Doing Bad by Doing "Good"
One of the surest ways to do something bad, is to try and do something good without thinking
I have often found one of the surest ways to do something bad, is to try and do something good without thinking. Rashness and haste, along with a strong dose of hubris, make for a job badly done; perhaps, even a job that should never have been done altogether. This is true in every area of life, but for my intents and purposes, it is most certainly true in the realm of our stewardship of creation. In fact, there are few realms where the consequences of acting in haste could be more severe than in our dealings with creation.
Creation is something which is infinitely complex: the number of species inhabiting even a mundane garden far exceeds the ability of any single man to count and the total number of species inhabiting the entire world is far beyond our comprehension (literally so, as we are unaware of the existence of many, if not most, of the species that call Earth home). Throw into the mix the myriad complex ecological relationships which influence how all these innumerable species interact with one another and even the supercomputers will be forced to admit defeat in the endeavour to try to comprehensively understand creation.
Mankind’s grasp of the ecological relationships that sustain life, and cause all creatures to flourish, only scratches the surface of the infinite depths of creation’s complexity. Where mystery dwells in abundance, those who are wise tread lightly.
In light of our inevitable ignorance, our instinctive response to such immense complexity ought to be to pause and to seek wisdom before acting upon creation, whether this be through farming, habitat management, development, or resource extraction. However, the hubris that has infected all humanity since the Fall has caused our instinctive response to creation to be a “we know best” attitude, followed by the modern mantra of “time waits for no man”. Thus, man (especially modern man) tends to act quickly and impulsively, chasing after profits, convenience, or “obvious” improvements, even when the consequences to creation may be irreversible.
Needless to say, we have all suffered dearly the consequences of this hubris. Myriad decimated habitats, lost species, and avoidable natural disasters show this only too well. Our actions are like those of an engineer who just cuts a few wires here and there and “hopes for the best”. He will be a regarded as a fool if he blows the circuit for the town’s electricity. Likewise, we are fools if we think we can rashly cut and interfere with the threads of creation and suffer no consequence.
Much of the irreparable damage we have wrought upon creation has been done wilfully, either through the excuse of “inevitability”, the tragedy of necessity, or through wanton greed and laziness. However, dwelling on the times we deliberately act badly towards creation is not why I am writing this. I wish to bring to our attention a more insidious truth: we have affected much enduring and severe damage upon the face of this earth through our supposedly good work too. Wendell Berry, a man who has trod more gently on this earth than most, has himself admitted to causing grave damage through noble intentions.1 If he has done so, then we all have — probably more so than we would like to admit. Let us never forget that though the road to ecological damage is paved with bad intentions, many good intentions are also found filling up the potholes.
An example to demonstrate what I mean is in order. Invasive species are among the most damaging things that have been unleashed upon creation by our actions. The sum total of their effects are catastrophic, including the most irreversible damage of all: the extinction of many native species. What may come as a surprise, though, is that a fair number of these invasive species were released deliberately — and with good intentions. They were seen as another food source, something which would enhance natural beauty, or even something which would keep pests in check. If we had taken the time to think carefully about whether releasing these non-native species was a good idea, and what possible unintended consequences may result, we could have averted countless crises. But, true to our nature, we act now and think later — and lament the loss of the Stephen’s Island Wren later too.
It is obvious to us now, with the benefit of painful hindsight, that releasing non-native species is almost always bad idea. Thankfully, we don’t do this deliberately anymore, a rare example of humanity learning its lesson.2 However, though we have learnt the folly of releasing non-natives, we still haven’t learnt our lesson when it comes to the folly of expecting good outcomes to result from rash actions taken without seeking wisdom. Numerous environmental projects have ended with “unintended results”, numerous fences in the landscape have been torn down without anyone questioning as to why they were there,3 and numerous “untidy” spots in nature have been tidied up, only for questions to be asked later as to why the wildlife has also disappeared.4
Even actions regarded by almost everyone as good, and which are paraded as an unequivocally good thing by most mainstream environmentalists, might prove to be anything but. When interacting with creation, we always need to be open to the fact that we might be wrong; even very wrong.
