There is no shortage of ecological disasters that occupy the imaginations of this generation. Among the most daunting catastrophes (i.e., threats of mass extinctions, melting icecaps, ecological tipping points) there is a unanimous, global fear of rising seas. Cross culturally, our familiarity with the expressions of the apocalyptic are quickly becoming a central part of our lexicon. We evoke our apocalyptic prose and like Goya and paint the rising seas as the bidding of nature’s indifferent beast. Slowly, in a nightmarish way wild waters seep into the sacred places we hold dearest. Our minds are flooded, saturated with images of living rooms, barber shops, places of worship, cultural centers, cemeteries, playgrounds, schools being swept away. Slowly but surely our memories, our communities and the whole human endeavor fall to its ‘pre-destined’ fate, to fall to nature. Now, while I’m inclined to a romantic predisposition I would refrain from looking at disaster in this way. The ideas of apocalyptic prose leaves one wanting. There are tangible, cross species, multi habitat consequences to rising seas that only frank, honest documentation can reveal. This is why we need writers like Deborah Cramer, Robert Finch, and Andy Horowitz to put pen to paper. These writers in their respective books, which will be reviewed below, carefully demonstrate what is really at stake when growth and development goes unchecked, the concept of growth itself prioritized over the bigger life it is supposed to serve.
Deborah Cramer, The narrow edge
In an elegantly clear manner Cramer illustrates a tale of loss as old as time. With the knot, and horseshoe crab serving as the launching points for her exposition Cramer provides a glimpse into how shorebirds and marine life at large are put at risk of extinction as the overlapping pressures of development and sea level rise mount. As we follow the knot around the world Cramer unravels a complex, even at times mysterious picture of how ecosystems across the world are falling even more into a precarious state. As a good ecologist does Cramer outlines that establishing the critical conservation efforts needed to protect horseshoe crab and knots may be more complex than one may think. Shifting community behaviors is one thing but what does one do when entire medical markets , and international standards have been locked in around the use of horseshoe crab blood? It is often the case that whole ecosystems are put at risk in the name of critical human needs.
Slowly we are exposed to the blunt truth, with coastlines shrinking globally knots and other shorebirds are losing the critical seashores they use for rest, meanwhile the horseshoe crab is facing a similarly hard hand. The horseshoe crab is prized for its blue blood that serves an indispensable role in the medical field. Female horseshoe crabs are harvested en masse and bled at hospitals for Limulus Amebocyte Lysate (LAL) tests that check vaccines for signs of contamination from bacterial endotoxins. Without these invaluable tests receiving a vaccination would be a highly risky, even life-threatening procedure. For those crabs that live the nightmarish process of being bled and returned to the sea the crabs are often left emaciated, and easily become disoriented. As a result, horseshoe crabs cannot find the beaches where they lay their eggs, consequently reproduction rates have dramatically fallen. In turn the knot also suffers since they feed on the fatty, easily digestible eggs laid by the crabs. The success rate of horseshoe egg fertilization and hatching falls as well, because as knots dig their beaks into the sand they moisten what crab eggs they do not eat so the eggs do not dry. Cramer continually draws our attention to statistics, and histories that tell us clearly – this vicious cycle is not getting any better. The dilemmas force us to reconcile with the fact that if we are to avoid mass extinctions in the face of sea level rise we must develop the capability to address our seemingly deep-rooted desires for innovation and its ecological consequences. Cramer gives us a handful of questions that must be answered, some being; is valuation of species even the right approach from the get-go, are there ways to balance innovations with ecosystem diversity and health?
All in all, I would say that the narrow edge is a book best suited for conservation-ecology-minded folks, who are historically inclined. Cramer’s work in the narrow edge is heavily informed by drawing parallels to 150+ year old trends and her direct work with birders and conservation biologists who provide incredible insights. Ultimately, Cramer’s work – like that work of scientists’ who brave swamps, horseflies, and arctic tundra - is clearly the product of grueling effort from concerned citizens of the planet acting out of love.
Andy Horowitz, Katrina
Similar to the Narrow Edge, in Katrina Andy Horowitz seamlessly weaves together the personal, small scale with broad economic, and American history to uncover how, and why New Orleans was hit so hard by Hurricane Katrina. Katrina stands out in its balanced political commentary, and deep analysis of how policy choices on a 100-year timeline reverberate all along the class ladder with repercussions still felt to this day. As our cities fall to rising sea levels Horowitz makes the case that instead of shying away from our undeniable, wet reality we have the perfect chance to gaze into the waters and reflect on our wrongs, and in response act accordingly to restore what has been lost both societally and ecologically.
