Planet Interlude

How can humankind dare to study other forms of life in the universe (or elsewhere), when we can’t even understand them on our own planet?  Consider that the vast majority of organisms on Earth live in a ubiquitous environment that is mysterious, only partially explored, and hostile to humans: underwater.  There is an entire alien world covering over 70% of our planet; making waves and lapping at our toes, and we can’t go there.  We can barely even observe it.  Oh sure, we use our scientific gadgets and tech toys to explore for a little while, or we might visit for a few minutes at a time in a free dive, but we cannot stay there.  In fact, we would die very quickly.  On our own planet!  That’s because its “atmosphere” is water!  Even the simplest plankton or larvae can gain everything it needs from a liquid environment; without technical aid of any kind.  But we cannot.  And yet, we spend huge sums of money and expend vast technological resources to try and engage with distant, alien worlds, when we can’t even fathom the one we’re standing on!

Ask yourself: What if the entire, combined global budgets for space exploration had been spent instead on maintaining our own home, first?  Think of the foolish homeowner who spends all his money on his yard, and lets the house itself rot beneath his feet.  Or burns it to the ground, in his haste to destroy his own domicile!  If we want to be magnanimous, we should divert all the money we spend on weapons of war, to preserve the lands we so jealously guard!  Why are we in such a hurry to extinguish ourselves?  Why do we look outside ourselves for that which already exists within?

We’ve lost sight of the fact that that there is already a vast biosphere of amazing life forms all around us.  For example, one very different class of beings is able to perform “superhuman” feats that we can only approach with a vigorous application of technology.  They fly through the air, dive at high speeds against forces of gravity that would cause humans to pass out, and see accurately for miles (and at night!).  They can outswim and capture fishes underwater, and navigate unerringly across hemispheres using magnetic geo-positioning processes we cannot begin to understand.  They insulate themselves, and raise their young in sub-zero temperatures… completely with their own powers.  Of course, I’m talking about birds, which do not need technology to master their environment: they are the superlative, self-replicating technology we try to emulate (at great expense!).

Insects, birds, arthropods, mammals… they all have nothing but the bodies with which they were born, and the collective life-knowledge they represent.  Humans, on the other hand, have little in the way of instinct or effective body tools, except for opposable thumbs… and an oversized brain that won’t stop trying to possess and control everything.  Driven by our helpless frustration and inadequacy, we have ransacked the planet – and all its living creatures – for our own selfish gain.  Of all the species that have evolved over millions of years, we are the only ones still alive that were not born with everything we needed to survive.  Our inadequacy is complete, and we try to compensate by exerting our insatiable dominion on an entire planet full of organisms we barely understand.

In contrast, even common plants and fungus everywhere are capable of performing astonishing feats of symbiosis, alchemy, and chemistry that our greatest scientists cannot match.  When you think about it, most of the achievements of humankind have resulted from the natural aid of plants and fungi.  So, how do we repay them for all the gifts they provide?  We pillage, poison, slash, and burn.  We haven’t realized but a fraction of all the lessons they have to teach us, and yet we destroy them and their habitats before we even get a chance to learn.  We are far more interested in the products of our insatiable culture than in the ecosystems that provide the basis for them to be realized.

Additionally, the majority of bacteria, microscopic creatures, and soil-dwellers underneath our feet haven’t even been classified or discovered yet, but our civilizations look to the stars with yearning, as if they might answer the questions we have so poorly answered on our home planet.  We obsessively build elaborate tools and visual aids to discover what’s “out there,” when we haven’t even understood what’s right here.  Because if we had fully learned what the earth had to teach us, we would take better care of it.  Imagine if all our culture, money, science, and technology had been devoted to developing a paradigm of maintenance for our special home first; and second, to educate all people and governments about its importance.  That would certainly be an advanced civilization worthy of study!