De-Extinction: If We Could Revive a Species, Does It Mean We Should?
By Jason Mark
Few creatures have ever existed that can match the sheer weirdness of Australia’s gastric brooding frog. As the name suggests, the amphibian had the strange ability to reproduce offspring in its stomach. The female would release a cloud of eggs, the male would fertilize them, and then the female swallowed the eggs whole. At that point, the female ceased making digestive acids and her stomach became, essentially, a womb. A few weeks would pass, and then the female would open her mouth and a batch of babies would issue forth. Think of it as the swampland version of Zeus birthing Athena out of his forehead: a beast that pukes its young into the world.
This wonderful oddity no longer exists. Biologists didn’t identify the frog until relatively recently—and then it almost immediately disappeared. The southern gastric brooding frog was described in 1973, discovered in a narrow range of streams on Australia’s east coast; the last sighting occurred in 1979. Its cousin, the northern gastric brooding frog, wasn’t discovered until 1984; the last one was seen just a year later. One of the main culprits of the frogs’ demise was a pathogen called the chytrid fungus. As usual, humans accelerated the rush toward extinction. Much of the frogs’ habitat was destroyed by invasive weeds and feral pigs. The miraculous animal was gone as soon as we knew it.
Now, in a new twist on miracle, scientists are on the verge of bringing the frog back.
In March researchers with the Lazarus Project announced they had cloned gastric brooding frog embryos. Forty years ago, a biologist happened to throw a few specimens into a freezer before the species went extinct. Today’s researchers were able to obtain cell nuclei from the tissues collected in the 1970s. “Almost miraculously, we were able to extract viable DNA from the specimens,” one of the Lazarus Project scientists, Simon Clulow, wrote to me in an email. Using a technique called somatic cell nuclear transfer, the team injected the gastric brooding frogs’ DNA into inactivated egg nuclei from the great barred frog. Some of the eggs began to spontaneously divide. Although none of the embryos survived beyond a few days, tests confirmed that the dividing cells contained the genetic material from the extinct frog. “We are watching Lazarus arise from the dead, step by exciting step,” the team leader, Mike Archer of the University of New South Wales, said in announcing the news.
What was sci-fi fantasy only a few decades ago is now well within the realm of the possible. Asked how close his team was to having a living, breathing gastric brooding frog, Clulow wrote: “We are confident this will only be a matter of a small number of years, perhaps less.”
The Lazarus Project is part of an emerging field of science called “revival biology.” Advances in cloning, genetic sequencing, and synthetic biology—along with successes in more old-fashioned “back breeding”—have opened up the possibility of returning to the world species that are long gone. Scientists are busy trying to revive the passenger pigeon, the European auroch and the Pyrenean ibex. Proponents of de-extinction also dream of resuscitating the dodo, the Carolina parakeet, the Steller’s sea cow and the thylacine, a wolf-like marsupial known as the Tasmanian tiger that was hunted to extinction in the 1930s. If any of those creatures were ever to walk or swim again, it would be the realization of one of humans’ most ancient wishes: the power to bring life back from the dead.
De-extinction champions say species revival offers humanity a chance for redemption. By recreating species that we drove into the great void of extinction, we could right a historical wrong. Just as important, de-extinction proponents argue, revival biology can provide a new spark to the global conservation movement. Imagine a flock of passenger pigeons in the sky: The sight alone would reinvigorate civilization’s apparently flagging sense of awe with nature. Call it re-wilding from a test tube.
“I think de-extinction can enrich conservation efforts,” says Ryan Phelan, executive director of the Revive & Restore project at the Long Now Foundation. The group has dedicated itself to serving as a clearinghouse for information about de-extinction, and Phelan has become one of revival biology’s most impassioned promoters. “I think it takes the inspiring vision of de-extinction … to help move all of this forward. As controversial as all of it is, and possibly because it’s controversial, it’s going to help drive interest in [species loss], in a way that conservation by itself couldn’t do. Because at the end of the day, the species that we are talking about bringing back, they really are part of the continuum of life. And I think that’s the real power in what we are trying to do. We’re calling attention to the extinction threat.”
Yet even those who support de-extinction acknowledge that many risks are involved. There are political and ethical concerns: Will the idea make us cavalier about extinction, leading us to wreck the planet even more recklessly, believing we can repair the damage? There are ecological worries: what if we end up bringing back the passenger pigeon and it becomes an avian version of kudzu? For some people, there is a visceral fear that de-extinction is just the virtuous version of synthetic biology’s darker side—the creation of “customized species” and “perfected humans.”
Some eminent conservation biologists say the whole thing is a waste of time. “I’ve been trying to tell people, ‘I bloody well won’t talk about it,’” Stuart Pimm, a professor of conservation ecology at Duke University, told me in an interview he agreed to only reluctantly. “It’s not worth my time. It’s not worth yours. The idea that this is going to be much of a solution is fanciful at best.”
The debate about de-extinction centers on a classic dilemma. Just because we can do something, does that mean we should? For environmentalists, the answer largely depends on whether you think de-extinction will advance conservation efforts, or undermine them.
I promised myself I wouldn’t mention Jurassic Park—but, what the hell, Michael Crichton was onto something. The 1990 bestseller and subsequent Spielberg blockbuster might have been outlandish, but the science wasn’t all wrong. No, we won’t be able to bring back the dinosaurs. Scientists say reviving an extinct species will require relatively intact original DNA, and that will limit us to species that have disappeared during roughly the last 200,000 years. But if Jurassic Park remains a fantasy, a Pleistocene Park might be doable. Given enough time and money (and a good bit of laboratory luck), scientists could create a simulacrum of a wooly mammoth. Or a giant ground sloth. Or a Neanderthal. We won’t have to worry about velociraptors getting loose—just saber-toothed tigers.
As in the fictional Jurassic Park, reviving a long lost species would involve sequencing the genome of an extinct animal and then splicing in genes from its closest living cousin through what’s called “allele replacement.” The most advanced efforts so far have focused on the passenger pigeon. In the nineteenth century, flocks of passenger pigeons darkened the skies of North America. Then habitat loss and market hunters’ shotguns whittled away at the birds’ numbers. The last known passenger pigeon—“Martha” she was dubbed—died at the Cincinnati Zoo in 1914.
A 26-year-old genetic engineer and bird lover named Ben Novak is spearheading the effort to revive the passenger pigeon. Novak grew up in a conservation-minded family, and when he was a teenager he developed a fascination with the passenger pigeon, a bird very similar to the common rock pigeon, only graced with a longer tail and a handsome red breast. “I am a very, very passionate passenger pigeon enthusiast,” Novak told me. “There are people in the world who love pigeons. And within that group there are people who become life-long obsessives with the passenger pigeon. I fell into that group when I was very young.” Novak works in the lab of University of California-Santa Cruz researcher Beth Shapiro. Together, the two are steadily decoding the DNA of the passenger pigeon and its closest surviving kin, the band-tailed pigeon.
Novak has been able to gather 65 tissue samples from preserved passenger pigeons and has also obtained some bone fragments dating back to the 1700s. He has completed genetic sequencing on a third of his samples; he expects to have a “first draft” of the passenger pigeon’s genome by the end of this year. Meanwhile, Shapiro is assembling the genome of the band-tailed pigeon. Once completed, the band-tailed pigeon genome will be used, Shapiro says, “as a scaffold on which to map the DNA of the passenger pigeon.” Because of natural decay, the passenger pigeon DNA will be incomplete. Genes from the band-tailed will be needed to fill in holes. But some of the passenger pigeon’s traits—say, the distinctive red breast—may be lost altogether. To fill in those patches, the geneticists will have to synthesize new genes through a process of “inference and experimentation,” in Novak’s words. Organizing the band-tailed pigeon genes, the recovered passenger pigeon genes and the synthetic genes is very similar to “writing a paper from a whole lot of different sources,” Novak says. “Even if the first individual is not right, we will have a stepping stone to make it better.”
