And the Lord said, "I brought them into a fertile land, to enjoy its harvests and its other good things. But instead they ruined my land; they defiled the country I had given them." (Jeremiah 2:7).
In the 15th century A.D., Columbus sailed the Atlantic Ocean looking for the Promised Land. We all know this story. We learn it practically in our cribs. Instead of finding the East Indies, he landed on an island off the coast of South America. Thus began the history of the "New World". Eventually, it was discovered that there were massive continents as yet unsettled by western Europeans. The French, the Spanish, the British all sent ships full of adventurous fortune-seekers, looking to make a new life in a new world, far from the overcrowded shores of Europe. It didn't hurt that this new world also contained a vast amount of natural resources that could be transferred back to the "Old World", which was beginning to feel the strain of over population and over exploitation. Our ancestors looked around this vast open expanse of land, and noticed that it was "uninhabited". Fair game for exploitation and extraction. The fact that there were several million people already living there didn't actually go totally unnoticed. They were just seen as an inconvenience that had to be cleared away, just like the trees, to make room for civilized man. That is, they needed to be cleared away once it was discovered they didn't make very good slaves.
The history of the world is full of many such stories, told from many different angles, depending on who is doing the telling. Whether the Native Americans were brutal, uncivilized subhuman savages in need of salvation, or whether they were advanced civilizations living in structured orderly societies depends a lot on the point of view of the story teller. And that is what I would like to talk about today - point of view. And to illustrate the points I would like to make, I am going to begin by telling you a couple more stories, seemingly unrelated to this one, or to each other. Please be patient and bear with me - I do have a point, and I will eventually get to it.
Last summer, I was on vacation with my husband. We were visiting a prairie restoration just outside Wichita, Kansas. The grasses were in full bloom, the flowers were displaying many brilliant shades of yellow, red and purple. Butterflies were flitting over everything, and you could hear birds singing. Other small groups of people were strolling around this wildlife area, hand in hand, enjoying the beautiful summer day. As the poet, James Russell Lowell, once said "What is so rare as a day in June?" We stopped at a small patch of ground, perhaps an acre, which had been replanted and was being protected for the use of wildlife. The management had put up an informative sign, describing the restoration project, and including the information that on this small patch of ground there were more organisms living than there were people in the entire city of Wichita. My husband expressed total astonishment, but I assured him that the sign was not exaggerating. In fact, if you want to be totally honest, the sign was probably an understatement by at least an order of magnitude.
In the news a couple of years ago, I was reading about a woman living in a new subdivision in suburbia. She had come home one day to find a moose standing in her driveway (I am unsure about her identification of the animal as a moose - she was living in Arizona, I believe - but I am reporting the story as she told it). She was very upset by this, feeling that her territory had been invaded. She related how the week before, she had come home and found a mountain lion resting on her porch. When finding the moose, she reported, it just made her break down and cry. She felt so helpless, so violated. It was just the last straw.
So, what does all this disjointed rambling have in common? Why do I link these stories together in my mind into what I perceive as a coherent whole? Or have I just lost my sanity from too many hours spent in the Texas sun, and now just spend all my time rambling on without purpose? While I will concede that the last question could indeed contain a valid observation, I do intend to tie all this together into my story of what I regard as "the uninhabited land". It is a fairy tale we tell ourselves, a myth that we have been living with for most of the history of "civilization". We have used the myth of the "uninhabited land" to justify Manifest Destiny, and spread our own culture from sea to shining sea, moving the Native Americans to new locations every time we decided we wanted the land we had just recently given them. We have used the myth to justify the extraction of natural resources from one country or continent to be transferred to another country or continent half a world away. We have used the myth to pollute rivers and streams, to create cesspools in swamps, to drain the Everglades, to bulldoze, plow, log or otherwise insult the natural world around us. We have used the myth to turn the oceans into giant trash receptacles. And now we use the same myth to justify cluttering outer space with our cast off junk as we explore strange new worlds and leave our trash lying around in them.
It is no longer possible for the average American to accept wholeheartedly the myth of this continent as "uninhabited" by other humans at the time of European settlement. We may find ourselves dismissing the inhabitants as "primitives" or "savages", and explaining that settlement and Manifest Destiny were therefore justified by the need to spread "civilization" and "culture". But we no longer even try to pretend that the land was empty of human habitation. It is still, unfortunately, perfectly easy for most people to look at an open prairie or a flowing river and consider it uninhabited. In fact, the term usually used for such systems is "wasted". Let me translate the term "waste" for you: in this sense, it usually means that no human is using the resources. So, we tell ourselves it is all right to clear the land, to bulldoze and plow, and to build our houses there. We wouldn't want the land to go to waste. We should dam the river, and use the water for our industries and our lawns, because otherwise the water will just flow into the ocean, wasted. We wouldn't want to let the water go to waste.
