Father Knows Best? The shortcomings of scientific reductionsism

We humans have a somewhat macabre tendency chop things into little bits in an attempt to understand them. In fact, modern western society is uncommonly proud of the knowledge we have gained from our scientific methods. We have set ourselves up at the top of the pyramid as the experts- the authority figure on science and technology that defines how the world turns and have reduced the role of Mother Nature to that of a bit player.

This reductionism has proved very useful to us. By chopping things up into smaller and smaller parts, assigning them a particular function in the scheme of things and then categorizing them, we do our best to deduce the ‘rules’ by which the world and mother nature are supposed to operate.

Through this process we have managed to conduct a systematic study of our world, atomicbreaking it into many separate fields; physics, mathematics, astronomy, and biology, just to name a few.  We have deduced the general structure and functions of atomic and subatomic particles (then went on to blow up several hundred thousand people with that knowledge), theorized about various aspects of electricity, computers and electronics and then promptly proceeded to glue cell phones to our ears and computer monitors to our eyeballs. In the last century or so, we even managed to roughly figure out DNA’s existence and function and begun mixing up our own Frankenstein animals and plants to suit our fancy- it’s anyone’s guess to how that might turn out.

We value these kernels of knowledge that we have managed to glean from chopping the world up into little bits and separating the resulting pieces into piles. We like to name these little piles that we’ve made out of the world; in chemistry we have the periodic table of elements that encompasses the scope of our existence in neat little letters: C, N, O, H and so on.

In biology, we categorize the pieces of living matter into useful labels as well… Of course, scientists can’t just use common terms like dog, cat, cow- So, in order assure that everyone knows we are committing particularly scientific acts, the scientists must classify all these creatures. In Biology this accounts for the fact that we call all the other plants and critters that inhabit ‘our’ world by scientific names: Canis familiaris, Felis cattus, Bos taurus…

We like to simplify the issues- to reduce the problem into black and white. This kind of scientific dialecticism certainly makes it easier to attack and issue.  To break it down into constituent parts makes it easier for us to categorize the parts and their functions. Also, true to our Puritan heritage, this practice makes it easier for us to figure out what is ‘good’ and ‘bad’.

This particular form of “good or bad” thinking has gained popularity in the western mind- especially in the United States- where we have gone gaga over the latest scientific fads resulting from reductionist thinking. The general public tends to blindly trust the knowledge handed to us from the (loudest) mouths of the scientific establishment. We see this trend particularly well in the constant waves of “nutritionist” food fads that follow pronouncements from our esteemed nutritional scientists (who can never seem to agree about anything). Pronouncements declaring new nutritional enemies and allies can make or break the sales of a food in the supermarket- and lead to interesting consequences along the American waistline.

We increasingly are encountering issues with this reductionist technique- of separating the parts from the whole: the belief that we can somehow reduce a system to the sum of its parts- ignoring the complexity and interconnectedness of said system. Much of the study of nutritionist science is based on this separationist  thinking. Studies will be done on particular foods within populations and (more often than they’d like to admit) those conducting the studies will attribute the positive or negative results not to the entire context of the food (the population’s activity level, when they eat, what else they eat in combination with the food, how it was processed and stored, etc), but to only one of it’s constituent parts- say, Vitamin A or a particular anti-oxidant that is currently all the rage. (For more information read Michael Pollan’s excellent book: In Defense of Food).

If truth be told, these reductionist techniques yield very mixed results- and even the things that we thought that we 100% we sure of are constantly being called into question. One year (or decade) we are assured unequivocally that fat is the enemy, then all of the sudden Carbs take the stage as the nutritional villain- And surprise! Fats, which we were supposed to avoid at all costs aren’t really that bad- they don’t contribute to cancer at all and their link to heart disease is tenuous at best. In fact, some of them are absolutely essential for important little things like silky hair, good skin and oh yeah, brain development and mental health. And remember those other supposedly ‘healthy’ scientifically man-made trans fats (in margarine and other processed ‘food-like’ substances) that they urged us to replace the traditional dietary fats with – those actually do cause cancer.  Oops.

antioxidantsOf course, this all works out for the food processing companies, as they just follow along with the latest food science fad. Fats are bad? No worries- we’ll just take it out and add more carbs. Is vitamin E the Hero of the day? No problem- we’ll just fortify it!!! Zinc? Folic Acid? Antioxidants? We’ve got it covered! But do we ever stop to think that maybe we don’t have it all covered? That by reducing our foods down to their constituent nutrients and injecting them into processed products willy-nilly that we might be missing out on something essential? That perhaps the constituent parts created by Mother Nature tare not as interchangeable as gears in a machine?

