In yesterday's post, I quoted
Stan Goff as saying that conservation
is the only solution to the
coming energy crisis. The word 'conservation' is an ambiguous one,
which is one reason why politicians can get away with saying they
support it without doing anything. At its root, 'not doing anything'
is, after all, what the word implies. Until about a century ago,
it referred to protection of artworks and other cultural artefacts.
More recently it has
come to refer to protection of nature, in four senses:
- Conservation of commercial natural resources (forests, mineral resources, fish, oil) -- Goff's meaning
- Conservation of land for recreational purposes (e.g. local parks)
- Conservation of non-commercial natural resources (e.g. endangered
species)
- Conservation of land as wilderness
George Bush, who favours drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife
Refuge, snowmobiles in Yellowstone, and logging and logging roads
everywhere, calls himself a conservationist. He considers wilderness to
be wasted space, but sees the value in conserving natural resources (so
fishermen and loggers don't find themselves unemployed and vote against
him), and in keeping some treed and grassed areas and unpolluted lakes, and huntable and photographable animals,
for human amusement.
A more generous definition of conservation is used by most
environmental organizations, a definition which includes conservation
of land as wilderness, where other creatures are relatively free from
human interference, and recognizes that heavy human activity, even in
the interests of recreation, degrades the land. But even these
defenders of conservation are utilitarian, and carefully couch their defense of wilderness as necessary for "human self-discovery" and, again ambiguously, for "posterity".
And then there are those, like David Suzuki for instance, who value
wilderness and biodiversity for its own sake, who see nature as sacred
and believe that as much of the Earth as possible should remain in
ecological balance, with a human footprint so light (e.g. eco-tourism)
that it does not upset that balance. With most of the temperate and
arable land of Earth already developed for human uses, there are now
four types of wilderness that could still be protected:
- polar, tundra, desert and scrub areas with no mineral resources beneath them, areas that have no commercial value
- a few marginal or deep-forest areas still populated by hunter-gatherer tribal cultures
- a few tropical forest areas that have not yet been bulldozed for forestry, mining or agricultural purposes
- a few designated, protected wilderness forests and wildlife preserves
But to actually preserve land as wilderness is considered by most
romantic folly, naive, even selfish -- depriving humans who 'need' it
from having it all. Since it has no human economic value it is considered by most to have no value at all.
Humans aren't the only adaptable creatures on Earth, and most
'wildlife' (non-agricultural, non-domesticated plants and animals) now
lives in areas that have been moderately or heavily encroached upon by
human activity, areas where the natural balance is constantly disrupted
but wildlife makes do. So anti-wilderness forces can argue that
wilderness isn't necessary to protect wildlife -- it can go on living
on the margins of human development, and provide entertainment for
humans in the process ("Look, Mom, a fox!", or, more likely, "What's
that squished on the road, Mom?")
This leaves conservation organizations in a bit of a quandary. They
want donations from those with a George Bush definition of conservation
(like the Ducks Unlimited folks) and also from those with a David
Suzuki definition of conservation (like the Green Party). Beggars can't
be choosers, and the former group of donors are, on the whole, much
wealthier than the latter. So policies must be designed to waffle as
much as possible, so as not to alienate either gun-lovers or
tree-huggers. Occasionally, as in the recent Sierra Club blow-up,
one faction or another insists that the organization take a stand that
would clearly define what 'conservation' means to them. In that case,
tree-hugger conservationists ran a slate of candidates calling for zero
population growth and immigration curbs to achieve that end, on the
basis that conservation (in the wilderness protection sense) is
impossible with a population that will more than double or triple in
this century. The gun-lover conservationists cried foul, accused the
opposing faction of racism, and orchestrated a successful campaign to
discredit and defeat the tree-huggers, using tactics so outrageous the
result of the vote is now in the courts. But ultimately they can't have
it both ways. Organizations with such utterly irreconcilable factions
are as anachronistic as the old racist Southern 'Democrats' who opposed
everything in their party's platform. Eventually, the Sierra Club and
other conservationist organizations will split into two groups --
gun-lover conservationists, who want animals to kill for amusement and
well-groomed trails for their power vehicles, and tree-hugger
conservationists, who want wilderness and biodiversity preserved. The
latter group will be the losers, financially, but there will then,
finally, be some candid, honest discussion and advocacy for wilderness
and biodiversity.
