Sustainable Development: Toward a New Vision
By James P. Karp
INTRODUCTION
As children, when we wanted to verbally skewer someone, we called the person a “bird brain.” We never thought much about the origin of the phrase, although we were equating it with stupidity. A few days ago, we sat atop the bald head of Black Bear Mountain in the Adirondacks and watched a pair of cedar waxwings, who find berries a delicacy, pass a single berry back and forth, bill to bill, without swallowing it. It appeared to us that he brought the berry to her and she coyly accepted and then passed it back to him numerous times before she finally accepted it, and, we supposed, accepted him and swallowed it. During this caring display, the phrase bird brain did not come to mind.
Not many of us have special empathy with or even know the cedar waxwing, but we can identify more closely with the crow. The crow is the smartest of the lot, at least our bird lot. Ice fishermen know that crows can steal fish directly off the hook. If an ice fisherman puts a baited line in the water, attaches it to a stake and leaves for lunch, a crow will wait attentively for a fish to bite and hook itself. Then, the crow will proceed to the line, pull the line out of the water as far as he can, step on the retrieved line to hold it, and continue to pull more line until the fish emerges from the water. Crow lunch. We have empathy for the crow; imagine the complex feat it has just performed. A real left brainer, just like us. A more common view of the crow is the one from our windows: the crow flies by carrying the eggs or young of a smaller species of bird to feed its own young. Unlike the cedar waxwing, the crow does not find berries a delicacy. It has instead plundered the world of another animal species. Perhaps this, too, brings us closer to the crow.
Let us follow the birds a little longer. The osprey, or fish hawk, nests in colonies, which are often found near the sea. If a member of the colony catches an alewife or a pollock, the catch is plainly visible at a great distance to the other keen-sighted members of the colony. Other members will immediately leave the nesting area and retrace the successful bird's flight to the sea. When the talons of the successful osprey contain a winter flounder, on the other hand, the other residents of the colony do not seem to notice or respond at all. The osprey knows that the alewife and pollock travel in schools and that where there is one, more are likely to be found. The winter flounder is a loner. Another smart bird. There are times when the successful osprey will shriek and fly in an undulating fashion to catch the attention of the other colonists lest they be inattentive, provided an alewife or pollock is the impaled catch. Left brain stuff, but inferior. Giving away resource information for free, they clearly have not developed a market system. Sounds like socialistic behavior, does it not? Now that we have conveniently labelled their behavior with such a disagreeable term, we no longer have to think about osprey; we know their type.
Consider just one more bird story. It is about the common pigeon. This disagreeable bird has characteristics that are difficult for us to like. It lives in cities or on farms. An adult dumps its excrement in places inconvenient to us. The wild pigeons' upscale cousin, the homing pigeon, can race up to 500 miles a day on flights home from a trip; accomplished with a compass and road map poorly understood by us. Still other cousins, fancy pigeons they are called, enjoy preening and strutting with feathers of finest white, some with elegant head crests of blue or reddish-brown, and others with their feet so ill-“shoed” that they can hardly walk without falling. It does not defend its home with much bravado against the marauding crow. The pigeon is not a left brainer. It seems to fit the phrase “bird brain” to a tee. Yet, the young pigeon, hours from the confinement of its shell, too young to eat anything except parent's milk, will sidle clumsily toward the edge of its nest to deposit its excrement outside its nest, so as not to contaminate the place in which it lives. If the pigeon were so ill-adapted to its place of living that it fouled its own home, it would be a bird brain of the worst order. It would be like us.
The purpose of this Essay is to describe how we come to find ourselves in conflict with the place in which we live. It proposes that the sustainable development approach can lead us to ethical unity with our living space. Sustainable development seeks to limit human activity to the carrying capacity of the land and other natural systems. Part II of the Essay borrows Barry Commoner's terminology of technosphere and ecosphere in discussing the conflict between natural systems and human endeavor to use the earth's resources. Part III discusses competing social goals and analyzes the ways in which they conflict. Part IV explains the need to change our goals and Part V depicts a new vision of sustainable development. Part VI suggests some specific actions that can help us move from the current social vision to a new, improved one of living sustainably on the earth.
