Hope on Earch – A Conversation - Hardcover

Ehrlich, Paul R; Tobias, Michael Charles

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 022611368X ISBN 13: 9780226113685

Publisher: University of Chicago Press, 2014

Synopsis

Hope on Earth is the thought-provoking result of a lively and wide-ranging conversation between two of the world's leading interdisciplinary environmental scientists: Paul R. Ehrlich, whose book The Population Bomb shook the world in 1968 (and continues to shake it), and Michael Charles Tobias, whose over 40 books and 150 films have been read and/or viewed throughout the world. Hope on Earth offers a rare opportunity to listen in as these deeply knowledgeable and highly creative thinkers offer their takes on the most pressing environmental concerns of the moment.

Both Ehrlich and Tobias argue that we are on the verge of environmental catastrophe, as the human population continues to grow without restraint and without significant attempts to deal with overconsumption and the vast depletion of resources and climate problems it creates. Though their views are sympathetic, they differ in their approach and in some key moral stances, giving rise to a heated and engaging dialogue that opens up dozens of new avenues of exploration. They both believe that the impact of a human society on its environment is the direct result of its population size, and through their dialogue they break down the complex social problems that are wrapped up in this idea and attempts to overcome it, hitting firmly upon many controversial topics such as circumcision, religion, reproduction, abortion, animal rights, diet, and gun control. For Ehrlich and Tobias, ethics involve not only how we treat other people directly, but how we treat them and other organisms indirectly through our effects on the environment. University of California, Berkeley professor John Harte joins the duo for part of the conversation, and his substantial expertise on energy and climate change adds a crucial perspective to the discussion of the impact of population on global warming.

This engaging and timely book invites readers into an intimate conversation with some of the most eminent voices in science as they offer a powerful and approachable argument that the ethical and scientific issues involved in solving our environmental crisis are deeply intertwined, while offering us an optimistic way forward. Hope on Earth is indeed a conversation we should all be having.

About this title

About the Authors

Paul R. Ehrlich lives in California, where he is the Bing Professor of Population Studies and the president of the Center for Conservation Biology at Stanford University. He is the author or coauthor of many books, including, The Population Bomb, The Dominant Animal: Human Evolution and the Environment, and Humanity on a Tightrope: Thoughts on Empathy, Family, and Big Changes for a Viable Future.

Michael Charles Tobias is an ecologist, author, filmmaker, and president of the Dancing Star Foundation, a nonprofit organization based in California and focused on international biodiversity conservation, global environmental education, and animal protection. His works include World War III: Population and the Biosphere at the End of the Millennium, Sanctuary: Global Oases of Innocence, and the recent feature film trilogy No Vacancy, Mad Cowboy, and Hotspots.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

HOPE ON EARTH

A CONVERSATION

By PAUL R. EHRLICH, MICHAEL CHARLES TOBIAS

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS

Copyright © 2014 The University of Chicago
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-226-11368-5

Contents

PRELUDE, vii, 
1 Ethical Ambiguities, 1, 
2 Pragmatic Idealism, 58, 
3 The Choices We Make: Moving Forward in Spite of Contradictions, 94, 
4 Getting One's Priorities Right: You Owe It to Yourself, 123, 
5 The Biological Future: Climate Change in the Rockies, 154, 
6 The Euphydryas Question, 164, 
7 The Lesson of Acorns: Change Is Ubiquitous, 171, 
AFTERWORD, 175, 
APPENDIX: ESSENTIAL POINTS FOR POLICY MAKERS, 181, 
SUGGESTED RESOURCES, 185, 

CHAPTER 1

ETHICAL AMBIGUITIES

HUMAN HEGEMONY: THE ONE VERSUS THE MANY

MICHAEL TOBIAS,hereafterMT: Looking up at those cliffs and talus slopes, waterfalls and snowfields, with the fair breeze of a high-altitude Colorado summery morning, with the birds singing and our local world carpeted by gorgeous flowers and adrift with attendant butterflies, there would hardly seem to be any justification for griping. We're in paradise at nearly 10,000 feet.

But we are also in global hell, up against some incredibly high stakes—nothing short of the fate of the Earth. What are the core issues of the conscience, activism, and idealism that underlie—as well as those undoing, undermining, and confusing—the debate about animal rights, biological conservation, and the stakes for the future of life on Earth? That's what is thoroughly nagging at my scientific and intuitive clockwork.

