If you are one of the few who don’t remember exactly what Bernie did that had the entire nation enraged, it was this: He ran one of the country’s largest (and most successful – until he was caught) pyramid schemes.  The idea was simple, the execution complex and ingenious:  Collect “investments” from people – pay “dividends” back to those people from new “investments” from other people.  The scheme runs well until you run out of new investors or someone blows the whistle.

It’s not hard to see analogies to all kinds of things we take for granted – the cartoonist’s connection to the Social Security system is an easy one; and here’s Barash’s connection to the natural world in the article referenced above:

Make no mistake: Our current relationship to the world ecosystem is nothing less than a pyramid scheme, of a magnitude that dwarfs anything ever contemplated by Charles Ponzi, who, before Madoff, was the best-known practitioner of that dark art. Modern civilization’s exploitation of the natural environment is not unlike the way Madoff exploited his investors, predicated on the illusion that it will always be possible to make future payments owing to yet more exploitation down the road: more suckers, more growth, more GNP, based—as all Ponzi schemes are—on the fraud of “more and more,” with no foreseeable reckoning, and thus, the promise of no comeuppance, neither legal nor economic nor ecologic. At least in the short run.

In the long term? We’re all dead, along with the planet.

He pulls in some powerful numbers to back up his argument:  Since the 1940’s, we have used as much of the world’s mineral resources as all generations before us.  We in the US have, in the last 200 years, wiped out half of the country’s wetlands, 95% of our old-growth forests and 99% of our original prairies.  And of course many parts of the world are much much worse off than we are in the United States.

The immorality of a ponzi scheme lies in the fact that the early investors live off the wealth of those who come later.  If I am an early investor, my ‘dividends’ are taken direclty from the principal of the investors that follow me.  I am robbing people I don’t know – even if I don’t know I’m doing the robbing (because Bernie hasn’t told me).

And that’s the direct connection to God’s creation:  In order to live a rich life now, every one of us is robbing those ‘investors’ who come later.  And who are they?  Our children, grandchildren, great grandchildren.  And this is shameful.  At least Bernie Madoff was robbing other people!  We’re robbing our own families.  Look at it this way – if a person is to be honored and respected for working hard and setting money aside as an inheritance for his children and grandchildren, what is to be said about the person who not only doesn’t try to set aside an inheritance, but actually commits those children and grandchildren to future perpetual poverty so he can live in a mansion for a few short years?

If you get a chance to read the article, take a moment to skim some of the comments that have been collecting.  The readers of the Chronicle are, not surprisingly, a thoughtful group – and the question of greed and spirituality popped up early in the discussion and somewhat unexpectedly:

“We need to tame that beast, now,” says jdeng. Sure, let’s do that. Change the humans. Problem solved.

Most people I know would say that religion and spirituality are important in their lives. And most would say that they are on the side of the environment. But they still drive their SUVs all over tarnation, avoid revolving doors, run their air-conditioners nonstop, or whatever their particular wasteful behaviors may be.

Religion, or spirituality, or ethical appeals just aren’t effective in changing behavior, at least not longterm. Financial incentives and penalties are more effective, but our corporations are highly motivated to stop our government from imposing them.

I guess we’ll have to move to another planet, if we can locate a good one and build the spaceships in time.

If there’s a little Madoff in all of us (there is), and if the only real solution to the problem is to ‘tame that beast’, and if the ‘religion and spirituality’ most people are practicing isn’t doing the job… hmm – maybe there’s room here for a dose of the real gospel:  For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last (Romans 1:17)

And may I add James to the mix?  What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? (James 2:14)

If my “gospel” (or “spirituality” or “religion”) isn’t producing the results needed – in this context, is failing to tame the beast of consumerism, selfishness and greed that is driving me to rob my own children and grandchildren – maybe what I’ve got isn’t real.

from Flickr (CC License)

Human population growth – it’s one of the most controversial and difficult aspects of our environmental crisis.  In all likelihood, it is controversial because it’s difficult:  Human beings are precious, especially if you hold to the Biblical teaching that humans are ‘created in the image of God‘ – but even if you don’t have that perspective.  Really, which of us, no matter what our religious (or non-) persuasion, would put a pet or a backyard squirrel on the same plane as one of our children or grand-children?

The difficulty lies here:  If every human being is precious, how can there be too many of us?  How can there be too much ‘preciousness’?  But it is clearly possible to have too many people in one place at one time.  Ever read a news story about an overloaded ferry boat?  How about the woman in California who recently gave birth to octuplets, though she was unmarried, without financial support and already had six children?  This is the population problem in miniature:  God in his wisdom placed us on a globe that, by definition, only has so much space, so much water, so much oil, so much whatever…  And whether you believe the maximum population level is four billion, six billion, or 50 billion, there is a limit?  I personally believe we passed the ideal limit sometime in the last couple of decades – but that’s purely an academic point.  Once the people are here, the challenge is…

Well, the challenge is and always has been this:  How to keep within the natural limits imposed on us by the size of our planet while still affirming basic human rights and dignities?  I have been teaching in my Our Father’s World Seminars for several years now that a)coercive government actions do not work but b)policies that provide health, education and empowerment for women do work, and so I was pleased to find my position affirmed by a recent story from the Times of India.

