I DON’T think I could cope with Paul Shepheard over my cornflakes. All the
conversations he relates in The Cultivated Wilderness whether with
relatives, friends, friends of friends or total strangers, plunge straight into
weighty discourses on our place in the world. But writing about these chats is
an effective way of getting his fascinating ideas across.

The wilderness of the title describes the world before it was touched by
humans, while cultivation portrays our attempts at rearranging this wilderness
for our own purposes. Shepheard argues that the way we change our world varies
according to the aspirations of a culture.

Today, nations no longer reflect ethnic groups so much as currency zones. But
the way in which we exploit the land to satisfy our needs and desires—our
strategy, in Shepheard’s terminology—produces a particular landscape. We
can observe our changing strategies in the present landscape. A grid of
motorways, for example, bypasses the web of small roads connecting former
centres of wealth and importance, such as cathedral cities, now transformed into
conservation areas.

We reorder the world, reasons Shepheard, to make it seem safer. But the
wilderness is not banished. Cross the Thames by Waterloo Bridge on a stormy day
and you discover that the river is still a wild and dangerous place.

Shepheard’s The Cultivated Wilderness takes us through a series of
strategies from world empires to cities. You can lose your way in his
pick-and-mix of descriptions, from the darkness of Antarctica and computer
mapping of statues in the British Museum, to the birth of Ben Nevis or the
intricate mechanisms of the Hubble Space Telescope.

You want to know more, but he wants to show that many of us—like
dogs—are domesticated rather than civilised, living in a world that we do
not understand or question. He argues that if we are to avert disaster, we need
to grasp that we are changing our world in more fundamental ways than ever
before.

Wilderness appears more elusive than ever, but, as Shepheard declares, we are
all made up from bits of wilderness. People who live closer to nature have
always realised this, but unless we understand our relationship with our
environment, we do not stand a hope in hell.

Often, we are not in a position to make rational choices when faced with such questions. There is a lack of information, or too much misinformation. Or we just do not have the means with which to analyse the often technical material. Many of our decisions are made on the basis of emotion rather than reason. Michael Zimmerman’s Science, Nonscience and Nonsense and John Graham and Jonathan Wiener’s Risk vs Risk both attempt to provide us with a sound basis for crucial choices.

Zimmerman’s mission is to promote scientific literacy, and so enable us to make decisions not based on “superstitious drivel”. The current dilemma in Britain over beef and BSE makes his point well. A confused public hears conflicting opinions from different scientists and smoothing statements from the industry and the government. It is difficult to find a balanced exposition of the facts concerning any possible connection between BSE in cattle and Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease in humans. The extraordinary pictures a couple of years ago of the then agriculture minister (unsuccessfully) attempting to feed a hamburger to his daughter to prove it was safe will live on in the mind.

There is nothing new here. A delegate from the chemicals industry once ingested DDT to convince a dubious public that the pesticide was safe. Zimmerman describes how the director of California’s health services department ate an apple sprayed with the pesticide Alar at a news conference to demonstrate its wholesomeness.

These circus acts only deflect attention from what, in a mature and democratic society, should be a careful process of weighing the evidence so that concerned citizens can make informed decisions. According to the Natural Resources Defense Council, which was responsible for alerting the US to the potential dangers of Alar, “more than half of the lifetime risk of developing cancer from exposure to carcinogenic pesticide use on fruit is typically incurred by the time a child reaches age six”. Apples account for around 2.5 per cent of the average diet of North Americans, but nearly 13 per cent of the diet of children.

Zimmerman subjects the American chemicals industry to the full force of his wrath. Recognising that working with certain chemicals was hazardous (employees suffer higher rates of cancers), many companies decreed fertile women were most at risk. One reacted to this conclusion by relegating women between the ages of 16 and 50 to low-paid, menial jobs. It was only in 1991 a court outlawed this practice. And now, of course, we have the evidence suggesting that toxic agents in the environment have reduced the average sperm count by 42 per cent in the past 50 years.

Getting information is not easy. A publicity campaign by the American chemicals industry declaring its honesty and openness has proved to be a hollow promise. And while there has been progress on monitoring toxic emissions, one estimate suggests that 95 per cent of emissions in the US may be going unrecorded because of lobbying from the industry. Meanwhile, the National Academy of Sciences estimates that pesticide abuse accounts for some 20 000 cases of cancer in the US every year.

Furthermore, chemicals banned in the West are heavily promoted in developing countries, where they may be sprayed in concentrated, toxic cocktails. Some of these chemicals find their way back to Western consumers on imported fruit and vegetables. Do we need all these chemicals? Zimmerman quotes one study in Bangladesh where a programme of integrated pest management has led to farmers spending 75 per cent less on pesticides while increasing their crop yields by 14 per cent. We could learn a lot, he says, from their example.