There are currently 1.5 million species living on this earth that have been identified and given a name by mankind. Estimates of the actual number of species living on earth today range from a low of 5 million to a high of 80 million. Many of these species exist below the notice of mankind, either in the microscopic substrate or in the insect world. Still others are large enough they would attract our attention, but they exist mainly in wild areas such as the tropics that are so rich in diversity and so distant from the comfortable world we live in that we have not yet begun to get them all recorded. In all this incredible diversity of life, there is only one species of human currently living. And that species, by virtue of its self-proclaimed "superior" status in the world, has assumed the right to first choice of all land, all water, all food, and all habitats. We have moved into nearly every corner of the earth, and have built giant cities, sprawling suburbs, and huge centers of commerce. We have commandeered the water, damming rivers or changing their course at will, so that many no longer reach the sea. The mighty Colorado is now a whimper of its former self, and the Aral Sea barely exists. We have even devised mighty machinery that will manage the seemingly impossible feat of persuading water to run uphill! This has led to a joke that is passed on sadly from conservationist to conservationist: "Water runs uphill toward money". In all our flurry of activity, all our bustle of commerce, we never stop to think about the myriad of other species that used to call that land home. If we think of them at all, we tend to dismiss them out of hand as being of little concern. If anyone else tries to call our attention to them, we accuse them of "liking animals more than people". And through it all, we continue to assuage our conscience with the myth of the uninhabited land.
In my town, there is now a Wal-Mart and Sam's Club where less than a decade ago there was a field of native wildflowers. I used to wander in that field with joy at the vibrant colors, enjoying the life that I saw around me. I do not know how many species lived in that area. I do know that in spring, it was rich with the official state wildflower (and many other beautiful flower species). In the fall, the grasses waved in the breeze. The nearby highway was abuzz with cars, drivers that flew by in their isolated cages of steel, rubber and plastic, oblivious to any life but their own. Few noticed when this field was plowed up. Even fewer cared when it was paved. When the Wal-Mart opened, it once again became alive with activity - but in this lifeless, barren desert, only one type of life was moving. Only one type of life could use this system. Since then, all the fields that surrounded this Wal-Mart have been gobbled up by the bulldozers, paved over, and converted to the purposes of commerce. Just For Feet. Home Depot. The list goes on and on and on. Yes, diversity. But hardly the diversity that once existed in this area. All the diversity now centers on only one species. All the diversity now consists of lifeless products that are consumed by the human population, seeking to find satisfaction and happiness through the things they buy. Seeking to prove their patriotism by growing their economy. If asked, most people would not be able to tell you what lived in this spot before. In fact, if shown a photograph of the site before construction began, most people would tell you that this spot was "uninhabited". Uninhabited. Fair game for exploitation. To paraphrase Paul Simon, "A man sees what he wants to see, and disregards the rest".
Of all the self-delusions that we practice, the myth of the "uninhabited land" could be the most dangerous. As we fragment habitats with our roads, species disappear. As we poison the water with our chemicals, species sicken and die. As we merrily plow and bulldoze and log and pave our way to technological success, we quietly kill those species with which we share the world, never stopping to wonder what will be left when they are gone. We place our homes in the middle of a world formerly inhabited by other species, and then get angry when those species show up in a place they had always considered theirs. As one species out of millions, we manage to consume approximately 50% of the available energy and resources in the world. During the great extinction event that led to the demise of the dinosaurs, it is estimated that one species went extinct on average every 10,000 years. We are now in a man-made extinction event where on average one species goes extinct every day, most from habitat destruction. And we never stop to ask ourselves why. We don't stop to ask ourselves where it will end, when we will stop. We don't think about that, because these fields we are plowing are uninhabited. These forests we are leveling are uninhabited. Just as the large continent that we of European descent now call home was once "uninhabited".
