In this in-depth conversation with Vinta Nanda, Editor of The Daily Eye, Fr. Kureethadam Joshtrom reflects on ecology as an ethical and spiritual challenge, urging humanity to embrace ecological conversion, collective responsibility, and grassroots action. 

When Pope Francis issued Laudate Deum in October 2023, it was not merely another papal document. It was a warning — almost a final plea — to humanity to recognise the devastating consequences of our indifference towards the Earth, our “common home.” Speaking with unusual urgency, Pope Francis described the climate crisis as a moral emergency and called upon nations, corporations, communities and individuals to radically transform their relationship with the planet before it is too late.

Inspired by this appeal, a powerful anthology titled Laudate Deum: A Last Call for the Planet, published in collaboration with the Laudato Si Research Institute at Oxford University, brings together the voices of fifteen leading environmental thinkers, scientists, theologians, and activists from across the world. Contributors include renowned environmentalist Bill McKibben, climate leader Yeb Sano, documentary filmmaker Christine Arena, Amazon sustainability advocate Virgilio Viana, Yale scholars Mary Evelyn Tucker and John Grim, climate scientist Veerabhadran Ramanathan, and Bishop Allwyn D’Silva, among many others who have dedicated their lives to protecting the planet.

The book expands Pope Francis’ call for an “ecological conversion” — a transformation not only of policies and technologies but of human consciousness itself. It argues that the climate crisis is fundamentally an ethical crisis rooted in self-centredness, consumerism and the mistaken belief that nature exists merely for exploitation. Instead, it calls for the development of Integral Ecology, a worldview that recognises the profound interconnectedness of all life and demands collective responsibility for the future of our planet.

In this conversation, I speak with Fr. Josh, one of the editors of the anthology and a global voice on ecology, ethics and faith. From his childhood in Kerala and years spent living among farming communities in India, to his academic work in Rome and Oxford and his involvement in global ecological dialogues, Fr Josh reflects on the human roots of the climate crisis, the urgent need for moral transformation, and the role ordinary citizens — including storytellers and artists — must play in building a bottom-up movement for planetary survival.  

Your journey has taken you from Kerala to Andhra Pradesh, Maharashtra and across India before you became a global environmental voice. How did these early experiences shape your understanding of ecology as not just a scientific concern but a deeply human and ethical one?  

I was born in Kerala, a state that is naturally beautiful, much like Kashmir in the north from where you come. My childhood memories are filled with experiences of nature. We had a large property and animals at home—lambs and sheep—and I remember carrying the lambs in my arms and walking around the land. In those days the streams were clean, and I remember drinking directly from the water that bubbled up from the ground after the rains. Those early years created a natural closeness to nature.

When I was seventeen I left Kerala and spent nearly a decade travelling and studying across India. I lived in Tamil Nadu, Nashik, Pune, Dimapur in Nagaland, and later Andhra Pradesh. Those years gave me an extraordinary experience of India’s unity in diversity. Each region had its own landscapes, cultures, languages and ways of living with nature.  

But the turning point in my understanding of ecology came when I lived and worked in villages in Andhra Pradesh. I was then the principal of a philosophy college in Warangal. During vacations I would spend weeks living in villages, learning Telugu and sharing daily life with local families.  

The summers there could be brutal. I remember days when temperatures reached fifty degrees Celsius. Living in those conditions with farmers made me realise that environmental issues are not abstract scientific discussions. They are matters of survival.

One particular experience stayed with me deeply. I had become close to a young girl in one of the villages. Her name was Vijay Lakshmi. She was intelligent and kind, and she would help me learn Telugu from her schoolbooks. She had already lost her mother to suicide caused by depression.  

Months later I learned that her father, a farmer, had also taken his own life after falling into heavy debt because crops had failed. Drought and unpredictable rainfall had destroyed the harvest. That moment made me realise that ecological crises always have a human face.

Around the same time farmers’ suicides were increasing across parts of India, especially in the Deccan region and Maharashtra. That experience made me understand that environmental degradation is not only a scientific problem—it is an ethical and human tragedy.

Later I was asked to come to Rome to pursue a PhD and teach philosophy. I requested that my research focus on environmental philosophy and the ecological crisis. That is how my work formally entered the field of ecology.  

My doctoral research examined the philosophical roots of the ecological crisis in modernity. I studied thinkers like René Descartes and the mechanistic worldview that emerged during the scientific revolution. In that worldview nature was no longer seen as a living system or a mother, but merely as matter available for human exploitation.

Indian environmental thinker Vandana Shaiva has written beautifully about this shift—how modernity turned nature from “mother” into “matter.” That change in worldview shaped modern science, technology and economic systems.

During my doctoral studies I was fortunate to spend time at Oxford’s Environmental Change Institute. That experience deepened my engagement with ecological science and philosophy. Eventually I began teaching cosmology, philosophy of nature, and ecology in Rome, where our university was among the first to introduce a formal course on ecology.

Your book Laudate Deum: A Last Call for the Planet brings together leading environmental thinkers and activists from around the world. What compelled you to curate this anthology now, and how does it expand on Pope Francis’ urgent moral appeal for an “ecological conversion”?  

The roots of the book go back to Pope Francis’ landmark encyclical Laudato Si, published in 2015. That document was remarkable because it presented environmental degradation not only as a scientific issue but as a moral crisis affecting humanity and the Earth, which the Pope described as “our common home.”

Soon after the encyclical was released, many scholars recognised its significance. A professor from New York University described it as the most important environmental document of the twenty-first century. It brought together science, ethics and spirituality in a powerful way.  

Inspired by this, I wrote a commentary called The Ten Green Commandments of Laudato Si. By God’s grace that small book reached readers across more than thirty languages around the world.  