Zimmerman makes the point well that scientific literacy is essential if ordinary citizens are to take part in decisions that affect their lives. But anyone not living in the US will find his examples parochial. Half the chapter on scientific literacy is devoted to a critique of creationism.

The book is strongest where it tries to alter our perspectives. When the vegetable matrix of a biodegradable plastic breaks down, it leaves a fine plastic powder full of toxic additives that may cause more pollution than a nondegradable but recyclable plastic bag. Are we all aware of the difference between biodegradable and recyclable plastics?

Many of these issues provide interesting background to the nine fascinating, if selective, case studies in Risk vs Risk. Graham and Wiener attempt to provide a framework for national decision making by analysing the tradeoffs and consequences of decisions.

What exactly are the health implications of eating fish instead of beef? Some fish caught in the heavily polluted North Sea have tumours; in the US, some fish are contaminated with carcinogenic pollutants. If you eat fish, you increase your risk of getting cancer, but eating beef makes it more likely that you will die of a heart attack. How do you decide which risk is more serious?

The average American citizen has a 35 per cent chance of dying from a heart attack and a 25 per cent chance of dying from cancer. This model citizen currently eats 15 grams of fish every day. If they ate beef instead of the fish, the chances of a fatal heart attack would rise to 58 per cent. Eating 20 grams of fish laced with six carcinogenic chemicals would increase the chance of dying from cancer by 1 percentage point, to 26 per cent, so eating fish is safer even without taking into account any possible risk from BSE.

Risk vs Risk extols the virtues of risk tradeoff analysis. This analyses a “target risk” associated with some action, along with risks from side effects or not taking any action at all. Some examples are fairly simple. The benefits of adding chlorine (a possible carcinogen) to drinking water are obvious when the alternatives – everything from dysentery through cholera and typhoid to hepatitis – are considered.

Others are more complex. One case deals with US legislation formulated with the intention of reducing the quantity of oil the country imports. The insurance industry eventually pointed out that if you opt to drive a smaller, fuel efficient car in the US, you increase your chances of injury in an accident. The “efficient” engines would give 27.5 miles to the US gallon. This is not terrific by European standards. But what is the true cost of the oil we are trying to save? One economist estimates that the bill for defending the shipping lanes in the Gulf comes to $15 billion, which works out at $23.50 for every imported barrel. When other “tradeoffs”, such as health bills due to exhaust pollution are added, the hidden costs jump to anywhere between $100 and $300 billion. The risk tradeoff analysis might have turned out very differently if these factors had been accounted for as well.

The editors of Risk vs Risk admit that they are beginning with the inner ripples, as they call them. But decisions are rarely simple. If we are to protect the ozone layer by stopping production of CFCs, then we have to take into account the health and nutrition of the developing countries that are clamouring for refrigeration. There is a strong case to be made for setting up a cadre of experts to determine risks of particular scenarios.

Beyond the experts the ripples are widening. Only a scientifically literate population can ensure that the right decision is made in the end.

Part of the problem for those of us living in the developed world is that energy is so conveniently present. We do not have to carry heavy loads of fuel wood many kilometres so that we can cook our food. Our needs and comforts are met effortlessly: we simply flick a switch or turn a knob.

Profligate use of energy is damaging the environment. Indeed, perhaps the biggest challenge of our times is to halt global warming. But energy involves so many disciplines – from geology and engineering to economics and loft insulation. And it touches so many aspects of our lives, including the welfare of coal mining communities, the purity of air and the secure disposal of nuclear wastes.

Few of us, though, have the necessary technical, social, economic and environmental information to develop the sensible and sustainable energy policies that are so desperately needed. This ambitious book attempts to fill that gap.

The authors begin by showing how human progress has been closely tied to energy. Our earliest ancestors consumed just enough energy to keep alive. When they began to cook food, energy consumption doubled, only to triple again when they started to cultivate crops. Today, we consume about 125 times more energy than our early forebears did. Although we still need to cook and keep warm, most of the energy is used to maintain a pampered and convenient lifestyle.

Even in purely financial terms, this coddled existence is more expensive than we think. Governments often subsidise the energy industry to allow it to do such things as invest in new plant, undertake research and development or guard supplies. The costs involved are often substantial, but do not appear on the fuel bill. The authors quote one study in the US which showed that in 1984 the energy industry was receiving subsidies equivalent to the total domestic energy bill. And the cost of the Gulf War, which was not wholly unconnected with securing oil, works out at about $75 for each barrel of oil sold since.

However, it is the cost to the environment which is the most difficult to see and put into financial terms, but which will prove to be the biggest cost in the end if we do not take remedial action now.

