The world described by E. G. Nisbet in Leaving Eden is a frightening
place. Not surprising, one might think, as surely the business of writers
on the environment is to scare us all silly so that we act before it is
too late. But Nisbet’s book is something of a novelty: it is not his catalogue
of impending horrors that alarms but his vision of the way out.

Leaving Eden falls into two broad parts. The first sets out the background
to the current crisis and the second looks to the future. Nisbet treads
familiar ground in describing the physical and chemical controls that act
upon the environment and progressing through the causes and consequences
of change, but acquits himself fairly well. He provides clear, concise accounts
of the different aspects of global environmental change, from the soil to
the upper atmosphere, displaying a talent for condensing scientific information
into handy, bite-sized chunks. On this level the book is a useful crib –
it is as good as its sources, which are comprehensive.

The section that follows, however, contains the book’s purpose: to prescribe
the way to ‘protect and manage the Earth’. And it is here that Nisbet comes
unstuck. He reveals a great many gaps in his understanding and flaws in
his logic in the solutions he provides. Leaving Eden is particularly worrying
in its treatment of international social, political and economic questions.
It is written from a perspective that relentlessly favours the developed
world. Nisbet’s guidelines for action sacrifice the needs of the South to
the interests of the North. For example, he suggests putting the Commonwealth
and Francophone countries under the financial administration of the European
Community to alleviate the problems of the African and Indian subcontinents.

Nisbet can seem merely naive on political issues, but the flaws in his
reasoning extend to his consideration of central aspects of the environmental
crisis, such as the energy question. Nisbet’s big idea on energy is the
good old nuclear dream, but on a scale and in a style that would make the
most devoted defender of the nuclear option falter. He proposes a monumental,
integrated network of reactors constructed worldwide to an unspecified safe,
new design and built underground. His two qualifications are for the waste
to be disposed of ethically (how?) and for the design to preclude any military
use. The current nuclear arsenal could be ‘burned’ in the reactors. This
way we could have abundant, cheap energy and solve all the problems of the
South. Best of all, he sees this as an immediate short term solution before
an equally wholescale changeover to solar power in 20 to 30 years’ time.
His conclusion is that ‘it is quite possible to imagine a global economy
in 2020 that has no net production of CO₂ or CH₄.
Furthermore, the transition need not be disruptive and need not involve
gigantic extra cost or herculean efforts.’

Leaving Eden is riddled with such skewed proposals and half-truths.
With its neocolonial attitudes and garble economics, it makes for a disturbing
read.

Adrian Weston is a writer and freelance journalist.

In our age of impending eco-doom there is an addiction to identifying
the magnitude of each and every threat, and hot competition for the label
‘the single greatest environmental crisis we are facing’. Though few would
deny the interconnection of all these crises, the overwhelming tendency
is to address the social, environmental and political problems as fragmented
issues.

That this should occur is both understandable and necessary. The French
sociological school’s appropriation of the phrases bricoleur and bricolage
meaning DIY (making do with trifles) work nicely here. Academic specialisation
is vital in providing the bricolage for developing the synthesis essential
to any global solutions. It is part of the process. But as any environmentalist
will tell you, time is running out and synthesis is a slow process.

In the Servitude of Power is exactly the sort of book needed, because
it provides a considerable step towards synthesis. The work of two historians
and one physicist, it is far more than a history of energy and civilisation.
It is an ambitious social critique that addresses the whole energy question,
from the ‘abortion of the original nuclear energy project’ to the fuelwood
crisis, by providing a historical context and an assessment derived from
a rigorous and radical theoretical basis.

The authors stress the importance of linking ecological and social concerns
by constructing their thesis around the effective concept of ‘energy system’,
which includes ‘the ecological and technological characteristics of chains
(evolution of sources, converters and their efficiency) and the social structures
for the appropriation and management of these sources and converters’.

Originally published in French in 1986, this, its first English publication,
has been sufficiently revised for it not to become dated. Its success lies
in effectively demonstrating the manner in which energy is at the centre
of a vast and complex system, and in considering the differing energy dilemmas
of North and South.

In the Servitude of Power is above all a forward-looking book. The writing
is sociologically informed, scientifically accurate and historically enlightening.
This work is also a nice example of the way in which the sciences and the
humanities can benefit each other. It is a book that contributes to thought
by expanding the boundaries of its own field of inquiry. It should become
a very influential work.

Adrian Weston is a freelance journalist.