Tree planting is one such action, much lauded by politicians and environmentalists, which instinctively sounds like an excellent idea. And it may be. But it must be done correctly and not in haste. The prospective tree planter ought to ask, ‘Is the tree I am planting native species?’ and, if so, ‘Is it from stock native to this particular place?’ Once these fundamental questions have been answered in the affirmative, the tree planter must go on to ask, ‘Is the tree healthy?’ ‘Is this the right position for planting?’ ‘Could we wait for natural regeneration to occur?’ and, most importantly, ‘Does this place really need more trees?’
‘Trees, trees, and more trees’ is the one-size-fits-all message proclaimed by many rash environmentalists and politicians in our modern day. And it is a message the public love; for, who can be against more trees? However, the wise conservationist knows to think twice. Great and lasting damage has been caused by over-zealous tree planting: native tree stocks have been polluted by foreign gene pools, valuable grassland habitats have been lost, sometimes irreversibly so, and inappropriate (but efficient) non-native species have been planted en masse, which in the case of Eucalyptus in Kenya, has been a hydrological disaster.
A few years ago, I encountered a patch of land on a local playing field that the city council had planted with trees. What confronted me was an ecological nightmare. It appeared as if the council thought the quickest way of boosting biodiversity was for them to plant as many different species of tree as they could in this relatively small area. No sane ecologist would have dreamt of doing this. It is a totally unnatural approach; woodlands in Britain tend to consist of one dominant tree species with a handful of other species interspersed here and there. They develop in this way for a reason: such woodlands are resilient, adapted to local conditions, and support an abundance of native wildlife. This artificial “woodplot” will be next to useless for wildlife and many of the trees probably won’t survive very long. But somewhere in the Halls of Bureaucracy, a biodiversity box has been ticked, and someone has received a pat on the back for helping to “save the planet”.
If acting rashly and with haste almost always leads to bad outcomes, then sometimes the best thing to do for creation is to do nothing. The work of stewardship is a rhythm of knowing when to act, when to wait, and when to let nature take its course unimpeded and uninterrupted. This is not an easy thing to learn. One of the struggles that seems to be common to all mankind is that of exercising restraint. We are made to work, even commanded to work; doing nothing or waiting for more wisdom goes against our natural impulse. But wait we must. Again, where mystery and complexity dwell in abundance, those who are wise tread lightly, slowly — and perhaps not at all.
Environmentalists and activists bristle at such advice. Seeking ecological wisdom is time consuming, difficult, and likely to be humbling when they realise there is much they do not and cannot know. More so, if wisdom tells them to do nothing then they know the grant funding will not be forthcoming: no grant has ever been awarded when the applicant submits, “We might do nothing”. But the question we must ask ourselves is, ‘is our intention really to do what is good for creation or rather what is good for our own egos and what looks impressive and noticeable?’ Conservationists who are deserving of the title are not trying to make a name for themselves or to win awards for their efforts; they are humbly attempting to to do the monumental work of caring for creation, a work which is reward in and of itself. Without the pressure of trying to do something impressive, conservationists can take the time to do the patient work required: to exercise restraint, seek to deeply understand the specific place and know its needs, and then, and only then, to act accordingly.
When Paul Kingsnorth bought the field he manages in Ireland, he did nothing for the first year. It was an immensely wise act. In this intervening year of waiting and observing, creation did much of the work of restoration for him, work he would have done only in ignorance and possibly poorly.5 Once he understood what creation wanted to do, what the soil was capable of, what species were present here, and what aspects of his field were still struggling, Kingsnorth could perceive the grain of his place and could identify the work the Maker had already begun in restoring this spot on this very good earth. He was then able to work with nature rather than against it — and to watch it flourish under his wise care.6
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See, Wendell Berry, Damage.
Invasive species are still spread through unintentional releases (such as when they arrive as stowaways in cargo), and those released long ago still wreak havoc in their invaded territories.
To use G.K. Chesterton’s famous example.
Perhaps it is because many creatures use such untidy spots…
Paul Kingsnorth, ‘Learning What To Make of It’ In, Confessions of a Recovering Environmentalist.
Though of course, as James Rebanks says, there are times when we have to come against or work against nature if humans are to thrive. This is especially so in farming. Though even in farming, a balance between working against and working with, or even for, needs to be struck. See James Rebanks, English Pastoral.
"Again, where mystery and complexity dwells in abundance, those who are wise tread lightly, slowly — and perhaps not at all."
Well that about sums it up!!