The problem that rears it’s ugly head is that many of the essential nutrients that we have identified (and there are many more that we have no idea of yet) do not function all by their lonesome in a vacuum. Instead they are part and parcel of a system of interacting, interlocking parts.

We humans evolved as part of that system as well- a context of foods, activities, of life and death and evolution – an entire complex ecosystem designed by Mother Nature. By breaking our foods apart, purifying individual nutients and injecting them into a neat scientific pill form or fortifying our breakfast cereals, we are loosing the synergy of that system- the very substances that are a boon when taken in context of a whole food can become a poison to our systems when taken separately. Beta carotene- believed to be a helpful cancer preventative when ingested in the form of a whole food such as a carrot, has been shown to actually promote certain kinds of cancer when taken as a supplement in pill form. Divorced from its context the nutrient becomes something other than what it was as part of its system.

We see the dark side of reductionist science in other areas as well. In the decades following the 1980’s, the general public became aware of the plight of endangered species. What we should have been worried about was endangered ecosystems. After several decades with much hurry and flurry, it has become increasingly clear that the environmental movement’s focus on saving one species within a particular ecosystem has proved ungainly, costly and largely ineffectual.

We have discovered that the endangered animals are not separate “units” that can be “saved” outside of the ecosystem that they inhabit, but rather part and parcel of that entire system- and can no more be “saved” outside of that system than a sno-cone can be ‘saved’ outside of a refrigerator on a hot summer day- it is the very endangeredenvirons, the other plants, animals and even the abiotic elements (minerals, water) that are tied together in one living, dynamic system. We ignore this element of change, of the very complex aliveness of these natural systems (of which we are all a part) at our peril.

Reduced to a simple recipe of parts, we are again and again surprised when these parts do not add up to make a whole. Something is always missing, but we don’t yet have the knowledge to know what it is. Reductionist thinking is a useful tool with which to examine our world- but falling into the trap of thinking that it will provide us with all the answers is pure folly.  The complex systems that have evolved in nature over time, cannot (at least right now) be broken down into separate parts and dissected without loosing the synergy that results from their interaction.

Sometimes Mother does know best.

Alien Invaders

It is suggested that invasive species can cause the extinction of locally adapted species.  Habitat destruction is the number one cause of extinction, and many experts suggest that invasives may come in second.  Further, they suggest that we may be setting ourselves up for an impoverished world in terms of biodiversity if we do not stop the spread of invasives.  Yet the  issue is not 100% clear. Species taken out of their context and introduced into a new one (sometimes ill-suited to accept it), so-called “Invasives” have historically proven that they may have some benefits to offer us as well.

It started with a sprout. A very healthy sprout. It shot up alongside the garden gate, growing what seemed like inches each day. Its waxy greenish oval leaves seemed impossibly lush in the heat of our summer climate, where all around it the dried out husks of foxtail grasses and scrub brush rustled aridly in the wind. It crowded out any living plants that had survived the rapid onset of our summer desert temperatures. It was so healthy, so just plain vigorous in fact, that I decided to let our little prodigy grow- in the hopes of finding out what it could be…

And it grew and grew and GREW… I’d never seen anything like it. It seemed like a plant possessed, a real go-getter, if you will. From a small (if energetic) sprout in Hummingbird and Tree tobaccothe early summer, it grew into something much more like a tree by the beginning of fall, towering over the gate and providing an area of unexpected shade and relief from the sun. I bought a bench and placed it underneath, creating a reading area in the new island of cool it bestowed.  Along its long graceful branches blossomed hundreds of small cheery yellow, trumpet-like flowers . If I stayed still long enough I’d be surrounded by a stream of hummingbirds, darting in to take advantage of those trumpet-like flowers. Chirping at each other in challenge as they encroached on each other’s precious airspace.

I was surprised by my (not so little) over-achiever and more than a little mystified. Where did this plant of herculean vigor come from? What leant it the almost bionic skill, the ability to be “better, faster, stronger” than the other plants surrounding it? A fruitless search on the internet was cut short by a discovery outside the realms of “da interwebs”. During a field trip for a Natural Resources class I was taking, the identity of our mystery plant was revealed, and the unveiling wasn’t entirely a pleasant one. Our little guest was technically more of an invader- Nicotiana glauca, otherwise known as tree tobacco. A native to Bolivia and Argentina, this aggressive plant had little to no competition in the area and easily towered over the local shrubs.

