Feeling blue? ... the future of planet Earth is in our hands. Photograph: Corbis
From the despair of nuclear bombs to the hope of nuclear technology, the
environment journalist picks out green books that are both positive and
negative about our planet's future
I am not a tree hugger. Nor a people hater. For me, as an environment
journalist for 30 years, the story is about people and how they work,
live and dream on planet Earth. And how we – seven billion of us, and
counting – can keep up the mad dance of civilisation in an ever more
crowded and resource-depleted world. Luckily, I am an optimist.
These books contain some stories of potential horrors ahead, like
Bill McGuire's Waking the Giant. But we can and do step back from the
abyss. John Hershey's Hiroshima, is a receding nightmare.
I have spent the past two years researching the current global frenzy of land-grabbing for my new book
The Landgrabbers
(Eden Project Books). It was a sobering journey. But I don't doubt
that we can – as Lynas proposes – continue to live sanely and
successfully into the future. Even so, if Lovelock is right that we are
now Gaia's brain, then we have some hard thinking to do.
Something
deep in the ocean has grabbed control of the Earth. Sea levels begin to
rise. London floods. Our hero is on a mission to find out what is
happening to the planet before it is too late. A tale of climate
change? Well, no. Wyndham was writing his sci-fi thriller long before
global warming was a gleam in any boffin's eye. But the story of how
society collapses under the environmental onslaught is terrifyingly
contemporary.
The
British landscape is richer and more layered with the remains of human
activity than almost any other. This is the classic telling of how a
curious amalgam of nature and nurture has moulded moorland and fen,
hedgerow and woodland. Much that is ancient persists. Simply country
lanes turn out to be sunken "greenways" dating back thousands of years.
But vital features such as dewponds, mires, sacred springs and
wildwoods are disappearing. Rackham, a Cambridge botanist and landscape
antiquarian who lives near Grantchester meadows, opens our eyes with
wonderful humanity. They say a squirrel could once have crossed Britain
without having to touch ground. Oh, but it's much more interesting
than that.
This
is Lovelock's first, slimmest and best telling of his marvellous thesis
that planet Earth is, to all intents and purposes, a living organism
that has evolved to manage its environment to suit the living things
that comprise it. Planet Homeostasis. Richard Dawkins hates the very
idea, but no matter. How could selfish genes be so altruistic? But
actually Lovelock proposes nothing more subversive to science than that
the planet's organisms can act together as a super-organism, like bees
in a hive. He ends with the proposition that Gaia needs a brain, and we
may be it. This is environmental science at its best, rigorous but
mind-blowing. A work of wonder.
To
many, this is an anti-eco book. An economist tells why there are no
limits to growth, why Malthus and Paul Ehrlich and the rest of the
doomsayers simply don't understand the ability of humans to come up with
answers. That necessity is the mother of invention. The past may not
be an infallible guide to the future, and Simon's addiction to
free-market economics may be absurd (markets are an invention of man not
a law of nature, and should be cast aside if they fail us). But his
optimism about our inventiveness (the ultimate resource of the title) is
important. We may need environmental doomsters to point out the
planetary perils, but we surely need optimists like Simon to encourage
our response. Otherwise we may give up, head for the hills and party to
the end.
Just
out, and dreadfully alarming. Bill McGuire, a distinguished geologist
and brilliant science writer, charts how changing climate may trigger
not just wild weather but also volcanoes, earthquakes and tsunamis.
Perhaps it already is. The last time that ice caps were melting and sea
levels were rising, geology was in overdrive. Faults shuddered, magma
melted and mayhem followed. As McGuire persuasively shows, it could be
kicking off again. This is science so scary that even the climate
scientists widely dismissed as alarmists do not dare speak of it.
Most
of us live in cities. They are the environment we know best. This
classic assault on town planners almost single-handedly destroyed the
arrogance of 20th-century modernists who wanted to build homes and
cities as "machines for living in". As if we too were machines. Cities
don't need zoning and shopping malls and industrial estates; they need
back alleys and unplanned corners, where humans can be human and a
chaotic jumble can take over. She may have been writing about the US,
but she makes you cry afresh for the vandalism inflicted on Britain in
the past half century.
I
went to Montana, to the beautiful badlands on the American prairies, a
couple of years ago. It is magnificently empty, dotted with abandoned
shacks and haunted by big skies, the sound of wind and freight trains
carrying coal west. I met a dentist who had a part-time ranch the size
of the Isle of Wight. Raban's extraordinary bitter-sweet romance is
about how this forgotten corner of America, once the new frontier for
migrants, got this way. This empty. It is a story of broken dreams and
recurring nightmares, of a socialist past and a sometimes rabid
Republican present. It is about what happens when people and the land
don't get along.
This
is a brave book by a green who changed his mind. After years writing
about our environmental perils, Lynas decided that technology was not
our nemesis but our saviour. Many greens feel profoundly betrayed. But
Lynas has not renounced his concerns about climate change and the other
"planetary boundaries" that he says threaten our life-support systems.
He just thinks those concerns are so important we can no longer have
the luxury of seeing being green as a lifestyle choice. Whatever we may
feel, we cannot rule out GM seeds or nuclear technology. To say
otherwise is dilettante foolishness at least as irrational as that of
climate sceptics.
I
was brought up in the shadow of the bomb. One day, before I went to
school, my dad told me what to do if I saw a mushroom cloud in the sky
during lunch break. This was during the Cuban missile crisis, when many
though that what had happened to Hiroshima and Nagasaki could happen
any moment to Maidstone and Maidenhead. Hershey's contemporary report of
what actually did happen to Hiroshima and its people – how an entire
city was destroyed one bright sunny morning with one piece of munitions –
is journalistic brilliance. These days, we are inclined to forget what
nuclear weapons can do. This is a chilling reminder. Not even our
worst climate-change nightmares can compare.
We
hacks call him the Indiana Jones of conservation. Alan Rabinowitz goes
out and finds undiscovered species in some of the most remote places on
Earth. Places we thought the world was too crowded to sustain any
longer. His narrative of a journey into the back woods of northern
Burma, on the southeastern-most edge of the Himalayas, is beautifully
written, sharp-eyed and mysterious. It feels like Conrad's Heart of
Darkness in reverse, as he escapes the "civilisation" of a brutal
military regime to find peace and light in the farthest lands. A
Shangri-la.
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