Ernest Partridge
University of California, Riverside
International Society for Ecological Economics, Russian Chapter
Saratov, Russia – July 6, 1999
 
		When I arrived in
      Saratov, Russia, the afternoon before I was to address a
      plenary session of the conference, the organizer urged me to
      give a paper that would be "general" and would be accessible to
      "a non-technical audience." This was not the paper that
      I had prepared, nor the topic that was announced in the program
      -- "disequilibrium ecology." What to do? That evening I
      searched my laptop computer for an unpublished work that I
      might adapt for occasion. I found what I was looking for in my
      address, two years earlier, to the St. Petersburg Society of
      Naturalists.   The following, while a recognizable "descendant"
      to the St. Petersburg address with the same title, appears to
      be an improvement and thus will replace the earlier
      version.  The final section, "Holism and the Challenge of 
    Disequilibrium Ecology, was excluded from the Saratov presentation, due to 
    time constraints. .
		
I will speak to you this morning from the perspective of my discipline – 
    that of a moral philosopher and environmental ethicist with an acute 
    interest, but without an extensive training, in economics. As an 
    environmental philosopher, I am interested both in the useful contributions 
    and the limits of economics in environmental policy. 
Because I have been given the honor to address a plenary session early in 
    this conference, I will depart somewhat from my announced topic, 
    “disequilibrium ecology,” and focus upon a more fundamental issue common to 
    philosophers, economists, policy-makers, and yes, of ordinary citizens. This 
    is, quite simply, the issue of moral responsibility to nature – a 
    responsibility, I will contend, that is greater now than at any time in 
    history.
No one is against "progress," it would seem. Of course not! The very word 
    "progress" connotes "improvement" — a positive value gain.
		
It is all too easy, however, to forget that the "gain" of progress is 
    usually a net gain: "gained," that is, at a price. Moreover, if we fail to 
    pay that price, the gains may well be forfeited. Franklin Roosevelt put it 
    well, when he quoted the Biblical text: "To whom much is given, much is 
    expected." And he spoke for our generation too, when he added, "This 
    generation ... has a rendezvous with destiny!"
We are, without question, in the midst of unprecedented progress, as the 
    scope of knowledge and the power of technology expand at an 
    ever-accelerating pace. This is too obvious to us all to require 
    justification or elaboration. What is not so obvious, albeit possibly more 
    significant, is the fact that the burden of moral responsibility inexorably 
    grows with the expansion of science and technology. And few will assert that 
    our moral progress has kept pace with our knowledge and capacities. 
    Moreover, there is an influential body of theory and practice, growing out 
    of policy studies, economics, and the social sciences, that is attempting to 
    evade the burden of responsibility. Instead, such efforts threaten to 
    objectify — and thus, in effect, to dehumanize — humanity and its projects.
		
The expansion of science and technology has paradoxically, both put the 
    life-support system of our planet in peril, and has offered us intimations 
    of how we might avoid the emergencies brought about by our own cleverness. 
    The recently emerging realization that our very biotic sustenance may be 
    vulnerable to the careless applications of our knowledge and craft has given 
    rise to the new field of Environmental Ethics, and this in turn bears 
    radical implications for environmental education and policies.
ABOUT ENVIRONMENTAL ETHICS
		
My preferred definition of "Environmental Ethics" comes to this: “humanity’s 
    responsibility to nature and the future." 
Interestingly, while ethics is old (arguably older than Philosophy itself), 
    environmental ethics is very new. (I would guess that over ninety-five 
    percent of all English-language scholarly works in the field have been 
    published within the past fifteen years, and almost none before the first 
    Earth Day in 1970). Why is this so? Because only within the past quarter 
    century has the professional and general public come to appreciate that 
    nature itself is vulnerable to human technology and numbers. A mere fifty 
    years ago, the very idea that the common oceans and atmosphere could be 
    seriously affected by human impacts, would have seemed preposterous — they 
    were simply too vast to be affected by us. Now we know better, as such terms 
    as "ozone depletion," "global warming," and "biodiversity" enter into our 
    common vocabulary. And so, along with our capacity to affect the common 
    biosphere, and with our growing knowledge of these consequences, has 
    necessarily emerged moral responsibility. 
This is ironic, for this enormous moral burden upon our generation has come 
    about through the success of the sciences, described by their practitioners 
    as "value free," and by the capacities of technology, regarded by working 
    engineers as supremely "practical" and "results oriented." Neither are they 
    prepared, by training and too often by inclination, to deal with moral 
    implications of their "successes." As the popular American satirist, Tom 
    Lehrer, puts it so well: "Once the rockets go up, who cares where they come 
    down? That's not my department..." 
So the "benefits" of our progress exacts costs? Very well, what benefits 
    (and to whom) are worth what costs (to whom)? How are we to weigh costs and 
    benefits in the present, to benefits and costs in the remote future? As we 
    attempt to preserve, and perchance even restore, the natural environment, in 
    whose behalf should we be working? Ourselves? Our nation? Mankind at large? 
    Sentient animals? All life? Gaia — the planetary ecosystem itself? What 
    moral concepts apply to environmental issues? Rights and Duties? Justice? 
    Moral Agency? The are the questions raised by Philosophers.
FOUR CRITERIA OF MORAL RESPONSIBILITY
		
I have suggested somewhat informally that the growth of science and 
    technology have increased the burden of moral responsibility upon our 
    generation. It is time now to offer a more detailed argument.
Over the years, I have developed a conceptual analysis of "moral 
    responsibility" which, I believe, reflects the essence of its application in 
    law and ethics. It is as follows: To say that a person is "responsible" for 
    an act entails:
(a) That person has knowledge of the consequences of the act.
		
(b) That person has the capacity to do the act.
(c) The person has the choice not to do it — i.e., to do otherwise.
		
(c) The act has value significance — i.e., it affects the rights and welfare 
    of others.
Some elaborations: (a) includes a "second-order knowledge condition" — i.e., 
    even if one doesn't know the consequences of an act, one might "know how to 
    find out." This qualification is added to exclude "plausible deniability" 
    excuses, so attractive to politicians.
If, as I believe, these four conditions are together both necessary and 
    sufficient for moral responsibility, then I submit that the progress of 
    science (the knowledge condition) and technology (the capacity/choice 
    conditions) have together made nature vulnerable to us in ways that affect 
    the rights and welfare of others. It thus follows that the growth of science 
    and technology have together increased the burden of moral responsibility to 
    nature and the future.
This burden of responsibility rests upon us, whether or not we acknowledge 
    it, just as the saint and the criminal are equally responsible to respect 
    others' lives and property, notwithstanding the fact that the former does 
    so, and the latter does not. We cannot "opt out" of our moral 
    responsibilities: "no decision is a decision." 
This is no new insight. We have, in a sense, renewed the biblical myth of 
    Eden: We have nourished ourselves from the Tree of Knowledge, and by so 
    doing have "learned of good and evil," and have become responsible for our 
    disposition of that knowledge. In the words of Abraham Lincoln, "We cannot 
    escape history; we ... will be remembered in spite of ourselves."
		
THREE PRINCIPLES OF ENVIRONMENTAL ETHICS
There are, I believe, at least two and possibly three fundamental principles 
    which all environmental philosophers must hold, if they are to attract 
    serious attention from their peers. They are:
— THE PRINCIPLE OF NATURALISM. Homo Sapiens is a natural species, evolving 
    from and sustained by a complex and functioning ecosystem.
— THE PRINCIPLE OF AGENCY: Homo Sapiens has the ability (not always 
    realized) to use language, acquire knowledge, imagine alternative futures, 
    use abstract reasoning, act according to rules, recognize the personhood of 
    others, and to realize other capacities. All these, together and in 
    integration, constitute moral agency and responsibility.
It follows from these two principles, that a successful environmental ethic 
    must combine the insights of both the sciences and the humanities: the 
    sciences to teach us about "human nature" and the "non-human nature" with 
    which we must deal, and the humanities to instruct us as to the nature and 
    implications of our moral agency and responsibility.
— THE PRINCIPLE OF HOLISM. The ecosystem is a systemic whole, of which human 
    beings are a part. Accordingly, "the whole informs the parts:" the 
    ecosystem, and mankind's place and responsibility within, is best understood 
    "contextually," from the perspective of the whole. Mikhail Gorbechev made 
    the point precisely, when he said: “?????????? ???????? ?????? ????????, ? 
    ... ????????? ??? ?????? ?????.” (Mankind is part of the biosphere, and the 
    biosphere is a unified whole).
This is the insight of Aldo Leopold, the esteemed American naturalist who 
    wrote that: "A land ethic changes the role of homo sapiens from conqueror of 
    the land community to plain member and citizen of it. It implies respect for 
    his fellow-members, and also respect for the community as such."
		
Given the secure status of the scientific enterprise in commerce and higher 
    education, one might suppose that the Principle of Naturalism should not 
    require extraordinary defense. And in fact, the environmental educator and 
    ethicist might well take care that this principle not overwhelm the other 
    two principles: Agency and Holism. 
Even so, there are voices among the neo-classical economists and 
    technologists that are quite unimpressed by scientific qualms and warnings 
    about “the limits to growth” and “natural constraints” such as the laws of 
    thermodynamics. According to these hardy optimists, human ingenuity, 
    motivated by economic forces, will solve all imaginable problems. There are, 
    they say, no limits to human growth and resource consumption.
Time constraints forbid further examination of the promises of such 
    “cornucopians” as Herman Kahn and Julian Simon – an exercise that I have 
    conducted at length elsewhere.
THE PRINCIPLE OF AGENCY
When it comes to "moral agency," the sciences face considerable (I would 
    suggest, insurmountable) difficulties. "Moral agency" is our capacity to 
    make autonomous and free decisions in accordance with normative principles 
    and rules of reasoning, and thus to be held responsible for these decisions. 
    It is a precondition of morality itself, for in a world without moral 
    agents, however sentient the beings therein, there is no justice, no rights, 
    no duties, no responsibilities, no virtues or vices. And yet, the logic of 
    science dictates that the body of science be restricted to description 
    organized into a non-evaluative structure of concepts, laws and theories.
		
Moral agency is nothing less than the essence of our humanity. It is that 
    which gives our lives and projects their intrinsic value — in a word, that 
    which makes our lives most interesting and worthwhile. And yet, according to 
    the fundamental rules of science, "values" are excluded from the content 
    (though not from the activity) of science. This exclusion, I daresay, is 
    justifiable, once we understand the foundations of science. What is not 
    justifiable, is the further suggestion that values and moral conduct are 
    without rational foundation, (a suggestion, I regret to say, which is 
    defended by many prominent philosophers of this Century). Quite the 
    contrary, we should hesitate to commit an act or to embark upon a project, 
    unless we are prepared to offer a reasonable justification for our choice.
		
The standing of "the Agency Principle" in environmental ethics and policy is 
    in constant peril, as our humanity is assaulted by commerce, the media, and 
    by over-reaching practitioners of such "soft sciences" as classical (formal) 
    economics, sociology, and behavioral psychology. I turn next to an account 
    of how such "over-reaching" can threaten to exclude humane values in the 
    formulation of public policy.
PUBLIC POLICY AND THE FLIGHT FROM EVALUATION
		
"Public policy-making" is the deliberate attempt by governments and civic 
    organizations, to choose among alternative courses of action which will 
    variably affect the rights and welfare of persons, now and into the future. 
    All relevant knowledge and technology bears upon policy decisions-making. 
    Accordingly, policy-making is by definition, involved in evaluation — which 
    is to say, ethics. And policy-makers are likewise unavoidably burdened with 
    moral responsibility. (Recall the criteria of responsibility: knowledge, 
    capacity, choice and value significance).
And yet, strange to say, much the public policy-making of the past 
    generation has been characterized by a flight from evaluation. When I was an 
    undergraduate, Daniel Bell, a Harvard sociologist, published his very 
    influential book, The End of Ideology. That title tells the gist of it: with 
    the coming maturation of the sciences of behavior and society, notably his 
    own field of sociology and of economics, public policy making was to become 
    an enterprise of "social engineering" — objective, quantitative, 
    descriptive, and above all, "value free," just like the physical sciences 
    which "policy science" was to emulate.
"Value-free policy science" suffered a cruel fate: Success. It was allowed a 
    few decades of unfettered trial, which vividly displayed its errors. Thus we 
    saw how the economic component "objectively" reduces all values to the 
    common denominator of money. The next step is obvious: public policy is thus 
    determined on the basis of "Cost-Benefit analysis, which means that the only 
    values deemed relevant for policy considerations are the values of the 
    individual consumer. Systematically excluded are the values of the citizen, 
    the patriot, the artist, the scholar, the lover, and the parent — except, of 
    course, to the degree that these can be "cashed in." Also excluded from 
    policy considerations are all interested parties incapable of participating 
    in markets: namely, the very poor, children, other species, future 
    generations, and the natural environment in and for itself.
Moral virtue and vice, individual dignity, distributive justice: all these 
    are set aside as our humanity is first objectified and then ignored. As 
    Philosopher Mark Sagoff so astutely puts it: "the cost-benefit approach 
    treats people as of equal worth because it treats them as of no worth, but 
    only as places or channels at which willingness to pay is found." 
		
But "willingness to pay" at best reports a value, it does not validate it. 
    Says the classical economist, "How much is a wilderness worth? I'll tell 
    you, once I find out what the public is willing to pay to preserve it.!" To 
    which the moral philosopher replies, "you have the issue exactly reversed! 
    What we need to know is what the public should be willing to pay. And before 
    the thoughtful citizen answers your question of what he is willing to pay, 
    he must first ask himself 'What is this wilderness worth? Once I decide 
    that, then I can tell you what I am willing to pay.' And that prior 
    question, 'What is this wilderness worth?' is an ethical, not an economic, 
    question." 
My quarrel here, I hope you will notice, is with so-called “neo-classical” 
    economists who, sadly, have come to dominate the discipline in the United 
    States, and who have a dominating influence upon governmental 
    decision-making. In that same profession of economics, my heros are the 
    dissenting “ecological economisst” – such as Robert Costanza, Herman Daly, 
    Kenneth Boulding and Nicolas Georgescu-Rogen.
The neo-classical economic-descriptive, cost-benefit assessment of society 
    culminates in that grand statistic, "the Gross National Product" (now called 
    the "Gross Domestic Product"). To the humane observer, the GNP also 
    testifies to the moral absurdity of the economic-descriptive approach to 
    policy. In the inaugural speech of his ill-fated presidential campaign of 
    1968, Robert Kennedy gave us this eloquent indictment of "value-free policy 
    assessment:"
The Gross National Product ... counts air pollution and cigarette 
    advertising, and ambulances to clear our highways of carnage. It counts 
    special locks for our doors and the jails for the people who break them. It 
    counts the destruction of the redwoods and the loss of our natural wonders 
    in chaotic sprawl. It counts napalm and nuclear warheads and armored cars 
    for the police to fight the riots in our cities. It counts [the killer's] 
    rifle and [the rapist's] knife and the television programs which glorify 
    violence in order to sell toys to our children. Yet the Gross National 
    Product does not [include] the health of our children, the quality of their 
    education, or the joy of their play. It does not include the beauty of our 
    poetry, or the strength of our marriages, the intelligence of our public 
    debate or the integrity of our public officials. It measures neither our wit 
    nor our courage, our wisdom nor our learning, neither our compassion nor our 
    devotion to our country. It measures everything, in short, except that which 
    makes life worthwhile, and it can tell us everything about America, except 
    why we are proud that we are Americans.
In sum, so-called "value-free policy science" is a self-contradiction — 
    incoherent at its core. Because "policy" involves informed choices among 
    graded options, affecting the welfare and rights of others, it is 
    inalienably evaluative — an exercise in applied ethics. The 
    humanistic-evaluative element in policy-making is not only desirable, as it 
    surely is, it is also unavoidable. If we must evaluate in our public policy, 
    then let us do it well. And if we are to be true to our democratic 
    traditions, then we must involve an informed and educated public.
Environmental policy cannot be turned over completely to the scientists, the 
    technologists, and their journalistic and political promoters. For if we do, 
    then humane and moral values will be factored out — "subjective, 
    relativistic, unquantifiable," and thus irrelevant. But neither will 
    uninformed moral enthusiasm suffice. Environmental responsibility, let us 
    recall, implies knowledge and capacity. Accordingly, if we are to be truly 
    responsible for our collective decisions, we must be scientifically and 
    technologically informed. Environmental policy must stand on the two legs of 
    science and the humanities. Otherwise, it will fall. To paraphrase Immanuel 
    Kant, "The humanities without the sciences is empty; the sciences without 
    the humanities is blind." 
HOLISM AND THE CHALLENGE OF DISEQUILIBRIUM ECOLOGY
		
We come finally to “the holism premise” – the principle that the ecosystem 
    is a systemic whole, of which human beings are a part. 
Of the three, the "Holism Premise" (which is essential to my own ethic) has 
    recently become quite controversial, as an influential if minority faction 
    of ecologists has come to regard the basis of such notions as "systemic 
    equilibrium" and "the balance of nature" as more ideology than science. 
		
The challenge of “disequilibrium ecology” comes from an influential group of 
    ecologists. For example, Michael Soule writes, 
“... the idea that species live in integrated communities is a myth..Living 
    nature is not [in equilibrium] — at least not on a scale that is relevant to 
    the persistence of species. Current ecological thinking argues that nature 
    at the level of local biotic assemblages has never been [in a steady-state]. 
    The principle of balance has been replaced with the principle of gradation — 
    a continuum of degrees of disturbance.”
And the forest botanist Daniel Botkin writes, “Wherever we seek to find 
    constancy, we discover change... [We find] that nature undisturbed is not 
    constant in form, structure, or proportion, but changes at every scale of 
    time and space.”
This is also a principle of acute interest to ecological economists. In a 
    recent yet now-famous report, Robert Costanza and his associates estimate 
    that as much as ____ [$50 trillion ???] of economic assets are supplied for 
    the global human population, “for free,” by “nature’s services” – by the 
    normal and ongoing processes of natural ecosystems upon our common 
    atmosphere, oceans, energy flows, nutrient cycles, and hydrological cycles. 
    This is the amount, they assert, that we would have to pay to “replace” 
    those services artificially, “in theory.” In fact, of course, these “natural 
    services” are both essential for human life itself and practically speaking, 
    are irreplaceable, which means, of course, that their “economic value” is 
    infinite.
“Disequilibrium ecology”disputes much of this claim by these ecological 
    economists. For, they suggest, if one ecosystem is replaced by another 
    (which, they claim, is in fact always going on), then it is pointless to 
    argue that any existing ecosystem is “more valuable” than another. The very 
    claim that there are economic advantages to the conservation of ecological 
    systems is put in doubt by the “new” disequilibrium ecologists. 
In a paper soon to be published, I have identified nine essential claims of 
    the disequilibrium ecologists, each of which I answered in that paper. My 
    tentative conclusion is that enough of the traditional ecology withstands 
    the challenges of disequilibrium to leave the claims of Costanza and his 
    associates essentially intact. This is because, I believe, there is much 
    less to the disequilibrium challenge than meets the eye. 
In the brief remaining time, I will attempt to refute the challenge of one 
    of the disequilibrum ecologists, Daniel Botkin. “Wherever we seek to find 
    constancy,” writes “we discover change.” Perfect equilibrium and balance are 
    nowhere to be found in nature. “Nature is in constant flux.” 
But of course nature is in constant flux. What self-respecting biologist 
    would deny this! It’s called “evolution.” But this does not preclude us from 
    recognizing significant differences in the scale of change. After all, 
    species change through evolution. But this does not forbid biologists from 
    utilizing the concept of species, nor to develop a taxonomy of species. In 
    fact, without that taxonomy, the theory of evolution might never have been 
    developed.
The issue deserves closer scrutiny. And so we return to Botkin — in 
    particular, his account of the biotic history of the history of the 
    “Boundary Waters” region of northern Minnesota and southern Ontario:
... every thousand years a substantial change occurred in the vegetation of 
    the forest, reflecting in part changes in the climate and in part the 
    arrival of species that had been driven south during the ice age and were 
    slowly returning. Which of these forests represent the natural state.* If 
    one’s goal were to return the Boundary Waters Canoe Area to its natural 
    condition, which of these forests would one choose? Each appears equally 
    natural in the sense that each dominated the landscape for approximately 
    1,000 years, and each occupied the area at a time when the influence of 
    human beings was non-existent or slight.”
Botkin asks, rhetorically, “which of these forests represents the natural 
    state,” as if to suggest that, due to the multiplicity of states thus 
    described, there is no so-called “natural state.” But this very passage 
    suggests a non-rhetorical rebuttal: “the natural state” is that which is 
    brought about by the climatic (and other) conditions that prevail at the 
    time. That “state” is established by (relatively) undisturbed nature, and 
    then is succeeded when natural circumstances change.
Put bluntly, I suggest that a critical examination of this passage will 
    yield us less here than meets the eye, and less than Botkin intended. For 
    what is Botkin asserting that any informed “equilibrium model ecologist” 
    such as Odum or Leopold, would deny? All these ecologists are well aware 
    that North America undergoes periodic recurrences of ice ages and other 
    climatic changes, measured in tens of thousands of years. But “balance,” 
    “equilibrium” and “resilience” are conditions posited within stable abiotic 
    (e.g., climatic) conditions — or as the popular phrase has it, “all else 
    being equal.” Granted, “all else” is never completely “equal,” and so 
    classical ecologists write of “tendencies” toward balance, equilibrium and 
    resilience. Still, these ecosystemic concepts are quite enough to supply us 
    with explanations of the past and predictions for the future.
To illustrate this point, let us shift our attention from the Boundary 
    Waters to the Pacific Northwest.
About eight years ago, on a flight from Los Angeles to Seattle, I looked out 
    the window upon an unforgettable scene of utter devastation. It was, of 
    course, the area immediately north of Mount St. Helens. On that vast mantle 
    of tan pumice and fallen logs, there was no apparent sign of life. And yet, 
    a layman might surmise, and a professional historical-ecologist would 
    confirm, that in another five hundred years (absent climate change or 
    massive human intervention), the area would look very much as it did on that 
    early morning of May 18, 1980, moments before the north face of the mountain 
    exploded. Through known stages of ecological succession, it will once again 
    become what it was before: a northern conifer rain forest — not a tundra, or 
    a tropical rain forest, or a prairie, or a Sonoran desert.
How would we know this? We know by studying neighboring areas up and down 
    the Cascade Range, where other volcanoes, at determined dates in the 
    geologically recent past, caused similar devastation. There we find, at this 
    moment, the various stages of succession and recovery. And in those regions 
    untouched by a recent eruption or fire or logging, we encounter an 
    identifiable “type” of integrated life community — an ecosystem — very much 
    as one would have encountered two-, three-, or four-hundred years ago. This 
    is what ecologists correctly call a “climax stage.”
. . . . . There is a significant difference between the “imbalance and 
    disequlibrium” of the Pacific Northwest forests of, say, four hundred years 
    ago, and that of the same forest today as it is assaulted by industrial 
    chain saws. The former is measured on a time scale of millennia, while the 
    latter is measured in years.
To ignore such contrast in scale would be comparable to dismissing the 
    concept of “disease” in medicine, with such an argument as this: “you say 
    that so-called ‘disease’ causes changes in the organism? Well, so too does 
    aging? So what’s the difference?” Similarly, “the biodiversity crisis” is 
    casually dismissed with the remark, “why worry about extinction? After all, 
    extinction is a natural process.” In all these cases the difference is 
    degree and scale — and it is a difference that is ignored at the peril of 
    both the patient and a civilization.
I remain convinced that the foundations of ecological economics remain 
    secure and robust: life forms survive and flourish, as they must, as 
    participants in organized, integrated and dynamically interactive systems — 
    ecosystems. As components of these “systems,” the life forms accomplish in 
    concert what they could not accomplish separately. All this, I submit, has 
    been made abundantly and irrefutably clear by innumerable scientific studies 
    of energy flows, nutrient recycling, information interchange, and symbiosis.
		
Whether or not biological science has come up with a robust explanation of 
    the putative “self-organizing” structure of ecosystems, I will leave to the 
    ecologists to judge. However, the fact that ecosystems often contain 
    web-like interactions is evident by numerous well-known case histories: the 
    extinction of indigenous Hawaiian birds following the introduction of avian 
    malaria from European ships; the devastation of the Australian outback 
    resulting from the release of rabbits; the collapse of the Kaibab forest 
    ecosystem following the extirpation of the top predators; and, of course, 
    the reproductive failure of hawks and eagles due to the bio-multiplication 
    of DDT and its decay products. And the fact of the systemic nature of life 
    communities has been rendered beyond dispute by the aforementioned studies 
    of energy and nutrient flow, information exchange and symbiosis.
The fact that we might lack clear and full explanations of the functioning 
    and properties ecological systems does not constitute a refutation of 
    ecological concepts and theories. Rather, it presents an urgent and daunting 
    challenge to ecological scientists, now at work and still to come.
In the meantime, we remain well-advised to tread carefully upon the Earth, 
    upon which we are recent newcomers.