...(and what we can do about them). Although these posts are primarily sketches for a book project on environmental critique I will also post from several other ongoing projects.
ECOLOGICAL PAPERS WRITTEN IN THE 1930S are the Burgess Shale of the discipline. As in that middle-Cambrian fossil bed of primordial forms, everything is already there and often piled pretty closely together. Arthur Tansley’s 1935 paper “The use and abuse of vegetation concepts and terms” appeared in the journal Ecology and re-reading it three-quarters of a century later opens a window on the debates in the early years of discipline. Tansley’s proximate concern is to chastise the younger South African ecologist John Phillips, whose views on vegetation development had chagrined him. In the background is the powerful figure of Frederic Clements, the senior American ecologist and archdeacon of the concepts of “succession” and the “complex organism”, whose views Phillips was advocating and justifying. These days Tansley’s paper is primarily remembered for introducing the term “ecosystem”; however, other debates swirl around it, including questions concerning the degree to which we might regard the largest entities of nature as “super-organisms”. (For an account of this paper go here) Is the plant community correctly seen as a large independent organism that grows, matures, and reproduces in the way an individual plant or animal does? Debates about this matter – a storm in arcane scientific teacup – prefigure more contemporary debates about Gaia: can the planet itself be regarded as a single super-organism?
Remembering the late Frank Golley who wrote about it.
This month is the 76th anniversary of the naming of the ecosystem concept. The paper in which the term first appeared is entitled, appropriately enough, “The use and abuse of vegetation concepts and terms”, (the ecosystem being offered, naturally enough, as a useful one) and appeared in Ecology, the flagship journal of the Ecological Society of America, in July 1935 . In it, the British ecologist Sir Arthur George Tansley takes a scythe to the conceptual crop that the infant discipline of ecology had produced since the early years of the 20th Century. He separated the terminological wheat from the chaff. The task was not, of course, simply to determine which were the more delicious ecological terms; ecologists have always loved their terminology: climax communities, subclimaxes, proclimax, seres, plagioseres, prisere, succession and so forth; little of it is euphonious. Rather, he determined the utility of terminology based upon his perception of the “naturalness” of the units of nature they entail. Terms are abused when they promote analogies which do not produce fruitful empirical research programs. Terms are also abused, as Tansley hinted, when they smuggle in a set of metaphysical assumptions (e.g. “an imagined future whole” to be realized in an ideal human society); assumptions Tansley believed had no business in the dispassionate contemplation of nature. Especially when ecology was struggling to assume a position among the other natural sciences it seemed not the time for the discipline to divert on philosophical tangents .
If asceticism was simply a matter of self-mortification then we could claim that we have never lived in more ascetic times. We diet to shed those dozens and dozens of unsightly pounds; some voluntarily submit to a surgical ablating of the flesh for the purposes of fabricating the perfect nose; our star athletes allegedly undergo a period of sexual continence before the big game; some of you may even gallop on scorching days for distances in excess of twenty-six miles, for no better reason than to replicate the achievement of the first person to die from that feat. And in general terms the definition of the ascetic as a person who practices “rigorous self-discipline, severe abstinence, austerity”, might tempt us to smuggle the more excessive of these modern deprivations under the definitional bar. However, the OED qualifies the definition by pointing out that asceticism aims are achieved “by seclusion or by abstinence from creature comforts”. Furthermore, the term derives etymologically from the Greek asketikos, meaning monk or hermit and more generally the root term is ascesis – the practice of self discipline, or exercise. If, in the final analysis, the contemporary mortifications listed above seem to fall short of being ascetic, why might we, in contrast, regard environmentalism as fundamentally so?
To use the life of Simeon Stylites as a point of comparison with environmental thought and practice may be a challenging place to start to make a case that environmentalism is foundationally ascetic. Certainly there are more temperate ascetics, ones who like St Antony of Egypt (231-356 AD) traveled to the wilds there to meditatively dally, but after decades alone returned to society, at least in the sense of taking many disciples under his care. In other words, there are ascetics whose practice might be more appropriately compared to Thoreau’s sojourn at Walden Pond. Perhaps one might compare tree-stylites like John Muir perched in a storm-tossed Douglas Fir or Julia Butterfly Hill residing in her California Redwood to the ascetic sadhus of India, who, practicing what is called urdhamukhi, dangle out of trees. In the case of Hill, she lasted two years; as for the Muir and the sadhus, the latter who dangle upside-down, their tree dwelling lasted a matter of hours. And so on; one might look for a milder ascetic counterpart for Robinson Jeffers dyspepsia concerning his fellows, preferring you’ll recall, to “sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk”; one for Ed Abbey’s hilarious but curmudgeonly defense of inaccessibility for Arches National Monument in Desert Solitaire; one for Paul Ehrlich’s discomfort in an ancient Indian taxi (“People visiting, arguing and screaming…. defecating and urinating”) prompting his writing of The Population Bomb; counterparts even for the simple-living needed for ecological footprint reduction, for the belt-tightening required by sustainability, and for the meat-eschewing dicta of environmental vegetarianism. In all of these examples there is a whiff of asceticism but none requires the foot ulcerating commitment of standing on a pillar for decades. So why Simeon?