How close can the researchers get to nature’s original? “I think we can probably get into the 80 or 90 percent range,” Novak says. Shapiro is more circumspect. “How close are we to having an exact passenger pigeon?” she emailed me. “Infinitely far away. A hybrid of some sort, with a less-than-random selection of genes that hopefully impact the behavior or phenotype of a band-tailed pigeon and make it act more like a passenger pigeon.”
In theory, this process could revive many other species that haven’t roamed the planet in centuries, or even millennia. Genes from a zebra could be used to splice together a quagga, a half zebra-half horse creature that once inhabited southern Africa. Take the genome of the Asian elephant, combine it with ancient DNA, and a wooly mammoth (of sorts) might one day return to the Siberian steppe.
If mammoth revival seems impossible, consider this: A team of Russian and Korean genetic engineers is searching for fully intact mammoth DNA to simply clone the animal. In June an expedition uncovered some liquid mammoth blood in a well-preserved carcass in Siberia. The blood sample is now in Seoul, at the labs of the Sooam Biotech Research Foundation, a private organization that is developing techniques for dog cloning.
While many researchers are skeptical that the Seoul-based group will ever get enough high quality mammoth DNA to clone one, cloning is a viable de-extinction technique for more recently deceased species. The gastric brooding frog is one example. Another is the Pyrenean ibex. In fact, one ibex clone has already been born.
Woolly Mammoth. Image: Wikicommons
The Pyrenean ibex, also known as a bucardo, was a kind of mountain goat that once inhabited the rugged terrain between Spain and France. A large creature weighing up to 220 pounds, the bucardo had long horns that swept back from its head and then curled frontward. In the nineteenth century, the population began to decline precipitously—the victim of human hunting and competition from domesticated goats and sheep. The last bucardo, christened “Celia” by biologists, died in 1999; a tree fell on her.
Before Celia perished, scientists took several tissue samples from the animal and preserved them. A team led by Dr. José Folch from the Centre of Food Technology and Research of Aragon began trying to create a clone from Celia’s DNA. In 2003 the scientists succeeded in getting a surrogate mother to bring a clone to term. The cloned bucardo, however, had a short and miserable life. It was born with a massive lump in its lungs, and died just 10 minutes after coming into the world.
As the bucardo experience shows, cloning is far from a perfected science. But steady improvements in the technique open up the possibility of one day bringing back a host of extinct species. The San Diego Zoo’s “frozen zoo” has preserved the DNA of hundreds of mammals, birds, amphibians and fish, many of them threatened or endangered. On the botanical front, the Svalbard seed vault in Norway preserves thousands of varieties of food crops. If (or when) some of those species go extinct, and if (or when) cloning becomes more reliable, such cryonic arks will be essential for reviving lost plants and animals.
Other scientists, meanwhile, are experimenting with back breeding to revive extinct species. To understand back breeding, think of any selective breeding program used to prioritize certain traits—only in this case it’s running evolution in reverse. A Dutch group called Stichting Taurus is using back breeding to revive the auroch. The massive species of cattle (six feet tall at the shoulder and weighing more than a ton) once roamed throughout Europe; its likeness appears on the cave paintings at Lascaux. Then came the now-familiar story of habitat destruction and human hunting. The last one died in Poland in 1627. But much of the auroch’s genetic code remains in today’s cow breeds, for example in the large and wild Heck cattle. The Dutch scientists are using DNA samples from auroch bones and teeth to figure out its exact genetic code. Then they are breeding cattle to select for those auroch genes. If all goes according to plan, each successive generation should look more like the ancient auroch.
How close are we to actually reviving a lost species and returning it to the wild? It depends. While a reborn gastric brooding frog appears imminent, a genetically diverse herd of wooly mammoths is probably a century away. Even the passenger pigeon will take some time. “If everything went smoothly and almost idealistically perfect, it would be good to have some in the wild in the next 25 years,” Ben Novak says. “I think in 50 to 100 years you might start to see some flocks of significant size.”
As the researchers toil in their labs, the job of popularizing de-extinction has been taken up by Stewart Brand, the charismatic and controversial environmental thinker whose Whole Earth Catalog was a kind of lifestyle bible for seventies-era greens. In late May, Brand delivered an hour-long presentation about revival biology to a packed house of several hundred people at the San Francisco Jazz Center. Brand is tall, lanky and, at 74, still super vigorous, and the talk—part science seminar, part history lesson, part sentimental appeal—was a rousing advertisement for de-extinction’s potential.
“Biotech is about to liberate conservation, or at least part of it, in a spectacular way,” he said at the beginning of his presentation. Then, after showing grainy, black and white film footage of the last known Tasmanian tiger, Brand intoned: “We see what we’ve lost, and we just mourn. Well, don’t mourn—organize.”
In Brand’s telling, it was he and his wife, Ryan Phelan, who coalesced the disparate species revival efforts into an international de-extinction movement. Phelan is a successful biomedical entrepreneur who, in the early aughts, started one of the first companies, DNA Direct, that offered individuals genetic testing over the Internet. In the course of her work Phelan got to know George Church, a Harvard geneticist who is a leader in the field of synthetic biology. During a Cambridge dinner with Church, it became clear to Brand and Phelan that species revival was not just possible, but probable. So Church and the couple organized a meeting at the Wyss Institute in Boston to discuss bringing back the passenger pigeon. Buoyed by the encouraging talk they heard there, Brand and Phelan then connected with the National Geographic Society, which in the fall of 2012 hosted a closed-door meeting of molecular and conservation biologists in Washington, DC. The meeting was, by all accounts, exciting; Church said it reminded him of the 1984 meeting in Alta, UT that started the Human Genome Project. After that came a National Geographic cover story and a widely viewed TEDx seminar, all designed, Brand said, so that the “public discourse [about de-extinction] would not be simpleminded.”
Brand’s talk at the San Francisco Jazz Center clearly was also part of that effort, an attempt to inoculate de-extinction against some of the criticisms that have started to arise. “Why bring vanished creatures back to life?” he said. “It will be expensive and difficult. It will take decades. It won’t always succeed. So why even try?” The reasons, he said, are the same ones that motivate us to go to great lengths to protect endangered species: “To preserve biodiversity, to restore diminished ecosystems, to advance the science of preventing extinctions, and to undo harm that humans have caused in the past.”
Brand was especially careful to head off any suggestions that synthesized species wouldn’t be as valuable as the natural originals. “Will there be something wrong with those passenger pigeons if they have band-tailed traces in them?” Brand asked, and then quickly brushed away such concerns. “We waste our time getting purist about genomes. Most of the American bison we protect have some cattle genes in them, and it makes no difference in their look or behavior.”
De-extinction, Brand argued, could rescue conservationism from a “kind of hopelessness” in which many people see the natural world as irrevocably “broken.” “Conservation focuses too much on reclaiming the past,” he proclaimed. “It needs to be about creating an exciting vision of the future.”
He then made a moral plea. If de-extinction is technically possible, we have an obligation to attempt it: “Humans have made a huge hole in nature over the last 10,000 years. Now we have the ability to repair some of the damage.” Brand closed with an aphorism inspired by a Gary Snyder interpretation of Zen Buddhism: “Part of ‘do no harm’ is ‘undo harm.’ … Want to try it?”
Altogether, it was a convincing presentation. At least in that moment, I did want to try it. To see a wooly mammoth in the flesh—that would be awesome. To bring back the passenger pigeon—that would be an act of poetic justice. Only a killjoy would object.
And yet … I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more complicated than Brand had made it sound. Bringing a species back from the dead might be possible, but recreating the ecosystem in which it once lived would be far more difficult. In place of an endling we might have an ecological orphan, stranded outside of its time. A revived species would be a wonderful curiosity—but, I worried, it would be no cure for the extinctions we continue to cause.