As children, when we wanted to verbally skewer someone, we called the person a “bird brain.” We never thought much about the origin of the phrase, although we were equating it with stupidity. A few days ago, we sat atop the bald head of Black Bear Mountain in the Adirondacks and watched a pair of cedar waxwings, who find berries a delicacy, pass a single berry back and forth, bill to bill, without swallowing it. It appeared to us that he brought the berry to her and she coyly accepted and then passed it back to him numerous times before she finally accepted it, and, we supposed, accepted him and swallowed it. During this caring display, the phrase bird brain did not come to mind.
Not many of us have special empathy with or even know the cedar waxwing, but we can identify more closely with the crow. The crow is the smartest of the lot, at least our bird lot. Ice fishermen know that crows can steal fish directly off the hook. If an ice fisherman puts a baited line in the water, attaches it to a stake and leaves for lunch, a crow will wait attentively for a fish to bite and hook itself. Then, the crow will proceed to the line, pull the line out of the water as far as he can, step on the retrieved line to hold it, and continue to pull more line until the fish emerges from the water. Crow lunch. We have empathy for the crow; imagine the complex feat it has just performed. A real left brainer, just like us. A more common view of the crow is the one from our windows: the crow flies by carrying the eggs or young of a smaller species of bird to feed its own young. Unlike the cedar waxwing, the crow does not find berries a delicacy. It has instead plundered the world of another animal species. Perhaps this, too, brings us closer to the crow.
Let us follow the birds a little longer. The osprey, or fish hawk, nests in colonies, which are often found near the sea. If a member of the colony catches an alewife or a pollock, the catch is plainly visible at a great distance to the other keen-sighted members of the colony. Other members will immediately leave the nesting area and retrace the successful bird's flight to the sea. When the talons of the successful osprey contain a winter flounder, on the other hand, the other residents of the colony do not seem to notice or respond at all. The osprey knows that the alewife and pollock travel in schools and that where there is one, more are likely to be found. The winter flounder is a loner. Another smart bird. There are times when the successful osprey will shriek and fly in an undulating fashion to catch the attention of the other colonists lest they be inattentive, provided an alewife or pollock is the impaled catch. Left brain stuff, but inferior. Giving away resource information for free, they clearly have not developed a market system. Sounds like socialistic behavior, does it not? Now that we have conveniently labelled their behavior with such a disagreeable term, we no longer have to think about osprey; we know their type.
Consider just one more bird story. It is about the common pigeon. This disagreeable bird has characteristics that are difficult for us to like. It lives in cities or on farms. An adult dumps its excrement in places inconvenient to us. The wild pigeons' upscale cousin, the homing pigeon, can race up to 500 miles a day on flights home from a trip; accomplished with a compass and road map poorly understood by us. Still other cousins, fancy pigeons they are called, enjoy preening and strutting with feathers of finest white, some with elegant head crests of blue or reddish-brown, and others with their feet so ill-“shoed” that they can hardly walk without falling. It does not defend its home with much bravado against the marauding crow. The pigeon is not a left brainer. It seems to fit the phrase “bird brain” to a tee. Yet, the young pigeon, hours from the confinement of its shell, too young to eat anything except parent's milk, will sidle clumsily toward the edge of its nest to deposit its excrement outside its nest, so as not to contaminate the place in which it lives. If the pigeon were so ill-adapted to its place of living that it fouled its own home, it would be a bird brain of the worst order. It would be like us.
The purpose of this Essay is to describe how we come to find ourselves in conflict with the place in which we live. It proposes that the sustainable development approach can lead us to ethical unity with our living space. Sustainable development seeks to limit human activity to the carrying capacity of the land and other natural systems. Part II of the Essay borrows Barry Commoner's terminology of technosphere and ecosphere in discussing the conflict between natural systems and human endeavor to use the earth's resources. Part III discusses competing social goals and analyzes the ways in which they conflict. Part IV explains the need to change our goals and Part V depicts a new vision of sustainable development. Part VI suggests some specific actions that can help us move from the current social vision to a new, improved one of living sustainably on the earth.
