Introduction

Peter Miller and William E. Rees

Clive Ponting, A Green History of the World

Is humankind fatally flawed, doomed—even in full knowledge—to repeat history on ever greater spatial scales until the brilliant light of civilization is forever snuffed out in one great final crash? After all, the human story is replete with bright beginnings, glorious middles, and tragic ends. In recent millennia advanced civilizations on virtually every continent have collapsed as a result of the destructive overexploitation of their supportive ecosystems. In many cases the descent was marked by famine, disease, and the decline of civil society, ultimately leading to war, social chaos, and cannibalism (e.g., the Maoris in New Zealand and Easter Islanders).

All this we know—and yet industrial civilization willfully imposes a greater burden on the environment than any previous culture. The degradation of natural systems appears in the loss of biodiversity and functionality in aquatic and terrestrial ecosystems; the decline of significant biological populations, including most of the world's wild fisheries; new disease vectors; ozone depletion; global warming; soil loss, salinization, and desertification; and freshwater and groundwater depletion and pollution. Economies that have supported precarious progress for some are unsustainable because aggregate demand exceeds the capacities of natural systems for productivity and waste absorption (Goodland 1992; Karr and Chu 1995; Wackernagel and Rees 1996; following chapters in the present volume). To paraphrase Ponting (1991, p. 7), we are aware that Earth is completely isolated from the rest of the universe and we realize that our very existence depends on the limited resources of this one small planet. After all, it is small enough for us to fly around in a day or so and see for ourselves what is happening to the forests (and plains and waters). Yet we seem unable to devise a system that allows us to find the right balance with the ecosphere.

Ironically, the very things that define our industrial culture dull the average citizen's sense of vulnerability even as they sweep humanity ever closer to the edge of danger. People are temporarily shielded from the destruction of local ecosystems that have long sustained them. Newfoundland fishers survive the collapse of the cod stocks on transfer payments from the rest of Canada (and we can always import fish from elsewhere); famine in the Sahel is suspended by international relief organizations; and people everywhere are spared the consequences of deteriorating soils by artificial fertilizers that help maintain food production.

A central premise of this book is that such contemporary social and technological buffers merely delay and deepen the ultimate collapse of industrial society. True, trade and technology create the illusion of increasing local carrying capacity. But the reality is that, by enabling continued population and material growth and by dispersing the ecological impacts, the trappings of modernity actually increase the total human load on the ecosphere while simultaneously reducing global carrying capacity (Rees 1996). This ensures that the entire human enterprise will reach critical limits of biophysical integrity at the same time. (Concern over ozone depletion and climate change are thus but early ripples in the sea of contemporary complacency.)

To some readers, this apocalyptic vision will seem excessively pessimistic. Looking back on the past century (and millennium), we who live in North America, Europe, and other high-income countries see our history as a story of progress. In terms of material well-being—the endless parade of globally sourced goods that stock our markets and plentiful supplies of cheap energy—and in terms of the trappings of civilized existence—access to culture, entertainment, travel, education, health care, information, and comfortable homes with clean running water and piped sewage—the material comfort and health of ordinary citizens of the high-income countries today vastly exceeds that of even royalty in previous ages. We are, on average, simply better off by any economic measure than our predecessors. Little wonder our culture has until recently brimmed with confidence in our individual and collective capacity to continue to improve...