Pursuing that direction, let me say that one of the underlying premises that I hear constantly from committed individuals of the conservation biology world and of the animal rights, animal protection, and animal welfare worlds (all of whom are in some form of slight or radical disagreement over levels of protection) is as follows: If you focus in your own personal life upon saving individuals, that's going to be about as much as you can do. Applying your knowledge, experience, skills, data sets, and compassion to an individual who needs you is all-encompassing, typically exhausting, and, yes, usually deeply rewarding. But it is not going to provide you much energy or time for field research that would give you the information needed to help save populations or even whole species. It's not that saving an individual is fundamentally different than saving an entire species—but, in truth, it is, and we all know it.

It is an ancient Greek paradox that Plato elaborated upon in his dialogue Parmenides, which weighed in on the great Eleatic meeting of Parmenides and Zeno and their debate regarding this "one versus the many." Of course, humanity has grappled with the dialectic ever since. We're still in the throes of it, by all appearances.

PAUL EHRLICH,hereafterPE: This reminds me of the efforts made on behalf of the oiled birds during the BP Deepwater Horizon Gulf disaster. You just could not save them all. And it is an even more difficult problem when the issue is which of many species to save, which is increasingly the case. And this obvious but intractable dilemma is not unlike the paramedics' paradox of World War I that poet e. e. cummings experienced as a volunteer ambulance driver on the front: Whom do you save? How do you determine and justify the candidates for triage? And that dilemma becomes even more horrible when one considers that today we are already triaging human populations (who gets fancy cars and clean water versus whose children must walk far to gather firewood and could die of waterborne diseases), and that situation is likely to get much worse.

MT: Precisely. I viewed the HBO documentary Saving Pelican 895, which shows efforts to save what avifauna could be spared, but at least 7,000 birds died following that April 2010 British Petroleum oil spill. I'm sure that the numbers are going to escalate as more and more biological opinions come in over the years. The 2012 book by Antonia Juhasz, Black Tide: The Devastating Impact of the Gulf Oil Spill, chronicles, under the Freedom of Information Act, countless health problems, both for wildlife and humans, in particular assessing reports from the Joint Unified Command Center in Houma, Louisiana, and those of the U.S. Coast Guard.

In the case of the Exxon Valdez disaster on March 24, 1989, the biological fallout continues. It's hard for me to absorb what transpired, even though I made a film about that crisis. I waded ankle-deep in oily mousse six months after the accident, and 1,500 miles to the west of the Valdez spill in the Aleutian Islands, I saw yet more dead oiled birds. Today's undergraduate students weren't even alive at that time. Yet we do not seem to learn from our mistakes as a culture. We pass down these terrible environmental legacies, but the meaning—the substance—eludes us. Director Rob Cornellier followed up in 2009 with his own documentary, Black Wave: The Legacy of the Exxon Valdez, and revealed how twenty years later citizens of Cordova, Alaska, were still dealing with the ecological impacts. These things stay with us, even if the majority of humans are far removed. Which speaks again to the issue of individuals versus groups; saving individual birds versus protecting their entire colony, rookery, habitat, or elements of the global avifauna that depend on the area during migration.

In March 2012 the French firm of Total SA was described by the Wall Street Journal as having "reported a sheen of gas condensate six nautical miles wide around the Elgin platform. The leak is thought to be originating below the pumping platform at the well bore-head. The gas is flowing up the piping structure onto the platform, spewing out as gas, with some turning to liquid," about 150 miles off the coast of Scotland's city of Aberdeen.

The peril to wildlife will only escalate as humanity's hegemony escalates. Add yet another component, that of aging pipelines. In the wake of the recent March 2013 Mayflower, Arkansas, ExxonMobil spill, there are other legal complications, such as the differing classification for tax purposes of tar sands oil versus conventional oil. The former, which spilled in Arkansas, evidently is exempt from the Oil Spill Liability Trust. This might seem like an arcane detail, but it underscores the complex wrangling of major multinationals, the IRS, and the continuing legacy of liability, particularly as concerns wildlife across the planet; wildlife that just gets more and more hammered.

PE: First of all, efforts to "rescue" wildlife probably don't work most of the time. It takes a relatively gigantic effort to save a single oiled seabird or seal. Similarly, on land the efforts to rehabilitate orphaned or injured great apes are fraught with all kinds of difficulties. For any rehabilitated animals, the issue of successful reintroduction to the wild is ordinarily problematic. Especially with great apes, our own gang, the ethical issues of what's worth the effort are especially heartrending. One major question is, how much do you count the opportunity costs: Would the same effort do more for Earth's flora and fauna, and for us and the other great apes, if directed elsewhere?

OPPORTUNITY COSTS

MT: How would you define "opportunity cost"?

