By Maayan Kreitzman
At the time that British Romantics invented the notion of wilderness as a spiritual sanctuary, the British landscape had already been transformed into docile parkland, and was starting to bear the violent marks of the industrial revolution. In the Once and Future World, J. B. McKinnon suggests that this is not a coincidence. Is romantic nature-loving only possible in a world that has already been transformed by humans through the eradication of species and changing of landscapes? I'd definitely never thought about that before. But now that I am, the ability to walk through the forest unarmed (unthinkable before the mass predator and megafauna extinctions caused by man) seems pretty necessary for the benign, loving, beautiful nature we relate to today, not to mention for the production of iconic works of nature-loving romanticism like “Tintern Abbey”. Wait then - were those extinctions a good thing?
Our lab copy of the book |
At the time that British Romantics invented the notion of wilderness as a spiritual sanctuary, the British landscape had already been transformed into docile parkland, and was starting to bear the violent marks of the industrial revolution. In the Once and Future World, J. B. McKinnon suggests that this is not a coincidence. Is romantic nature-loving only possible in a world that has already been transformed by humans through the eradication of species and changing of landscapes? I'd definitely never thought about that before. But now that I am, the ability to walk through the forest unarmed (unthinkable before the mass predator and megafauna extinctions caused by man) seems pretty necessary for the benign, loving, beautiful nature we relate to today, not to mention for the production of iconic works of nature-loving romanticism like “Tintern Abbey”. Wait then - were those extinctions a good thing?
In the Once
and Future World, which I just finished
reading, there are many examples of how humans have transformed wild
nature. More interesting though, are the ways that humans have pretty
much been ok with that. The book tells the story of how nature gets
continuously subdued and redefined by man. How social collapse due to
ecological change is relatively rare. What's more
common, instead, is the adaptation of humans to progressively denuded
states of nature.
As McKinnon writes,
the world today is a ruin – a beautiful ruin, but a ruin
nonetheless. By itself this sentence makes you expect yet another
doom-and-gloom environmentalist manifesto, preaching about the past
glories of nature and the destruction human societies have wreaked.
But that's not what this book is about at all. Without context, you
might think that living in a ruin is a bad thing – but as you
slowly figure out, McKinnon doesn't actually see
things this way. Take Europe – a continent-sized wasteland,
or in other words, a pastoral paradise. It used to be a place
infested with lions, wooly rhinoceros, and giant ground sloth. Now,
it is a pleasant, relaxing, human-scale landscape, where nothing
bigger than a lynx or wild boar is likely to harass you. Certainly,
it is orders of magnitude less diverse, less wild, and less rich (in
terms of collecting wild food off the land) than it used to be. But
with other ways to feed ourselves, maybe nature (such as it is) is
more enjoyable and more functional (from a human perspective) in the
Europe of today than it ever could have been in wilder times.
McKinnon clearly isn't on this side of the argument either. On the
contrary, overall he makes a heartfelt plea in favor of a wilder
world. At the same time, the alternative is valid too - from
contemporary Europe to the Hawaiian islands, history shows that
humans can thrive on a poorer, tamer world. But do we want to?
The Once and Future
World is a more nuanced take on the concepts
of conservation and rewilding than your typical rah-rah
environmentalist nonfiction. McKinnon mines history and prehistory to
track the correlations between events in human demography/migration
with changes in wild plants and animals. This includes destruction,
butchering, and collapse. But McKinnon also takes care in exploring
the patterns of this destruction. For example, the pattern of “we
ate the big ones first”, as well as the pattern of
“unimaginable abundance to extinction”, everywhere in the world,
over and over again. Yet there is also reciprocity, and apparent
sustainability at certain times in history. And there is technology
and ingenuity (from prehistory to the present), allowing humans to
live very happily in an environment that is a ruin of its former
self.
Compared to the abundance
of life on this planet that existed, it is irrefutable that even what
we think of as wilderness today is denuded - of megafauna (all over
the world) and of the sheer amounts of everything else that has not
gone extinct.
The book explores the concept of shifting baselines in depth –
that is, progressively reduced states of nature become the 'real' or
'normal' nature. Sometimes this happens so drastically that the
return of an animal or community from the distant past is viewed as
unnatural. The book tells fascinating histories of species, from
grizzlies and foxes on the North American prairie, to giant turtles,
sharks, and whales in the Southern Ocean. These natural histories
open up the imagination to the abundance of life that existed and
perhaps could exist, yet are so far outside of our current frame of
reference. The stories of grizzlies (which used to be a plains
animal, now thought of as a remote mountain animal), whales (formerly
huge carbon sinks and ecosystem engineers that fertilized the entire
ocean with iron), and sharks (in really thriving reef ecosystems,
they compose 75% of reef biomass), stunningly reveal baselines that
have shifted so massively that we need active acts of imagination to
shift them in reverse.
Yet this book isn't an
outright depressing read
at all. Humans aren't anachronistic opposites to nature for McKinnon.
Rather, we can choose to want to live in a wilder world - wilder
internally and wilder externally. What does internal wildness mean
exactly? It might start from seeking to pay attention to the feeling
that when you go outside, you are not exactly safe. It might be to
engage the alertness of all your senses,
and know, that like other creatures on this planet, you could die. On
the more practical side, McKinnon only scratches the surface of the
questions of feeding and maintaining 7 (not to mention 10) billion
people in a wilder world. But quantitative forecasting or playing
with numbers isn't the point of this book. Its strength is
psychological, reflective - it argues a nuanced point that isn't so
easy to grasp: that we can thrive on this planet and still desire a
wilder world where other species do too. That rewilding and
conservation aren't self-abnegating, all-or-nothing, futile
aspirations to go backwards. Rather, they can be a contemporary way
forward for humans to thrive with wild and abundant nature, made up
of both dangerous and pastoral landscapes, and inhabited by many
creatures, both deadly and docile.