I didn’t have to wait long to share my concerns. Brand and Phelan had organized a private dinner right after the presentation, and I was invited to attend. The gathering took place at the Hayes Street Grill, a San Francisco institution that is a favorite spot for people on their way to the opera or ballet. There were 19 of us: a handful of Silicon Valley venture capitalists, a bunch of techies, some of Brand’s friends, plus the eco-futurist Alex Steffen and Kevin Kelly, the founding editor of Wired. We had the place all to ourselves. Brand sat himself at the center of the table and then plopped onto the white tablecloth a stuffed wooly mammoth that he had used as a prop during his talk. With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, it was obvious how he had fit in as one of Ken Kesey’s Merry Pranksters.
For her part, Phelan meant business. A striking blonde with soft blue eyes, Phelan carries herself with the easy confidence of someone who has been a stranger to failure. Her professional successes, however, haven’t infected her with arrogance. She knows how much she doesn’t know, and she’s eager to listen to conflicting points of view. As we perused the menu, Phelan issued a challenge: “I want to go around the table, and I want each of you to share your concerns. What’s your biggest worry about de-extinction? Because we have to get this right. We need to make sure we do the cautionary vigilance.”
No one held back. During the next two hours, the dinner conversation touched on all of the main de-extinction criticisms that I would hear from biologists and environmental activists in the following weeks. The objections go like this:
The first complaint about revival biology is that it will distract from the less glamorous work of protecting threatened habitats and endangered, but still extant, species. Some people have argued that the conservation movement has done the public a disservice by focusing so much on especially cuddly or cool animals—“charismatic megafauna” like pandas, tigers and wolves. To truly preserve wildlife, most conservation biologists agree, we need to prioritize saving whole ecosystems. With their overwrought enthusiasm for the wooly mammoth and the passenger pigeon, the de-extinction proponents just fuel that single-species myopia. At the Hayes Street Grill dinner, Alex Steffen coined a neologism for this: “charismatic necrofauna.”
“I mean, if we had a passenger pigeon, where the hell would we put it?” Duke University’s Stuart Pimm said to me later in an interview. “The more obvious case is the Pyrenean ibex. They were hunted to extinction. If you brought it back, that would be the most expensive cabrito those Basques have ever eaten. You have to have a place to put them back. It’s even worse than that, because it distracts you from the fact that it’s not about species—it’s about ecosystems. If you had spotted owls in a bottle, would that solve the problem of them going extinct in the Pacific Northwest? No, because you’re still destroying the forests.”
If anything, de-extinction boosters have only fanned this anxiety. Take bird enthusiast Ben Novak. His fetish for the passenger pigeon and his personal peculiarities (he wears his hair completely shorn on one side, chin length on the other) give him the air of one of those eccentric nineteenth-century English citizen-explorers who were dead set on their goals—no matter whether the goals were scientifically important. In our interview he acknowledged that the Long Now Foundation is focused on the pigeon in part because it’s attention grabbing and, well, fundable. “Our goal is to get people behind the goal of de-extinction,” he said. “We had proposed doing proof-of-concept work in a way that would use two living rats and an extinct species of rat, because the technology is much farther along for the cellular work with those species. But few people really care to work on a rat for a subject like this.”
Tasmanian tiger. Image: Rod Scott
Here you go, Senator Inhofe.
A second worry centers on how the public might come to perceive de-extinction. What if people get the idea that, since we are able to bring back disappeared species, we no longer have to worry about wiping out plants and animals? De-extinction could set up a kind of moral hazard—people may be willing to take more risks with the environment, believing there is no price to be paid. The mere possibility of revival biology could give rhetorical cover to the forces hell-bent on resource extraction at any cost. “What I’m afraid of is that there will be people who will say, ‘We don’t have to worry about extinction anymore,’” David Ehrenfeld, a professor of biology at Rutgers, told me. “You know right away which members of Congress will be saying that.”
Brand and Phelan take this complaint seriously. “The worst case scenario would be one in which people get cavalier about extinction,” Phelan said to me. And that, Brand says, “would be like giving up on exercise and good diet because you hear the costs of heart surgery are coming down.”
The problem is that not everyone is as conscientious as a couple who live on a houseboat in Sausalito. American politics in the Digital Age is a game of instant telephone; Brand and Phelan’s thoughtfulness won’t translate very far. Some political operatives might cynically use the possibility of de-extinction to advance more logging, mining or oil drilling. Alex Steffen warned: “I guarantee you there are people in DC who are working late tonight making a plan for using this to push a political agenda of continued destruction.”
Ceci n'est pas une pipe.
If it looks like a passenger pigeon and coos like a passenger pigeon, but is largely made up of band-tailed pigeon genes, is it really a passenger pigeon? Or just a representation of one? No one I spoke with felt that a revived species would have to be 100 percent pure. Still, I heard doubts about the value of something that would be, in the words of Stanley Temple, a professor of environmental studies at University of Wisconsin and a fellow at the Aldo Leopold Center, “a chimera of a pigeon. Or a mammoth that is part mammoth, part Asian elephant.” At some point the original gene pool could be so watered down that the exercise might be worthless.
Genetics and synthetic biology have come a long way in the last decade, but they remain inexact sciences. “DNA is not an instruction manual,” Rutgers’ Ehrenfeld told me. “It’s kind of like a list of ingredients. Like a dictionary of sorts.”
The emerging science of epigenetics further complicates the issue. Researchers have found that the genetic prompts encoded within a DNA strand can switch on and off depending upon various factors. For example, an obese and stressed parent will pass to its progeny different characteristics than a slim and thriving parent. The few remaining passenger pigeons from which we have tissue samples—birds that lived in small, fractured flocks—might not be representative of the passenger pigeon in its billion-strong prime.
But even skeptics say the molecular work being done by the revival biologists could assist traditional species conservation. Advances in genomic sequencing might, for instance, resolve genetic bottlenecks in critically endangered species like the northern white rhinoceros. “If they want to recover ancient DNA and see what they might find, that could be an addition to genetic diversity [of still living species],” Temple said. “To me, that’s almost more exciting than bringing back a passenger pigeon.”
Flying purple people eaters.
Embedded within the specific concerns are harder-to-pin-down anxieties about the abuse of genetic engineering and synthetic biology. Simply put, when we tinker with the building blocks of life, we can’t be sure the experiments won’t get away from us. “They [the species revivalists] assume a kind of omniscience that we just don’t have as ecologists,” Ehrenfeld said. “We just can’t predict whether a species that has been translocated will be invasive. … This is techno-optimism of the worst sort.”
Some people worry that the well meaning de-extinction efforts could be a stepping-stone to more diabolical, Dr. Moreau-like tinkering. After Brand’s presentation, Ben Novak, speaking on stage, casually mentioned the potential of creating “customized species.” Harvard geneticist George Church (“a mad scientist out of Central Casting,” in the words of one person I spoke with) is even more cavalier. In his book Regenesis, he writes: “Genomic technologies will permit us … to take evolution to places where it has never gone, and where it would probably never go if left to its own devices.”
Such talk makes even some of Brand’s backers uneasy. One of the venture capitalists at the Hayes Street Grill dinner said he feared people creating “flying purple people-eaters” in their garages—something along the lines of the out-of-control artificial species in Margaret Atwood’s cli-fi dystopian novel Oryx and Crake. This isn’t an academic concern. In May a group of biotechnology hobbyists raised nearly half a million dollars on Kickstarter to fund the lab creation of glow-in-the-dark plants; each person who pledged more than $40 was promised “seeds to grow a glowing plant at home.”
