Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, April 26, 1993 TAG: 9304260374
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A4 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: PAUL L. ANGERMEIER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
No science exists as depicted in his memo. Science doesn't deal in unequivocal truths; it thrives on uncertainty and informed guesses. (No one has actually seen an electron, but we "know" they exist.) Rarely are cause and effect entirely understood.
The world is very complicated, especially the living parts. That's why we study it. Study produces information, which is analyzed. Conclusions are drawn. Conceptual models are built. More study, more information, better models, better understanding. That's how science works; slowly, incrementally. Meanwhile, life goes on and we do the best we can with the information we have now. But we keep the old models until we build better ones.
Environmental science, the study of environmental issues, is a synthesis of physics, biology, sociology and economics. It's not an easy science. We expect it to be less precise than more basic sciences. And we expect some of it to be wrong. However, environmental science is unique in that the conclusions that are drawn are quite open to politicizing and policy-making.
Policy-makers, who presumably work in society's best interest, are obliged to be well-informed and to exercise good judgment. Good judgment includes caution regarding threats we understand only poorly, especially when the stakes are high (like driving more slowly when it's foggy). It doesn't take a rocket scientist (or an environmental one) to appreciate that when risks of cancer or ecological collapse are involved, caution is advised. My guess is the people living downwind of Chernobyl wish their policy-makers had put more stock in what Michaels calls the "precautionary principle," which isn't perfect but may be the best we have.
What's a biota worth, anyway? Rationales for conserving biodiversity are not as simple as avoiding cancer. None of us will die just because a species goes extinct or a wetland is filled. Reasons to conserve biodiversity range from the pragmatic to the esoteric.
Michaels reduces the worth of life forms to the usefulness of their chemical constituents. To be sure, plants and animals do provide us with many useful chemicals. For example, more than 40 percent of all prescriptions dispensed are for substances derived from other organisms. Even the active ingredient of aspirin is derived from a plant chemical. The chances of chemists inventing such substances entirely on their own are vanishingly small. All this, yet we are familiar with the biochemistry of only a tiny fraction (far less than 1 percent) of the planet's species. A vast treasury of organismal products, including medicines, foods, fibers and materials, remains unexplored. With extinction, it becomes unexplorable.
In addition to providing us with useful products, there are at least three other rationales for conserving biotas:
Ethical. Other species have a right to be here, too, and we don't have the right to exterminate them.
Aesthetic. Living systems (including individual organisms and ecosystems) are beautiful. Their presence enhances our psychological, spiritual and cultural well-being.
Ecological. Breathable air, clean water and productive soils (i.e., our life-support system) wouldn't exist without the biota. Loss of any single component isn't likely to cause the system to collapse, but we don't know enough about how the biosphere works to predict which losses will cause collapse. Prudence is definitely in order.
Each of us differs in the extent to which we find these rationales compelling. Notably, these "other" rationales of value do not permit easy conversions to simplistic economic terms, such as market price. However, it's a safe bet that most people accept one or more as a good argument for not exterminating species or otherwise compromising the planet's biotic integrity. Further, it's reasonable to suspect that Congress reviewed these same rationales before it enacted the Endangered Species Act 20 years ago. The primary purpose of the act is to prevent short-term economics from driving species to extinction. It was a good idea then, and it's a good idea now.
At all levels of organization (e.g., cell, organism, ecosystem), biological entities are much more than the sum of their parts. Michaels' gross oversimplification of genetic diversity ignores this synergy. Genetic products (whether chemical, anatomical or behavioral) do not exist just because of changes in the DNA sequence. Rather, their development and fate are strongly influenced by the environment at each level. Genes influence other genes, cells influence other cells, and organisms influence other organisms. Genetic diversity is the result of processes occurring at all levels simultaneously.
Unfortunately, biologists know only bits and pieces of how processes at any one of these levels work. They know even less about between-level effects. Obliterating the biota will only hinder our understanding. Any scientist who does not at least recognize that living systems have a complex hierarchy is unlikely to appreciate the complexity of today's environmental issues.
Michaels downplays the danger of losing genetic diversity by asserting that technology can manufacture new diversity faster than we can eliminate it. The facts do not bear this out. Gene-transfer technology has been around for about 15 years. During that time, only about 500 genes have been transferred successfully among about 100 species (each of which has tens of thousands of genes). None of the transfers has produced a form so novel as a new species, let alone a new class or phylum. In contrast, the best information we have on rates of habitat destruction (the No. 1 cause of extinction) indicates that globally we are now losing at least 27,000 species per year.
Another misconception promoted by Michaels is that the Endangered Species Act is a millstone around the economy's neck. In fact, the act is applied very cautiously. Fewer than 1 percent of the cases where it's been invoked have resulted in a project being halted because of impacts on protected species. This caution stems, in part, from the difficulty of proving why any species declines. (Extinction is rarely observable; it is insidious, incremental and cryptic.)
Perhaps the most dismaying aspect of Michaels' diatribe was his failure to foster public understanding of important issues. By pronouncing his association with a prestigious university, he donned a cloak of credibility. With that cloak, however, comes a duty to educate the citizenry so that its perspectives and decisions are well-informed. That duty applies whether the audience is a class, a politician or a newspaper reader. Presenting simplistic, polarizing non-information does not serve society well.
Environmental issues are painfully complex. The controversy surrounding old-growth forest in the Pacific Northwest cannot be framed sensibly as "owls vs. jobs." Let's not pretend that solutions to such issues are simple. Rather let's use the information we have to find the best solutions.
That our environmental policy is imperfect (and sometimes blatantly wrong) is not news. Like science, policy-making is a gradual, often circuitous, process. However, we don't get better policy by casting vague assertions and half-truths over the issues. New information, insightful perspectives, better solutions . . . that's news.
Paul L. Angermeier is on the faculty of Virginia Tech's department of fisheries and wildlife sciences.
by CNB