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Requiem for Nature
For ecologist John Terborgh, Manu National Park in the rainforest of Peru is a second home; he has spent half of each of the past twenty-five years there conducting research. Like all parks, Manu is assumed to provide inviolate protection to nature. Yet even there, in one of the most remote corners of the planet, Terborgh has been witness to the relentless onslaught of civilization. Seeing the steady destruction of irreplaceable habitat has been a startling and disturbing experience for Terborgh, one that has raised urgent Is enough being done to protect nature? Are current conservation efforts succeeding? What could be done differently? What should be done differently? In Requiem for Nature , he offers brutally honest answers to those difficult questions, and appraises the prospects for the future of tropical conservation. His book is a clarion call for anyone who cares about the quality of the natural world we will leave our children. Terborgh examines current conservation strategies and considers the shortcomings of parks and protected areas both from ecological and institutional perspectives. He explains how seemingly pristine environments can gradually degrade, and describes the difficult social context –a debilitating combination of poverty, corruption, abuses of power, political instability, and a frenzied scramble for quick riches –in which tropical conservation must take place. He considers the significant challenges facing existing parks and examines problems inherent in alternative approaches, such as ecotourism, the exploitation of nontimber forest products, "sustainable use," and "sustainable development." Throughout, Terborgh argues that the greatest challenges of conservation are not scientific, but are social, economic, and political, and that success will require simultaneous progress on all fronts. He makes a compelling case that nature can be saved, but only if good science and strong institutions can be thoughtfully combined.
256 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 1999
66 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
November 17, 2013
Starts off with an interesting account of the author's years spent in Peru's Manu national park, supposedly one of the most biodiverse in the world, describing it's ups and downs over the years from the 1980s up to late 90s as governing authorities change. Even in this secluded park in one of the better preserved regions of the tropics, development is slowly encroaching from within as remote native tribes begin to get more assimilated with the outside civilization.
Terborgh, an eminent tropical field biologist then goes on to give a brief survey of other tropical regions in Africa and Asia, lamenting the lack of enforcement and stable regimes to maintain the preservation of species after protected areas are created. Indeed, as the book progresses, the tone becomes increasingly pessimistic as the conventional reasons for preserving rainforests such as non-timber product harvesting, untapped medicinal resource and ecotourism are revealed as fallacies. In a society where economics prevails, wildlands will always be worth less in monetary terms compared to intensively used landscapes. The concept of oft touted sustainable development is really quite an unachievable ideal, while 'integrated development and conservation' projects that are the current fashion of international conservation NGOs are a huge drain on funds that do not contribute at all to the protection of wildlife.
Finally, the author argues that untouched nature is best left in the hands of a central government rather than private ownership that will hasten its liquidation, citing the experience of the United States where such remaining landscapes are mostly held by the federal government. However, as institutions are weak and governments are unstable and corrupt in the the tropics, they cannot be relied upon in this respect, so it is proposed that an international governing and enforcement body somewhat like the UN Peacekeepers is created for the job of protecting tropical forests. Farfetched perhaps, but alternatives are truly limited and we need more of such brainstorming.
Terborgh is at his best writing about science and explaining the intricacies of tropical ecology, as when he describes the slow but insidious effects of habitat fragmentation, trophic cascades and the like. He begins to talk in generalities when discussing conservation issues that spill into the social arena. The view of the future of tropical forests from a professional conservation biologist is indeed disheartening but probably best reflects the reality of a mainstream culture that does not respect nature nor care much beyond material consumption.
Terborgh, an eminent tropical field biologist then goes on to give a brief survey of other tropical regions in Africa and Asia, lamenting the lack of enforcement and stable regimes to maintain the preservation of species after protected areas are created. Indeed, as the book progresses, the tone becomes increasingly pessimistic as the conventional reasons for preserving rainforests such as non-timber product harvesting, untapped medicinal resource and ecotourism are revealed as fallacies. In a society where economics prevails, wildlands will always be worth less in monetary terms compared to intensively used landscapes. The concept of oft touted sustainable development is really quite an unachievable ideal, while 'integrated development and conservation' projects that are the current fashion of international conservation NGOs are a huge drain on funds that do not contribute at all to the protection of wildlife.
Finally, the author argues that untouched nature is best left in the hands of a central government rather than private ownership that will hasten its liquidation, citing the experience of the United States where such remaining landscapes are mostly held by the federal government. However, as institutions are weak and governments are unstable and corrupt in the the tropics, they cannot be relied upon in this respect, so it is proposed that an international governing and enforcement body somewhat like the UN Peacekeepers is created for the job of protecting tropical forests. Farfetched perhaps, but alternatives are truly limited and we need more of such brainstorming.
Terborgh is at his best writing about science and explaining the intricacies of tropical ecology, as when he describes the slow but insidious effects of habitat fragmentation, trophic cascades and the like. He begins to talk in generalities when discussing conservation issues that spill into the social arena. The view of the future of tropical forests from a professional conservation biologist is indeed disheartening but probably best reflects the reality of a mainstream culture that does not respect nature nor care much beyond material consumption.
