The cosmopolitan ecologist

A few months ago, I learned that a former schoolmate of mine was accused of something horrible, shocking. Without going into details, lets just say if he’s convicted of what he’s accused of, it would be the kind of crime that makes newspaper readers shake their head about the monster that could commit such acts. While I wasn’t extremely close to him, we did occasionally hang out, and even once went camping together. There’s something creepy about having been that close to a monster, the morbid fascination of driving by a car wreck.

Back then, would I have conceived of my schoolmate being capable of this? No, maybe capable of violence in a fit of rage (actually, certainly capable of that), but not capable of something so truly evil. There is a gap there, some indescribable mental leap between the sane and the not sane. The more I ponder that gap, the more confused I get. There is a trite saying that “there but for the grace of god go I”, but it is manifestly not true in this case- I don’t think even the most depraved version of myself conceivable would ever do something this monstrous.

I suppose the religious would call this evil, simply the work of a demon. I can’t quite believe that, and I keep trying to understand how such a thing could be, what chain of events could make a man so evil. One would like to think that my schoolmate that another choice than being a monster, that free will exists. But to believe that is to believe that any (admittedly violent) person can choose to do unspeakable evil, which is a bitter pill to swallow indeed.

Posted by ecologist at 03:44 PM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

I’m on a Virgin America plane, streaking west across the mountains of West Virginia. The mountains run in long, straight lines, spines protruding from the body of the Earth. The river valleys are clustered with roads and house, whose roofs shine brilliant in the summer sun.

For a landscape ecologist, this is an exciting vista. We spend our professional lives studying how landscape patterns- topography, rainfall, soils- have shaped ecological processes and human land-use. Yet rarely do we actually see the patterns with our own eyes. For the first Europeans creating this field, in a time without satellite images or aerial photographs, it must have been an act of faith, to believe that landscape patterns you could only dimly discern were scientifically important.

Now, of course, so much information is online that contemporary landscape ecologists see images and maps constantly. We have come to expect it. I was downright upset last night that it took me 10 minutes to find a free copy of the USGS topographic map for Santa Cruz Island, my ultimate destination today. Landscape ecologists and geographers now spend far more time communing with electrons from a monitor than they do walking the contours of the land.

That’s not to say all things are charted. Large parts of the developing world are not fully mapped, or contain significant data holes. Indeed, the seductive beauty of what is on the Internet can often blind us to the large gaps in our knowledge. Still, the fact that I can sit here, at 34,000 feet, and have a live Google Map feed of where I am, while listening to music by the Thievery Corporation, is rather incredible if you stop to think about it.

Posted by ecologist at 03:01 PM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

I’m sitting in a rather cramped café in the basement of the Hart Senate office building. It has all the ambiance of an airport Starbucks, although the patrons are rather better dressed: surrounding me are men and women with suits, solemnly talking.

I am on Capitol Hill for a visit with the Society for Conservation Biology, trying to strengthen the role of science in environmental policymaking. It is the first time I’ve really delved into the odd self-contained world of Capitol Hill office building. There are numerous café, restaurants, an Alexander Calder sculpture, and miles of marble, connected by a maze of tunnel. Everywhere there are signs reminding people that certain elevators, or hallways, or cash registers are limited only to “members” or their staff. Everywhere there are folks whispering the names of Senators or Representatives, but seldom is a politician actually seen.

Despite the secrecy, it is a remarkably open system. One could never just walk in without appointment to the headquarters of IBM or GM. But almost anyone can walk through the metal detectors and enter this other world. Moreover, one can really walk into the offices of your Congressman and leave them information on an issue (whether it actually influences what they do is much more doubtful). America should take pride in having such an open system, despite the security challenges I’m sure it poses.

Posted by ecologist at 01:34 PM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)