And maybe then, there will be some non-hysterical, non-xenophobic
discussion of population 'stabilization', or even population reduction,
in North America, and of the need for drastic conservation of natural
resources (commercial and non-commercial), the former because current
consumption is unsustainable and destroying the atmosphere, the
environment and the third world, and the latter because, just like
peace and democracy and human rights, the protection of wilderness and
biodiversity is to some of us also a moral imperative. Not only is this
different from the
'conservation' represented by the atrocious private fenced hunting
preserves that Dick Cheney and his psychopathic cronies so enjoy, it is
their absolute antithesis.
So now we get into the Lakoffian issue of how to 'frame' conservation
in a way that the vast majority of first-world people, inculcated with
the 'value' system of Christian religious orthodoxy, consumerism and
'regulation is bad' untrammelled corporatism, can appreciate and even
support. Lakoff suggests that progressives need to stress 'policy
directions' such as "Let's have a sustainable environment" and "Working
people shouldn't be living in poverty" and "Everybody should have
health care and a good education." These statements of principle appeal
to basic American, and global, human values. The only way you can argue
with them is to change the frame ("People who are poor are just not
working hard enough") and progressives are finally learning not to
allow conservatives to frame everything in these manipulative,
demeaning, elitist terms. But it's a long way from progressive
anthropocentric principles like "Let's have a sustainable environment"
to ecocentric principles like "Let's protect wilderness and
biodiversity". I've even heard neocons quite sincerely accuse radical
environmentalists (when they're not calling them "eco-terrorists") of
religious, pantheistic zealotry, saying that wilderness protection laws
are as much violations of the separation of church and state as
anti-abortion or sharia laws. I've also heard labour leaders say that
wilderness protection laws are un-progressive, because by restricting
human activity they reduce jobs.
Is there some way to frame the need for conservation (in the
'protection of wilderness and biodiversity' sense) in secular,
non-anthropocentric terms, or is this oxymoronic? After all, Suzuki
himself describes the ethos of wilderness conservation as preserving "a
sacred balance". And if
we cannot frame this conservation in secular terms. must we
acknowledge, as Peter Singer has said, that politics and law are
inherently and irretrievably anthropocentric, and that protection of
animal rights and wilderness and biodiversity and all other things
non-human are outside their jurisdiction? Does that mean that, exactly
as devout anti-abortionists can only shake their heads and fists as
they pass by abortion clinics, conservationists of the tree-hugger
variety can only stand by helplessly as the last wilderness areas, and
the last wild animals on earth, are destroyed, as animals are
carelessly and indifferently run down on the roads, and as truckloads
of helpless animals are driven from horrendous factory-farm prisons to
their ghastly death in slaughterhouses?
There are two arguments advanced by wilderness conservationists and
animal rights activists for saying their cause is different from
religious causes, and hence deserve legal protection rather than just
hands-off treatment. The first is that man, under most anthropocentric
worldviews, both progressive and conservative, is the 'steward' of the
Earth, and therefore has a responsibility for its welfare. That's a
nice principle, but one that doesn't stand up to much challenge: "When
we have to choose between human needs and wilderness needs, there's not
really a choice, is there?"
The second argument is that humans are part of nature, and therefore
the welfare of man depends on the welfare of the natural world, so the
natural world needs legal protection. This, too, is a nice principle,
but its application to law runs immediately into semantic minefields:
Who's to say cities and golf courses and all other human uses of the
land aren't 'natural'? What's the line between a bird's nest and a
condominium? This argument at its heart is anthropocentric, since only
when it can be demonstrated that some 'unnatural' activity actually
hurts human welfare can it then be made illegal. That's no change from
the law as it stands now.