July 16, 2007
I think in my idealistic save the world days I really enjoyed this book, but upon further review, find his argument lacking weight.
February 2, 2026
According to Terborgh, the interests of parks and people are incompatible. He argues that the appropriate conservation strategy is to maintain the largest possible continuous area of biodiversity without human activity. His reasoning is that local communities may have lived in balance with nature in the past, but this does not guarantee they will continue to do so in the future. He foresees that new technologies and incentives will make the lives of local communities harmful to nature. For him, it is wishful thinking to design policies that assume economic and subsistence activities of local populations will remain in balance with nature, as they had for thousands of years around the world. Instead, he supports evicting people from conservation areas and entrusting an international body with deciding which areas should be preserved and enforcing this conservation, regardless of the opinion of the sovereign country or the local people.
What stands in the way of his policy proposal is history. Developing countries will never accept a proposal that ignores the legacy of colonization. The idea of allowing an international body to place armed troops inside poorer countries strongly echoes a past of domination, enough to make the proposal politically unfeasible. Terborgh argues that “the West pays because preservation of nature is a western cultural value.” I suggest that a better starting point is to consider whether the West must pay because developed countries have already benefited from their population boom, destroyed their own natural resources, and become rich by exploiting both natural resources and people in the developing world.
Reading main strengths and weaknesses:
Terborgh’s strongest point is that the challenge of nature conservation is so large that it can only be addressed through top‑down approaches. Governments must act to make enduring changes.
The book’s weaknesses are several:
If the book’s goal is to advocate for conservation, it should have been less confrontational. There is no need to say that the policies of Fujimori (a dictator, by the way) were “enlightened.” This adds nothing to the argument and can easily alienate readers.
It also places all countries under the broad category of “tropical developing countries” and tries to explain more than 500 years of historical development by simplifying reality to an extreme. In this process, he produces some very offensive (and funny!) phrases, such as claiming that in the tropical world “residents speak an incomprehensible language, services are deficient, hygiene is lax, crime is rampant, and beggars assault foreigners.”
The author holds the illusory view that wilderness existed without people, asserting that Manu “represents tropical nature largely as it existed before humans intruded into the scene” (Chapter 1). He does not address the fact that uninhabited national parks in the United States were created by expelling indigenous groups.
He does not treat the issue of uncontacted Indigenous groups with enough seriousness. He never addresses what the policy within parks should be regarding them. Ethics and human rights standards require strict no‑contact protections.
It is extremely irresponsible to discuss population‑control policies without addressing how they would be implemented and the ethical issues surrounding them. History shows that when such policies are attempted, they often result in poor people losing their basic human right to reproduction, frequently through coercion or violence.
Sometimes he simply does not know what he is talking about. He argues that “the thought that there might be more exalted reasons for nature to exist has not entered the consciousness of many people who live in and around tropical forests,” completely ignoring the diverse understandings of nature held by many communities living in these regions. He also claims that rural people in developing countries lack access to social benefits, an astonishing and inaccurate oversimplification.
He believes “the West” is morally superior and speaks about developing countries with simplification and disdain. This book would convince no government officials or civil society actors in developing countries of anything.
What stands in the way of his policy proposal is history. Developing countries will never accept a proposal that ignores the legacy of colonization. The idea of allowing an international body to place armed troops inside poorer countries strongly echoes a past of domination, enough to make the proposal politically unfeasible. Terborgh argues that “the West pays because preservation of nature is a western cultural value.” I suggest that a better starting point is to consider whether the West must pay because developed countries have already benefited from their population boom, destroyed their own natural resources, and become rich by exploiting both natural resources and people in the developing world.
Reading main strengths and weaknesses:
Terborgh’s strongest point is that the challenge of nature conservation is so large that it can only be addressed through top‑down approaches. Governments must act to make enduring changes.
The book’s weaknesses are several:
If the book’s goal is to advocate for conservation, it should have been less confrontational. There is no need to say that the policies of Fujimori (a dictator, by the way) were “enlightened.” This adds nothing to the argument and can easily alienate readers.
It also places all countries under the broad category of “tropical developing countries” and tries to explain more than 500 years of historical development by simplifying reality to an extreme. In this process, he produces some very offensive (and funny!) phrases, such as claiming that in the tropical world “residents speak an incomprehensible language, services are deficient, hygiene is lax, crime is rampant, and beggars assault foreigners.”
The author holds the illusory view that wilderness existed without people, asserting that Manu “represents tropical nature largely as it existed before humans intruded into the scene” (Chapter 1). He does not address the fact that uninhabited national parks in the United States were created by expelling indigenous groups.
He does not treat the issue of uncontacted Indigenous groups with enough seriousness. He never addresses what the policy within parks should be regarding them. Ethics and human rights standards require strict no‑contact protections.
It is extremely irresponsible to discuss population‑control policies without addressing how they would be implemented and the ethical issues surrounding them. History shows that when such policies are attempted, they often result in poor people losing their basic human right to reproduction, frequently through coercion or violence.
