PARIS – More than 250 years ago – on November 1, 1755 – a massive earthquake and resulting tsunami and fire ravaged the city of Lisbon, killing some 60,000 people. It also sparked a passionate and philosophical debate between two of the greatest European thinkers of the time: Voltaire and Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
For Voltaire, the catastrophe represented the cruel hand of fate and the unfathomable decree of Providence – further proof of the misery of the human condition. Rousseau, on the other hand, saw urban sprawl and population density as playing a key role in death and destruction. It stemmed from a general over-civilization and separation from nature, he reasoned.
It is easy these days to dismiss the position taken by the author of Zadig. And yet, we still hesitate to side with Rousseau and to endorse the radical criticisms of the Reveries of a solitary walker. Maybe they should reconsider though. Haven’t they noticed the steady increase in the frequency of natural disasters, their explosive costs – a record $306 billion in 2017 – and the growing number of mourning victims?
Contemporary thinkers are instead content with the unequivocal explanation that human activity generates greenhouse gases, which cause global warming. With a few modifications, it is thought, we can fix everything and solve the problem. But this an overly relaxed chain of thought is questionable in more ways than one.
The human species has taken over the entire animal kingdom.
First, not all natural disasters can be attributed to climate. Consider the Asian tsunami in 2004 that claimed the lives of 250,000 people, or the devastating earthquake in Haiti in 2010.
Secondly, if these cataclysms cause more and more damage, it is also because they reach denser population centers and ruin more expensive infrastructures and equipment.
Third, the extinction of many animal species is less linked to global warming than to the direct impact of humans on our ecosystems (urbanization, overfishing, hunting, chemical pollution, etc.). The human species has taken over the entire animal kingdom.
Demography is the “blind spot” of environmental policy. As the right side of the brain debates the maximum temperature threshold the world can sustain, the left side of the brain contemplates the meteoric projection of population growth. For example, between 1990 and 2014, global CO2 emissions increased by 58%, but only by 15% per capita. The increase in population thus contributed to nearly three-quarters of the growth. And yet, the Paris Climate Change Conference (or COP21) completely ignored the issue.
Beijing Railway Station — Photo: Pan Kanjun/Xinhua/ZUMA
The reasons for this attitude are multiple and deeply rooted in our collective unconscious. On the one hand, a large population was once synonymous with power. This meant a labor force for agriculture, a reservoir of labor for industry, and a means to expand the ranks of the army. And some of that thinking still prevails. Why would a country try to limit its rate of population growth if its neighbors do the opposite?
Demography is a matter of externalities. For a time, these externalities were positive: more people congregating in cities and working in factories led to greater production and even more jobs. But there are also negatives. The birth of a child affects the future of all other people on the planet. Once a baby is born, we feel obligated to stand with that child no matter what. Then, once an adult, it will contribute to the increase in anthropogenic pressure, not only in its neighborhood but the whole planet too.
These questions may not be politically correct, but they need to be asked.
Today, we are probably at the inflection point where negative externalities predominate. To combat this, there are two possible strategies: A ban that threatens penalties or promises incentives. China was quick to adopt the first strategy with the one-child policy, which promoted economic growth. India also tried it in the 1970s with limited success. Today, 1.35 billion people live in India, triple the number 50 years ago.
Elsewhere in the world, we’re just waiting improved quality of life to discourage couples from having multiple children. This strategy has worked quite well in the West, significantly lowering the fertility rate, and has also taken effect, more recently, in Asia and the Middle East. But the inertia of the demographic phenomenon is great. Africa is lagging behind, contributing almost 60% of the expected increase in world population by 2050 (+1.3 billion people). Family planning policies remain mostly ineffective.
Is procreation an unequivocal human right? The Universal Declaration does not say so explicitly. Rather, it is limited to the vague declaration of the right to marry and found a family (Article 16). Should states be left to decide their own family policies? These questions may not be politically correct, but they need to be asked.
The developed countries, the biggest polluters, are ready to drastically reduce their greenhouse gas emissions. A wedge formula shows that if each country stabilized its CO2 emissions per capita today, the global volume would increase another 16% by 2050 due to population growth. Conversely, to maintain the volume where it is today, developing countries could maintain their emission levels if developed countries agreed to reduce their emissions by 40%. This shows that the challenge is daunting and that we should welcome greater control of population growth.
The solution must be adapted to accommodate developing countries, particularly those in Africa (Article 7 of the Paris Agreement). Will such an incentive system suffice? Will more coercive measures be necessary to avoid the explosion of the “demographic bomb” and its repercussions in terms of wars and uncontrollable migratory movements? What seems clear is that if we fail to meet this challenge, future generations will realize, sooner rather than later, that the real “mother of all disasters” is not climate change, in itselfbut overpopulation.