The species revivalists grow impatient when they hear criticisms of synthetic biology. “This is what we do—we explore, we make progress, we change how we interact with the world, and we shape it around us,” Novak says. Phelan argues: “We are already engineering. Engineering is happening.”
True enough. But it’s worth remembering that engineering isn’t infallible. Take, as just one example, the new San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge. The beautifully designed suspension bridge is billions of dollars over budget and, before a single car has passed over it, already busted because of some faulty bolts. Human engineering is, indeed, a marvel—blemished only by the inevitability of human error.
Hank Greeley is an academic’s academic, the kind of thinker who is able to see four sides to every coin. A professor of law at Stanford University and the director of the school’s Center for Law and the Biosciences, Greeley specializes in teasing out the implications of the emerging life sciences. It’s a position, he says, that often gets him in trouble from all sides of the genetic engineering debates. “I have either the fortune or misfortunate trait of heading toward the middle of any topic,” he told me recently.
Of the 25 presentations delivered at TEDx De-Extinction, Greeley’s was among the most thoughtful. The law professor went through de-extinction’s pros and cons and asked whether it should be considered “hubris or hope.” Then he answered with an equivocal, “yes, a little bit of both.” After weighing the evidence, Greeley said he was in favor of de-extinction because of the way in which it would spark a “sense of wonder. It would be awe-inspiring to see a wooly mammoth. … It would be like the first time I turned that corner and saw Yosemite Valley spread out before me.”
This is a common refrain among the species revivalists. Novak says his work is hopeful and “humanistic” in a way “similar to the space race.” Phelan told me that de-extinction could deliver to conservationism a jolt of “hope and positive energy.” In his San Francisco presentation, Brand promised: “The current generation of children will experience the return of some remarkable creatures in their lifetime.” And in that achievement “they might see our relation to nature as something other than tragic.”
I’m sorry, but I’m just not buying it. De-extinction is neat, I agree. It won’t, however, make a meaningful contribution to the global conservation movement.
There’s no doubt that a revived giant ground sloth would be awesome, in the truest sense of the word. But I doubt such a sight would revive a wonder with the nonhuman world and, in the process, reinvigorate efforts to protect that world. Why? Simply because of the difference in how we experience a man-made wonder and a natural one. The amazement we experience with our technological gee-gaws (remember the first iPhone you saw?) is one thing. The amazement we experience with the surprise at natural forms (remember the first time you visited the Grand Canyon?) is another.
When I shared this concern with Greeley, he took it seriously—and then dismissed it. “Wonderment is culturally conditioned,” he said. “Wonder varies. I’m not sure there’s a difference between the wonder inspired by nature and the wonder inspired by the Manhattan skyline or the Parthenon.”
I think Greeley is wrong. Not to be too prissy about it, but when it comes to the objects of our wonder, the distinction makes a difference. The Manhattan skyline at night amazes us with the scale of human invention; the Milky Way amazes us with the scale of the universe. They are both an arrangement of lights, but while the first makes humanity seem huge, the second makes us feel small. The difference matters because it influences how we think about our place on this planet. The skyline is good for illustrating our power; the starscape teaches us humility.
The species revivalists overestimate de-extinction’s contribution to conservationism because they misunderstand what conservation is really about. Brand, Novak and Phelan say humans have always been creators and engineers, and they are not wrong. But that fact adds nothing to the ethic or practice of conservation. Taking some parts of the nonhuman world and protecting them from our unruly desires is, above all, an exercise in restraint—not creation. Conservation is about forbearance. It’s a demonstration of the discipline to leave well enough alone.
Restraint, Discipline, Humility, Forbearance. I know—those are old-fashioned virtues, passé in the epoch of the Anthropocene. Yet they remain the essential counterweights to those who would pave whatever they can for the sake of a buck.
“We are as gods and might as well get good at it” was the famous epigram of Stewart Brand’s Whole Earth Catalog. Forty-five years later, the possibility of de-extinction makes the line more true than ever. Will playing God by raising species from the grave make us better conservationists? Unlikely. The techno-fix of de-extinction will, in fact, be awe-inspiring. But let’s not pretend that human inventions will make nonhuman creation seem more deserving of our care and protection.
If we truly want our relation to nature to be “something other than tragic,” what that will require, most of all, is for us to finally, belatedly get good at behaving like something less than gods.
Visit EcoWatch’s BIODIVERSITY page for more related news on this topic.
EcoWatch Daily Newsletter
By Isabella Garcia
On Thanksgiving Day 2019, right after Caroline Laur had finished giving thanks for her home, a neighbor at church told her that a company had submitted permit requests to build an asphalt plant in their community. The plans indicated the plant would be 250 feet from Laur's backdoor.
Grassroots Resistance<p>The plant that would threaten Laur's health and home was awaiting the approval of an air permit by the North Carolina Department of Air Quality which, if approved, would basically greenlight the project. "This made me get out and go door to door," Laur says. One by one, she alerted her neighbors to the prospect of the asphalt plant. "I got to meet some of my neighbors I never knew before," she says. "There's no secret that there has always been a pretty strong line between the White community and the Black community here." In the end, three neighbors joined her efforts—the Rev. Bryon Shoffner, Anita Foust, and Bill Compton. Together, they formed the Anderson Community Group to advocate for environmental justice in their community.</p><p>"We are all the four corners of the community," Laur says with a laugh. "You've got a sick old White lady, Rev. Shoffner is a disabled vet, you've got Anita, who is a Black woman, and you've got a White, old country farmer. We all come from different faiths, but we've all come together as one."</p><p>Suddenly thrust into activism, the group contacted the North Carolina Environmental Justice Network, a coalition that provides resources and connections with other groups. "We advocate, we organize, and we assist communities with whatever actions they are thinking of trying to protect themselves," says Naeema Muhammad, the network's co-director. Muhammad met with the activists from Anderson and recognized their need for legal advice, so she connected them with the Lawyers Committee for Civil Rights Under Law. The legal resources were key when the group determined that the data from the North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality's environmental justice report wasn't adding up.</p><p>The report—a requirement for all DEQ permit requests—stated that the Anderson community was 33% minority. That seemed far too low to the residents, so the Anderson Community Group did a census of each house within a 1-mile radius of the proposed plant—the same radius considered in the DEQ's environmental justice report.</p><p>"Rev. Shoffner went out into the community and did his own survey and found out that it was more than 70% minority," Laur says. "That was huge, because that changed the situation to a Title VI matter." Title VI is a federal civil rights law that prevents people from being discriminated against on the grounds of race, color, or national origin. Title VI cases require a more rigorous and comprehensive environmental justice report, so recognizing the Anderson community as a Title VI matter increases the strength of their request for a more in-depth report.</p><p>The massive difference in race demographics comes down to census data, Laur says. The DEQ was using race data from the 2010 census, which was only <a href="https://www.censushardtocountmaps2020.us/?latlng=35.77385,-78.73807&z=7&query=coordinates::36.44038,-79.36343&promotedfeaturetype=states&arp=arpRaceEthnicity&baselayerstate=4&rtrYear=sR2010&infotab=info-rtrselfresponse&filterQuery=false" target="_blank">completed by about 64% of the population of Caswell County</a>—the county where Anderson is located. Laur says the Anderson population response rate could be even lower because the community is considered <a href="https://www.nccensus.org/about-the-census#hard-to-count-communities" target="_blank">"hard-to-count" by the U.S. Census Bureau</a>.</p><p>"The people who don't fill it out are rural people who want to keep their land and don't want zoning and minorities," Laur says, which creates skewed race demographics. The Anderson Community Group said that when they brought up this issue with the director of North Carolina DEQ, he said he was aware of the problem.</p><p>"So that tells me that all the EJ reports in North Carolina that have been done may not even be valid, just like ours," Laur says. "We were told that we are the first [community members] who have ever doubted it and checked it out."</p>
Elevating Voices<p>Determined to have new data collected, the Anderson Community Group rallied in early 2020. After learning from the state Department of Air Quality, the department responsible for approving or rejecting the asphalt air permit, that 100 statements of concern from community members would be sufficient to trigger a public hearing, the Anderson group gathered letters of concern from their community. They submitted more than 108.</p><p>"Then we were told there wasn't enough concern to have a public hearing," Laur says. "So, we started inundating the [Department of Air Quality director with emails and phone calls from the community."</p><p>Finally, in February 2020, the DEQ declared a public comment period for the issue, effectively placing the air permit for the asphalt plant on hold until a public hearing August 3. The public hearing will be held online because of COVID-19, but Laur says most people in Anderson don't own computers, and won't be able to attend. When the community group filed a complaint regarding accessibility, the DEQ then allowed public comments to be submitted via voicemail.</p><p>"Well, we don't have a cell tower out here," Laur says. She has personally never been able to use her cellphone in her home, and even her landline phone drops calls frequently. Even being able to afford a landline is a luxury in Anderson, Laur says.</p>
By Danielle Nierenberg and Jason Flatt
The world's Indigenous Peoples face severe and disproportionate rates of food insecurity. While Indigenous Peoples comprise 5 percent of the world's population, they account for 15 percent of the world's poor, according to the World Health Organization.
