WITH an estimated 442 inhabitants per square kilometre, the Netherlands is
one of the most densely populated nations on Earth. And I happen to live in one
of the most densely populated areas of it: the Randstad, or ring town. Made up
of the geographic loop formed by the Netherlands鈥� four largest
cities鈥擜msterdam, The Hague, Rotterdam and Utrecht鈥攖he Randstad is
home to more than 7 million people. While the Dutch are renowned for their
tolerance, having 7 million next-door neighbours is enough to try anyone鈥檚
patience.
Yet the Randstad is no vast urban sprawl of housing blocks and office
buildings. Like everything that the Dutch create, the Randstad conurbation is
tidy, compact and efficient. One of the principles underlying its evolution is
the preservation of the region鈥檚 natural environment and agricultural tradition.
Thus, farmlands alternate with business parks, and dairy cows graze morosely
beside six-lane highways.
At its heart, the Randstad harbours a necklace of pleasant lakes and woods,
which provide natives and tourists alike with ample opportunity to hike, sail
and bike. The Randstad is so popular that the Dutch are considering creating two
new residential islands鈥攐ne off the coast near The Hague and another in
the Ijsselmeer northeast of Amsterdam鈥攖o accommodate all who want to live
here. But amidst all this model urban planning and concern for natural beauty,
there remains one seemingly intractable problem: noise pollution.
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Whether drifting on one of the Randstad鈥檚 placid lakes, cycling along one of
its network of bike paths or communing quietly in the privacy of your own home,
the sounds of human activity are inescapable. Wherever one goes, the whoosh and
hum of the highway is never far away. Peaceful sylvan reveries are regularly
interrupted by the blast of planes taking off or landing at nearby Schiphol
Airport, which will soon be adding a fifth runway. Even at home, the thrum of
the neighbour鈥檚 stereo insinuates itself through walls and floorboards.
According to a recent survey carried out by the municipality of Amsterdam, 29
per cent of the city鈥檚 inhabitants complain of noisy neighbours, 28 per cent are
regularly disturbed by the jarring sounds of traffic, and 26 per cent suffer the
dissonance that comes from living under the flight paths to and from Schiphol
Airport. No matter where you roam in the Randstad, you鈥檙e always acoustically
aware that you鈥檙e never alone.
These grumblings could be dismissed as simply the price you have to pay for
living in such a densely populated area. I could even accept this argument, were
it not for the fact that, all around the world, our natural acoustic
environments are vanishing in a din of machine noises. Far, far away from the
clamour of the Randstad, the tranquillity of even the most remote and
inaccessible parts of the planet is being disturbed. In the midst of all our
concern for ozone depletion and global warming, we鈥檝e neglected to lend an ear
to the distress calls of the Earth鈥檚 soundscapes. Yet one voice is being raised
above this cacophony: that of Gordon Hempton, an artist whose speciality is
recording the sounds of nature.
Hempton, a former bike messenger with a degree in botany who is now living in
Oregon, regards the Earth as a kind of 鈥渟olar-powered jukebox鈥�; the terrestrial
listener can fiddle with the dial by adjusting the latitude and longitude. 鈥淭he
Earth is a musical planet, spinning in silent space,鈥� he says. 鈥淵et this
Earth-music and the quiet opportunity to enjoy it have become endangered
蝉辫别肠颈别蝉.鈥�
Hempton gained international acclaim with his 鈥�1990 Dawn Chorus鈥� project,
having circled the globe recording dawn as an endless wave of birdsong. One
might think that American national parks were safe refuges from human discord,
but he currently estimates that noise-free intervals in them rarely exceed
several minutes. He hopes to preserve sites that harbour a little peace and
quiet for us and our descendants through a new acoustic conservation
initiative鈥攈is so-called 鈥淥ne Square Inch鈥� project. As part of the
project, Hempton intends to carry out the first ever acoustic surveys of 10
national parks in the US鈥� including Yellowstone, Yosemite and the Grand
Canyon鈥攍isted in the UNESCO World Heritage List. The goal is to
establish a National Quiet Places System through the creation of 鈥淥ne Square
Inch sites鈥� where human-caused noise pollution will not be tolerated. Hempton
believes that the Earth鈥檚 endangered wild soundscapes should be protected and
conserved like any endangered species. He plans to start his acoustic odyssey
this month, assuming he receives permission from the US Secretary of the
Interior.
Perhaps it鈥檚 too late to salvage any of the Randstad鈥檚 pristine natural
sounds, but certainly it is time for governments to support projects like
Hempton鈥檚 so that the world鈥檚 last unspoiled natural environments remain places
where we can savour the sounds of silence. Otherwise, we may find ourselves
trundling off to acoustic zoos so that our children can hear the roar of the
Niagara Falls and the croak of a bullfrog uncluttered by the bickering of
congested traffic or the thrashing of helicopter blades. But given the current
US Congress鈥檚 plans to abolish habitat protection laws and cut land acquisition
funds for national parks and wilderness areas, Hempton鈥檚 plans may seem
hopelessly naive and idealistic. Nevertheless, should the US Department of the
Interior give him his one square inch, let鈥檚 hope he takes a mile.