So the wilderness conservationists and animal rights activists and
anti-vivisectionists (those opposed to animal torture for science or
commercial research) are backed into a corner: Their cause, like the
cause of anti-abortionists and those that abhor the eating of certain
meats, is deemed ultimately one of personal faith, and, while each of
us has the right to exercise his or her personal faith, we will find
the law unwilling to impose it on the rest of humanity. Even
practitioners of religions that entail bloodthirsty religious animal
sacrifices now have the right to practice their personal faith, so long
as it does not overtly harm other humans.
There is a crack in this legal armour, and that is the existing animal
cruelty laws in many (but not all) nations. Weak as they are, they
represent important anomalies in our legal and political codes.
Agribusiness, more than aware of the horrendous cruelty that occurs
behind the walls of factory farms, have effectively exempted farmed
animals from such laws, and religions whose 'purification' rites
require torture of animals at the point of slaughter are also exempted.
Ambiguous animal rights laws are furiously opposed
by hunters, laboratories, factory farmers and other 'users' of animals.
Yet some of these laws remain, carefully couched as laws governing
human 'property'. Why have these not been struck down as ultra vires,
outside the law's jurisdiction? Probably for the same reasons that laws
prohibiting suicide, or the taking of unauthorized drugs, remain on the
books: The law has no compunction about passing laws that support a
prevailing moral view when they do not 'unduly' interfere with human
freedoms, including commercial freedoms. Here's where it gets dicey: A
law prohibiting suicide, or a law prohibiting the mainlining of heroin,
is not substantively different from a law prohibiting abortion, or a
law prohibiting all forms of animal cruelty by anyone, or a law
prohibiting any further development of wilderness areas. All five are
strictly moral issues, issues of personal faith, in which the law has,
by action or inaction, taken a stand. Suicide and heroin use are
illegal, with severe fines, abortion is illegal in some countries and
under some circumstances but legal in others, while animal cruelty is
mostly legal, and wilderness development is (except in a few small
areas temporarily afforded legal protection) completely legal. Why do
we make these distinctions?
Let's take a look at a couple of areas where we have made an about face
on the law in the last two centuries: Slavery and Corporate Personhood.
At one time slavery was legal in much of the world, and defended as
essential to commercial success. And at one time corporations had no
rights whatsoever except for the shareholders' right to limited
liability in the case of financial demise or legal wrongdoing arising
from circumstances over which they had no control. Today slavery is
mostly illegal, and corporations have substantially the same rights as
humans, and in some cases even more rights than humans. And cigarette
smoking remains legal and highly commercial, though it is increasingly
restricted -- largely on the dubious arguments about the health effects
of second-hand smoke -- and viewed as morally and socially repugnant.
And the emission of dioxins into the atmosphere, horrendous toxins with
major, known health consequences, while restricted, is also legal and
highly commercial.
 Here's a table that shows, then, that, contrary to prevailing wisdom, anthropocentrism is not
a central determinant of the domain of law. I've added in a few more
illegal things to complete the chart: Wiretapping (without reasonable
cause), polygamy, and dangerous driving. Things that are (mostly)
illegal are shown in red, and those that are (mostly) legal are shown
in green. If you believe the domain of law is restricted to issues of
human rights and responsibilities, then there should be no laws against
suicide or heroin, and corporations should never have been granted
'personhood'. And if you believe the domain of law, under the principle
of separation of church and state, does not concern itself with issues
of personal faith, then there should be no laws against suicide or
polygamy.
