When individuals refer to “nature,” they typically mean aspects that aren’t crafted by humans. Stones. Coral reefs. Red wolves. Yet, despite the abundance of creation, it’s challenging to conceive of anything on Earth not influenced by human activity.
In the Amazon rainforest, researchers have discovered microplastics within the stomachs of creatures from red howler monkeys to manatees. In the most remote parts of Yakutia, where much land remains untouched by human presence, the carbon in the atmosphere above is causing the permafrost below to thaw. In the Arctic Ocean, artificial lighting from increased ship activity—arising as polar ice diminishes—now interferes with the nightly migration of zooplankton to the ocean surface, representing one of the planet’s largest animal migrations. The secluded mountain lakes of the Alps are tainted with various synthetic substances. Polar bears are laden with fire retardants. Cesium-137, a remnant of nuclear detonation fallout, lightly coats the globe.
These instances largely represent pollution—nuclear, carbon, chemical, light—but I mention them not merely to emphasize how human endeavors and technology harm the environment but to recognize how constructed elements by humans alter it. The precise consequences of these changes remain uncertain, yet my emphasis is that every corner of the Earth bears human traces. We have essentially transformed the world.
We’ve also transformed ourselves. Humans are particularly skilled at altering human nature. Every facet of our being is subject to change—our looks, wellbeing, even our thoughts. Medications, surgeries, vaccines, and hormones extend our lifespans, alleviate pain, mitigate anxiety and depression, enhance our speed, strength, and resilience. We are witnessing emerging technologies that could enable us to influence our children’s destinies even before conception. Electrodes embedded in individuals’ brains allow them to manipulate computers and convert thoughts into spoken words. Advanced prosthetics and exoskeletons, reminiscent of comic book innovations, restore and augment physical capabilities, while gene-editing tools like CRISPR are reconfiguring our very DNA. Meanwhile, humanity has aggregated the entirety of our written knowledge into enormous computing devices in an effort—at least by some—to create an intelligence surpassing our own.
So what truly constitutes nature, or natural, in this framework? Is it “environmentalism,” in the traditional sense, to attempt to conserve what could be considered nonexistent? Should we harness technology to render the world more “natural”?
These inquiries prompted us to approach this Nature issue with a sense of humility. We strive to engage with them consistently—MIT Technology Review is, after all, an examination of how humanity has altered and constructed upon nature.
And it serves as a venue to ponder how we might mend it. Consider solar geoengineering, for instance—a topic we have increasingly covered in recent years. The fundamental concept of geoengineering is to discover a technological solution for a problem created by technology: The burning of petrochemicals during the Industrial Revolution transformed Earth’s atmosphere into a heat receptacle, fundamentally disrupting the climate. Some geoengineers posit that dispersing particulate matter into the stratosphere could reflect sunlight back into space, thereby lowering global temperatures. Following years of theoretical debates, certain companies have started to actively trial such technologies. This may appear to be an excellent means to restore the world to a more natural condition. However, it comes with a myriad of controversies and risks. For instance, it could benefit certain nations while adversely affecting others. It may provide justification for the continued burning of fossil fuels and the emission of greenhouse gases. The complications extend further.
Nature is complex.
In our May/June issue, we have endeavored to closely examine nature amid our artificial world. We include narratives about birds that can’t sing, wolves that aren’t wolves, and grass that isn’t grass. We seek the essence of life beneath Arctic ice and within ourselves—and in the distant future, on an alien planet, thanks to new fiction by noted author Jeff VanderMeer. I cannot guarantee that any of this will resolve the queries I’ve been posing here—but we must attempt nonetheless. It’s inherent in our nature.