Taking a resilience approach to restoration in the region might be helpful as a way of addressing challenges for both the governance of conservation lands and for the development of restoration management approaches that increase the efficacy of restoration. The Chicago Wilderness Recovery Plan identified the primary factors contributing to the relatively poor ecological quality of the region’s biodiversity (Council 1999). The fragmentation of urban habitat, invasion of non-native species (and in some cases native weedy species), fire suppression and so forth, all contribute an assessment that much of the protected habitat is degraded (Consortium 2006). Specific restoration challenges in response to these issues are certainly not unique to the CW region but are substantial: removing and preventing reinvasion by problem species such as European buckthorn (Rhamnus cathartica) in woodland and savanna; managing migration rates between conserved patches, and establishing buffer zones around targeted lands in a fragmented landscape that is subject to pressures of urbanization in a large metropolitan area (See Fig 1 for Green Infrastructure Vision); and marshalling support for sometime controversial management techniques such as removal of mature trees to create savanna; removal of invasive shrubs, such as buckthorn, that are viewed by some as desirable visual buffers; use of fire near residences; culling of deer populations to prevent overgrazing; etc. In the face of these very considerable challenges CW Biodiversity Recovery Plan not only is committed to improving the ecological condition of these systems but of restoring them to “long-term viability”. The challenge of returning systems to long-term viability is an especially difficult one, however, since historically even sites that have seen improved ecological conditions need extensive ongoing management in order to sustain them (Hobbs 2007). Although restorationists recognize that management is a long-term endeavor, nevertheless it may be possible to institute more effective and efficient strategies. Reframing the challenges of restoration in the context of resilience theory may be especially helpful – we call this Resilience Oriented Management (ROM). We provide the following example to illustrate.
A SPIRITED AND POSITIVE ACCOUNT OF ASCETICISM IS PRESENTED by Kallistos Ware. Ware is a lecturer in Eastern Orthodox Studies at the University of Oxford and a bishop in the Greek Orthodox tradition. With G. E. H. Palmer and Philip Sherrard, he is a translator of the Philokalia, a collection of texts written between the fourth and fifteenth centuries by monks and saints of the Eastern Orthodox tradition. A recurrent theme in the Philokalia is Orthodox prayer tradition called hesychasm. This practice emphasizes a withdrawal from the senses into prayer. The fruits of ascetic practice are freedom (who is more free than she who has nothing), beauty, and in joy. Two basic aspects of asceticism in particular illustrate his case: anachoresis and enkrateia. The former term denotes withdrawal, the later self control.
The ascetic leaves home, withdrawing to another place, traditionally a wilderness. This gesture of exile itself is neither positive nor negative; though typically this has been seen as world-denying, turning one’s back on fellow-humans and concerning oneself exclusively with personal salvation. The self-seclusion of the hermit is hard to regard as anything other than selfish, and confers little benefit to the community. Ware recognizes a pattern in the life of many of the ascetics of a flight followed by a return. Even if the return is not back to the fleshpots of the city to minister there, oftentimes the ascetic makes himself available for the spiritual leadership of disciples who follow him into the wilds. St Anthony of Egypt (231-356) is paradigmatic here. He remains in the desert but is no longer alone, enclosed as he was for two decades in an abandoned fort, but now offering spiritual guidance to visitors, and taking disciples under his care.
Chicago is the largest city in the US Midwest, and the third largest in the country, with a metropolitan population of 2.7 million people . The greater Metropolitan Statistical Area (MSA) to which Chicago belongs has a population of 9,461,105. The density within the city is 20 519/km2, which is more than fifty times denser than the state of Illinois as a whole. The radical and rapid transformation of the landscape that has occurred over the past century and a half in order to accommodate this burgeoning population might suggest that Chicago is not an especially promising place to undertake a large scale conservation effort. However, the region supports conservation effects that are recognized as significant at the local, national and international scale. That significant biodiversity protection occurs in Chicago is a consequence of the region’s climate and its evolutionary and ecological history, as well as being deriving from decisions instituted by the human population, both before and after settlement of the region by European and other non-indigenous populations (hereafter referred to as “settlement”), that resulted in either setting land aside from development or maintained the characteristic biodiversity of the area.
In this chapter we summarize the factors that shaped the biodiversity of Chicago and its hinterland and point out the conservation significance of these ecological systems, addressing why conservation effects directed at Chicago’s biodiversity has importance locally and beyond. Our main focus in the chapter is the work of Chicago Wilderness, a regional biodiversity alliance commitment to protecting nature and enriching the lives of the residents of the area. Chicago Wilderness has for over a decade served to coordinate the efforts of a diverse group of institutions included federal, state, and local agencies; public land management agencies, conservation organizations; and scientific and cultural institutions. We describe the history and structure of the alliance and describe the four key initiatives of Chicago Wilderness, namely, 1. Restore the health of local nature, 2. Green infrastructure, 3. Combating climate change, and 4. The Leave No Child Inside program. Although Chicago Wilderness has received much positive attention over the past decade and its work has been recognized by planners, academics, and editorialists, and by the agencies that make up the alliance, the efforts have not been without controversy. We give examples of the controversies and indicate how the alliance has learned from them.
