How can legal systems evolve to recognize nature as a subject of rights? This article explores the paradigm shift reshaping environmental law and justice.
At the heart of any legal system lies a fundamental premise: the ability to define who or what can be considered a “subject of rights.” Historically, this category has been reserved for individuals, corporations—sometimes enjoying rights that rival those of human beings—and, in certain cases, animals as objects of indirect protection. However, the growing severity of the environmental crisis challenges this anthropocentric view of the law, demanding a profound reassessment of the principles underpinning justice.
From the publication of Christopher Stone’s influential essay “Should Trees Have Standing?” (1972) to the constitutional recognition of the rights of nature in Ecuador (2008), we have witnessed a paradigm shift in environmental law. What began as a philosophical proposition has evolved into a normative framework with tangible legal and practical implications. Landmark cases, such as the Ecuadorian Constitutional Court’s decision to protect the Los Cedros forest from mining (2021) or the legal recognition of the Whanganui River in New Zealand (2017), exemplify bold attempts to rebalance the relationship between humanity and the natural environment.
Nevertheless, this emerging paradigm raises fundamental questions for legal practitioners: Can nature, traditionally treated as property or a resource, be legitimized as a subject of rights? Are we witnessing a necessary advancement to ensure the planet’s sustainability, or a legal fiction that threatens to fracture the foundations of modern legal systems? Ultimately, the central question is not whether the rights of nature are just, but whether the law—as we know it—is equipped to defend them.
Answering this question requires exploring how the rights of nature challenge the established principles of contemporary legal systems. The juridical recognition of these rights confronts concepts that have long been pillars of Western law. For centuries, the law has constructed a framework organizing the human-environment relationship from a utilitarian perspective: nature as a resource, not a subject. Recognizing nature as a rights holder demands abandoning this conception and embracing a paradigm where nonhuman entities possess intrinsic value, independent of their benefits to humanity.
However, this shift is not without complexities. The underlying question is whether the law can transcend its anthropocentric structure without collapsing. By attributing rights to ecosystems, we grant legal personhood to entities that lack their own voice. This necessitates creating mechanisms of representation, such as the guardians of the Whanganui River or Indigenous communities defending their territories in Ecuador. Yet this design poses new dilemmas: Who defines nature’s interests, and based on what criteria? How can we ensure that guardians genuinely represent the ecosystem’s needs rather than their own interests? Moreover, how do we quantify harm to nature, including irreversible losses that are not merely economic but also cultural, ecological, and spiritual? Finally, these rights spark a profound debate: How can the rights of nature be reconciled with human and economic rights, especially when conflicts arise? These tensions expose the limits of a legal system designed exclusively to resolve disputes among humans.
In this context, the evolution of the law becomes crucial. Far from being an inflexible system, legal history demonstrates its capacity to adapt by integrating previously unthinkable categories. Corporations, for example, were recognized as legal persons not due to any intrinsic capacity, but for practical and economic utility. Similarly, the recognition of ethnic minorities, initially perceived as a disruption to the status quo, became a cornerstone of civilizational progress. Thus, the inclusion of the rights of nature should not be seen as a disruptive anomaly, but as a natural step in a broader historical process. It follows the logic that has guided legal development: the progressive expansion of the circle of justice.
This concept encapsulates one of the greatest challenges: redefining justice within a framework that does not limit its scope to human relationships. For centuries, the law has focused on balancing interests between individuals and collectives, premised on the idea that its sphere of action was confined to human society. However, the impact of our actions on natural systems demands broadening this perspective to include nature as an indispensable actor in the legal horizon. This transformation is not merely a normative change; it is also an evolution in how we conceive the purpose of law and its capacity to sustain coexistence in an interconnected world.
This expansion of the law is not driven by idealism, but by an urgent necessity. Faced with worsening climate and ecological crises, the law cannot be limited to regulating human relationships without considering their impact on life-sustaining systems. The imbalance between our capacity to alter the environment and the lack of effective limits on such transformations poses a risk of self-destruction. In this context, the rights of nature seek not only to grant legal recognition to ecosystems but also to establish a framework that prevents the irreversible effects of an unsustainable development model. In this way, the law, in its evolution, consolidates itself as a key tool for ensuring that present and future generations can coexist in a viable environment.
Essentially, the rights of nature are intrinsically tied to the human right to life. Protecting ecosystems goes beyond conservation; it is an indispensable condition for collective survival. Nature, as the foundation of life-sustaining cycles, must be treated as a legitimate actor within the law, as its preservation is inseparable from human well-being. This interdependence reveals that justice cannot be confined to the social sphere but must extend to the protection of systems that sustain life. This recognition is not, therefore, an altruistic gesture, but an act of profound understanding: we are part of a greater whole, and humanity’s continuity depends on the integrity of the environment we inhabit.
If the law is defined by its ability to adapt to the demands of its time, then the rights of nature are not a limitation but their highest expression. Recognizing nature as a subject of rights affirms that justice cannot remain trapped within human boundaries when the threats we face are global and shared. Moreover, it is a reminder that the purpose of law is not to perpetuate immutable structures, but to ensure life’s continuity under principles of equity and balance. In a world where ignoring planetary limits means accepting our own destruction, the true legal revolution lies not only in protecting nature but in understanding that, in doing so, we are safeguarding the very essence of humanity.