I had the pleasure recently of attending a seminar on the plant life of east Texas, and its connection with the past. During the seminar, the speaker discussed many plant species that are endangered or considered in some way at risk. He reminded us of the importance of these species to the systems in which they live. Perhaps some of them serve no obvious function for mankind. Perhaps some of them appear to us a luxury that can be sacrificed in the pursuit of economic development. There are many philosophical arguments designed to demonstrate the ethical basis for ignoring those species that have no human value. I urge you to reject those arguments. I urge you to look for life in places you currently consider uninhabited (if you look with open eyes, I guarantee you'll find it). I urge you to reexamine old myths. And I urge you to give some consideration to the thought with which the seminar speaker closed his presentation. We are the last generation that has the opportunity to save our wild places. We are the last generation that has the opportunity to save these species. If you won't do it for them, then I urge you to consider this: how much longer before we accidentally cause the extinction of a species we don't even yet know that we rely upon to survive? It's time for a change in our world view.
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Global Warning Archives:
The Bush Ranch (Robin Buckallew, Apr 12, 2004)
Beef- It's What's For Dinner? (Robin Buckallew, May 11, 2004)
How Extinct Is Too Extinct? (Robin Buckallew, Jun 4, 2004)
Toxic Texas (Robin Buckallew, Jun 16, 2004)
Crying Wolf (Robin Buckallew, Jul 6, 2004)
Al Gore In My Mirror (Robin Buckallew, Jul 22, 2004)
When is Too Much Enough? (Robin Buckallew, Aug 5, 2004)
The Day it Rained Cats... (Robin Buckallew, Aug 15, 2004)
Is There Any Future For The Past? (Robin Buckallew, Aug 29, 2004)
Where is Howard Beale? (Robin Buckallew, Sep 13, 2004)
All Those "Other Living Things" (Robin Buckallew, Oct 3, 2004)
Don't Blame the Grinch (Robin Buckallew, Oct 17, 2004)
My Life as Roadkill (Robin Buckallew, Oct 31, 2004)
A World of Wounds (Robin Buckallew, Nov 8, 2004)
I Want My GNP (Robin Buckallew, Nov 15, 2004)
It's the Environment, Stupid! (Robin Buckallew, Nov 24, 2004)
Who Let the Dogs Out? (Robin Buckallew, Dec 8, 2004)
They Laughed at Galileo, They Laughed at the Wright Brothers...(They Laughed at the Marx Brothers) (Robin Buckallew, Dec 18, 2004)
I'd Like a Bowl of Brazil Nuts, Please (Robin Buckallew, Dec 31, 2004)
Look Who's Talking (Robin Buckallew, Jan 8, 2005)
Flirting With Disaster (Robin Buckallew, Jan 23, 2005)
"The American Way of Life is Not Negotiable" (Robin Buckallew, Feb 5, 2005)
Hurwitz Who? (Robin Buckallew, Feb 16, 2005)
Have You Been SLAPPed Lately? (Robin Buckallew, Mar 1, 2005)
The Uninhabited Land (Robin Buckallew, March 19, 2005)
An Odyssey of Irrelevance (Robin Buckallew, Mar 29, 2005)
The North Shall Rise Again (Robin Buckallew, Apr 11, 2005)
What Size Shoe do You Wear? (Robin Buckallew, May 7, 2005)
An Ugly Wind (Robin Buckallew, May 20, 2005)
Tink is Dead (Robin Buckallew, May 28, 2005)
American Idle (Robin Buckallew, Jun 5, 2005)
Pin the Tail on Dick Cheney (Robin Buckallew, Jun 15, 2005)
Are You Really Going to Eat That? (Robin Buckallew, Jun 26, 2005)
How Does Your Garbage Grow? (Robin Buckallew, Jul 5, 2005)
The Hummer of Countries (Robin Buckallew, Jul 17, 2005)
So You Say You Want a Revolution? We all Want to Change the World (Robin Buckallew, Jul 30, 2005)
My Little Corner of the World (Robin Buckallew, Aug 22, 2005)
Katrina and the Waves (Robin Buckallew, Sep 10, 2005)
Hey, Don't Hit That Snooze Alarm Again! (Robin Buckallew, Sep 30, 2005)
As the World Burns (Robin Buckallew, Oct 18, 2005)
Eat Where You Live (Robin Buckallew, Nov 3, 2005)
Toward a New Pro-Life Ethic (Robin Buckallew, Dec 12, 2005)
The Seven Deadly Sins (Robin Buckallew, Dec 30, 2005)
HELL, I'LL DO IT* (Robin Buckallew, Jan 9, 2006)
Hey You, Keep Yer Butt in de Car! (Robin Buckallew, Jan 15, 2006)
Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? (Robin Buckallew, Feb 7, 2006)
Go Ahead, Ignore Me (Robin Buckallew, Feb 26, 2006)
What Price Eden? (Robin Buckallew, Mar 5, 2006)
Nothing Seems Right in Cars** (Robin Buckallew, May 14, 2006)
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