he sees as the foundation of his values, something he calls “uncivilization”, a way of organizing his ideas about nature, progress, and his vision of the future.
Uncivilization has eight principles:
- We are living in a time of ecological collapse;
- The collapse is caused by human civilization;
- Civilization has been built by separating humans from nature;
- Progress is not an inevitable future, but a cultural narrative that can (and should) be questioned;
- Technology will not solve this crisis: the problem is not technical, but cultural;
- Activism and politics are limited because they are part of the framework they critique;
- New narratives about progress must be built; it cannot mean what it has meant until now;
- We must live with the uncertainty of not knowing what will happen.
The book concludes by laying out these principles and leaving many doubts in our minds. It may not be a book for everyone – or at least not for any moment – but it is one that invites the reader to pause and question how we approach the ecological crisis, and even from what perspective we do so. And as uncomfortable as it may be – perhaps precisely because of that – I consider it a very interesting read.
References:
Kingsnorth P. (2019 September) Confesiones de un ecologista en rehabilitación. Errata Naturae.
Cover image: Flower. Photo by Guillaume de Germain on Unsplash


















