![]() The title of this post appears twice in Canadian conservationist Terry Glavin‘s remarkable new book Waiting for the Macaws. It should have been the book’s title, but then a lot of people would have been put off and not be attracted to buy it, as I was initially, by the extraordinary picture of the endangered scarlet macaw on its black cover. The masthead of How to Save the World features macaws, so of course I could not resist the book. The book is ostensibly a set of seven stories of Glavin’s visits to seven far-flung areas around the globe, and their lessons about loss of biodiversity and cultural diversity. Glavin is careful not to preach, letting the stories convey the messages:
The consequence of this is a “plague of sameness” and the loss of a distinct species every ten minutes. Some types of fruits and vegetables have lost 90% of their variants. An entire language disappears every two weeks. “We are not gaining knowledge with every human generation”, Glavin says, “we are losing it”. “All these extinctions are related…and the language of environmentalism is wholly inadequate to the task of describing what is happening…It doesn’t have the words for it”. Wherever he travels, he says, he finds the overwhelming majority of people are troubled by this loss of diversity, but at a loss to know what to do about it. He unearths some interesting and astonishing facts in his research: Did you know that the Bronx zoo once proudly included aboriginal peoples in its ‘exhibits’? Or that Vladimir Putin abolished Russia’s environmental protection agency, forest service and conservation authorities? “We are living in an age when we will at last discover the answer to the question that has haunted philosophers from time out of mind. It’s the question about whether humanity is capable of determining its own destiny. We should know that by about 2030. Certainly not much later…To find some parallel with the conditions of recklessness and excess that prevail in the world…you have to look at those desperate moments in human history, those moments just before everything falls apart.” He draws parallels in particular with the situation in Ireland just before the horrific potato famine. In his prologue, he suggests that we may be headed for a titanic human struggle between two human ‘survival myths’, those of engineers and of naturalists. The engineers are those who fear and hate nature, who loathe complexity and diversity, who espouse the murderous ethic of the Puritans, who seek protection from fear and danger and death in genetic engineering, cryogenics, the homogenization and desensitization of humanity and culture, separateness from ‘nature as other’, immortality, and the extermination of all life that is not in the service of humans. The naturalists are those who suffer the grief of biophilia, who embrace complexity and celebrate diversity, whose ethic is one of sacred responsibility and respect for all life on Earth, who oppose technologies that increase ecological fragility and uniformity, and who accept that we are part of, not apart from, all life on our planet. The engineers, today, have the power and momentum, and are on the offensive; the naturalists still have the numbers but are always fighting a defensive, rear-guard battle. What makes the struggle so hard for the naturalists is that so many humans today know of no other life than an engineered, artificial one, and their proportion is growing. Now it is only ‘natural’ that they should fear a ‘natural’ way of living that they don’t know and cannot, any longer, even imagine. In the meantime, the dark and gathering sameness of the world keeps increasing, as biological and cultural diversity wither. Ultimately, Glavin says, This is a book about extinctions. It was written at the harsh dawn of an epoch that is coming to be called the Sixth Great Extinction. It is a time without parallel in the 65 million years that have passed since the end of the Cretaceous period. The world is again weary of empires. The dews still fall slowly, and the dreams still gather, but no matter the clash of fallen horsemen and the cries of unknown perishing armies in Yeatsís poem, we wonder, and we wait, and we go about our business, even as the sound of something terrible slowly approaches from acrossthe hills.
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