1. Aboriginal Carbon Foundation (Oceania)<p>The Aboriginal Carbon Foundation is building a carbon farming industry in Australia by Aboriginals, for Aboriginals. The Foundation offers training and support for new Indigenous farmers so they can learn how to capture atmospheric carbon in the soil. The carbon farming projects generate certified <a href="http://www.cleanenergyregulator.gov.au/Infohub/Markets/buying-accus/australian-carbon-credit-unit-supply" target="_blank">Australian Carbon Credit Units</a> (ACCU), which major carbon-producing businesses must purchase to offset their carbon emissions. Income generated by ACCUs is reinvested in Aboriginal communities by the Aboriginal Carbon Foundation and its participating farmers.</p>
2. AgroEcology Fund (International)<p>The AgroEcology Fund (AEF) galvanizes global leaders and experts to fund <a href="https://foodtank.com/news/2020/07/26-organizations-working-to-conserve-seed-biodiversity/" target="_blank">biodiverse</a> and regenerative agriculture projects worldwide. Projects funded by AEF have included Indigenous food sovereignty initiatives, agroecology training institutions, and women's market access networks on every continent. With the support of governments and financial institutions, AEF hopes that agroecology will become the standard model for food production worldwide within thirty years.</p>
3. Asia Indigenous Peoples Pact (Asia)<p>The Asia Indigenous People Pact is an alliance of Indigenous organizations across southern and eastern Asia. Collectively, the Pact promotes and protects Indigenous lands, food systems, and biodiversity. Their alliance is bolstered by regional youth and women's networks, as well as support from international institutions, including the United Nations and Oxfam.</p>
4. Association of Guardians of the Native Potato from Central Peru (South America)<p>The Association of Guardians of the Native Potato from Central Peru (AGUAPAN) is a collective of Indigenous farmers. Each farmer grows between 50 and 300 ancestral varieties of potato, which are <a href="https://foodtank.com/news/2020/07/food-tanks-summer-2020-reading-list/" target="_blank">indigenous to the Andes Mountains</a> of modern-day Peru. AGUAPAN farmers preserve the crop's biodiversity in their native communities and band together to advocate for economic, gender, education, and healthcare equity.</p>
5. Cheyenne River Youth Project (North America)<p>The Cheyenne River Youth Project in Eagle Butte, South Dakota has served Lakota youth for more than three decades. Its Native Food Sovereignty initiative offers public workshops on <a href="https://www.nativeseeds.org/blogs/blog-news/how-to-grow-a-three-sisters-garden" target="_blank">Three Sisters gardening</a> of corn, beans, and squash. They also offer classes on Indigenous plants, gardening, and cooking. Their Winyan Tokay Win (Leading Lady) Garden serves as an outdoor classroom to reacquaint Lakota children with the earth. Their other programs use food grown in the garden for meals and snacks. They also sell surplus crops at their weekly Leading Lady Farmer's Market.</p>
6. Dream of Wild Health (North America)<p>Dream of Wild Health runs a 10-acre farm just outside of Minneapolis, Minnesota. Their Indigenous Food Share CSA program and farmer's market booths sell produce and value-added products grown by Native Americans. During the summer, Dream of Wild Health offers a Garden Warriors program where children can learn about seed saving, foraging, farmers market management, and other aspects of food sovereignty. They also host the <a href="https://dreamofwildhealth.org/indigenous-food-network" target="_blank">Indigenous Food Network</a> (IFN), a collective of Indigenous partners who advocate for local and regional policy changes. The IFN also hosts community food tasting events featuring prominent Indigenous chefs.</p>
7. First Peoples Worldwide (International)<p>First Peoples Worldwide was <a href="http://www.firstpeoples.org/" target="_blank">founded</a> by Cherokee social entrepreneur <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQxwHVeH6zc" target="_blank">Rebecca Adamson</a> to help businesses to align with First Peoples' rights. Now a part of the University of Colorado's <a href="https://www.colorado.edu/business/CESR" target="_blank">Center for Ethics and Social Responsibility</a>, First Peoples Worldwide continues to ensure that Indigenous voices are at the forefront of decision-making processes affecting their own self-determination. The organization works with businesses and institutions to assess their investments and guide them in incorporating Indigenous Peoples' rights and interests into their business decisions.</p>
8. Indigikitchen (North America)<p>Mariah Gladstone's Indigikitchen uses Native foods as resistance. Her <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCO918GT8I3HX5f4Z1xKCV4A" target="_blank">cooking videos</a> offer healthy, creative ways to eat <a href="https://www.okhistory.org/publications/enc/entry.php?entry=PR005" target="_blank">pre-contact</a>, Indigenous foods. The recipes abstain from highly-processed grains, dairy, and sugar, ingredients that did not become standard in diets of the Americas until European colonization. Indigikitchen hopes that its recipes inspire Indigenous cooks to connect with Native foods.</p>
9. Indigenous Food and Agriculture Initiative (North America)<p>The Indigenous Food and Agriculture Initiative at the University of Arkansas provides model policies for Tribal governments to help <a href="https://foodtank.com/news/2020/05/colby-duren-talks-indigenous-food-and-agriculture-policy/" target="_blank">promote and protect food sovereignty</a>. They also co-organize the Native Farm Bill Coalition with the <a href="https://shakopeedakota.org/" target="_blank">Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community</a>, the <a href="https://www.indianag.org/" target="_blank">Intertribal Agriculture Council</a>, and the <a href="http://www.ncai.org/" target="_blank">National Congress of American Indians</a>. The Initiative hosts annual <a href="https://indigenousfoodandag.com/resources/native-youth-summit/" target="_blank">Native Youth in Food and Agriculture Leadership Summits</a>, where American Indian, Alaska Native, and Native Hawaiian youth can learn about agricultural business, land stewardship, agricultural law, and more.</p>
10. Indigenous Food Systems Network (North America)<p>The Indigenous Food Systems Network (IFSN) is a convener of Indigenous food producers, researchers, and policymakers across the 98 Indigenous nations of Canada. IFSN supports research, policy reform, and direct action that builds food sovereignty in Indigenous communities. The organization's Indigenous Food Sovereignty <a href="http://www.bcfsn.org/mailman/listinfo/ifs_bcfsn.org" target="_blank">email listserv</a> offers its subscribers everything from stories and legends to recipes and policy reform tools.</p>
11. Indigenous Partnership for Agrobiodiversity and Food Sovereignty (International)<p>Indigenous Partnership for Agrobiodiversity and Food Sovereignty is an international organization based in Rome, Italy connecting the world's Indigenous People to agricultural research and advocacy groups. With Indigenous communities from China to India and Thailand to Latin America, Indigenous Partnerships forges dialogues within Indigenous communities to ensure <a href="http://www.fao.org/indigenous-peoples/our-pillars/fpic/en/" target="_blank">free, prior, and informed consent</a> between research and advocacy partners. Indigenous Partnerships also seeks to incorporate global and local Indigenous knowledge into non-Indigenous knowledge systems.</p>
12. Indigenous Terra Madre (International)<p>Indigenous Terra Madre is a global network of Indigenous Peoples sponsored by <a href="https://foodtank.com/news/2020/06/living-the-slow-food-life-during-lockdown/" target="_blank">Slow Food</a>, an international institution based in Rome, Italy. The network amplifies Indigenous voices and protects the biodiversity of the crops Indigenous communities cultivate. By providing a platform for Indigenous communities to pool power and resources, Indigenous Terra Madre fights to defend the land, culture, and opportunity of all Indigenous Peoples.</p>
13. Intertribal Agriculture Council (North America)<p>The American Indian Food Program by the Intertribal Agriculture Council (IAC) helps Native American and Alaskan Native agribusinesses and food entrepreneurs expand their market reach. The Made/Produced by American Indians Trademark promoted by the IAC identifies certified American Indian products and is used by over 500 businesses. IAC's other major American Indian Food Program, Native Food Connection, helps market Native American foods and food producers across the United States. IAC also offers technical and natural resource assistance to connect Native businesses with U.S. Department of Agriculture programs and conservation stewardship resources.</p>
14. Inuit Circumpolar Council-Alaska (North America)<p>Through its Alaskan Inuit Food Sovereignty Initiative, the Inuit Circumpolar Council-Alaska is convening Inuit community leaders from across Alaska. The Initiative seeks to unify Inuit throughout the state to advocate for land and wildlife management sovereignty. The Initiative also strives for international cooperation to promote food sovereignty across <a href="https://indigenouspeoplesatlasofcanada.ca/article/inuit-nunangat/" target="_blank">Inuit Nunaat</a>.</p>