The story itself is an acknowledgment that for the most part population control policies in India have been an abysmal failure – but in that description of gloom and doom the journalist finds one very bright spot in the southern state of Kerala:

In 1979, China’s total fertility rate was 2.8, while Kerala’s was 3. By 2007, 28 years after it forced a coercive one-child policy on its people, China’s fertility rate stood at 1.7. Kerala reached the same figure but without treating its people like laboratory rats. Its success stands on the three ‘E’ pillars: Education, Employment, Equality. On the ground, Kerala’s three Es translate into a high literacy rate, regular income for families and more confident women.

For reference, a population rate of 1.7 is overdoing it slightly – the normally accepted ‘replacement’ fertility rate is 2.1 children per woman.  (It might also be worth noting – though I cannot claim to have investigated or confirm the connection – that Kerala is home to many of the Christians who live in India.)

What is the lesson here?  Quite simply, it is possible to achieve population balance (and environmental balance in other ways) and still treat people with love and dignity. One of my proverbs runs like this:  “If it’s good for the environment, it will be good for community (and for people); and if its good for community (and for people), it’s probably good for the environment.”

This is the kind of environmental ethic we need to strive for – and it is the reason I teach and promote Christian environmental stewardship:  I frankly don’t believe we can find the balance between people and God’s creation anywhere else.

Your thoughts?

But this encounter was somewhat unusual and possibly quite special. The scene played out at Kansas State University, in the midst of an academic symposium on sustainability issues in Africa. I was one of the participants in the conversation, and had, the day before, presented a talk on ‘mobilizing the African church to respond to the African environmental crisis.’ The other speaker was a representative of a prominent and important botanical garden, and had just presented what I considered the best talk of the conference on dealing with biodiversity loss in Madagascar.

As it happens, Madagascar is one of the richest – and one of the poorest – countries in the world. Rich in plants, animals and insects that are found no where else. [Your favorite zoo animal, the Lemur, is found only on Madagascar, for example.] 90% of the animals there are ‘endemic’ – they occur only on this one, large island. But Madagascar is poor – the people who live among this rich abundance are among the poorest in the world. And both groups – the plants and the people – are under great pressure. Plants and animals are going extinct. People are going hungry. Which one do we help?

We two agreed – we have to help both or we will end up helping neither. My talk – mobilizing the church – meshed perfectly with my friend’s approach to his work: “People are a large part of the problem, but people have to be part of the solution as well…” and we went on to discuss possible ways that we might be able work together to achieve a goal we both want: A solution to the pressures that are squeezing the flora and fauna and the people of Madagascar.

So what was unusual or remarkable about this conversation? Well, I’m a preacher – a confirmed evangelical Christian. The whole conference knew that because of my talk the day before. And he is a scientist, specifically a botanist, and a “devout atheist” (his words). He has no belief in God but he has a passion for the plants of Madagascar and a very real concern for the people who live there. We come from such different worlds that many people – from each of our worlds – would have wondered what we even had to talk about, let alone how we could discuss the potential of working together.

Two worlds – science and faith – met today, shook hands, and agreed that we can help each other.

That is no small thing.

[to be continued, I'm sure...]

Cross-posted at Sustain Lane.

"Modern Loneliness" - from Flickr (Le Pere, Creative Commons License)

Listening to To the Best of our Knowledge on NPR this morning, that phrase jumped out at me.  The topic for the morning was loneliness and solitude, and for the most part, the comments were interesting if predictable.  Yes, our culture has made us lonelier than we’ve been in the past.  No, there is no difference between men and women – both genders are equally lonely, though (again, predictably) men tend to be less likely to admit to loneliness.But the statistic from New York City really struck me:  50% of us (in that city anyway) live alone.  This is a terrible statement about the condition of community, but it is also points up a significant environmental concern.  Think about it:  The environmental impact of a city apartment is almost the same whether it is being used by one person or four.  With the possible exception of water, the cost of lighting, heating is exactly the same.  The person living by herself places four times the burden on the planet as another who has three roommates (or family members).

One of the principles I have developed over the years is this:  If it’s good for community, it’s probably good for creation.  And if it’s good for creation, it’s probably good for community. Both the fault and the solution can go in either direction.  Our retreat from nature and from each other into a busy, noisy, confusing world has made us lonely and has been devastating for our experience of community.  And our return to a more creation-friendly lifestyle, whether we pursue it because we want community or because we want to be kind to the planet, will be helpful to both.

So – live lightly on the planet:  Get a roommate!

