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A review by nghia
The Once and Future World: Nature As It Was, As It Is, As It Could Be by J.B. MacKinnon
4.0
The Once and Future World is a book about rewilding the world. MacKinnon does a tremendous job of delving into a wealth of pre-20th (and often pre-19th) century sources to evoke just how different the world used to be. But he also does a very good job of not being too hippie-nostalgic about it and showing just how complicated a notion the idea of rewilding actually is. There are some stumbles -- like a lot of Western environmentalists he is writing from a position of rich privilege and he, along with nearly everyone he interviews, assumes that -- of course -- they would among the extremely small number of humans privileged to experience a rewilded nature.
Most readers will find that the first part "nature as it was" is the best part of the book. MacKinnon gives us a rule of thumb, we are living in a "10% world". That is virtually every species has declined by 90%. He trawls through journals of old explorers to try to evoke a picture of what the world was like centuries ago when everything had 10x the population. It is hard not to make dozens of highlights & notes during this section, even when you were vaguely aware of it all.
Lions in the south of France; elephants in California and the Channel Islands; lost sailors in the Caribbean navigating by sound of vast shoals of sea turtles migrating to their nests in the Cayman Islands; a ship off the coast of Australia sailing from noon to sunset through pods of sperm whales as far as the eye can see; the first European to cross the Texas panhandled claimed to have never once been out of sight of bison.
And it is more than just "there were lots of animals". MacKinnon shows that our relationship with animals was very different. Every day people simply knew more about the natural world. MacKinnon quotes several people talking about how, for instance, random aboriginal people will know as much about local flowers as PhD trained botanists.
So what happened? While the preceding is very moving and evocative, it is here that lies the true strength of MacKinnon's writing. Because he makes clear that the entire notion of "nature" and the "wild" is almost impossibly compromised.
MacKinnon tells us how the brown rat was introduced to the Britain in the 18th century. They have driven the native black rat almost to extinction. Yet, it turns out, the black rat isn't native either. It was introduced to Britain from ships in the 1st century AD.
He repeatedly shows that this isn't (just) a question of what has happened since 1900. Or even what has happened since 1800. He shows that the "golden age of fishing" likely ended over a 1,000 years ago. And, of course, the extinction of megafauna tens of thousands of years ago is well known.
In many cases there isn't even a notion of a "world before humans" affected it. When last ice age ended and the glaciers began retreating from northern America, northern Europe, and northern Asia, humans were among the first species to arrive. There was no "nature" in any of those places before human arrival.
This is all very good but it leaves MacKinnon with a nearly insurmountable problem. Even if you acknowledge this is a problem to be solved, how do you even begin to solve the problem? Rewilding, sure. But to what baseline? To 1900? To 1600? To 5000 BC? And even once you introduce a baseline, he gives us numerous examples of how complicated it is.
He interviews one scientist who gives a back-of-the-envelope calculation of what true, sustainable fishing of the world's oceans might look like. First, regrow global fishing stocks 10x. Second, only harvest 10% of that global supply each year. Third, all of that only replaces 40% of the current worldwide annual catch so fish consumption needs to be cut in half and all the billions of people relying on it for food need an alternative.
The weakest part of the book is that he rarely grapples with what I'll call the "mass tourism problem" of rewilding. In the epilogue he has a fantastic example that a "wild" world is not exactly safe for humans. Humans used to be scared of the wild -- and for good reason. It wasn't the perfectly safe national parks countries have today. There was a reason Louise & Clark didn't just go tramping around the wilderness as a duo, taking selfies and meditating on the light in the trees. They went with 45 people. And we know that even small numbers of humans have pretty large impacts.
Imagine a truly wild national park. That has quotas of just a few dozen people allowed in every day. In a world of mass tourism, we already have this with things like rafting the Grand Canyon (which has a multi-year waiting list) or Macchu Picchu or Iceland (where people argue the number of tourists is too high). And that's without even getting into distributional issues about how rich Americans get to see the Grand Canyon but poor Mexicans can't, despite most Mexicans being geographically closer to it than most Americans.
MacKinnon -- and all of the scientists and activists he interviews -- all say that they want to experience a wild world. But what if the reality of those quotas means they never can? Are they really still willing to make that sacrifice? Are they willing to ask others to make that sacrifice? We see the same kind of issue play out around global pollution: developed countries, where every citizen has an iPhone, asking developing countries, where not every citizen even has running water or electricity yet, to reduce growth for the environment.
Ultimately, though, it is hard not to be sympathetic to MacKinnon's broader point that, instead of getting paralysed by these kinds of questions, let's just do something. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. After all, even a baseline rewild to 1900 would be a dramatic improvement.