The authors point the way. Realistic pricing policies that take into account the cost of cleaning up pollution and the need to reduce carbon emissions, the abolition of subsidies for fossil fuels and, most importantly, encouraging the development of renewable energy and energy conservation to help distribute energy more equitably.

In developed countries, on average we each use about seven units of power for each one that is used in the developing countries. Using renewable energy sources such as photovoltaics, biomass, wind and water, and with the most efficient means of energy use currently possible, we can provide an average of three units for everyone by 2060. But we cannot rely on market forces to make this happen. Although it is cheaper to save a unit of energy than it is to make one, it is more profitable for an energy utility to make that unit of energy. Real change will require real political will.

This authoritative book provides us with the basic information to make rational decisions. It gives a balanced account of sources of energy, their past, present and future consumption, and ways in which we can generate and consume energy in the future without jeopardising our existence. It will be a useful textbook for students, but it will also provide fuel for thought for those who think their electricity bills are too high.

Before farmers allow the sorghum harvest to take place, women in one part of southern Sudan must collect the best seeds for planting in the following year. The decision on which seeds are chosen is made through careful observations throughout the growing season, and after discussions which may involve many or all the farmers. Such meticulous selection is just one technique used by traditional farmers to increase the biodiversity of their crops. Successful farmers have known since food was first cultivated that survival in an uncertain world depends on developing and maintaining diversity.

Farmers, the traditional plant breeders, foster the biodiversity of their crops by developing local varieties through skilful selection and breeding. Typically, farmers grow a mixture of crops as an insurance against crop failure, and a mix of varieties, each of which may have special qualities. One type may be resistant to pests, or drought for example, while others store well or taste particularly good. So farmers have been responsible for increasing and conserving the biodiversity of crop plants in ecosystems which they have created and carefully maintained.

Traditional farming, then, is about continuing experimentation, and aims for stable yields, avoiding risks, and minimising inputs such as fertiliser. Hence the rather clever title of this book Cultivating Knowledge, which provides examples of the traditional farmers’ use of accumulated skills and wisdom in an endless, innovative quest for the perfect plant. The book is also concerned with the threat to traditional plant breeding from Western agriculture, and the benefits of cooperation.

Traditional agriculture is in many ways the antithesis of industrial agriculture. Here we are dealing with international research organisations, government extension services, companies trading seeds, machinery, inputs and centralised gene banks. The aim is to increase yields to satisfy the increasing national and international demand for food. The dominance and status of Western agriculture, with its product-oriented designer seeds, is posing a real threat to the hard-won biodiversity of the South. But in highlighting the skills and knowledge of the traditional farmer, Cultivating Knowledge is not decrying scientific agriculture. On the contrary, the book is appealing for more links between these formal and informal agricultural systems, which now often coexist in splendid isolation in many developing countries. The success of traditional agriculture has, after all, often depended upon the cross-fertilisation of ideas, technologies and germ plasm from the outside. And as Pat Mooney shows in his contribution, Western agriculture certainly depends heavily on the farmers from the South for its success.

Mooney quotes figures estimated by RAFI (Rural Advancement Foundation International) which suggest that, looking only at wheat germ plasm collected in the South by the International Maize and Wheat Improvement Centre (CIMMYT) in Mexico, the North benefits to the tune of $2.7 billion every year. And remember, this is only for wheat. The North clearly needs to recognise the intellectual skill and effort put in over the millennia by Southern farmers to develop and preserve the germ plasm which is now so profitable to Western agriculture. We also need to acknowledge the injustice of patenting genes which exist now largely due to the efforts of generations of inventive Third World farmers.

The security of our food supply is an important strand in the biodiversity debate. Cultivating Knowledge, like most other similar publications in the area of sustainable development, is the result of a meeting of concerned scientists and researchers. And like many of its sibling publications, it adheres to an academic format and style, with each author credited to his or her paper. The audience will inevitably be a scientist or a dedicated lay reader.

The biodiversity of our food crops is of concern to everyone. The production of a readable synthesis of the issues is probably best done by one author with a passionate interest in the subject. I suspect that there are two main reasons why this does not often happen. First, such a book would take time, and small publishers such as IT Publications who produced Cultivating Knowledge do not have the resources to commission such books. And second, we scientists need to have the papers published under our name to gain peer recognition – and grants. But now we have a plain English version of Agenda 21, we need someone who can unravel sustainable development in the way that Susan George has untangled food production, and Richard Dawkins gene theory.

This is not to detract from Cultivating Knowledge. On the contrary, the important message in this book should be broadcast more widely so that it can more effectively raise the consciousness of the North, and so provide some justice for the South.

Peter de Groot works at the Science Council of the Commonwealth Secretariat, London. He writes in a personal capacity.