According to invasive.org and several other websites, “ Wild tobacco is a highly invasive opportunistic weed, and easily out-competes natural vegetation in regrowth or disturbed areas. It is also thought to be toxic to livestock if eaten in sufficient quantities”. It is a “tall shrub or small tree in the nightshade family (Solanaceae, of family that contains potatoes and tomatoes) with pendulous tubular yellow flowers an inch or more long. The oval leaves are 2 to 8 inches long with a waxy grayish covering. It is a rather weedy plant, yet somewhat attractive, especially to hummingbirds.” The seeds of this plant are eaten and spread long distances by birds.

My shady, graceful, flower covered Tree Tobacco is apparently pure poison. It is on the list of toxic plants in several states, including Texas, California, and North Carolina. To enhance the spiritual experience, tree tobacco is sometimes smoked by California Native Americans in combination with Datura wrightii, which may be dangerous as both plants induce respiratory depression. Although Nicotiana glauca has been publicized as a safe, hallucinogenic plant on some internet websites, smoking or ingesting the plant has frequently lead to death and parents are encouraged to keep the plant’s leaves and stems out of the reach of their offspring, for fear of accidental death. Say what?!

In addition to this damning testimony, our professor contributed another volley of condemnation: the plant was one of the worst invasive offenders- extracting water from the soil at a frightening rate and transpiring it away into the atmosphere- effectively desiccating the soil around it while at the same time outcompeting local shrubs and trees and displacing them.

After much reading about invasives, I felt I had as much of a handle on the issue as possible for the moment. Here is the basic argument against invasives, summed up in a few paragraphs:

A healthy ecosystem is composed of a complex set of interdependencies between its members that has developed over time. This set of relationships should be in cyclical flux over time. The introduction of a new invasive species (like my Tree Tobacco) can and will change this set of interdependencies- and affect far more than just a single plant or animal that is “replaced”.

Although not all introduced species have such detrimental effects, many invasives have the potential to do great harm to the local ecosystem into which they are introduced. This can result in the extinction of multiple local plant and animal species.  The entire food web along with its members (from bacteria and fungi to arthropods, earthworms, up to birds, mammals and beyond) can be decimated by the introduction of invasive species of plants or animals. (of course, this brings up the issue of many of our agricultural species such as  apples, colonial bees, etc, which we will have to deal with at a later time)

With the advent of rapid methods of modern transportation, this introduction is occurring at a much higher pace than in the past, species are now mixing much like a blender set to puree. And this “blender effect” is accelerating. The process of change occurs gradually as a matter of course in nature- but the speed at which the change is being spread is astronomically faster than in the past- not allowing many local ecosystems to adapt to the onslaught of new species. If you want a damning example look at the deadly effect of the Miconia on the forests of Tahiti…

Even in situations where the invasive does not cause a breakdown of the entire local ecosystem it still leaves the system highly vulnerable to a breakdown. As a genetic monoculture spreads over an ever-greater region, wiping out the specifically adapted individual species, the entire ecosystem becomes more vulnerable to an assortment of pathogens that can spread quickly and broadly through the population.

Now the dilemma. Do I heartlessly uproot this interloper? Or would it turn out to have some redeeming qualities? I had watched it grow for an entire summer, nursed it along sometimes, to tell the truth, with extra soaks from the watering can to support its ever-spreading canopy. Now I had to decide if I should tear it from the very ground of my garden and cast it out- a modern day Bible story reenacted.

Further research only muddied the issue… It seems that this noxious, sometimes deadly, aggressive ‘weed’ is also often used in decorative gardening as a way to attract hummingbirds to the garden. In “Hummingbird gardens” by Nancy L. Newfield, it is earmarked as a “very choice” plant species particularly suited for attracting our little darting feathered friends. And there was the delicious shade it had so quickly and temptingly provided in my otherwise searingly arid ‘gardenscape’.

Now that I knew the identity of my uninvited guest, I saw his relatives everywhere. Along the roadsides, in drainage ditches and even dominating a corner of the occasional garden. In our class we had learned how to efficiently uproot these invaders. With saw, root wrench and shovels, we had eagerly applied ourselves to the task- removing dozens of trees from the bottom of a clogged up riverbed near Irvine Ranch.

Finally, it was the very abundance of the plants that decided me. If I could slow the invasive tide and it’s consequences that much more by removing my one tree, then it would be worth it.  One morning, with a sad heart and a heavy shovel, I set out to cleanse my garden of this exotic invader. Next year I’ll plant a native shrub in its place… but I have to admit, I’ll miss Nicotiana glauca’s graceful branches and yellow flowers in my garden next year.

