This essay is
based on
excerpts of our book
"Life Counts" - Cataloguing
Life of Earth
Science book of
the Year 2000
Awarded with a
"Distinctive Merit" by the
famous New York
Art Directors Club
in its 2001 contest
The Future of Life
(Part 1 2 3 4 5)
by Dirk Maxeiner and Michael Miersch
Humans are playing an ever greater role in shaping biodiversity. They are one of the most successful participants in the game of life, and to an increasing extent they themselves determine how long they will be involved in it.
In 1980, the Swedish navy received a remarkable letter, in which the forest administration of the island of Visingsö, in Lake Vätter, informed the naval authorities that the wood which had been ordered for ship construction was now ready. The nonplussed naval authorities rummaged around in their books and finally found the order - which had been placed in 1829. It turned out that members of the Swedish parliament had perceived a threat to the country's future defense capabilities.
Oak was at that time considered the best material for shipbuilding, but oak trees take about 150 years to grow and mature. Since oak forests were disappearing (because of construction needs), the legislators foresaw that at the end of the next century (that is, in our own time), there would be a shortage of this crucial material. So they ordered that 20,000 young oak trees be planted on Visingsö and reserved for the future use of the navy. Only the bishop of Strängnäs opposed this project, arguing that although there would surely still be wars 150 years hence, warships w ould probably no longer be made of wood.As far as war and the materials used in modern shipbuilding are concerned, the bishop was completely right. Warships have long been made of steel. But the Swedish legislators were also more correct than they imagined, although in another way. The island of Visingsö delights its residents and visitors by having one of the most beautiful oak forests in Sweden. Ordinary construction wood became a priceless source of wonder, relaxation, and contemplation.
James B. Carse, a professor of religion at New York University, uses
such examples to illustrate "finite" and "infinite"
games. A finite game ends with a victory. Football is such a game, and
so, for the most part, are elections and modern business. The bishop of
Strängnäs was right by the rules, since the Swedish navy could
have spared itself the expense for tree plantations: no forest, no cost,
1:0, game won, end of game. In contrast, the goal of an infinite game
is to continue indefinitely. This kind of game is played by creatures
in tropical forests as well as in the jungle of human existence. Birth
and death, love and reproduction, family and the course of generations
- these constitute the game of life. "Finite players seek to control
the future, whereas infinite players arrange things so the
future keeps providing surprises." The members of the Swedish
parliament saw to that. And this also holds true for the maintenance of
biodiversity.
What will a forest, a tree, or a beetle be good for in a hundred years?
In 1,000 years? In 10,000 years? How many species will there be, and what
will they look like? A hundred years from now, our current hypotheses
may seem as absurd as the tattered order slip from 1829. And yet there
is something charming in the idea of a large corporation ordering an island
with rare species to be delivered in the year 2200 - by a binding contract
with deposit. Perhaps the Swedish parliament would like to do it again?
The American futurologist Richard Slaughter considers such speculative
games highly productive, and recommends them to all of us: "It is
an unusually moving thing to initiate a message which will not be read
until long after one's death." Just thinking about this makes our
house of cards, constructed of alleged certainties, collapse; what should
we say to the people who will live 2,000 years from now? Will there still
be humans? How and in what language should one communicate with them?
On paper or on tape, on a computer disk or in a video? And to whom should
we give this "message in a bottle?" Where can we find a mailbox
for forwarding it to future generations? Anyone who writes a letter to
the future becomes acutely aware of the ongoing development of human life
and the various paths it might take.
Politics, religion, business, ideology, military conflicts, and cultural
rivalries are some of the driving forces behind human history. However,
technology is playing an increasing role. The first steps in evolution
took about a billion years, while the development of the nervous system
took "only" 100 million years. The triumphant progress of language
took place in less than a million years. Civilization emerged within about
10,000 years. Five hundred and fifty years ago, printing began to change
our lives, and the Industrial Revolution was completed in only two centuries.
Over a few decades, information technology and the decoding of the human
genome have changed our view of life. American supercomputer designer
Daniel Hillis says: "We are dealing with an autocatalytic process"
(i.e., a process that accelerates by itself). Today, people witness during
their lifetimes changes as great as those formerly seen only by historians
surveying past centuries.
Paradoxically, this rapid progress also makes it possible for us to recognize the very slow, lengthy processes of life, which continue over eons. "Climate and biodiversity are classic examples of this," says Stewart Brand, an American futurologist and essayist. "We have to become aware of this responsibility, because the consequences of our present conduct will probably unfold only centuries from now." Under the Antarctic ice masses, changes are now occurring that probably began 10,000 years ago. The kilometer-thick ice mantle insulates so well that temperature changes appear on the surface only thousands of years later, brought there by ice streams. Richard Alley, an Antarctic researcher at Pennsylvania State University, has looked into this question: "It may be that the natural rise in temperature that occurred ten thousand years ago (after the last ice age) is still working its way down into the ice." The memory of the Pole and the climate-determining oceans is long and patient and must not be underestimated. The consequences of the changes humans are causing in the atmosphere and biosphere may well "sleep" for many years and later awaken. Minor sins are punished immediately, major ones, later on.
Stewart Brand considers it crucial that we also experience very long periods of time as present. Human civilization emerged over the last 10,000 years. "If we assume that each generation lasts twentyfive years, that makes four hundred generations," Brand says. "The pyramids were built two hundred generations ago." For Brand, this is as much a part of the present as the coming 400 generations or the next 10,000 years. He calls this "the long now." To sharpen our sense of longterm responsibility, Brand has created, in collaboration with inventors, computer specialists, scientists, and artists, "the clock of the long now." This clock ticks at the beginning of each year, rings at the beginning of a century, and calls "cuckoo" at the beginning of a new millennium. The clock is supposed to function for 10,000 years.However, can Brand and his collaborators really guarantee this? "If someone asks that question," Brand replies, "we have already achieved what we wanted - people are beginning to think longterm." And so the next question is obvious: What kind of social organization could assume the responsibility for this clock over 10,000 years? So far, no institution has lasted that long. Neither kingdoms nor superpowers have been able to survive for 10,000 years; wars and catastrophes have shaken humanity. And yet the course of things is not a history of decline. "Under stress, people's living conditions have always improved," says futurologist Paul Saffo, who is also involved in "the long now" project. Judging by the way humanity has stumbled ahead through catastrophes, he concludes, "In the short run the pessimists are right, in the long run the optimists are right."
Freeman J. Dyson, a wellknown mathematician and physicist, explains the dilemma of the human battle for survival by referring to the various timescales in which the human species has to successfully survive. The human individual struggles within a horizon of years; families, within a horizon of decades. Tribes and nations try to maintain themselves over centuries; cultures, over millennia. As a species, humans strive for success over tens of thousands of years, but as a component of the biosphere the unit is millions of years. Every human being is the product of adaptation to these various timescales, and that is why conflicts in goals are so deeply rooted in our nature. What seems reasonable for the next twenty years can be a catastrophe over the next 200 years - and vice versa.
All scenarios for the future of human life and biodiversity have to be related to these various timescales. There is no great survival plan, only many small (and often contradictory) components. As strategies for the future, preservation and the creation of new opportunities are two sides of the same coin. Conservation on one hand, and scientific and technological progress on the other, can complement each other. Sometimes they are even the same thing. However, the day when all problems are solved will never dawn. There is no end of the world, because every step forward involves new problems. What will count in the future, what do we have to reckon with? What do prominent futurologists foresee? Here are four important components that will influence future biodiversity:
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