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Back to the future

Mark Lynas

Published 27 September 2007

The World Without Us Alan Weisman Virgin Books, 336pp, £20

It takes a lot to make us environmentalist writers turn green, if you'll excuse the pun. But every once in a while, someone who is not obviously from our camp comes up with an idea that is so lateral and clever, so powerfully evocative and masterfully executed that the only appropriate response is fervent envy. Such is my response to The World Without Us by Alan Weisman, an award-winning American journalist whose previous books involve topics as varied as the US border with Mexico, a sustainable village in war-torn Colombia, and his own family's tortured Jewish history.

The stated premise of this book is very simple: what would happen if humans disappeared overnight? This sets the stage for a fascinating exploration of the durability of human civilisation, and the natural landscapes on which it has been built. Manhattan Island, Weisman reveals, was once traversed by more than 40 brooks and streams. If pumping systems in the subway ceased and the foundations of New York's skyscrapers began to corrode, in not too long a time Lexington Avenue would once again become a river, while deer might browse among the tall hardwood trees where Broadway once lay.

The odd discursion into structural engineering aside, the genius of this book lies in its fresh approach to some otherwise rather familiar environmental issues. In asking how quickly the earth might recover, once human beings vanished, Weisman needs to answer the question of how profoundly our species has altered the pla net's natural biological systems - the classic environmentalist concern.

But rather than straightforwardly bemoaning the amount of plastic dumped in our seas, for instance, Weisman discusses how long it might take for microbes to evolve that would be able to biodegrade the artificially synthesised organic molecules in modern plastics. Rather than lament the destruction of almost the entirety of Europe's old-growth forest, he asks how long it might take for the remnant fragment of "wildwood" left in Poland to begin to recolonise abandoned farmland.

Instead of getting angry about genetic engineering, he explores how persistent the novel genes that humans have inserted into everything from fish to potatoes might be in situations where natural evolutionary pressures are restored. The subtext, while never explicitly addressed, is a profoundly moral one, exploring the human relationship with nature and our place on this planet: the true meaning of life.

Much of the book is based on first-hand field research, and Weisman's observational talents as a journalist are evident from the very first page. At one point we find him aboard a research vessel in the remote Pacific Line Island archipelago, surrounded by sharks. At another, he's in low-lying England, investigating recolonised agricultural land which was experimentally fenced off in the 1870s. The prose is vivid and lucid, every sentence carefully crafted.

Whereas most environmental books sag under the weight of their accumulated bad news, The World Without Us seems refreshingly positive. Yes, biodiversity has crashed and Mother Nature has been banished to the sidelines by the rapacious demands of industrial civilisation and an exploding human population; but once the pressure is eased, the earth quickly begins to bloom again.

This is probably the only place that I would quibble: not with the engaging optimism, but because Weisman possibly overemphasises the ephemeral nature of humanity's planetary impact. It is true that New York in a few centuries would revert to forest, and in a future ice age, a few tens of millennia hence, what is left of the Empire State Building and its companions would be ground to dust by the advancing glaciers.

But humanity is a profound geological force, and the earth can preserve even the most fragile markers for tens of millions of years. When imprints of fish scales and bird feathers survive in fossils over long spans of geological time, it is hard to believe that traces of humanity would not litter the planet pretty much for ever more. Some of our lasting legacy may get sucked down into subduction zones at the edges of plates and melted in the planet's hot mantle, but much of the rest - from fossilised laptops to a nutrient spike in ocean sediments - will survive for as long as the earth does. Like the rather longer Cambrian and Cretaceous, the Anthropocene will be one of the world's most transformative geological eras, as this book elegantly shows.

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2 comments from readers

Carl Jones
03 October 2007 at 00:07

I`d like to take this in the opposit direction. Humans are the dominant life on this little rock...well, we`ll hold this until the gates at Area 51 are flung open to the public.

Try looking at the Earth as a seed and that everything on Earth is there to be used to support the dominant life form...US!

We didn`t develope our minds so that we could live in caves....all of human knowledge has brought some form of environmental cost. The Sun and Earth are not forever. But we humans could be. While we are occupied with doubts of doom and self doubt. This book is but an outward sign, that some members of the human race are having a bit of a breakdown.

Pat T
19 February 2008 at 17:46

Carl it's a clever end-around on property rights.

My neighbor has a lovely European Weeping Beech tree. He was going to cut it down. I figured he'd never get around to it since he mows his lawn all of three times a summer, but I implored him not to cut it down, told him I thought it was beautiful, and besides, it gave him some privacy since his house was on the corner and so was the tree.

He spared the tree.

But what if he hadn't?

It's his tree after all. His yard. I didn't pay for it. And he did. And my interest in the tree was purely aesthetic.

The environmentalists see this and cleverly but disingenuously argue that the tree itself has rights.

If they thought the same thing about a human fetus they wouldn't be complete hypocrites, but never mind that.

The point is it's just an end-around on property rights - it's not my tree, but by arguing that it has rights - and that certainly it would, if it could, seek to enforce those rights by doing what I'd wanted to do with it - I could try to effect the result I wanted with respect to property that wasn't mine. Seems clever and worthwhile if you really love beech trees, which I do - but imagine that standard applied to all property. And why wouldn't you apply the same standard across the board?

Ideas have consequences. Collectivist ideas have scary consequences.

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About the writer

Mark Lynas

Mark Lynas has is an environmental activist and a climate change specialist. His books on the subject include High Tide: News from a warming world and Six Degree: Our future on a hotter planet.

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