The Random Discovery of Poetry

How often do most people read poetry? How often do poems enter our lives, compared to all the books, news articles, blog posts, social media posts, and so forth?

I like poetry, but apart from re-reading poems I encountered in school, I can’t say I seek out much poetry. I buy and borrow lots of novels and non-fiction, I subscribe to newspapers and magazines, and I surf the web, but I rarely look for new poetry.

Fortunately, sometimes poetry seeks me out. How poetic of it! I wrote earlier about a neighbor who sometimes inscribes poems on the sidewalk in chalk, with the title and poet’s name included. I’ve also run into an occasional poem I like in the newspaper, or in a novel. And now, for reasons known only to the mysterious and ever-changing Algorithm, Facebook keeps showing me poems in my newsfeed.

Good poems, actually. Poems that sometimes make me look up the author. Catherine Barnett. Brian Bilston. Barbara Kingsolver (okay, I already knew her name, but I didn’t know she wrote poetry.) Poems that sometimes lead me to buy a book of poetry. Wow.

I remain a fan of Robert Frost, Ogden Nash, and Edna St. Vincent Millay, but I’m delighted to be reminded that good poetry continues to be written. (And by “good,” I really just mean “appealing to ME.”) I hope other people are also being accosted and charmed by the occasional randomly discovered poem.

Till next post.

The World Would NOT Be Better Without Us

Every so often someone–sometimes someone I know–tosses out a line that boils down to something like, “Well, the world would be better off without us.”

I understand that we humans have had an outsized effect on our environment and that this has been hard on many other species (and the end of some), but really? Let’s discuss this.

First, what do people mean when they say, “The world would be better off without us?” The world is not a being. In what sense could the world itself be better or worse off? What are the standards of welfare for a planet?

I think by “the world” people must mean “the animals of the world” or perhaps even “the living beings of the world.” I did once read an article where the author spoke anthropomorphically about glaciers, saying something like, “Is X a problem? Just ask the glaciers,” as though they had an opinion, but I can’t see how one would evaluate the welfare of geological formations, or why.

So let’s assume that in this context, people are thinking about the living organisms in the world rather than the world itself. In that case, how can we interpret “The world would be better off without us?”

Some people probably mean that there would be a greater number of different species in the world if we weren’t around to destroy habitats and drive some species to extinction. In this case, “better off” means “more varied” or “more diverse.” Other people probably mean that without us, there would be more tigers and polar bears, for instance. Many species would be more populous without us around, so those species would be “better off.”

Let’s consider the first interpretation. Without humans, there probably would be a greater number of species in the world. After all, we (as a species) take up an enormous amount of space and resources. We build cities, devote large tracts of land to single species crops, and we have hunted some animals to extinction.

Furthermore, ecosystems do need a great variety of species. There are so many niches to be filled: predators, prey, photosynthesizers, decomposers, and many versions of each of these to suit all the varied environments that exist. But why suppose the world would be better if it had the greatest possible number of species in it? Doesn’t it just need enough?

Moving to the second interpretation, yes, there would likely be more tigers and polar bears (and orangutans and so on) if humans weren’t around. (Of course, there would probably be fewer rats and cockroaches.) But “better for tigers” is not the same as “better for the world.” Just ask the deer and wild pigs in their habitats. And “Tigers would be better off without us” doesn’t have the same ring as “The world would be better off without us.”

To be clear, I do care what happens to other species. One really special feature of humans is our ability to care about members of species not our own–and not just as a means to our own survival. We genuinely value polar bears and tigers, as well as many smaller, less visually impressive species. We do think the world is a better place when it includes such species (as long as they aren’t eating us or giving us zoonotic diseases.)

We value a lot of other things as well, though. Songs, sunsets, and Marvel Avengers movies. Chocolate cake, cool outfits, and the Taj Mahal. Intricate clockwork devices, roller coasters, and glaciers. Of these, only the sunsets and glaciers would exist without us.

From whose perspective would the world be better without us? We are the only species whose members care whether other species flourish. Hawks care about mice only insofar as they need to eat them, but have no interest in the welfare of koalas. Koalas have no interest in mice, and neither of them care about polar bears.

In any case, I am human and my evaluations are inevitably from a human perspective. I value human beings, their capacity to care, and their capacity to create. I cannot agree that the world would be better without us. I can agree that the world would be better if we did not mess up the existing natural balance–and not just because it is going to come back to hurt us. The way nature is organized is a beautifully intricate web that took several billion years to develop, and it is fascinating in its own right, as well as essential to our survival.

So why do people–people who presumably value other humans-sometimes say the world would be better off without us? I have even heard people suggest that if we drive ourselves into extinction, we will have deserved it, as though humans as a species were morally evil. What’s that about?

I think the answer is misplaced guilt. If tigers are worse off because of us, if passenger pigeons are extinct because of us, then, the reasoning apparently goes, we must have done wrong. And if we as a species have done wrong to so many other species, surely we deserve some sort of punishment. Perhaps we deserve to go extinct ourselves?

No! Absolutely not. I’m not saying we haven’t done any wrong to specific individual animals, or that we don’t owe animals any consideration. But in the main, all we’ve done is consume and multiply, just like every other species in existence. That we have been so wildly, incredibly successful at this is what creates our current problems. But it doesn’t make us an evil species.

All species consume and multiply, up to and often beyond their available resources. If they outstrip their resources, the result is famine, often disease, and ultimately a population crash. Thus nature reduces their numbers to something more sustainable. We humans have been very inventive in finding ways to extend our available resources and find new resources to exploit, but we can only carry this so far. Unlike other species, we can foresee the eventual consequences, and we have the ability to change our behavior in response.

Hopefully we actually will change our behavior. Nature doesn’t care whether seven billion humans gets reduced to six billion, or five billion, or even one billion. Nature doesn’t care whether there are any humans at all. But we care. We care a lot.

The world wouldn’t be better off without us. So let’s keep that from happening.

Till next post.