15. Mantasa (Asia)<p>Mantasa is a research institution in Indonesia dedicated to expanding the number of indigenous plants consumed by the Javanese people. According to Mantasa, only 20 plant species comprise 90 percent of Javanese food needs. Their research is incorporating new wild foods from Indonesia's vast biodiversity into Javanese diets to improve food security and nutrition. Mantasa also helps promote these foods to consumers and local farmers to increase their popularity.</p>
16. Muonde Trust (Africa)<p>In Mazvhiwa, Zimbabwe, the Muonde Trust invests in Indigenous innovations in food, land, and water management. The Trust seeks out individuals with new ideas and provides peer-to-peer support to help bring those ideas to life. Muonde Trust currently supports innovations in indigenous seed saving and sharing, livestock and woodland management, irrigation systems, and constructing kitchen spaces.</p>
17. Native American Agriculture Fund (North America)<p>The Native American Agriculture Fund (NAAF) is the largest philanthropic supporter of Native American agriculture. The Fund offers grants to Tribal governments, nonprofit organizations, and educational institutions to support healthy lands, healthy people, and healthy economies. In 2020, NAAF is offering US$1 million in grant funds specifically for youth initiatives and young farmers and ranchers. NAAF is also centralizing COVID-19 relief information for Native farmers, ranchers, fishers, and Tribal governments.</p>
18. Native American Food Sovereignty Alliance (North America)<p>The Native American Food Sovereignty Alliance (NAFSA) places Indigenous farmers, wild-crafters, fishers, hunters, ranchers, and eaters at the center of the fight to restore Indigenous food systems and self-determination. NAFSA's primary initiatives are the Indigenous Seedkeepers Network, the Food and Culinary Mentorship Program, and their Native Food Sovereignty Events. Each of these initiatives centers around the reclamation of Indigenous seeds and foods.</p>
19. Native Seed/SEARCH (North America)<p>Native Seed/SEARCH preserves and proliferates <a href="https://foodtank.com/news/2020/07/a-call-for-community-based-seed-diversity-during-the-covid-19-pandemic/" target="_blank">indigenous seeds</a> through their Native Access programs. Their Native American Seed Request program offers free seed packets to Native Americans living in or originating from the Greater Southwestern Region. The Bulk Seed Exchange allows growers to pay it forward by returning 1.5 times the seeds they receive to be put towards future Native American Seed Request packs. While Native Seed/SEARCH sells an assortment of popular seeds to the general public, its collection of indigenous seeds are <a href="https://www.nativeseeds.org/pages/native-access" target="_blank">only available to Native farmers</a> and families. They hope these seeds will revitalize traditional foods and build food sovereignty.</p>
20. Navajo Ethno-Agriculture (North America)<p><span style="background-color: initial;">Navajo Ethno-Agriculture is sustaining Navajo culture through lessons on traditional farming. The seasonal courses focus on land, water, and food as students cultivate, harvest, and prepare heritage crops. During COVID-19, Navajo Ethno-Agriculture suspended its courses and is focusing on supplying neighboring farms with heritage seeds and farm equipment. They are also offering food processing and packaging services to protect and rejuvenate soil.</span><br></p>
21. North American Traditional Indigenous Food Systems (North America)<p><span style="background-color: initial;">Founded by the chefs of </span><a href="https://sioux-chef.com/" target="_blank" style="background-color: initial;">The Sioux Chef</a><span style="background-color: initial;">, North American Traditional Indigenous Food Systems (NāTIFS) is reimagining the North American food system as a generator of wealth and good health for Native communities. The organization seeks to reverse the effects of forced assimilation and colonization through food entrepreneurship and a reclamation of ancestral education. NāTIFS is establishing an </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/indigenousfoodlab/" target="_blank" style="background-color: initial;">Indigenous Food Lab</a><span style="background-color: initial;"> in Minneapolis, Minnesota as a training center and restaurant for Native chefs and food. NāTIFS plans to eventually spread this model across North America.</span><br></p>
22. Oyate Teca Project (North America)<p><br></p><p>In response to dire food access on the Pine Ridge Reservation in North Dakota, the Oyate Teca Project offers year-long classes in gardening, food entrepreneurship, and traditional food preservation techniques. Oyate Teca helps make local foods available to the community by selling produce grown in their half-acre garden at farmer's markets. The project also serves as an emergency food provider for families and children.</p>
23. Tebtebba (Asia)<p><span style="background-color: initial;">Tebtebba is an international organization based in the Philippines committed to sharing global Indigenous wisdom. Its Indigenous Peoples and Biodiversity project strengthens Indigenous organizations' research, policy advocacy, and education on biodiversity. The project also works directly with Indigenous communities to strengthen their governance structures, protect their land, and improve their food security.</span><br></p>
24. Sierra Seeds (North America)<p><br></p><p><a href="https://foodtank.com/news/2020/06/new-on-the-podcast-rowen-white-talks-indigenous-seed-sovereignty-and-viraj-puri-says-urban-greenhouses-can-transform-produce/" target="_blank">Rowan White</a> and her organization, Sierra Seeds, are dedicated to the next generation of farmers, gardeners, and food justice activists. Her flagship program, Seed Seva, offers a multi-layered education on seed stewardship and Indigenous permaculture. The program is offered online, allowing anybody to access White's wisdom. Additionally, Sierra Seeds offers a <a href="https://sierraseeds.org/seeding-change/" target="_blank">Seeding Change</a> leadership incubator, where emerging food justice leaders meet virtually to support one another while developing individual projects.</p>
25. Storying Kaitiakitanga (Oceania)<p><span style="background-color: initial;">Storying Kaitiakitanga – A Kaupapa Māori Land and Water Food Story is a project of Dr. Jessica Hutchings and other Māori researchers and storytellers. The project was developed as part of the </span><a href="https://www.ourlandandwater.nz/" target="_blank" style="background-color: initial;">Our Land and Water National Science Challenge</a><span style="background-color: initial;"> to collect the stories of Māori food producers across the food system. Storying Kaitiakitanga is exploring how traditional Māori principles and practices can inspire more sustainable food systems for the next generation. Stories include beekeepers, yogurt producers, and business development service providers.</span><br></p>
26. Thunder Valley Community Development Corporation (North America)<p><span style="background-color: initial;">The Thunder Valley Community Development Corporation (CDC) is a grassroots Lakota organization building food sovereignty on the Pine Ridge Reservation in North Dakota. Their reservation-wide Food Sovereignty Coalition is dedicated to reconstructing a healthy local food system. They have greatly increased food production on the reservation and train residents and students on Oglala food histories, current local foods, gardening, and food preservation.</span><br></p>
27. Wangi Tangni (Central America)<p><span style="background-color: initial;">In Nicaragua's Caribbean Coast, the women of Indigenous Miskita communities receive native plants from Wangi Tangni to grow for food, medicine, and reforestation. The organization provides communal and legal support for women, many of whom do not speak Spanish. The organization's overall mission is to promote political participation and gender equality through sustainable development projects such as indigenous plant rematriation.</span><br></p>
28. Zuni Youth Enrichment Project (North America)<p><span style="background-color: initial;">The public schools of the Zuni Pueblo in New Mexico and Arizona partner with the Zuni Youth Enrichment Project to build gardening spaces and provide nutrition education. The partnership is intended to reintroduce traditional knowledge and practices into students' educations about food. The Project hopes that the community gardens will also inspire more Zuni to grow their own food and reduce rates of obesity and diabetes in their communities.</span><br></p>
- Indigikitchen Is Bringing Native Food Sovereignty Online - EcoWatch ›
- 8 Gardening Tips From Indigenous Food Growers - EcoWatch ›
By Olivia Sullivan
One of the many unfortunate outcomes of the coronavirus pandemic has been the quick and obvious increase in single-use plastic products. After COVID-19 arrived in the United States, many grocery stores prohibited customers from using reusable bags, coffee shops banned reusable mugs, and takeout food with plastic forks and knives became the new normal.
