Conservation Philosophy

Photo: Kike Arnal

The outcry over tropical rain forest destruction regularly features professional conservationists who conceive of nature as a priceless three dimensional painting. Indigenous people belong within this idyllic conception if they adhere to an apparently traditional and organic lifestyle, but those who use shotguns or plastic washtubs mar the conservationists’ painting. Increasingly, they are labeled as “part of the problem.” Philosophies of this ilk cannot guide successful long-term conservation efforts. They neglect the principle reality of the relationship between people and nature: the ever-changing technological balance through which we all seek a life beyond mere survival.
Indigenous peoples in the tropics have long lived in the most biologically diverse regions on earth. Destroying some swath of the natural world is necessary to sustain human life, yet the presence of indigenous people has not lead to the cumulative destruction of their rain forest surroundings. Vast expanses of tropical forest still stretch as green oceans where they have lived for centuries.
In contrast, destruction of natural landscapes is the hallmark of industrial society. Witness the rapid progression from simple technologies, which barely tipped the odds in favor of basic human endeavors, to overblown contraptions that gulp natural resources to satisfy our whims. In industrial society the goals are comfort and convenience. Yet these goals are shared by human beings everywhere, including indigenous peoples in tropical rain forests. The technological means of achieving them are what has differentiated industrial from tropical indigenous societies. Different technologies have, in turn, spawned the philosophies of nature implicit in our distinct ways of life.
If technologies engender philosophies of nature—rather than the reverse—then this explains why the flow of technology from the industrial world to tropical indigenous peoples changes indigenous thought more than indigenous beliefs lead to a rejection of industrial society. Indeed, among the indigenous groups in the Caura River, the use of outboard motors instead of paddles, the easy action of chain saws and other technological novelties have distracted many into slowly abandoning their culture. To be sure, these peoples have learned the political value of declaring their aboriginal rights, but they are also gradually dropping their language, mythology, invaluable natural history and medicinal plant knowledge and traditional technical abilities.
Clearly, modern technology presents short-term solutions to basic struggles for survival. That technology can cause irreparable cultural erosion, however, is a concept of the industrial world that is still new to many indigenous peoples. But there is no voluntary road back from outboard motors to paddles, attractive as such a notion may seem. The challenge, then, is to ensure that technological introductions on balance serve to safeguard, rather than erode, the most fragile aspects of indigenous culture—language, knowledge, technical ability and health—and in doing so, help to maintain the functional equilibrium between indigenous peoples and the rain forests that they inhabit.