February, 2007: One year ago. Forest Bay beach. A group of approximately
20 bleary-eyed ALHCS Environmental Club students step onto a
beach. The early morning light – the day’s first rays of sun
– hits the white sand causing it to glisten almost as
brilliantly as the turquoise waters that lap the shore. A
pelican glides by perhaps looking for breakfast – or a
comfortable tree so it can watch the unusual bustle of
activities. The students are armed with garbage bags, rakes,
and a mission. Refuse is scattered along the beach and
within the vegetation that buffers the coastline from the
road. The garbage has mostly washed up during the high tide,
probably from ocean dumping or from some of the nearby
islands. The students have decided on their plan of action.
Their goal is simple: to clean the beach in three hours.
They work hard that morning to accomplish it; the pelican
would approve of their efforts.
A scenario. A practically untouched stretch of beach
stretches along a tree- and shrub-lined Caribbean coastline.
At first glance, it looks empty with only a messy collection
of thorny, scrubby plants lining the top of the sand. Taking
a closer look, it becomes so much more: a species of ant
found only in the northern windward islands is busy changing
their nest, bees are pollinating plants that could be picked
and boiled to cure an upset stomach, lizards are catching
mosquitoes that are threatening to become an annoying pest,
and a kili-kili circles in the air searching for that mouse
it spotted just a minute ago in the shrubs. Meanwhile, the
buttonwood trees are photosynthesising, removing carbon
dioxide from the air and offsetting the effects of climate
change in its small (but important) way. At the same time,
the coarse beach grass is keeping the loose sand from being
completely washed away by the ebb and flow of the tides. The
beach is rich with life and full of activity. But unless a
moment is taken to consider the intricacies and wonder of
the natural environment, it may never be seen, understood,
or even valued…until something is built on it and a price
tag is attached.
Can A Price Tag Be put On The Natural Environment?
Environmental economics – a field that became popular in
the 1990s – argues that it can be and that the value of the
environment depends on the goods produced (for example,
agricultural crops that we eat, medicines that make us feel
better, and fibres for the clothes that we wear), the
services provided (for example, air and water purification
and climate regulation), and the cost of replacing them with
technological alternatives. One of the reasons for valuing
biodiversity economically is that it allows us to understand
the cost of degrading or destroying the environment and to
help create a mechanism that can be used to hold the
agencies, corporations, and individuals who exploit (and
usually over-exploit) natural resources accountable for the
impacts that they cause.
In 2003, Robert Costanza, an environmental economist and
the first person to put a price on nature (US$33 trillion,
in fact, for the biosphere – more than the annual gross
national products of all countries combined), has suggested
that intact ecosystems actually yield returns of 100 to 1.
That is, there is a return of US$100 for every US$1
invested. That is a lot of money and, in real world market
trading, an incredible investment opportunity.
So how does this investment work? With that type of
return, why are beaches and the vegetation found on them not
being protected and why are developers clearing land instead
of preserving it? According to the principles outlined by
Adam Smith, an 18th century
economist who defined the free market economy, economies and
markets are most efficient when they are based on
self-interest. This means that the forest brings in more
money when it is cut and sold as lumber than if the trees
were left standing. This is because the outside costs
related to the clearing of the forest (loss of trees that
hold carbon dioxide, that release oxygen, that hold the soil
together…) are passed on to all the other human beings on
the planet. The profit of one individual, corporation, or
agency that decided to cut the forest down means losses for
everyone else. What are actually outside or external costs
are being called profits.
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Clearing of vegetation, as has
occurred in Forest Bay, can have serious
environmental impacts
(photos taken on 31 January 2007).
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According to the theory of free markets, as long as there
is a demand, anything can be bought or sold; everything has
a price. Costanza uses this same model to show that a price
tag can also be attached to the natural environment – but
this price tag is more than what any individual or country
can afford. In fact, the value is so high it is practically
priceless.
Although the popularity of environmental economics is
growing, there are a number of people who argue that putting
a price on the environment – which is technically life
itself – is similar to putting a price on friendship or love
and is therefore impossible. Critics maintain that the
environment and the complex relationships that bind it
together (including those with human beings) is worth more
than money and by putting a monetary value on it, its real
value is ultimately lost. They argue that the environment’s
value goes beyond the cost-benefit analysis and into the
emotional, spiritual, and religious. It is an argument that
maintains that once a dollar figure is associated with the
environment, then it becomes replaceable and if it is
damaged or destroyed then a fine will cover the costs. It
does not consider the value something has just for existing,
or on a larger scale, for the ecological balance that took
millennia to achieve. What should we do when technology does
not have the answer or when we have not yet determined how
the ecological systems worked in the first place?
Today. Forest Bay beach. A backhoe traverses the beach,
compacting the sand because of the weight of the vehicle.
All the while, the sand is turned over and the vegetation is
raked up, giving the beach a brown hue. Most of the
vegetation has just been cleared. Piles of branches, dead
grass, and remnants of shrub are piled into tall pyramids.
Only the odd buttonwood has been left standing – for the
time-being. The extensive root system that held the loose
sand in place during heavy rains and strong storms is now
gone. A view of St. Martin and Anguilla’s strikingly
blue-green nearshore waters are now visible from the roadway
and beyond. It is a view that is highly sought after – the
affluent would pay millions of dollars for it, especially if
it came with a luxury villa. The reasons for the clearing
have not yet been made public.
But how much is an expanse of land worth – with its
shrub-land still intact and with a beach that would be able
to survive the harsh weather that comes with the rainy
season (including strong storms and hurricanes)? How much is
that beach worth with trees that provide shade and that
purify the air and the water still standing? How much is a
piece of land worth if it is untouched? If it is protected?
Is its value only associated with what is built on it or the
view that a person can have while standing in the middle of
it? And is it right that the monetary benefits of that
clearing is enjoyed predominantly by a small number of
individuals if the rest of society must bear the burden of
the costs?
Understanding and protecting the value of the natural
environment does not necessarily mean that all development
must be stopped. Rather, it means supporting a type of
development that promotes the idea of getting better rather
than getting bigger, of working with the natural environment
instead of against it, and recognising and abiding by its
limits so that the impacts can be absorbed instead of
overwhelming it. It also means working within a long-term
plan that has considered the alternatives, the effects and
repercussions, as well as the benefits and the costs
(social, political, economic, and ecological). This plan
should include a vision of what this island should look like
in fifty or one hundred years instead of the five year
political cycle. And finally, this plan should be developed
with the active and real participation of the people who
live on this island since they are the ones who will have to
carry the burden of poor decisions; the rate of development
should occur at a pace that communities can absorb and adapt
to.
We will need to think carefully about what it is that we
want for this island, how many sacrifices we are willing to
make, and how much a beach lined with trees or any other
habitat or ecosystem is actually worth to us as it is. While
this may seem like a difficult task, it must be done now
before it is too – late the future of the island depends on
it.
Note: Lissa Harris wrote a brief informative article for
the on-line magazine, Grist. Information from this article
was used to support comments made in this month’s
Eco-Corner. “At What Cost” can be found at www.grist.org/news/maindish/2003/04/08/what/.
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