Nathaniel Rich has a message for those hoping to reduce humanity’s technological and industrial impact so as to return our planet back to some halcyon days of a pristine natural world —it ain’t gonna happen. Instead, in his collection of essays entitled Second Nature, he says the engineer and the environmentalist are not enemies, but partners, quoting historian William Cronon’s view that, “the idealization of wilderness it not merely a myth; it is antagonistic to the aims of any environmentalist. For if, in the future, something resembling wilderness is to survive, it will be only ‘by the most vigilant and self-conscious management.” In essays that are at times infuriating, deflating, and energizing, he shows us several examples of the people trying to do just that sort of management.
The first essay, “Dark Waters,” is probably the one that will enrage readers most, even if they already know some of the story, which deals with Dupont’s manufacture and use (in both consumer and industrial goods) of the incredibly toxic perfluorooctanoic acid, despite decades of their own studies that showed it affected the organs in animals, accumulated in the blood of workers, caused birth defects in test animals and, when they discretely looked into it, in their own employees, and more. It’s a litany of corporate evil that in a movie would have you think the writer/director were pilling it on in ridiculous fashion to create a “super-villain” but that all really happened and was eventually made public by the efforts of a cattle farmer in West Virginia (Wilbur Tennant) and a dedicate lawyer (Robert Bilott), who actually used to defend corporations.
One might say this tale ends happily, in that Dupont ends up caught and paying hundreds of millions of dollars in fines and reparations, but as Rich notes:
if you are reading this, you already have PFOA in your blood. It is in your parents’ blood, your children’s blood … the blood or vital organs of Atlantic salmon, swordfish … polar bears, brown pelicans, sea turtles … albatrosses on Sand Island … in the middle of the North Pacific Ocean, about halfway between North American and Asia.
Not only is it not a happy ending; it’s no ending at all. The other essays, though lacking the same sort of direct/obvious villainy, share this sort of open-endedness. In “The Wasting”, an unknown malady strikes starfish, wiping out huge populations and, in a ripple effect, creating “marine wastelands.” Scientists spent years trying to find the cause, and though in the end some populations came back, “the stars evolving before researchers’ eyes,” scientists still don’t know what happened, leaving them to wonder, “is it a onetime event or a harbinger of worse to come?” If that sounds ominous, Rich tries to offer a glimpse of hope in the way researchers are helped by children as young as three, who are better at finding the tiny juvenile stars — “they had excellent eyesight, boundless curiosity, inexhaustible energy … They enjoyed solving problems. They liked to feel that they held the fate of the world in their hands.” Though one might argue that last line is more chilling than optimistic.
“Aspen Saves the World” reports on the complex interweaving of privilege, environmental activism, and business in one of the ritziest resort towns in America, whose ski tourism is seemingly doomed by the effects of climate change. The next group of essays focuses on more direct and deliberate human manipulation of nature, with “Pigeon Apocalypse” exploring the idea of de-extinction, discussing several potential lost species but focusing mostly on the passenger pigeon. Meanwhile, several essays shift the focus from genetic engineering to civil engineering, reporting on the attempts to save Louisiana from disappearing into the sea, itself a process greatly accelerated by earlier human intervention via damming the great Mississippi. While scientists and engineers have come up with several ways of creating/reclaiming land in the southern reaches of the state, there is no solution for how such plans will affect the people living there, such as shrimpers whose economy will almost certainly be destroyed by the innocuously named “diversions” of the river. Finally, moving from solid ground (literally) to the surreal, the last two essays deal with a seemingly immortal jellyfish (it can “age backwards” and then start the living process again) and a glow-in-the dark rabbit, respectively.
Rich writes vividly, clearly, and engagingly, and has a gift for bringing the people who pepper the essay alive, such as the Japanese scientist who has spent decades studying the immortal jellyfish (we see him at karaoke for instance, and even get a few lines of lyrics from his original songs. The voice, while engaging as noted, is also a bit removed, more reportage than personal essay style, and one rarely finds Rich coming across as making any sort of judgments. That removed voice, and those mixed endings or endless ending also can make a few of the essays feel somewhat anticlimactic — they both compel and entertain in the reading but at the close one wonders sometimes just what we’re supposed to take away from them. Though perhaps that is just what Rich’s purpose is — to make his audience wonder, to make them think more attentively, more critically, about just what is happening to this planet, and to realize we’re well past the point of simple “good guys and bad guys” (outside of Dupont of course) or easy/no harm solutions.
3.5