PE: Opportunity cost is what you've forgone to make the effort; what you think would be the second best use for funds versus the one you've chosen. If you spend money rehabilitating injured apes, the opportunity cost would be that money not being available to protect ape habitat, which you consider the best alternative.

MT: So, the cost of an alternative that needs to be scrapped in order to pursue some other course of action, right?

PE: Yes, and, of course, what is the second best is always another issue. If instead of putting your time into saving seabirds one at a time, you spent your equivalent time painting rooftops white or deploying solar technology or lobbying Congress to get rid of offshore drilling (since we shouldn't burn the oil anyway), would you advance what are ultimately your goals better? Those are the sorts of issues that need to be considered when deciding to put the effort into saving one individual at a time.

THE ORIGINS OF ANIMAL RIGHTS: WHY A PELICAN AND A CHICKEN MATTER

MT: It's the "one individual at a time" reality that, in my opinion, is the veritable core of all animal rights.

PE: Explain?

MT: You connect with an individual; you empathize not with an alien statistical population, but with a face, a heartbeat, an animal that you are, perhaps, holding in your arms, whether an oiled pelican or a rescued chicken.

PE: Why chickens?

MT: I mention chickens because they are the most numerous of animals slaughtered for human consumption.

PE: Insects hitting car windshields don't fare too well.

MT: From a Jain ethical perspective, yes, the insects are clobbered every day. I don't dispute insect sensibilities. But with chickens, I believe it is fair to declare that hundreds of millions of people deliberately collaborate in their horrible destruction; birds no different than birds we commemorate, like the rare parrot groups or eagles. With chickens, ten billion per year, just in the United States, are subjected to horrors comparable to Auschwitz.

U.S. corporations profited to the tune of $134 billion for the year 2011 from the killing of chickens, in addition to many other vertebrates, like cows, pigs, sheep, and turkeys.

Yet, like pelicans or bald eagles or rare parrots, they are birds, with intelligence, feelings, and long-term memory—dozens of well-documented specifics and hundreds of important peer-reviewed footnotes in the scientific literature all commending the myriad of cognitive superlatives in chickens (Gallus gallus) and all birds.

PE: On the one hand, there are a lot of things you can do in enhancing animal rights that are not basically the saving of a creature one at a time. For instance, you could push for laws that declare, "You can't beak-clip chickens."

MT: Well, yes. For starters.

PE: Right. But, on the other hand, the difficulties mount if you want regulations that mandate there be at least six square feet of space outside for each individual bird versus one three-yard-by-three-yard open area for ten thousand "free-range" chickens. If, as is normal, the chicken feed is supplied inside and they're not going to go outside anyway, is there anything ethical about the "free range"?

MT: I have countless issues with that. My book God's Country: The New Zealand Factor, written with my wife, Jane Gray Morrison, is a 600-page analysis of such laws, especially with chickens. We examine the same "hubris" that features as the title of a recent documentary on the U.S. war in Iraq that showed repeatedly on MSNBC. Our contention is that it is human hubris that figures more than anything in the assumptions underlying the notion of "free range." That is a term inappropriately used by those who seek, ultimately, to kill and eat the chicken, justifying their consumption of the innocent animal by suggesting that free range is somehow natural. But Jane and I are firm in our belief that this is simply a justification by the consumer; a false sense of feeling ethically consoled when, in truth, an animal will be murdered and devoured whilst someone makes a profit on the killing and the consumer feels they are environmentally sensitive to the needs of a chicken in nature. This is just insane, and only those in the animal rights movement actually seem to understand.

PE: Well, let me just say that chickens aren't endangered. They are the most abundant, widely distributed bird on the planet.

MT: So what if they are?

PE: That's relevant.

MT: Is it?

PE: If you are concerned about optimizing those you can save versus those who are less imperiled planet-wide, yes.

MT: Paul, I think those are not the most relevant qualifications given the cognitive, neurological, and hence emotional complexities of these birds. Humans are not endangered, either. But that would certainly not diminish the consequences, for example, of an all-out nuclear exchange between North Korea and the United States.

Taking it to another level, John James Audubon also firmly believed early on in his career that the passenger pigeon, now extinct, was doing just fine. And that raises an interesting basis for discussion in terms of not just opportunity costs but prioritizing ethical imperatives. Corporate culture never treats opportunity cost analysis in financial statements because, obviously, there is no palpable value there.

PE: Of course there is. All sorts of values: the value, for example, of ecotourism to a high-biodiversity asset destination—the Amazon, as viewed by tour operators, versus the South Side of Chicago.