Most readers will find that the first part "nature as it was" is the best part of the book. MacKinnon gives us a rule of thumb, we are living in a "10% world". That is virtually every species has declined by 90%. He trawls through journals of old explorers to try to evoke a picture of what the world was like centuries ago when everything had 10x the population. It is hard not to make dozens of highlights & notes during this section, even when you were vaguely aware of it all.
Lions in the south of France; elephants in California and the Channel Islands; lost sailors in the Caribbean navigating by sound of vast shoals of sea turtles migrating to their nests in the Cayman Islands; a ship off the coast of Australia sailing from noon to sunset through pods of sperm whales as far as the eye can see; the first European to cross the Texas panhandled claimed to have never once been out of sight of bison.
And it is more than just "there were lots of animals". MacKinnon shows that our relationship with animals was very different. Every day people simply knew more about the natural world. MacKinnon quotes several people talking about how, for instance, random aboriginal people will know as much about local flowers as PhD trained botanists.
Professional hunters in Germany in the eighteenth century were expected to be able to look at a wolf’s tracks and determine not only its size, sex and rate of travel, but also whether or not it was rabid.
So what happened? While the preceding is very moving and evocative, it is here that lies the true strength of MacKinnon's writing. Because he makes clear that the entire notion of "nature" and the "wild" is almost impossibly compromised.
MacKinnon tells us how the brown rat was introduced to the Britain in the 18th century. They have driven the native black rat almost to extinction. Yet, it turns out, the black rat isn't native either. It was introduced to Britain from ships in the 1st century AD.
The entire continent of Europe is a tastefully appointed ecological wasteland—rich in human culture, antiquities and innovation, but poor in the abundance and variety of species.
He repeatedly shows that this isn't (just) a question of what has happened since 1900. Or even what has happened since 1800. He shows that the "golden age of fishing" likely ended over a 1,000 years ago. And, of course, the extinction of megafauna tens of thousands of years ago is well known.
Fifty thousand years ago, humans reach Australia and twenty-one entire genera (groupings of species with similar characteristics) disappear over the following millennia; every land-based species with an average weight above one hundred kilograms is wiped out.
In many cases there isn't even a notion of a "world before humans" affected it. When last ice age ended and the glaciers began retreating from northern America, northern Europe, and northern Asia, humans were among the first species to arrive. There was no "nature" in any of those places before human arrival.
An account of the Tlingit people in northern British Columbia and Alaska is especially vivid, describing a journey by canoe down a river that had tunnelled between towering sheets of ice.
This is all very good but it leaves MacKinnon with a nearly insurmountable problem. Even if you acknowledge this is a problem to be solved, how do you even begin to solve the problem? Rewilding, sure. But to what baseline? To 1900? To 1600? To 5000 BC? And even once you introduce a baseline, he gives us numerous examples of how complicated it is.
He interviews one scientist who gives a back-of-the-envelope calculation of what true, sustainable fishing of the world's oceans might look like. First, regrow global fishing stocks 10x. Second, only harvest 10% of that global supply each year. Third, all of that only replaces 40% of the current worldwide annual catch so fish consumption needs to be cut in half and all the billions of people relying on it for food need an alternative.
The weakest part of the book is that he rarely grapples with what I'll call the "mass tourism problem" of rewilding. In the epilogue he has a fantastic example that a "wild" world is not exactly safe for humans. Humans used to be scared of the wild -- and for good reason. It wasn't the perfectly safe national parks countries have today. There was a reason Louise & Clark didn't just go tramping around the wilderness as a duo, taking selfies and meditating on the light in the trees. They went with 45 people. And we know that even small numbers of humans have pretty large impacts.
Can we accept that a recreational hike in the Lost Island wilderness may demand a minimum of five people, possibly armed?
Imagine a truly wild national park. That has quotas of just a few dozen people allowed in every day. In a world of mass tourism, we already have this with things like rafting the Grand Canyon (which has a multi-year waiting list) or Macchu Picchu or Iceland (where people argue the number of tourists is too high). And that's without even getting into distributional issues about how rich Americans get to see the Grand Canyon but poor Mexicans can't, despite most Mexicans being geographically closer to it than most Americans.
MacKinnon -- and all of the scientists and activists he interviews -- all say that they want to experience a wild world. But what if the reality of those quotas means they never can? Are they really still willing to make that sacrifice? Are they willing to ask others to make that sacrifice? We see the same kind of issue play out around global pollution: developed countries, where every citizen has an iPhone, asking developing countries, where not every citizen even has running water or electricity yet, to reduce growth for the environment.
Ultimately, though, it is hard not to be sympathetic to MacKinnon's broader point that, instead of getting paralysed by these kinds of questions, let's just do something. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. After all, even a baseline rewild to 1900 would be a dramatic improvement.