At 8:30 p.m. on March 23, millions from Las Vegas to Paris recognized Earth Hour by turning off lights. It was a time to consider our obligation to the Earth's environment in light of the responsibilities first assigned to humanity in the biblical story of creation.
We have dominion over the fish of the sea and, presumably, over the sea in which the fish live; over the fowl of the air and the atmosphere in which the fowl live; and over every living thing that moves upon the Earth that humans must replenish. We have the means to carry out this obligation. Our bodies, while not the strongest of nature's creatures, are, by far, the most flexible; and our brains are without peer.
Earth Hour is an appropriate time for Americans to consider their record as keepers of our nation's lands and waters. We have 3.5 million square miles blessed with bountiful natural resources. But in the East, we blast Appalachian mountaintops off into the valleys, retrieving small seams of coal while blocking miles of streams. In the Midwest, we plow up dry-area grasslands to grow crops by taking three feet of irrigation water annually from underground aquifers like the huge Ogallala. And in the arid West, we dam rivers so people and crops can live in deserts. The land becomes more saline, and the rivers no longer reach the sea.
Before Europeans arrived, Minnesota was a natural-resources treasure with forests of virgin white pine and great deposits of rich iron ore. Our glacially deposited soils were nourished by the ample waters of our lakes, streams, and aquifers. But those forests were clear cut, their lumber exported to the world. And most of the iron ore has gone everywhere, leaving behind empty pits. We need to protect our remaining soil and the waters which nourish it.
All over the Earth, the abuse of nature continues. People in less-developed countries are hungry; yet wealthy nations convert food to fuel.
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The consequences of our actions will not be sudden, as in the great flood of biblical history. Instead, rivers gradually will silt up the dams, remove them, and resume their destined routes to the sea. Soils impoverished and eroded from single cropping and excessive fertilizers no longer will nourish our billions. A warming atmosphere, polluted by the overuse of carbon fuels, will wreak its own havoc.
There is still time -- but not much -- to take seriously the responsibility that came with God's grant of domination over the Earth and its inhabitants.
At 8:30 p.m. on March 23, millions from Las Vegas to Paris recognized Earth Hour by turning off lights. It was a time to consider our obligation to the Earth's environment in light of the responsibilities first assigned to humanity in the biblical story of creation.
We have dominion over the fish of the sea and, presumably, over the sea in which the fish live; over the fowl of the air and the atmosphere in which the fowl live; and over every living thing that moves upon the Earth that humans must replenish. We have the means to carry out this obligation. Our bodies, while not the strongest of nature's creatures, are, by far, the most flexible; and our brains are without peer.
Earth Hour is an appropriate time for Americans to consider their record as keepers of our nation's lands and waters. We have 3.5 million square miles blessed with bountiful natural resources. But in the East, we blast Appalachian mountaintops off into the valleys, retrieving small seams of coal while blocking miles of streams. In the Midwest, we plow up dry-area grasslands to grow crops by taking three feet of irrigation water annually from underground aquifers like the huge Ogallala. And in the arid West, we dam rivers so people and crops can live in deserts. The land becomes more saline, and the rivers no longer reach the sea.
Before Europeans arrived, Minnesota was a natural-resources treasure with forests of virgin white pine and great deposits of rich iron ore. Our glacially deposited soils were nourished by the ample waters of our lakes, streams, and aquifers. But those forests were clear cut, their lumber exported to the world. And most of the iron ore has gone everywhere, leaving behind empty pits. We need to protect our remaining soil and the waters which nourish it.
All over the Earth, the abuse of nature continues. People in less-developed countries are hungry; yet wealthy nations convert food to fuel.
The consequences of our actions will not be sudden, as in the great flood of biblical history. Instead, rivers gradually will silt up the dams, remove them, and resume their destined routes to the sea. Soils impoverished and eroded from single cropping and excessive fertilizers no longer will nourish our billions. A warming atmosphere, polluted by the overuse of carbon fuels, will wreak its own havoc.
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There is still time -- but not much -- to take seriously the responsibility that came with God's grant of domination over the Earth and its inhabitants.
Rolf Westgard of St. Paul is a professional member of the Geological Society of America and a guest faculty member on energy subjects for the University of Minnesota's Lifelong Learning program.