I was at the Inauguration last week.  Braved the cold and the crowds and witnessed history – up close.  It wasn’t easy getting there, but it was worth the trip.  I’m glad I went.  Lots of others have already used up a lot of ink and bandwidth dealing with the event, its symbolisms and import for the future, so I’m not going to go there.  Rather, my mind has been occupied with more mundane matters:

What happens when a really good transportation system is asked to carry many times more people than it has ever done before?I spent the last two weeks in the Washington DC area, and for many of those days I rode the Metro to and from the Library of Congress where I was busy trying to absorb and tiny, tiny fraction of the knowledge and wisdom of the centuries.   Fantastic system, the Metro.  Beautiful and clean stations.  Smooth, quiet trains every 3 to 6 minutes.  Well behaved passengers and pleasant staff.  This is what public transportation ought to be.

Inauguration day represented a challenge such as the system had never faced before.  Having set a new record of 900,000 trips on Monday, it carried a total of 1,544,721 people during an unprecedented 18 hours of continuous rush hour service.  What this means is that full length trains were pulling into every station in the system every two to three minutes throughout the day.

But the numbers really don’t capture the experience:  My friend and I caught an empty bus in our neighborhood at 7 am.  Fifteen minutes later, as we pulled into the Friendship Heights station, the bus was standing room only.  The escalator was crowded but not uncomfortable.  The platform had only as many people as I would see on a normal day.  But then the train came in.  Any of you would have said, as we did, that it was already full.  But we squeezed in, just avoiding the doors as they closed behind us.  Minutes later we pulled into Tenley Town.  The doors opened – more people squeezed in.  Now I’m 10 feet from the door. Doors close again and we move down the line to Van Ness / UDC.  Another platform.  Another push from folks trying to get into our car.  I find myself close to the middle of the car now; at least 75 people have managed to board after I thought the train was “full”.  “Full” is clearly one of those concepts that is a matter of perspective and definition.  Soon we have a cheerleader giving us a clever adaptation of one of the more memorable lines from the recent campaign:  “Come on folks, we can do this – YES WE CAN!”  And we did.  By the time my friend and I left the train (at Farragut North if you’re keeping track) people had managed to join our fellowship at every single stop.  It was a remarkable demonstration of human capacity to adapt to stress, and to do so with good humor and patience toward others.

It turned out that our experience in the morning was nothing compared to what happened later in the day.  By skipping the benediction and doing some fast walking, we managed to ride an almost empty train home.  Those who stayed for the whole program, or perhaps just walked slower, found themselves unable to enter stations that were already packed with people.  When they finally made it to the platform, the press of other bodies was more than uncomfortable – it was dangerous.  The good will that was so evident in the morning started to fray a bit during the afternoon, as lines grew longer and finally stopped moving altogether when stations reached capacity and had to be closed temporily.  At least one woman fell off the platform onto the tracks.  Unable to get back up before a train came in, she rolled under the platform’s overhang – saved herself, but slowed the system down even more as the Red Line was closed down for about 45 minutes to get her out and make sure she was alright.  Though there were no serious incidents that I am aware of, it was clear that the system had passed its maximum capacity.  Things were still working – trains were running, people were (just) getting on and off – but it wasn’t fun.

What’s the point?

Think of the Metro system as an analogy for the world we live in.  It’s a pretty neat place – beautiful, full of good things to eat and all the ’stuff’ that we need to live comfortable lives.  And it works.  But as the world gets more crowded, like the Metro, the experience becomes more challenging, much less fun and sometimes downright dangerous.  Last year’s political unrest in Kenya comes to mind as a problem with roots easily identified with overcrowding.  Haiti is another example.  Doesn’t seem crowded to you?  You still have your own garden, and roads that are not bumper to bumper most of the day?  You probably are one of those who happen to have boarded one of the cars at the end of the train. (The center cars always fill up first).  No worries – the crowds will find you.  It’s only a question of time.

Last week I discovered the works of Sigurd Olson, one of the pioneers of the movement to save the wilderness (and another fine citizen of Wisconsin).  It is to Olson more than any other single person that we owe thanks for the Boundary Waters national wilderness area in northern Minnesota and southern Canada.  What struck me on this first, quick introduction was his deep, deep appreciation for the parts of God’s great world where there are – were – few people.   He talks of walking and paddling his canoe for days and never seeing another human being.   When I read his descriptions, I’m left with a longing for a world that is no more – because for the most part, that kind of world really is gone.  Some few of us will enjoy brief visits to national parks or one of the few wilderness areas that are left, but there are so many of us humans now that when we try to go to one of these places, we show up in such crowds that we destroy the very quiet and beauty we’re trying to experience.  One of the biggest problems in the national parks seems to be traffic jams.

It is true that every human being is precious to God and is of eternal value.  As was every one of the 1,544,721 people who traveled the Metro on January 20, 2009.  But still…