Unlike twenty-five years ago, people are now publicly, saying that our global civilization is a disease and that mankind is a plague, a planetary scourge. I admit that I find these sorts of metaphors alluring. There is finality, a sense of epistemological certainty in the notion that our species is cancerous due to its avaricious proclivities. It does seem that we are busily destroying the Garden of Eden. But this metaphor is incomplete, as are many metaphors.
 
“What are we? Monsters, machines, animals, angels, humans...?” Of course, these are all possible answers, varied and complex patterns lurk in our self-definition. For me the best answer is, “We are the part of Nature that has forgotten that we are a part of nature.” (Some might say that we are in ‘complete denial’.)
 
We fool ourselves. No matter how man-made our immediate environs, we are still a part of nature – deeply and richly so. We are a part of the pageant of life, and as I said at the start, I love life. We are part of an extraordinary flowering in the universe.
 
Unlike twenty-five years ago, increasingly, people are adopting the anarcho-apocalyptic, civilization-must-fall-to-save-the-world attitude. It is a fairly clean and tight worldview, zealously bulletproof, and it scares me. I want the natural world, the greater community of life beyond our species, with all its beautiful and terrifying manifestations, and its vibrant landscapes to survive intact – I think about this a lot.
 
A quick collapse of global civilization, will almost certainly lead to greater explosive damage to the biosphere, than a mediated slower meltdown.
 
When one envisions the collapse of global society, one is not discussing the demise of an ancient Greek city-state, or even the abandonment of an empire like the Mayans. The end of our global civilization would not only result in the death of six billion humans, just wiping nature’s slate clean. We also have something like 5,000 nuclear facilities spread across the planet’s surface. And this is just one obvious and straightforward fact cutting across new radical arguments in favor of a quick fall.
 
We have inserted ourselves into the web of life on planet Earth, into its interstitial fibers, over the last 500 years. We are now a big part of the world’s dynamic biological equation set – its checks and balances. If we get a “fever” and fall into social chaos, even just considering our non-nuclear toys laying about, the damage will be profound. It will be much more devastating than our new visionaries of post-apocalyptic paradise have prophesized.
 
If one expands upon current examples of social chaos that we already see, like Afghanistan or Darfur, extrapolating them across the globe, encompassing Europe, Asia, North and South America, and elsewhere, then one can easily imagine desperate outcomes where nature is sacrificed wholesale in vain attempts to rescue human life. The outcomes would be beyond “ugly”; they would be horrific and enduring.
 
That is why I cannot accept this new wave of puritanical anarcho-apocalyptic theology. The end-point of a quick collapse is quite likely to resemble the landscape of Mars, or even perhaps the Moon. I love life. I do not want the Earth turned barren.
 
I think that those who are dreaming of a world returned to its wilderness state are lovely, naive romantics – dangerous ones.  Imagine 100 Chernobyl’s spewing indelible death. Imagine a landscape over-run with desperate and starving humans, wiping out one ecosystem after another. Imagine endless tribal wars where there are no restraints on the use of chemical and biological weapons. Imagine a failing industrial infrastructure seeping massive quantities of deadly toxins into the air, water and soil.
 
This is not a picture of primitive liberation, of happy post-civilized life working the organic farm on Salt Spring Island.
 
I agree that we must change our ways. We desperately need to change our ways. Our global society is exploitative, unsustainable, and abuses the biosphere. We are in big trouble.  However, coping out by calling for a hastened end to civilization is suicidal, and like all suicides, it does not fully consider what comes after – it is marked by a surplus of self-absorbed willfulness and a short-fall of thoughtful consideration.
 
There is, however, a more reasonable sub-strain of eco-apocalyptic anarchism that makes a truly heartfelt argument: “The End is coming anyway. If we hasten it, we may save species ’x’ that is currently on the verge of extinction. We should accept that our species is doomed. Must we take everything down with us in a long, slow death?”
 
I find this rhetoric particularly appealing because it awakens deep personal notions of romantic heroism in me.  These are noble, caring thoughts. 
 
Unfortunately, life just isn’t quite so simple. Sure a quick crash might save a couple of emblematic species from extinction, for a while, but the near certain trade-off would be the desertification of whole continental areas of the planet, wiping out thousands of complete ecosystems.
 
So, what are we to do?
 
I think our best shot at stopping the destruction of our biosphere and retaining a maximum number of intact eco-systems is powerful, irresistible gradualism. Nature herself operates gradually. It is Mankind that has been impetuous. If we work diligently and intelligently then we just might save civilization through massive cultural transformation. And if we fail then we might at least succeed in preserving enough of the life-world that those species that follow us will be able to continue the flowering of life on our planet. 
 
Those who hold Hollywood images of deer and wolves happily roaming the derelict and abandoned streets of New York City in 50 years are hopelessly optimistic. If civilization crashes quickly then the whole of the Eastern Seaboard, an area the size of the Sahara desert, will be a dead zone for 10,000 years, minimum.
 
We need cultural transformation and we need it now.  We must adopt the Precautionary Principle, making it a cornerstone of our relationships with each other and the natural world.  
 
"When an activity raises threats of harm to human health or the environment, precautionary measures should be taken even if some cause and effect relationships are not fully established scientifically. In this context the proponent of an activity, rather than the public, should bear the burden of proof. The process of applying the precautionary principle must be open, informed and democratic and must include potentially affected parties. It must also involve an examination of the full range of alternatives, including no action." - Wingspread Statement on the Precautionary Principle, Jan. 1998

We have the keys to paradise. We know the whereabouts of the door to a beautiful future. We need only the courage and the resolve to unlock this door, enter and claim our natural place in the wondrous scheme of life on Earth, to remember our ourselves and our home.