Years ago, when programs about ecology invaded public television, I knew something was wrong. No matter which species was highlighted, the moral was always the same. We were told that if we modified any element in the environment, a cascade effect would destroy the delicate balance upon which we depended.
Thus, were we to upset the forests in which the Lynx thrived, we would shortly discover that we humans were also endangered. Our only hope was to make sure we did nothing to modify the natural order. As part of this biological tapestry, we were equally vulnerable.
What bothered me was the drumbeat of advice, which suggested that once an ecological equilibrium was lost, the path to doom was inevitable. It seemed to me that if an equilibrium were disrupted, a new one would emerge. Without wolves to cull the deer, soon a lack of appropriate vegetation would thin the deer numbers.
Nonetheless, I was told that science was against me. The ecology was fragile. Plants and animals that had evolved in tandem were interdependent. Pull one piece from the wall in which they were embedded and the whole edifice would come tumbling down.
To me, this had the whiff a religious doctrine. While it was true that evolution was complex, it also moved. Freezing it at a point in time struck me as a secular commandment. This was not about understanding nature, but prescribing how to deal with it.
A recent book confirmed my suspicions. Charles Mann’s the Wizard and the Prophet (2018) traces the environmental movement back to its roots. It also compares it with the simultaneous growth of bioengineering. As a reporter, Mann is meticulous about the details and provides a sweeping overview.
The wizard of his title is Norman Borluag. He was the Nobel Prize winning originator of the Green Revolution. His work in developing more productive forms of wheat and rice probably saved billions—that’s right billions—from starvation.
Meanwhile the Prophet was William Vogt. His book The Road to Survivalwas an early ecological manifesto. Enormously influential, it predicted that we were on the road to ruin if we did not adapt to environmental verities. Since we did not shape nature, it would have its revenge if we were arrogant.
While it must be said that we must be careful about how we pollute our planet, a return of pre-industrial poverty is not necessary. Vogt, for instance, hated Borlaug’s innovations. He feared that more food would increase population pressures and therefore many people should be allowed to starve.
Vogt, of course, did not put it this way. His emphasis was on the glories of unsullied nature. According to him, we must not destroy the birds and the forests. We ought never assume God-like attributes. Rather, we needed to fit in, rather than dominate.
To my ears this sounded romantic—and it was. Vogt was not a scientist. He was an activist. Although toward the end of his career he used the title Dr., this was from an honorary degree. His scientific training was almost non-existent. Like so many leaders of the environmental movement, he was an enthusiastic dilettante.
My point is that environmentalism is not science. It may dress itself up as science. It may recruit scientists, as it does with the climate change movement. It may even scorn its opponents by accusing them of not being scientific. Nonetheless, it is more about poetry than hard facts.
Now don’t get me wrong. Scientists also go overboard. They too can be arrogant. For the moment, however, agrarian experts like Borlaug have thankfully kept famine at bay. Even so, there may come a time when food production cannot keep up with population growth.
But do we really want to stop improving our agricultural technology? Do the environmental romantics who hope to limit our numbers to a billion intend to choose which of us are expendable? I am confident they will not select themselves.
Hence, if I have to choose between birds and people, I choose people. Likewise, if I must decide between more automobiles and forcing poor people into riding buses, I come down on the side of automobiles. Yes, we must work to limit environmental contamination. But this must not be at the expense of technological innovations or economic prosperity.
Melvyn L. Fein, Ph.D.
Professor of Sociology
Kennesaw State University
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