But in 2023 Pope Francis issued another document—Laudate Deum—focused specifically on the climate crisis. In it he warned that despite widespread discussion after Laudato Si, global responses had been inadequate. He wrote very clearly that the Earth is approaching a breaking point.

Because the document was so direct and urgent, it did not receive as much attention as it deserved. Some of us felt that its message needed to be amplified. That is why we organised an international conference titled “Laudate

Deum: A Last Call for the Planet.”

The book that followed the conference is divided into two parts.

The first examines the climate crisis from multiple perspectives—scientific, ethical, spiritual, economic and social. The second explores responses and solutions.

We deliberately invited voices from different regions and disciplines. There were leading climate scientists such as Veerabhadran Ramanathan from Berkeley, biodiversity experts from the Amazon, theologians, youth leaders from Africa, economists, grassroots activists like Bill McKibben, and representatives of different religions.

One of the most important themes that emerged was the need for ecological conversion. Technological solutions are important, but they address symptoms rather than the root cause. What we truly need is a transformation in how our civilisation understands nature and our place within it.  

You often describe the climate crisis as an ethical and spiritual challenge rather than only a technological or political one. Why must the solution begin with inner transformation?

The first reason is ethical. The climate crisis is not caused equally by all people. A small segment of humanity contributes disproportionately to environmental destruction. For example, the average person in the United States emits around sixteen tonnes of carbon dioxide annually. In India the figure is about two tonnes. In many African countries it is even lower. Yet the poorest communities are the ones suffering the most from climate change.  

Even more striking is the inequality within societies. Studies show that the richest one percent of humanity emit more greenhouse gases than the majority of the global population combined. The lifestyles of the super-rich—private jets, luxury mansions, excessive consumption—create enormous ecological impact.

Unless those lifestyles change, technological solutions alone will not solve the crisis.

There is also an intergenerational ethical dimension. When we burn fossil fuels today, part of those emissions will remain in the atmosphere for tens of thousands of years. Future generations will bear the consequences of decisions we make now.

A second reason is psychological and spiritual. Environmental thinker James Gustave Spieth once wrote that he initially believed environmental problems could be solved with science and technology. Later he realised that the real issues were human greed, apathy and indifference.

Against those problems, he said, scientists alone have no solutions.

Our economic system also plays a role. Modern economics often values nature only in terms of profit. A tree is measured by the timber it produces, not by the thousands of species it supports, the rainfall it influences, or the oxygen it helps generate.

We therefore need a new economic model—one that places economy within ecology. Some economists today call this circular or “doughnut economics,” recognising that economic activity must operate within the ecological limits of the planet. Ultimately, the crisis reflects a deeper moral question: how we define progress and happiness.

The idea of integral ecology — that all life is interconnected — runs through your work. How can ordinary citizens, especially in countries like India, participate in building real environmental change?

One challenge is that environmental discussions have been left mainly to scientists and experts. Scientific reports are important, but knowledge alone rarely changes behaviour. We saw this with tobacco companies in the 1960s, when scientific evidence linked smoking to cancer. Industries created misinformation to delay action. Something similar has happened with climate change.

Real change must involve society at every level.

There is an encouraging insight from a study conducted at Harvard known as the 3.5 percent principle. It examined hundreds of social movements throughout history and found that major societal change often occurs when about 3.5 percent of the population actively participates in a movement.  

Movements led by figures like Mahatma Gandhi or Nelson Mandela began locally and gradually spread. If even a small percentage of citizens in a city like Mumbai committed themselves to sustainable lifestyles, change would become inevitable.

Integral ecology therefore calls for bottom-up movements involving schools, universities, religious communities, civil society organisations, artists, youth groups and local governments.

Religions also have an important role. Nearly eighty percent of humanity belongs to a faith tradition. If religious communities embrace ecological responsibility, their collective influence could transform societies.

At their core, most religions teach simplicity, compassion and stewardship of the Earth. Those teachings are powerful resources for ecological renewal.  

Having worked across cultures and languages, what gives you hope that humanity can still respond to this “last call for the planet”? And what role do storytellers, filmmakers and journalists play?  

What gives me hope is that humanity has faced enormous challenges before and has sometimes found ways to respond. But hope must be realistic. We cannot rely on blind optimism. Awareness and responsible choices are essential.  

Information still has not reached everyone. Even today many people believe climate change is exaggerated or not real, partly because misinformation has circulated for decades. That is why communication is so important.

When I was working in the Vatican, I often felt that scholars and scientists had valuable knowledge but lacked the channels to reach people. Journalists, filmmakers, writers and artists are the bridge between knowledge and society.

Creative communities can translate complex scientific ideas into stories, images, films, theatre, music and journalism that resonate with ordinary people.

In Andhra Pradesh, for example, some educators transformed environmental teachings into television programmes and performances that reached thousands of viewers. This is why I believe communicators and artists have a historic mission. They help societies imagine a different future.

Ultimately the ecological crisis is about our shared home. If humanity recognises that the Earth is not a commodity but a gift entrusted to us, then perhaps we can still respond to this last call.

As this conversation ended, what lingered most was Fr Josh’s insistence that the climate crisis cannot be solved only by governments, institutions, or technological innovation. At its heart lies a crisis of values — a failure to recognise that humanity is inseparable from the Earth that sustains it.

Laudate Deum: A Last Call for the Planet therefore asks something far more demanding of us: the rejection of self-centredness and the embrace of an ecological conversion that acknowledges our interdependence with all life.

The book’s contributors remind us that meaningful change will come not only from global summits and policies, but from millions of small, courageous decisions made by individuals and communities who choose to care for the planet — before the last call becomes the final one.