"So that one day we will regard as sacred what we are now so tempted to destroy."
We human beings tend to place ourselves at the center of the universe; in whatever we undertake, we like to be in charge. We are all managers at heart, whether we’re dealing with a crop of corn or a herd of deer. When it comes to nature, therefore, we justify the right to manage and control resources according to our own judgment. That is probably how the ideal of biodiversity has become a buzzword for a narrow view of what nature should be — as opposed to an understanding of what nature really is.
While the arguments that support nature management are impressive, biodiversity has become a term of convenience used to define nature according to what and how we want it to be. It is used to rationalize endless plans to control various species — as if we’re fulfilling an architectural plan of a newly defined order of nature. Thus, we determine, among other things, the number of native, desirable species which should survive and the number of non-native, undesirable species which should be destroyed.
Nobody knows how many species of plants and animals there are on this earth or what their comparative numbers should be. There doesn’t seem to be a base number of species to use as a model. And even if there were, the chances are slim that we could conserve intact our last unsettled areas and delicate ecosystems. Our own consumptive needs and narrowly focused economic concerns most often take precedence in our quest for "biodiversity."
For instance, it’s ironic that we blame and want to destroy fifty thousand wild horses for decimating prairie grasslands when four million head of cattle are grazing there at the same time. No sense of ethics can justify the killing of any animal for destroying land when our own artificial landscapes have decimated whole ecosystems.
In the same vein, there is little justification for humans killing deer to "save" other parts of nature. Though we use the word "culling," it does not accurately describe the way in which we kill "excess populations" of deer. Culling means sorting out that which is inferior, weak, or lame. Nature culls; sharpshooters kill. And killing by hunting does not weed out the weak and ill. It destroys the strong and able, too.
Yet nothing is more disturbing — or more futile — than a plan that destroys species in order to restore a pre-settlement ecosystem. It is totally unrealistic to believe this could ever be achieved. What valid documentation exists to tell us the conditions we’re trying to recreate? Even if records did exist, what pre-settlement date should we recreate? Shall we attempt to manufacture our own past or some pre-human condition?
The original intent of Aldo Leopold, the father of conservation, was to avoid depleting or extirpating natural resources. But that intent has been replaced by a new mission to preserve biodiversity, which in effect, determines what should live and what should die. Thus, biodiversity projects in general, and restoration efforts in particular, are dangerously like playing God. It is ludicrous, for example, that we are obsessed with controlling deer population in the midwest or pig population in Hawaii, when we can’t even control our own population around the globe.
As I walk along the creek that runs by my house, I can see mallards sitting peacefully on the water and the far-reaching branches of a three-hundred-year old oak tree. The mallards will leave and return for endless generations; the oak will be standing there long after I’m gone. Their tenure beyond the limits of my short life tell me that every species has the right to survive.
We humans, like all the other creatures, are only passing through this life. Eternal nature has evolved us and will continue evolving, indifferent to our needs. As it has done for millions of years, life on this planet follows its own evolutionary course. It will continue to do so, whether or not we try to "fix" it.