Kamikatsu, Japan. Yuki Shimazu / CC BY-SA 2.0<p>This reveals a worldwide truth: Even products made mostly from easily recyclable materials like paper, aluminum or cardboard can't be sorted and recycled if they contain plastic components that can't be separated.</p><p>The truth is, some materials simply aren't recyclable, and <a href="https://advances.sciencemag.org/content/3/7/e1700782" target="_blank">only 9%</a> of all the plastic ever created has <em>been </em>recycled. As Kamikatsu's residents have painstakingly proven, no matter how many categories consumers sort their waste into or how diligently they scrub down their plastic food containers, most plastics <a href="https://www.greenpeace.org/usa/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/Greenpeace-Report-Circular-Claims-Fall-Flat.pdf" target="_blank">cannot be recycled</a>.</p><p>Meanwhile we keep hearing the <a href="https://thehill.com/opinion/energy-environment/504091-the-insanity-of-plastic-recycling" target="_blank">industry-driven narrative</a> that recycling can stop plastic from choking our marine life or littering our natural places. That's intentionally misleading.</p><p>Around the world, as in Kamikatsu, plastic is everywhere. With excessive amounts of plastic products and packaging stocked on store shelves, it's clear that zero-waste goals cannot be achieved by consumers alone. Plastic is not a "zero waste" material, so in order to achieve zero waste, companies must stop making so much plastic.</p>
Marine debris collected at Papahānaumokuākea Marine National Monument. NOAA<p>We can achieve that. The first steps include banning some of the worst and most polluting single-use plastics, placing a pause on the development of new plastics facilities, and protecting state and local governments' ability to enact more stringent regulations.</p><p>We must also shift the paradigm by holding producers responsible for the waste they create. By requiring new plastic products to contain recycled plastic and making producers fund the collection and recycling of plastic products, producers would be incentivized to design longer lasting products that can <em>actually</em> be reused and recycled.</p><p>These goals — outlined in numerous scientific studies and advocacy reports — have some forward motion. In the United States, a federal bill was recently introduced in both the House and the Senate, the <a href="https://www.congress.gov/bill/116th-congress/house-bill/5845" target="_blank">Break Free From Plastic Pollution Act</a>. If passed this bill — or others like it on the local, state or national levels — could help move the world beyond single-use plastics and make that needed systemic change a reality.</p><p>The bill hasn't moved forward since it was introduced this past February, but the world is still on a deadline. A recent study published in the journal <a href="https://science.sciencemag.org/content/early/2020/07/22/science.aba9475" target="_blank"><em>Science</em></a> looked at rising levels of plastic production and said "coordinated global action is urgently needed to reduce plastic consumption, increase rates of reuse, waste collection and recycling, expand safe disposal systems and accelerate innovation in the plastic value chain."</p><p>Requiring producers to stop making nonrecyclable products designed to be thrown out is the first step toward achieving that goal. Only then will Kamikatsu and other towns, cities and countries around the world finally be able to eliminate plastic pollution and reach 100% zero waste.</p><p><em>The opinions expressed above are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of </em>The Revelator<em>, the Center for Biological Diversity or their employees.</em></p><p><a href="https://therevelator.org/author/oliviasullivan/" target="_blank">Olivia Sullivan</a> <em><em>is a zero waste associate with the U.S. Public Interest Research Group (U.S. PIRG) working on a campaign to move the United States beyond plastic.</em></em></p><p><em><em><span></span>Reposted with permission from <a href="https://therevelator.org/cities-zero-waste/" target="_blank">The Revelator</a>. </em></em></p>
The shelter in place orders that brought clean skies to some of the world's most polluted cities and saw greenhouse gas emissions plummet were just a temporary relief that provided an illusory benefit to the long-term consequences of the climate crisis. According to new research, the COVID-19 lockdowns will have a "neglible" impact on global warming, as Newshub in New Zealand reported.
- Coronavirus Lockdown Linked to Falling Air Pollution Levels in Italy ... ›
- Greenhouse Gas Emissions Set for Record Decline Due to ... ›
- Coronavirus Lockdowns Led to Record 17% Emissions Drop ... ›
- India's Air Pollution Plummets in COVID-19 Lockdown - EcoWatch ›
Scientists have discovered and diagnosed the first instance of malignant cancer in a dinosaur, and they did so by using modern medical techniques. They published their results earlier this week in The Lancet Oncology.
- New Blood Test Can Detect Cancer 4 Years Before Symptoms ... ›
- Skull of Smallest Known Dinosaur Found in 99-Million-Year Old Amber ›
- Antarctica Was a Rainforest During the Times of Dinosaurs, New ... ›
- Earth Is Hurtling Towards a Catastrophe Worse Than the Dinosaur ... ›
- Help Save the World's Last Dinosaur - EcoWatch ›
By Joe Roman and Taylor Ricketts
The COVID-19 pandemic in the United States is the deepest and longest period of malaise in a dozen years. Our colleagues at the University of Vermont have concluded this by analyzing posts on Twitter. The Vermont Complex Systems Center studies 50 million tweets a day, scoring the "happiness" of people's words to monitor the national mood. That mood today is at its lowest point since 2008 when they started this project.
