The value of wilderness
We are on track to wipe out half of the wilderness in the world in the next 35 years
This information arrives at a time when environmentalism is on sounder footing than ever before. Some of us will remember the Reagan years, when it wasn't uncommon to see bumper stickers bearing the slogan
It's not all optimism, of course. There are some who will remain unconvinced. For example, the Ammon Bundy crowd may oppose federal protections on principle (as government overreach), and they have vocal champions in Congress. And even with further government set-asides and regulations, we will be playing catch-up for decades as the repercussions of past environmental abuses continue to appear: One thinks of the recent fish die-off on the Yellowstone River; more worrisome still, the record retreat of Antarctic sea ice.
Add to this our current Republican presidential nominee, who has called climate change a Chinese hoax (even if he hopes to walk that claim back now). But whatever the battles to come, there is reason to believe that common sense and realism are winning the overall war against neglect and outright hostility on the environmental front. A Monmouth
What interests me is a basic question: What is the conceptual value of wilderness? Why do we need large areas that are impenetrable to us?
The answer can't be about beauty or sublimity. Yes, many of these places are spectacular, but only in the eyes of some, and such value judgments are dubiously political. Additionally, some of our wilderness areas are downright monotonous — stands of deciduous trees that, scale aside, resemble a suburban backyard.
Sadly, the answer can't be about wildlife and biodiversity, either. While I would save every bee, bird and bear in their natural surroundings, I have met many people over the years who are content to relegate wildlife to zoos.
The answer is more elusive. The wilderness has always been both a real and imaginary frontier, and the latter depends on the former. In epic quests and fairy-tales we have strayed into fictional wildernesses that have, in turn, inspired us to value the real thing. We don't yet have other planets to log, but even if and when we do, think about the psychic toll we will pay when a generation of children must read the Brothers Grimm or Tolkien or Thoreau with no real-world corollary to the green, shady places they explore — here, on this planet. And this would not only be a loss of context for understanding imaginations past; it would diminish what we might imagine in the future. Entire cultures, religions and tribal identities have emerged from the wilderness; what will emerge from its disappearance?
Wilderness represents mystery, potential and the free space of imaginative play, without which innovation and creativity stagnate. If you don't believe me, consider how many of our great innovators have also been readers of science fiction and how many of their favorite authors based their otherworldly creations and landscapes on worldly wildernesses.
It would be a new kind of poverty to live on a planet devoid of such expanses, fully extracted, monetized and discovered. We need the wilderness — and we value it in abundance — because the paean to “progress” must also and always be an ode to the stone unturned.