Prescribed (heart) Burns

I live in a rural area that has about the same amazingly fire resistant properties as fluffy cotton ball tinder- on a hot, dry day…. with a butane torch held under it for good measure.

Our ranch in Sage (on Sage Rd) is surrounded by large amounts of dry Sagebrush, dry chaparral, oaks (with dry leaves), occasional pines (with dry needles) and dry debris, with plenty of dry invasive grasses to add extra oomph to the potential conflagration. (Bonus! Now with more fuel!)  This leads to conditions that might be generally described as “you’re f*^#ed!” when fire season comes around. We pretty much know each of the local firemen by name. We’ve run the fire prevention gamut: prescribed burns, backfires, helicopters dropping water and retardant in wide swathes like graffiti from giant orange spraycans across the land.

Each time a backfire or prescribed burn is suggested, my heart drops down into my stomach and panicked thoughts run through my head; what about the safety of the process? The possible risk to land and home? Will the animals make it out alright if something goes wrong? Will we?

Our family homesteaded this land. That’s pretty uncommon in California, with its big box stores, strip malls and cookie cutter houses. Here everything is new- anything over 10 years is considered dated. 20 is old and venerable and fifty is practically enshrined as ancient. Our family has lived here for over a century and a half. Most of the houses and structures are well over 100 years old and have housed several generations. That may not seem like too long on, say an evolutionary scale, but it’s plenty long enough to grow more than slightly invested and attached. Every time a fire passes nearby a chill runs down my spine. The suggestion of purposely setting a fire as a preventative measure makes me nervous- even if I see the necessity.

Several years ago, 3 adventurously dumb kids with motor bikes and a desire to avoid boredom in the most destructive way possible set a fire (by mistake, one sincerely hopes) near our property and proceeded to burn a large section along our Northwest flank, leaving the land resembling an unhealthy bald patch on a mangy dog.

The fire department took one look at the fire raging (ushered along by our good friend, the Santa Ana wind) and made the decision to let it burn through a section of overgrown, dense chaparral to remove the accumulated dry debris. In essence this was an accidental form of a ‘prescribed burn’. It was a nervous time for us- there is always the fear of the fire escaping the tenuous ‘controls’ and burning down everything that we’ve built. But as quickly as it had come, the darn thing decided to peter out. The winds died down, and the fire quickly followed…

Later next year, a much larger fire swept through the area again (not an odd occurrence in an area where we have a fifth season- Fire season), ravaging much of the land to our Northwest. We watched from (relative) safety as the fire block provided by the accidental “prescribed burn” from the year before protected our house, leaving us in a little island of our own.

Breathing in the air heavy with smoke particles (some of them so large I could swear that I could feel them individually rolling grittily down my throat and into my lungs…) Oddly enough, despite feeling a bit sick to the stomach and having a pounding headache from the smoke, I ended that day feeling rather good. Our home wasn’t a crisply charred black charcoal shell, my garden with its bounty of luscious tomatoes was still there, the old butchering oak and hammock with the view of Mt. San Jacinto still stood in place, swaying in the breeze.

I know that there are many obstacles that fire managers face when using fire as a management tool- The unpredictability of wind and weather, the issue of obtaining enough funding and crew with experience necessary to carry out the job, the need to make extremely quick decisions concerning millions of dollars of property and human lives that will later be judged by the general public are just some of the difficulties in fire prevention and prescribed burning.

I’ve been in this situation myself, and even though my heart was pounding the entire time and my stomach does flip flops until the last flames die down, I have been more than happy with the results. Thank you, Sage volunteer fire crew.

Natural Disconnect

“People are meant to connect with natural places. It is good for the human soul for people to explore their relationship with the places where they live.”

There was a time not too long ago that I felt more connected to my smartphone than to the wilderness. At work I spent my time on the phone providing tech support, or hunched over my computer keyboard designing logos for hours on end until my neck and back were on fire with pain. My obsession with my TV shows, tech gizmos, and structured “play” activities made it harder for me to truly allow for free time.  Something was always demanding my attention, distracting me, offering the promise of cheap, quick and effortless entertainment.

CONNECTED

It wasn’t always that way. The way I grew up was different. I was three when we moved back to the family ranch. We had no TV. We spent our days outside. We played as much with sticks and stones as plastic toys. We knew only knew about town life from short resupply trips.

