Environmentalism as Murder

In an article posted today on Slate, Brendan Borrell considers the conflict between conservationists and animal rights activists over salmon and sea lions in the Columbia River. Summary: the Bonneville Dam and overfishing have sent salmon stocks plummeting; sea lions have entered the river and are decimating what's left of the salmon; conservationists (and fisherman) convinced the government to kill and transfer many of the sea lions; the Humane Society sued to block the action; sea lions turn up dead on the banks of the Columbia River. There are countless examples of conflicts like this.

So Borrell asks a question: "At what point do the rights of an individual animal trump the welfare of an entire ecosystem?"

In answering, he clearly supports the sea lions over the salmon. "A sound conservation ethic cannot be based exclusively on a vague principle of biodiversity or the sanctity of the natural world. Instead, it must respect the interests of sentient beings." "While humans may find much to appreciate in Earth's menagerie, it is hard to argue that preserving DNA can justify the murder of a sentient being. Sea lions are remarkable creatures. Some believe their cognitive abilities rival those of chimpanzees...."

In the end, though, he steps back from this argument by claiming we could solve the problem by just knocking out Bonneville Dam. Duh. But notwithstanding this dam's not-so-imminent demise, and with the proliferation of invasive species and other biological calamities across the globe, Borrell's question begs answering. I don't think he does a good job of it.

The practicality is that the human race destroys sentient life regularly, for all sorts of reasons. We kill other people. We kill other people for killing other people. We kill primates for medical and scientific experimentation. We kill pigs for food. We put dogs down. We deny liberty to animals without a second thought. And, depending on how far you're willing to extend the definition of sentience, just think of all the things we do to rodents, and, for that matter, salmon. (It's not crucially relevant here, but I think of rationality and sentience on a continuum, rather than being all-or-nothing characteristics.) Even if you're a pacifist vegan, you're probably complicit in the death of some animal trying to live.

So as a practical matter, I think animal rights activists can find much better things to fight against than ecosystem health. An effective organization does not simply send out press releases and file lawsuits railing against anything with which is has a philosophical disagreement. An effective organization picks its battles wisely, and allocates its resources to ills most needing correction. How about CAFO's, for example?

But I have a deeper problem with the sanctity-of-sentient-life argument: things die. Life is a wonderful thing, deep in mystery, fabulous in glory, juicy to the core, all of that, sure. Then, it ends. It can end in old age or it can end in a flash of lightning, it can end in war or the Holocaust or in a big rock falling on your head or an unlucky climbing trip or a car crash. It can end at birth, after 120 years, or anywhere in between. There's no message inscribed in life explaining what it means. It's random, it's fun, it's hard, it's wonderful, and then it's over.

This does not mean that killing a human (or a sea lion) cannot be cruel, evil, or tragic. It can be all of those things. It may merit extreme punishment, and the murdered one's family may be inconsolable. Their loved one would still be alive were it not for that horrible act.

Even so, I cannot subscribe to the idea of life being "cut short." Nor do I believe in a natural, as opposed to legal, "right to life." How can we claim a right to something so fleeting? So unpredictable? So utterly fragile and intangible? For its beauty life is sacred. Yet it is folly, a lack of appreciation for what life is, to treat death as ultimate evil.

* * *

"It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: 'And this, too, shall pass away.' How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!" -- Abraham Lincoln, Address Before the Wisconsin State Agricultural Society, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, September 30, 1859

Everything ends, everything changes. Empires fail, new ones arise. Continents shift. Species evolve and move, and ecosystems morph. In 4.5 billion years the sun will explode. The universe may someday compress back into itself, or expand beyond the density at which life is possible. Would I justify anything in light of the commonality of eventual destruction? No, I don't think so. Crime is crime, and love is love. But I do think that the utilitarian system of morality (or any system of morality) that treats death as an evil unto itself, the antithesis of happiness, is hopelessly shortsighted. It's time to stop using such an antiquated, materialistic view of death. Life is ephemeral, death is certain, and neither is necessarily good or evil.

* * *

While many of us ponder these questions when studying existentialism in school, we all throw up our hands when it comes to applying these principles to such odd problems as the unfortunate transversal of animal rights and environmentalism. I'm no different. I have no answers.

I have only intellectual instincts, and their offspring, tendencies. My tendency in this case is to think that humans take themselves too seriously. They think their logic and their science provide them answers, and with those answers they can trot off merrily (or with great ironic gravity) to remake the world in their image. We're terribly proud of ourselves as a species. But with all our intelligence, all our ethics, we've been by far the most destructive species ever to grace this planet.

The beauty that inspires me to call life sacred comes in only a few flavors. One is my interaction with nature, my being a part of nature (if "nature" seems hokey, substitute "existence"; that's what I mean anyway). I find this beauty in the primitiveness of backpacking, the tastiness of food, the awareness of meditation, etc. -- anything connecting me to the physical "breath" of life. Another big one, not unrelated to nature, is creation. I like to make things and enjoy the results of myself as creator, or, if you prefer, as an outlet for a Great Creator. The third one I can think of is love, the joyous connection between what is other with what is oneself. You may think of other categories, but to me these are the big three that inspire life's beauty.

Now add that tendency of mine. I would drape, as a virtue to inform them, humility across those three sources of beauty. True fulfillment in one's own creativeness includes an appreciation that others are similarly creative. True love is not narcissistic, or duo-narcissistic, but all encompassing and includes an understanding that others' loves can be as powerful as one's own. And true connection with nature does not exult in one's power over it, but one's place among it. In this way, humility gives rise to fairness, compassion, and, yes, environmentalism.

To be so proud of our creations as to exult in their power over the rest of the world -- that's narcissism. To believe they can fully encompass and describe the world is likewise proud and narcissistic. We are but one species, and none of our theories or inventions will ever encapsulate nature. This includes pride in ethics as well as pride in dams. A humble human existence would not expect a man-made morality to define the world any more than a man-made hydrology. A humble human existence would love nature and its processes and its emphemerality, and so would try to leave ecosystems intact, as much as possible. I wouldn't call for an end to technology, but I am calling for a more humble technology, one that strives to exist as part of nature rather than above it.

In the end this is not about a single species (the salmon) any more than it should be about a single individual (the sea lion). It's about respecting nature and its processes as best we can. So when ecosystems begin to fail because we did something drastic to disrupt them, it's our responsibility to mend them as best we can figure how. In this instance, that means restoring native salmon stocks as well as restoring sea lions to their native habitat and range. If we can do that without killing sea lions, all the better. If we can't, well...that's life. Let's kill them humbly and with compassion, studious and cautious in our planning to mend the harms of our audacious construction of Bonneville Dam, and comforted that their lives can go to no greater cause.