Realistic Sustainability?

I can’t seem to escape the sounds of back-hoe back-up alarms, chainsaws, and dump-trucks during the warm seasons anymore. Attempting just to listen to the birds and insects—or to the quiet times of nature, even—is futile, as there is, inevitably, a passing jet, a gunshot, tires squealing, ridiculously thundering tail-pipes, or some kind of construction or destruction around every corner, as small plots of forest are perpetually razed for the expansion of our species and our economy.
Last night, (6/24), the missus and I watched a documentary reporting of the new technologies being used to research the potential for life on other celestial bodies; Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons, was the particular point of focus in this episode.
And, as I have done regularly for a quarter of a century now, I shrug my shoulders at all of these “progressions” and “advances,” and I ask with the utmost rhetoric: “Why? To what end?”
As our technology advances, and as we reveal more of the countless layers of the natural world, we face compulsory ethical issues of our impacts, the stresses we create, the natural resources we use, and the other species we affect. This subject, of course, involves some deep philosophical exploration to the point that I would need the space of a book or a forum of large capacity and numerous hours to effectively address even the basics. Here, however, I would simply like to point out—once again—especially in light of our new, local fiascos of diggings and pavings (contributing to the reported 10 billion gallons of oil run-off into the oceans every 8 months), that it would be prudent for society to consider the reality of where we believe we are trying to go as a species on this planet.
There is so much talk of sustainable living these days and better management practices with natural resources, such as timber, crops, and game. What I find amazingly interesting is that these practices that come off as new and innovative ideas seem to resemble in the most elemental ways the practices of the aboriginal people from around the globe. In my philosophy of Total Prosperity—the allusion being the word “Total” in my local company’s name: Total Wild—which is a philosophy based upon the indisputable truths of nature, it is common to hear me utter the phrase: “The answers are in the past, not in the future,” which I typically employ as a cautionary statement to those who are so excited and tunnel-visioned with the rush of technological advancement. As impressive as our engineering may be, our species moves through life like a drill bit through soft wood, always seeking the other side of the material with diligence. Unfortunately, there is only so far we can go.
There seems to be a spreading epidemic of faith in our society—and by “society,” I refer to our modern species on a global level—that in spite of our usage of natural resources, in spite of our increasing population, and in spite of the impacts we have already made and continue to make, we are going to be able to continue to live in a material world while our numbers continue to grow, and that we will be able to have everything we need as long as we cut down on our emissions by 2050 and start implementing more sustainable practices.
I have always had an issue with the naiveté of the concept of being able to live in balance with the natural world while enjoying the amenities of technology and artificial items that we now consider necessities in our modern lives. What I mean is that no matter how green our vehicles become, no matter how many of us ride bicycles to work, no matter how sustainable our practices, we are always going to need to create a negative environmental impact because we have evolved our way of living to a dependency upon artificial items and cultural conveniences that neither fit nor facilitate the predetermined natural cycles. In other words, as a very basic example, even if all of us rode bicycles to work every day, we might be eliminating a significant amount of vehicle emissions, but the bicycles would still have to be manufactured in factories; tires would still need to be produced; and smoke stacks would still need to blow off exhaust. Even with filters on them, the filters need to be manufactured, and once they are filled to capacity, what happens to the waste then? How far can it go? There will always be an impact upon the natural world as long as we keep creating artificial things.
Then there is population. Think about the basic dynamics of organic biomass. A few thousand years ago there was a particular distribution of biomass, the physical properties or elements that make up creatures and things in the natural world. There were so many trees and so many fish and so many people, and they all existed in some sort of proportion, with some biomass being locked-up in caches within the Earth, and with negligible amounts of materials falling to our planet from space considered. But in a relatively short amount of time, we have shifted the proportions of organic biomass by clearing millions of acres of forests, by implementing hundreds of years of fishing and hunting or harvesting for a growing population, and by expanding our own species. This shift in proportions can only go on for so long before it’s simply not possible to continue. Not only must we face a particular carrying capacity, which includes, physical space to exist, food availability, and now our own dependency upon technology to provide us with potable water and to remove our wastes effectively, but we must also face a finite physical capability to transfer biomass. Think about how much biomass 6.6 billion people consume on a daily basis. Think about how much carbon dioxide and energy 6.6 billion humans at 98.6º F contribute to the atmosphere every day. Then factor in the way we entomb ourselves when we die instead of giving the biomass back to nature to be recycled.
What all of this means is that our “practices” are only buying our species, and others, some time. It means that we have some extremely sensitive philosophical issues with which to deal before we can make a significant change for the benefit of all life on this planet. It means that we need to start considering that we put far too much blind faith in agencies and authorities to attend our environment while none of the people who run them actually live closely with the environment at all, but learn to interpret natural conditions through a figurative lens with a language we’ve invented for such purpose, called science. And it’s not so much that science is faulty or invalid. It’s that science is incomplete and limited in its ability to encompass the spirit of nature. It’s that science is relatively new, and it sets risky conditions that are clinical, which keep us disconnected from the natural world with a fence of textbooks, studies, labels, and statistics—not to mention the economic and political influences. It’s that science allows us to cater to our fears of death and discomfort to an unhealthy degree.
It would pay-off to our progeny that we consider the broader impact of our actions, the reality of our future, and the simple truths of the natural world that we’ve been given by the Creator. It is our responsibility; and how proud could we be to call ourselves Caretakers once again instead of Takers?
I apologize for the clipped, abridgement of this subject. It is a topic, about which I’ve been writing and teaching for decades, and trying to put it into editorials is like packing a small suitcase. But if the article didn’t burst out onto the floor when you opened the paper, I guess we’re okay. I suppose, at least, it’s food for thought. Unfortunately, it may taste like canned spinach, but it’s very important that we eat it.