MT: But when one speaks of the next best purpose, we are quite clearly in the realm of playing God, certainly when discussing deliberations about life and death, and strategies for optimizing whatever time, human resources, dollars and cents, tactical supplies, and wherewithal that can be brought to bear on any given situation. And then there is what I would call the lost ethical opportunity cost—the opportunity for humans and chickens to coexist more effectively in terms of something to be gained other than a chicken sandwich.

Indeed, if ever there were a vacuum created by humans, it is the chicken sandwich, and the vacuum in nature that has resulted from the pointless, cruel, and totally unnecessary demise and suffering of that chicken, of which there are some twenty-five billion of various breeds at any one time in the world. Yes, as you rightly point out, they are abundant, but that abundance has been their tragedy: the most intensely concentrated pain meted out to creatures that can possibly be envisioned. Their biological success is their very downfall.

PE: That could be said of humans, as well. Any sober environmental scientist knows that is likely to be true.

MT: I concur. Obviously. But then, we've got so many ethical wildfires in the world to put out, that it's often the case that one individual activist can all too readily simply shut down from battle weariness, from what former United Nations secretary-general Boutros Boutros-Ghali once termed "compassion fatigue": that inability of organizations like the United Nations to agree on anything, let alone get into the field and make meaningful advances. He was, of course, being modest. And the latest document that came out of the Rio+20 Summit, Realizing the Future We Want for All, can be interpreted for better, or for worse. I'll go with better.

But it still does not obviate the truth of ten billion slaughtered chickens in the United States annually. That represents a colossal gap in any ethics-based system that purports to be having effective representation across the entire landscape of sentient beings.

PE: Each of us picks our battles, does our best. Many do nothing, others worse. But we're only human beings, and human natures are imperfect, that is a certainty. Anyway, we probably have a deeper disagreement here. I always keep in mind that ethics themselves are entirely a human invention, and how anthropocentric they are in comparison to ecocentric is simply a result of cultural evolution at a population level and can also be a developmental process within individuals. Attitudes toward animal abuse have changed dramatically in the recent past. Two hundred years ago, you could beat your horse to death if it didn't pull your carriage as fast as you wished—our society doesn't permit such behavior now (indeed, in the pre–Civil War South, you could beat one of your slaves to death, since he/she was your property).

Animal rights seem likely to be much expanded in the future, especially as the health, ecological, and hunger consequences for humanity of increasing the use of meat become clear. But in my own development, while I have reduced my red meat consumption dramatically, I haven't transitioned to vegetarianism, even though at times I think it would be more ethical. My view of chickens changed somewhat getting to know some kept as pets and egg-layers by friends, but I'm still not bothered by eating a chicken sandwich or a poached egg. And I'm unimpressed by the claim that it's unethical to eat eggs or even to use animal feces as fertilizer.

Inconsistent, yes, but we all struggle with inconsistency all the time. I was recently enraged by the news that state legislators have been moving to make taping of cruelty to animals on farms criminal behavior. This is perfectly understandable when you realize that in the United States legislators are largely owned by industries. (Murder Incorporated units such as the arms and cigarette industries are outstanding examples.) What's less understandable is the legislators' current crusades against women—which in my ethical view are much, much worse than their disgusting protection of animal cruelty. But both underline the human invention of ethics—one person's ethical act (forbidding women to have an abortion) is another person's (my) highly unethical act. But there are so many fronts that require ethical action....

MT: I think we can multitask effectively, if we choose to. I can be a vegetarian and donate to charities and help somebody across the street, et cetera.

PE: And I can enjoy a chicken sandwich and work, as I have my entire life, to make this, however incrementally, a better world. Considering the vast variety of human cultures and the even wider variety of personal histories, it seems inevitable (and likely permanent) that people will invent and adopt somewhat different sets of ethics. The key seems to me to determine important common ground and keep the evolution moving toward a sustainable and happier world. In that world I would care more about the maintenance of biological diversity, and you more than I on the humane treatment of individuals of the species we domesticate or otherwise interact with—even though I still care about that. I don't like killing butterflies in the course of my research, but it doesn't bother me so much that I won't do it when necessary; and I've no qualms about stepping on a roach or slapping a mosquito, even though there are those who do.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from HOPE ON EARTH by PAUL R. EHRLICH, MICHAEL CHARLES TOBIAS. Copyright © 2014 The University of Chicago. Excerpted by permission of THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS.
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Edition details

• Publisher: University of Chicago Press
• Publication date: 2014
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 022611368X
• ISBN 13: 9780226113685
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 160