The chart shows a very different hypothesis about the law: That it
concerns itself with non-commercial issues, and refuses to pass laws
banning or significantly restricting commercial activities. Why, then,
is heroin illegal, when it could be a huge commercial success? Because
it interferes with the commercial productivity (labour and consumption)
of workers, with a higher commercial cost than the benefits of
commercial heroin production would produce. Why isn't abortion, which
is not a lucrative commercial business, illegal? In much of the world
it is, and if Bush is re-elected and continues to stack the Supreme
Court, it probably will be in the US soon as well. And what about
slavery -- doesn't its illegality mean that human rights trump
commercial interests? I would argue that while physical slavery is
finally illegal in much of the world, economic slavery is rife and
growing. More than half of first-world workers believe they are
significantly under-employed, have wages that in real terms have been
dropping for over two decades and a debt load that yokes them to the
corporate machine most of them are part of. And don't even get me
started on working conditions in the third world.
So, despite all the historic protestations that the law doesn't get
into wilderness or biodiversity conservation or animal rights issues in
any serious way because these are personal, moral issues not connected
with human rights, the reality is that the law is heavily into such
issues -- banning suicide, polygamy, and heroin use, for example -- and
its criteria for refusing to get involved are strictly commercial,
which is why tobacco production, manufacture and sale of semi-automatic
weapons, and release of toxic poisons into our air and water, are all
legal, why corporations today have more rights than people (and keep
most of us as wage slaves), and why laws to conserve wilderness and
biodiversity, or to protect animals from cruelty, don't have a
snowball's chance in hell of ever being passed.
It's even worse than that: Bush is busy selling off the people's lands
to private commercial interests (mostly his campaign financiers) so
that, not only will there be no wilderness or endangered species left,
there will soon be no recreation land or non-renewable resources left
either. Recreation is almost never the most lucrative commercial use
(called "the highest and best use" by economists) of land, so Bush is
freeing it for more intensive purposes: logging, mining, dam
reservoirs, high-density residential and commercial development. Only
then will it have value. And the natural resources on these lands only have commercial value when they're consumed.
Conservation, like long-term planning, is an absurd concept in the
acquisitive capitalist economy: By using up what you have quickly, you
create scarcity, which increases the value of what is left and
motivates commercial interests to dig even deeper (like burning tons of
coal, and building hundreds of new nuclear reactors) to capitalize on
that scarcity. So no matter which of the four definitions of
conservation listed at the start of this article you adhere to, it just
ain't going to happen in this economic system, in this political
system, in this legal system.
Adam Smith said, famously, "the real purpose of
government is to protect those who run the economy from the outrage of
injured citizens", and the law is their principal tool for doing so.
Back to Lakoff: Now we have a much greater, and more important
challenge, in framing our message to the people. Our message must be
ecocentric rather than anthropocentric, but "Let's protect wilderness
and biodiversity" won't do the job. Most progressives don't even think
in that frame-set. We need to create an entirely new frame-set that
engages universal human values at a much more fundamental, less
selfish, more instinctive way. A third way,
different from both the anthropocentric 'manifest destiny' moralizing
of conservatives and the anthropocentric 'sustainable growth'
rationalizing of progressives.
Or, putting it another way, as Thomas King and Thomas Berry have said,
we need to invent a new story about ourselves and our role on Earth.
This is what the Green Party has tried to do, but, as you can tell from
the opinion polls, it isn't catching on very quickly. Part of the
reason for this is that, in their endeavour to win converts and be
inclusive, they have tried to explain their position using conservative
moral frames and progressive rational frames. Lakoff would tell them
this is futile. You can't get there from here. As Einstein put it, "We
can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking that created
them."
What would an ecocentric values frame-set look like? What would some of
its principles and 'policy directions' be? We should probably start by
listening to the stories and lessons of Earth's last remaining tribal
peoples. And listening to the land, the wilderness itself. Perhaps my
novel, if I'm truly imaginative enough, and listen carefully enough,
will be the new story. But that won't be enough. We need the new
ecocentric frame-set as well. We need to show people, billions of us,
the third way.
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1:40:54 PM 
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