Horowitz uses dozens of case studies to illustrate humanity’s losses from development, sea level rise and disaster. Throughout Katrina Horowitz goes to great lengths to show both on map, photo and in oral history how wetlands and swamps, critical ecosystems valued for flood protection, had been paved over, drained, and developed by government programs, and oil companies who put short term interest and growth over long term well-being of the cities’ residents. One of the most intriguing elements of Katrina is how well Horowitz situates humanities role in environmental disaster. Inevitably he leads us to ask whether or not our living rooms would swell with water, whether the soils of parks be saturated with salt, or hospitals and schools fall to the sea if our decision makers, leaders, and publics looked towards ourselves as the major culprits of our own demise. Horowitz consistently identifies a pattern where the shortsighted inclinations of poor governance and private markets are responsible for contributing to the most damage both before, during and after disasters. As opposed to looking at weather events as the driving forces responsible for breaches in canals, poorly built levees, and immature urban development Horowitz cleverly flips the history of disasters back at us. We cannot turn our backs to the reality that ultimately it was humanity who was responsible for the perfect storm of unimaginable losses and economic burdens the communities of New Orleans had to shoulder alone.
Something that adds to the poignancy of Horowitz’s work is that it is timely, in an almost unsettling way. The fate Horowitz so clearly spells out in his work is playing out in other states to this day. As I write this California has been hit with two ‘storms of the century’ within the span of weeks, and many experts are pointing to loss of key environmental buffers, and outdated 200+ year old storm and water management plans that are still in use as some of the major culprits for the unimaginable flooding. The reliance on outdated data and planning has driven hundreds of thousands from their homes and resulted in incomprehensible damage (does this sound familiar?). As we navigate precarious futures Horowitz prompts all of us in urban centers - not only those in New Orleans- to grasp what we have lost because of the often-short sighted decisions made in the name of development. Instead of looking at environmental catastrophe as something separate from and imposed on us, we should ask how we build, why we build, who we build for and on a material basis what we are building. Horowitz’s work begs us to ask some hard-hitting questions; are disasters natural at all? What policy mechanisms are at play both before disaster, during and post-disaster? What belief systems and socio-economic norms influence development and our capacity to address hazardous weather events? Is there a way to develop safeguards for the unintended consequences of innovation?
Robert Finch, The Outer beach
Compared to the other two books in this review, one might think that it’s hard to look toward the outer beach as work that outlines the issues of changing shorelines, development, and sea level rise. After all, Finch’s work here is highly personal and goes no further than his sole experiences and descriptions of Cape Cod over his lifetime. While this critique is fair I believe it is also the strongest point of this work. The Outer Beach serves as a moving oral account that recognizes that value of we have in light of what we know we will lose in the future. Amidst his lovely descriptions Finch knows that in 1000, or even 100 years we may not have these shorelines to cherish at all. In this regard I see the outer beach as work that serves as a historical and cultural touchstone. In a sense, Finch’s writing balances on the thin line of history and art, it operates in a way that music, theatre, dance, photography, and video do, his work is an undeniable loving nod to the ephemeral things we hold most closely in our hearts.
When I finally put the book down, I did find myself asking whether Finch’s work in the outer beach would have benefited by going more in depth. I asked whether he could have explored the pressing issues that are threatening the integrity of his dear coastline. Should Finch have written on ecological cascades, consequences of colonization and privatization, biodiversity loss or inland coastal marsh migration for example? I’m not certain, because if Finch opted to write on these issues we would likely be reading an entirely different book. I can confidently say nonetheless that the work does stand alone in a unique, honest, and humble way. Finch’s casual language, and natural approach to writing in a journal make the book all the easier to engage with. Additionally, since it is written as a collection of journal entries starting from Monomoy and ending in Long Point one can read all the stories from cover to cover in a non-linear way. Although Finch insists that his descriptions are written solely from his experiences walking the shoreline, through his writing I often felt transported to a seaside pub. At this dimly lit, quasi-corroding, local spot I might be sat with a sailor who tells me of his deep admiration for the sea as he recounts how the tides and waves molded the people, places, cultures, and wildlife he came across. Sailor Finch’s words would resemble the sea so closely that I could smell the salt punctuating each sentence. To be fair, I think that the fact that his work can transport me in such a way is proof that it is enough. I stand by the fact that Finch’s book should be a welcome addition to anybody’s library.
In sum, each book brings strong arguments and unique views to the table, all in their own distinct way. I believe the greatest differences between each work can be understood by looking at scale, style, and subject. While Horowitz, Cramer and Finch all consider the changing seas and patterns of development as the central theme of their books, they opt to develop their concerns around unique subjects and utilize particular styles. Take for example, how Cramer expands on a more biological, ecologically centered narrative as opposed to Horowitz who prefers political history as his launch point. On the other hand, Ffinch matches causal journal entries with poetic, precise language to describe how his seaside world is changing around him. I can only say, with honesty, that in the end it is your reading that should make the final judgements. As we cozy up for the harshest and last leg of winter consider picking up some of these books and give them a read!