The Hedonometer measures happiness through analysis of key words on Twitter, which is now used by one in five Americans. This chart covers 18 months from early 2019 to July 2020, showing major dips in 2020. hedonometer.org<p>These same tweets also indicate a potential salve. Before pandemic lockdowns began, doctoral student <a href="https://scholar.google.com/citations?user=0P0ZYbIAAAAJ&hl=en" target="_blank">Aaron Schwartz</a> <a href="https://doi.org/10.1002/pan3.10045" target="_blank">compared tweets before, during, and after visits to 150 parks, playgrounds and plazas</a> in San Francisco. He found that park visits corresponded with a spike in happiness, followed by an afterglow lasting up to four hours.</p><p>Tweets from parks contained fewer negative words such as "no," "not" and "can't," and fewer first-person pronouns like "I" and "me." It seems that nature makes people more positive and less self-obsessed.</p><p>Parks keep people happy in times of global crisis, economic shutdown and public anger. Research has also shown that transmission rates for COVID-19 are <a href="https://www.sfchronicle.com/news/article/Is-risk-of-coronavirus-transmission-lower-15287602.php" target="_blank">much lower outdoors than inside</a>. As scholars who study <a href="https://scholar.google.com/citations?user=yFzb2EUAAAAJ&hl=en" target="_blank">conservation</a> and how nature <a href="https://scholar.google.com/citations?user=CCnUeN8AAAAJ&hl=en" target="_blank">contributes to human well-being</a>, we see opening up parks and creating new ones as a straightforward remedy for Americans' current blues.</p>
Park Visits Are Up During the Pandemic<p>According to the Hedonometer, sentiments expressed online started trending lower in mid-March as the impacts of the pandemic became clear. As lockdowns continued, they registered the lowest sentiment scores on record. Then in late May, effects from George Floyd's death in police custody and the following protests and police response once again could be seen on Twitter. May 31, 2020 was the saddest day of the project.</p><p>Recent surveys of park visitors around the University of Vermont have shown people <a href="https://osf.io/preprints/socarxiv/sd3h6" target="_blank">using green spaces more</a> since COVID-19 lockdowns began. Many people reported that parks were highly important to their well-being during the pandemic.</p>
<div id="4c7e4" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="bc0ac146ab2a94228f32d973fc2ab272"><blockquote class="twitter-tweet twitter-custom-tweet" data-twitter-tweet-id="1289428912879964160" data-partner="rebelmouse"><div style="margin:1em 0">#Goldengatepark #sf #quarantinemood https://t.co/9l3ufnbkt6</div> — Suvd (@Suvd)<a href="https://twitter.com/Suvd19486406/statuses/1289428912879964160">1596258783.0</a></blockquote></div><p>The powerful effects of nature are strongest in large parks with more trees, but smaller neighborhood parks also provide a significant boost. Their impact on happiness is real, measurable and lasting.</p><p>Twitter records show that parks increase happiness to a level similar to the bounce at Christmas, which typically is the happiest day of the year. Schwartz has since expanded his <a href="https://arxiv.org/pdf/2006.10658.pdf" target="_blank">Twitter study</a> to the 25 largest cities in the U.S. and found this bounce everywhere.</p><p>Parks and public spaces won't cure COVID-19 or stop police brutality, but they are far more than playgrounds. There is growing evidence that parks contribute to mental and physical health in a range of communities.</p><p>In a 2015 study, for example, Stanford researchers sent people out for one of two walks: through a local park or on a busy street. Those who walked in nature showed <a href="https://doi.org/10.1016/j.landurbplan.2015.02.005" target="_blank">improved moods and better memory performance</a> compared to the urban group. And a team led by <a href="https://penniur.upenn.edu/people/eugenia-gina-south" target="_blank">Gina South</a> of the University of Pennsylvania showed in a 2018 study that greening and cleaning up blighted vacant lots in Philadelphia <a href="http://dx.doi.org/10.1001/jamanetworkopen.2018.0298" target="_blank">reduced local residents' feelings of depression, worthlessness and poor mental health</a>.</p>
Creative Strategies<p>It isn't easy to create new parks on the scale of San Francisco's Golden Gate Park or the Washington Mall, but smaller projects can expand outdoor space. Options include greening vacant lots, closing streets and investing in existing parks to make them safer, greener and shadier and support wildlife.</p><p>These initiatives don't have to be capital-intensive. In the University of Pennsylvania study, for example, renovating a vacant lot by removing trash, planting grass and trees and installing a low fence cost only about US$1,600.</p><p>Urban green space is most needed in neighborhoods that have lacked funding for parks, especially given <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/08/nyregion/coronavirus-race-deaths.html" target="_blank">COVID-19's disproportionate impact on Black and Latinx people</a>.</p><p>Cities can also create parklike spaces by <a href="https://theconversation.com/with-fewer-cars-on-us-streets-now-is-the-time-to-reinvent-roadways-and-how-we-use-them-140408" target="_blank">closing streets to cars</a>. Many cities worldwide are currently retooling their transportation systems for the post-COVID-19 world in order to <a href="https://thecityfix.com/blog/bicycles-slower-speeds-livable-city-paris-mayor-anne-hidalgo-plans-ambitious-second-term-dario-hidalgo/" target="_blank">reallocate public space</a>, widen sidewalks and make more space for nature.</p><p>Urban designers, artists, ecologists and other citizens can play a direct role, too, creating pop-up parks and green spaces. Some advocates <a href="https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2017-09-15/a-brief-history-of-park-ing-day" target="_blank">transform parking spaces into mini-parks</a> with grass, potted trees and seating for just the time on the meter, to make a larger point about turning so much public space over to cars.</p><p>Or cities can invest a little more. Minneapolis, Cincinnati and Arlington, Virginia, have won <a href="https://www.tpl.org/parkscore" target="_blank">national recognition</a> for their ambitious investments in public park systems. These areas could serve as models for neighborhoods that lack access to parks.</p>
<div id="25fd0" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="383f0d2df0237e9359c30dcce6cd6c42"><blockquote class="twitter-tweet twitter-custom-tweet" data-twitter-tweet-id="1276558744835379201" data-partner="rebelmouse"><div style="margin:1em 0">Looking to safely get outside? Check out the best parks for social distancing in this year's top ten ParkScore citi… https://t.co/HJjEtDsrTD</div> — The Trust for Public Land (@The Trust for Public Land)<a href="https://twitter.com/tpl_org/statuses/1276558744835379201">1593190296.0</a></blockquote></div>
A New Park Deal?<p>The United States has historically driven economic recovery with major infrastructure investments, like the New Deal in the 1930s and the 2009 <a href="https://www.investopedia.com/terms/a/american-recovery-and-reinvestment-act.asp" target="_blank">American Reinvestment and Recovery Act</a>. Such investments could easily include nature-positive spaces.</p><p>Parks are not panaceas, as evidenced by the widely publicized <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/06/nyregion/amy-cooper-false-report-charge.html" target="_blank">racist confrontation between a white woman and a Black birder</a> in New York's Central Park in early July. But Hedonometer data add to a <a href="https://advances.sciencemag.org/content/5/7/eaax0903?utm_source=miragenews&utm_medium=miragenews&utm_campaign=news" target="_blank">growing body of evidence</a> that they provide <a href="https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1807504116" target="_blank">clear mental health benefits</a>. Creating and expanding parks also <a href="https://www.nrpa.org/contentassets/f568e0ca499743a08148e3593c860fc5/economic-impact-study-summary.pdf" target="_blank">generates jobs and economic activity</a>, with much of the money spent locally.</p><p>We believe investments in nature are well worth it, offering both short-term solace in difficult times and long-term benefits to health, economies and communities.</p>
- Growing Up Near Nature Is Good for Your Adult Mental Health, New ... ›
- Doctors Prescribe Spending Time In Parks - EcoWatch ›
- This Is the Best Type of Green Space for Your Mental Health ... ›
New York State Attorney General Letitia James announced Thursday that she will attempt to dismantle the National Rifle Association (NRA), arguing that years of corruption and mismanagement warrant the dissolution of the activist organization, as CNN reported.