It was in the 1970s, in an essay by Kurt Vonnegut, that I first encountered the metaphor of the canary in the coal mine. In the intervening two decades, its status, for me at least, has slipped from metaphor to cliche. The edges are all worn down and it slides too easily through our conversations without leaving any meaning behind it. I plan to throw it away for good, but I want to shake it off and examine it one more time before I put it aside.
In centuries past, miners would carry canaries with them underground. If the air in the mine was unfit to breathe, the canary would fall over and die long before the miners’ health was in danger. Biologists refer to plants and animals which serve this function as “indicator species.” A canary in a coal mine is an artificial indicator species, as canaries do not occur naturally in coal mines. When an ecosystem is placed under stress, some plant or animal – some indicator species – will be the first to die off. The death of this species holds a portent for the other members of the ecosystem.
That’s why the Endangered Species Act, as unpopular as it is among some segments of our society, is so important. The loss of each species hastens the day when our own extinction is at hand. We are polluting the planet at such a rate that we cannot keep up with the loss of indicator species. And why should we care? We have central heating and instant gravy and pharmaceuticals. We will find a way to survive. Some of us.
Some of us will not find a way to survive. I suppose it would be inaccurate to say indicator species, as humans are all one species. It would be accurate to say some of us are in the indicator classes. The indicator classes are usually brown or black and are always poor. They live in urban or rural areas, never in the suburbs. They work without the benefit of union representation.
The indicator classes are the ones with skyrocketing rates of breast and prostate cancer. They are the classes whose children are poisoned by lead in their homes and communities, who have developmental difficulties because their parents carry body burdens of toxic chemicals. All the soldiers who were dosed by Agent Orange in Vietnam or mystery chemicals in the Gulf War are members of the indicator class.
In the old days, in factory towns, the owner’s mansion would be up on the hill, away from the noxious stink that made his fortune. Today, the owners don’t even live in the same state. Louisiana dies of poison and all the CEOs live in Connecticut. Thanks to NAFTA and GATT, we have indicator countries and continents. We’ll let Africa die; we won’t worry until Europe and Mexico start to choke and wheeze. Then we’ll change our ways and save ourselves at the last moment.
Of course, by then it may be too late. It may be too late already.
The Indicator Classes
It was in the 1970s, in an essay by Kurt Vonnegut, that I first encountered the metaphor of the canary in the coal mine. In the intervening two decades, its status, for me at least, has slipped from metaphor to cliche. The edges are all worn down and it slides too easily through our conversations without leaving any meaning behind it. I plan to throw it away for good, but I want to shake it off and examine it one more time before I put it aside.
In centuries past, miners would carry canaries with them underground. If the air in the mine was unfit to breathe, the canary would fall over and die long before the miners’ health was in danger. Biologists refer to plants and animals which serve this function as “indicator species.” A canary in a coal mine is an artificial indicator species, as canaries do not occur naturally in coal mines. When an ecosystem is placed under stress, some plant or animal – some indicator species – will be the first to die off. The death of this species holds a portent for the other members of the ecosystem.
That’s why the Endangered Species Act, as unpopular as it is among some segments of our society, is so important. The loss of each species hastens the day when our own extinction is at hand. We are polluting the planet at such a rate that we cannot keep up with the loss of indicator species. And why should we care? We have central heating and instant gravy and pharmaceuticals. We will find a way to survive. Some of us.
Some of us will not find a way to survive. I suppose it would be inaccurate to say indicator species, as humans are all one species. It would be accurate to say some of us are in the indicator classes. The indicator classes are usually brown or black and are always poor. They live in urban or rural areas, never in the suburbs. They work without the benefit of union representation.
The indicator classes are the ones with skyrocketing rates of breast and prostate cancer. They are the classes whose children are poisoned by lead in their homes and communities, who have developmental difficulties because their parents carry body burdens of toxic chemicals. All the soldiers who were dosed by Agent Orange in Vietnam or mystery chemicals in the Gulf War are members of the indicator class.
In the old days, in factory towns, the owner’s mansion would be up on the hill, away from the noxious stink that made his fortune. Today, the owners don’t even live in the same state. Louisiana dies of poison and all the CEOs live in Connecticut. Thanks to NAFTA and GATT, we have indicator countries and continents. We’ll let Africa die; we won’t worry until Europe and Mexico start to choke and wheeze. Then we’ll change our ways and save ourselves at the last moment.
Of course, by then it may be too late. It may be too late already.