We were always active. My older brother and I built dams in the stream near the house- making our own swimming holes- then destroying them a few days later just to watch the swirling power of the water take everything away. We climbed the oaks for lookout posts, built forts in the trees and bunkers in the brush. It made me feel proud that we had made these things together. We had built them ourselves. They were somehow ours in a way that things simply given to us were not.

I was always in touch with and learning about the world around me. My father took me out and showed me the local snakes, animal tracks and scat. He told me how to tell them apart by what they ate, how they moved and how their lives (and ours) followed the seasons.  I learned to look before I placed my foot, watching the ground and surrounding brush carefully for threats.  I learned to respect my environment in its power and beauty.

I felt strong and independent out in nature. When I got a bit older, mom would let me go further from the house alone and I would hike along dirt roads and coyote trails. Some days I went to my one of my rocks to read or think or even just to sit and be. Other days I would head out and try to find something new- a place I had never been. Something I hadn’t seen before. Every day was new. The time to run free through my world allowed me to find nature in everything. I felt connected.

In Girl Scouts we went on hiking and camping trips with horribly heavy tents that several girls would have to carry. We were often short a tent and I sometimes ended up sleeping alone under the stars. It was colder with wind across my face, but I didn’t care. I remember my first view of the stars from the mountains up near Big Bear. The Milky Way was a brilliant white splash. I would lay awake for what seemed like hours searching out and making up my own constellations. I felt like I was part of something bigger. Like I had a purpose.

THE DISCONNECT

As a child I had run free with a light heart and an inquisitive mind. My relationship with nature as a young adult became gradually more structured and constrained. Although I never completely stopped my outdoor activites, they took on a different tenor.  With my new University and job obligations I felt I had to make an effort to spend time in nature.  Living in the city it seemed all so far away and harder to get to – any outing had to be planned- and It seemed I never had the time.

I rarely approached my brief journeys into the wilderness with the same completely open and accepting attitude I had as a child. I had learned the ways of modern distraction. I was often thinking of the other things I had to do and filtering my experience through a camera, altering the sounds that I would hear with an ipod, looking for connectivity with my “smart” phone to check my email.

Despite all the modern “conveniences”, I was tired of the hours spent hunched over a keyboard, the eyestrain, the rude drivers on my ride to work, the worthless “entertainment” on TV sucking up my time, the cookie cutter houses sprawling for miles.

I craved nature and all that comes along with it. The wind blowing through the willows, cottonwoods and oaks. The sun baking the earth. Thunderstorms. Lizards skittering across rocks and doing body builder push-ups, birds digging through the deep layer of oak leaves to find bugs, and a freeway of hundreds of bees flying to and from the watering hole in the summer.

It took me a while to realize that most of the barriers that kept me from connecting with my wilderness were of my own making.  I had made the choice to make these limitations and barriers part of my life- and I also could make the choice to let them go.

HOME AGAIN

In the last couple of years I’ve looked back on my childhood relationship with the wilderness and resolved to restore our free and easy bond. I believe that a life without a connection to nature becomes more sterile, somehow blander. It robs you of a beneficial  bond that strengthens your independence, self-reliance, creativity, spirituality, feeling of connectedness with and understanding of the cycles of life. Away from the easy distractions you not only can, but are forced to hear the ebb and their flow of your own thoughts and become comfortable with them. Without this inner ear you are likely to become disconnected from your own self.

One year and 2 months ago I crossed my fingers and jumped. I left my lucrative position.  I became a contract employee and gave most of my stuff to the Goodwill. I left my $1500 a month apartment near the beach in Dana Point and moved back to the ranch. Before finishing my solar system I lived for 6 months without continuous power or a refrigerator. I fed myself from my garden.  I scheduled days I would be unavailable for tech calls and started hiking the canyons and hills nearby. I saw my family again.  It felt awesome.

I ached to be out in the wilderness and it was great to be back- but now I wanted to give it something in return for all I had received. One day I found myself in the Idyllwild Forest Service office, asking about volunteer activities. I’m now a Volunteer Forest Service Ranger- I spend every free weekend (and some weekdays) up on the trails and patrolling cross country. I plan to someday soon be a full Ranger. This will pay less than half my prior position.  I’ve never been happier.

I fell asleep to a chorus of coyotes last night. I heard the rustle of the oak leaves as the owl left his nest for his nightly hunt. I woke to a clear morning with Mt. San Jacinto’s south face framed in the deep “V” between our canyon walls. These days, I feel like I’m coming home.

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