Sometimes he simply does not know what he is talking about. He argues that “the thought that there might be more exalted reasons for nature to exist has not entered the consciousness of many people who live in and around tropical forests,” completely ignoring the diverse understandings of nature held by many communities living in these regions. He also claims that rural people in developing countries lack access to social benefits, an astonishing and inaccurate oversimplification.
He believes “the West” is morally superior and speaks about developing countries with simplification and disdain. This book would convince no government officials or civil society actors in developing countries of anything.
May 3, 2022
John Terborgh, probably one of the 3-4 most important world figures in ecology and conservation biology, reviews the current state and future of some of the world's habitats from his long experience in the tropics.
Terborgh has worked in the Peruvian amazon for more than four decades (by the time he wrote this book he had been visiting this place annually for at least 4 months for more than 20 years) and knows the reality of this part of the world. It is to this that he dedicates the first chapters of the book, with great erudition and wisdom, he deliciously describes the Peruvian forests and landscapes until he begins to describe the debacle and the depredation that the most biodiverse forest in the world is suffering.
The later chapters are devoted to reviewing other areas of the world that he also knows well, ending with a reflection that should concern us very much.
Many years have passed since the publication of this book, and many of the things written have ended up being proven.
In short, it is something like a chronicle of the apocalypse told from the experience of an ecology legend to whom we should pay more attention in our next life.
Terborgh has worked in the Peruvian amazon for more than four decades (by the time he wrote this book he had been visiting this place annually for at least 4 months for more than 20 years) and knows the reality of this part of the world. It is to this that he dedicates the first chapters of the book, with great erudition and wisdom, he deliciously describes the Peruvian forests and landscapes until he begins to describe the debacle and the depredation that the most biodiverse forest in the world is suffering.
The later chapters are devoted to reviewing other areas of the world that he also knows well, ending with a reflection that should concern us very much.
Many years have passed since the publication of this book, and many of the things written have ended up being proven.
In short, it is something like a chronicle of the apocalypse told from the experience of an ecology legend to whom we should pay more attention in our next life.
May 3, 2022
If you like Silent Spring by Carson, you will love this book.
March 7, 2011
As much as I love some of Terborgh's science and science writing, I was infuriated by this book. He vacillates between beautiful description and vague muddle. For instance:
What does that even mean? Or:
A prevailing thesis is that governments determine what happens in and to tropical forests; related to this, that enforcement is the sine qua non of preservation. Recalled for me something Peter Ashton said at a conference this summer: "I believe we are better than that." Somewhat strange he doesn't acknowledge, if only to disagree with, the body of science from Ostrom et al. on the role of collective action in the emergence of sustainability.
Maybe Terborgh does care about top predators more than people, but he comes across as mildly misanthropic: the benefits of development are never acknowledged, imposing values by omission; land is presumed as straightforwardly buy-able, were the funds there (what about who lives there!); and in his closing passages, he suggests that an international environmental peacekeeping force is a viable solution. But I could listen to him talk about the forest for hours. This book is fantastic when he's describing the forest.
"To achieve this distant goal, we must not only get the science right but also translate the science into political and social action. Formidable challenges lie along the way. There will be opposition at every step, so we must not lack resolve."
What does that even mean? Or:
"Social and legal conditions in Papua New Guinea must change dramatically before this country sees any real conservation progress."
A prevailing thesis is that governments determine what happens in and to tropical forests; related to this, that enforcement is the sine qua non of preservation. Recalled for me something Peter Ashton said at a conference this summer: "I believe we are better than that." Somewhat strange he doesn't acknowledge, if only to disagree with, the body of science from Ostrom et al. on the role of collective action in the emergence of sustainability.
Maybe Terborgh does care about top predators more than people, but he comes across as mildly misanthropic: the benefits of development are never acknowledged, imposing values by omission; land is presumed as straightforwardly buy-able, were the funds there (what about who lives there!); and in his closing passages, he suggests that an international environmental peacekeeping force is a viable solution. But I could listen to him talk about the forest for hours. This book is fantastic when he's describing the forest.
May 12, 2010
Terborgh is one of the eminent figures of top-predator biology, the theme of contemporary biology that aims to show how they predators at the apex of ecosystems regulate all of the interactions below them and in doing so create biodiversity. This harsh and unflinching little book is concerned primarily with the state of the world's parks as potential bastions for biodiversity. Terborgh sees little but universal failure in both the mission and strategy of contemporary park policy, and the reasons he cites are fascinating, and not a little politically incorrect. This is a book that will cause instinctive leftists and humanists to blow steam from their ears; Terborgh pulls no punches when he describes the toxic combination of indigenous peoples, modern medicine, and economic pressures that threatens the non-human life of many of the worlds parks. Of course, the big drivers of deforestation, invasion, and lax enforcement are dealt with too. Terborgh writes well, and is a pleasure to read because, quite frankly, he's one of the only people writing about this in a serious manner that isn't being forced by their publisher to blow hopeful smoke up the reader's ass.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews