The millions of other species on this planet would surely appreciate a decrease in the smoke in their air, toxins in their soil, and microplastics filling their seas. But even if we clean up our act on pollutants, a million species are at risk simply because the act of being human seems to involve consuming all available space. Those who want to diminish the threat of overpopulation may point out that all 8 billion of us could neatly live in Texas were we all packed into Manhattan-sized apartments. Only we’re not. People are spread out everywhere, on every continent, and their homes, businesses, factories, and roads take up an astounding amount of space.
A draft U.N. agreement identifies a target of setting aside 30% of the world’s land and ocean for wildlife by 2030. But that target may not only be too late for many threatened species—it might not be nearly enough.
The report from ScienceNews on the plan opens by looking at the recent extinction of one of my favorite things: the giant Chinese paddlefish. Paddlefish are an ancient group, with a fossil record going back to the early Cretaceous period. But after swimming with the dinosaurs, the whole Polyodontidae family is down to just two representatives. Actually, make that one. The last Chinese paddlefish was spotted in 2003, and declared extinct in 2019.
Only the American Paddlefish, Polyodon spathula, remains to represent this entirely marvelous lineage of creatures. If you’ve never seen one, you’re missing out. They’re among the largest and longest-lived freshwater fish, and with their huge gaping mouths, long paddle-like “nose,” and shark-like form, they’re utterly unique. (Now more than ever.) They’re filter feeders, scouring the waters of American rivers like smaller versions of a baleen whale. (They were also the subject of my biology thesis, so I have a real soft spot.) Seriously, scroll down the Wikipedia page linked above for a short video of a paddlefish cruising with its mouth open. It’s worth it.
When I was studying the American paddlefish 40 years ago, the Chinese paddlefish still occasionally appeared on menus and featured in some large aquariums. Twenty-five tons of the fish were caught each year in the 1970s. All gone now. A giant fish that lived in the Yangtze River as long as there has been a Yangtze River is gone.
But that paddlefish, strange and distinct as it was, is no more unique than the other million species that could lose out simply because meeting a percentage goal doesn’t mean all that much. Animals are evolved to match specific habitats. They can’t be shipped off to the animal reservation when their prime real estate is targeted for development. They are not fungible.
To say that an animal like the Chinese paddlefish has a history going back 120 million years is really underselling it. Its lineage extends, like that of every species, through four billion years of evolution and adaption. Every single species on the planet now is the result of a rough-and-tumble polishing; the offspring of survivors of Ice Age and asteroid, snowball Earth and the Great Dying. They have all come so, so far to generate so many distinct, intricate, and beautiful solutions to the basic challenges of life.
At this point, over three-fourths of the Earth’s land area has been altered by humans. That’s not including the areas that have only been subject to rains of soot and lead. It’s not counting the changes to atmosphere or climate. Of the 14 distinct land biomes, such as tropical rainforest or tall grass prairie, only eight have less than 10% of their area still undeveloped. And in all too many countries, leaders seem set on destroying what little remains. And bragging about it.
Preserving the diversity of life on Earth is going to take more than just setting aside the most bleak and uninhabitable pieces of the planet for wildlife. Yes, there are animals adapted to the high arctic and the deepest reaches of the ocean, but they represent only a few notes out of the symphony. It is going to take even more ambitious plans—including the setting aside of areas that would make perfectly fine subdivisions or factories—to provide the diversity of environment that a rich ecosystem requires.
That’s not a new idea. Nine years ago, the United Nations set forward a series of conservation goals known as the Aichi Biodiversity Targets. These targets include setting aside at least 17% of land in all nations for the support of wildlife, turning the target from something that could happen “over there” to something that happens everywhere.
The Aichi Targets may not get the press that the Paris Agreement on climate change has received, but they have something very much in common. In both cases, more than 190 nations have agreed. It’s just the United States that stands in the way. The United States is the only country that has not ratified the Aichi Targets.
If you’re looking for something new to ask a candidate for president, or the House, or the Senate … ask them about that.