“The notion that humans are somehow killing the planet is absurd, although we can kill ourselves and some other fellow occupants. As apex predators, we have the capacity to manipulate earth’s resources in ways that no other life-form can. While on the one hand playing with fire may cause the player to get burned, he nevertheless must burn energy to survive. Exploiting resources is a part of life. It is how we use them that must be done with care because the earth is not fragile; we are. From looking at environmental history, one fact rises equally from the volcanic ashes of great eruptions and the slippery slope of advancing glaciers: climate and weather are products of a complex energy system that neither sees nor knows us. They have no consciousness or need for sacrifice on our part. They cannot be bought off by repentance. Moreover, climate is capricious and because it is that way, we face a future that is likely to change. Perhaps the greatest challenge in facing the real prospect of climate change, which will happen with or without our assistance, is to shed ourselves of overly romantic and even geopious notions of perceiving weather and climate as anything more than mindless forces of nature.” — Barry A. Vann in “Forces of Nature: Our Quest to Conquer the Planet”.
I often pick up a book based on whatever particular hole in my knowledge I want to plug with information that week. I found this book (like I have many others) on my wonderful local library’s “New Non Fiction” shelf.
I was intrigued by the idea of getting an overview of just how we humans have met our environments over the generations. But the first chapter read like a graduate thesis: dry and distant, and I wondered if I would just take this book back and find another, more readable one. But I stuck with it for another chapter (ready to drop it an any time), and then another and then I found myself reading the parts where the author really hit his stride as, it turns out, a superlative storyteller.
If you’re like me, you’ll sort of endure the pages of arcane nomenclature the field (of geography) employs for the different human viewpoints on the forces of nature, which essentially boil down to the ways we have viewed natural disasters as actions of an angry god (or, more recently, of an angry and aggrieved planet). Some of this early stuff is indeed dry, but it is still good stuff. But then the author takes several long side-trips into vivid descriptions of several of the most dramatic convulsions that nature has visited upon us humans, and it is in these stories that the writing becomes beautiful, irresistible, sublime. This writer may be an artist in scientist’s clothing.
Taken as a whole, I did get a deeply satisfying overview of the actual “why” of where humans have chosen to build their camps, villages and cities, and settled humanity’s experience of natural disasters: In short, we like to live in places where bad things can — and do — happen (on low-lying shorelines of rivers and oceans, on beautiful islands created by volcanoes, on vast, fertile farmlands in “Tornado Alley”, etc.). The author sees all of this through his perspective as a geographer, which means he sees worse on the horizon (as our populations in these areas continue to increase). These are good truths to have in mind.
There is frequent reference to climate change and global warming in “Forces of Nature”, but not in the way you might expect. The author is looking at the larger picture of just when (not if) our next ice age may come, and he seems to think that a bit of global warming now might just help forestall this much larger disaster coming down the tracks. I’m not sure how to think of that idea. (I guess I’ll need to find yet another book to lessen my ignorance on that particular proposition).
This is a very worthwhile book that will definitely expand your perspective on humans and their interactions with their environment. Even if you skip the “dry” chapters, I’d hate for you to miss the description of the greatest earthquake known to strike the (populated) United State which hit, if you can believe it, the Mississippi valley in the early 1800’s.