I've been reading the great biologist Edward O. Wilson's new book, Half Earth, where he suggests leaving half the land surface of the Earth to nature. To me, it's an important and exciting idea, very like George Monbiot's proposal for rewilding. However, one chapter made me actually quite cross.
In chapter 9, 'A Most Dangerous Worldview,' Wilson outlines the view of those who call themselves, with no sense of irony, 'new conservationists' who promote what he terms an 'extreme Anthropocene worldview.'
The Anthropocene is the proposed name for the geological epoch in which we now live, the period during which human activity is the dominant influence on climate and the environment. Traditional conservation sees this impact as devastating. Not only are we responsible for things like global heating and ocean acidification, but also for initiating a sixth mass extinction of species that is accelerating in pace.
Apparently, the 'new conservationists' are not too bothered by this, advising those of us who are upset by, I don't know, the mass holocaust of animals and plants, to wake up and smell the coffee.
Wilson describes this view as follows:
'In this vision of life on Earth, wildernesses no longer exist; all parts of the world, even the most remote, have been adulterated to some degree. Living nature, as it evolved before the coming of man, is dead or dying. Perhaps, extreme advocates believe, this outcome was foreordained by the imperatives of history. If so, the destiny of the planet is to be completely overtaken and ruled by humanity -- pole to pole of, by and for us, the only species at the end of the day that really matters.'
(Half Earth, p. 71).
This is exactly the self-serving attitude, I'm afraid, that I sense in movements like ecomodernism, which claims that it's possible to reconcile our high-tech, urbanised, consumer culture with effective nature conservation. Although this movement has merits, it's plain when you read the movement's works, that most of its advocates are thinking about conservation in entirely anthropocentric terms.
This attitude is also often apparent in discussions about the future. In Oxford last November, I picked up a copy of a debate on ‘Do Humankind's best days lie ahead?’ between Stephen Pinker and Matt Ridley (pro) and Alain de Botton and Malcolm Gladwell (con).
Pinker and Ridley both argued that, despite doomsayers, the metrics of human material wellbeing had improved very significantly over the last few centuries, and continue to do so today. The future, therefore, should be rosy.
Alain de Botton, opposing this, focussed on human alienation in the modern world, and also the relentless, mindless positivity of our culture.
The narrow parameters of the debate, pro and con, were very revealing. The sixth extinction was barely mentioned, and climate change was discussed only in terms of it being a problem for human beings.
It is unacceptable when the mass extinction of other species gets written off as collateral damage, on the race to a capitalist techno-utopia. Ecological destruction, and the death of species should be considered, as the Pope suggested, major sins.
Rationalizing unfolding environmental catastrophes as good things strikes me as the worst kind of apologetics. And how dare we judge other species on whether or not they are any 'use' to us? How useful is a human being to a Duck-bill platypus? (Answer: not very).
I'd suggest that we have a moral imperative, not only to future generations of human beings, but to other life on this planet as well. This means that we stop congratulating ourselves on how wonderful we are and actually start thinking about how we can repair the damage for which we're largely responsible. A little more empathy and consideration for non-human lifeforms would also help.
Only then I think, can human beings count themselves as truly civilized.