keywords: history, wildlife conservation
You would think that wildlife conservation organisations are a force for good in the world. Yet, despite their undoubtedly best intentions today, historian Guillaume Blanc argues that colonialist shadows still loom large over their actions and ideas. The Invention of Green Colonialism is a searing critique of wildlife conservation in Africa. Establishing national parks often means the forced eviction of poor people, all to recreate an unspoilt version of African nature that never existed in the first place. This thought-provoking book has already ruffled quite some feathers but forces critical reflection.
The Invention of Green Colonialism, written by Guillaume Blanc, published by Polity in June 2022 (paperback, 222 pages)
These accusations—levelled explicitly at the IUCN, the WWF, and UNESCO—might seem heretical. “Indeed, so powerfully does it go against what we have been led to believe that some people refuse even to contemplate it” (p. 12). However, it is no secret that the first national parks were game reserves and that today’s conservation organisations were established to protect and support them. Also, Blanc is not alone in his criticism. I reviewed The Big Conservation Lie four years ago and older books have voiced similar concerns, e.g. 2017 White Man’s Game, 2003’s Ethnographies of Conservation, and 1992’s The Myth of Wild Africa. There is no denying that there is a dark underbelly to wildlife conservation.
Blanc’s main bone of contention is that wildlife conservation in Africa is deeply rooted in, and burdened with, colonial clichés. A century of books, travel magazines, and nature documentaries have portrayed Africa as the world’s last remaining wildlife paradise. This is not untrue, if only because we have extirpated wildlife everywhere else through habitat destruction and hunting. To support his argument, Blanc discusses the development of nature conservation in Africa from 1850 to today at two levels. First is the history of Ethiopia, and that of Simien National Park in particular, for which he has consulted both national archives and archives of conservation organisations. Second is a comparison to the situation in Africa more generally. I will dip into Blanc’s chronology to pick out some of the moments that support his claim that colonialism never really went away, instead acquiring a shade of green.
Colonialism and racism were blatant in the 1850s. Europeans caused immense environmental destruction through e.g. trophy hunting or the deforestation and soil loss associated with trade expansion. But rather than admit that our colonial shenanigans caused wildlife decline, we deflected the blame on rural Africans. Even scientists concluded that the natives just did not know how to properly manage their environment. Colonial governments were only too happy to accept this explanation to justify continued exploitation. This is the context in which game reserves were established where rich white men went on safari and hunting by Africans was called poaching. Attempts were made to evict local farmers and herders, and this was encouraged by criminalizing everyday subsistence activities such as farming or chopping firewood by doling out fines and prison sentences.
“[…] rather than admit that our colonial shenanigans caused wildlife decline, we deflected the blame on rural Africans. This is the context in which game reserves were established where rich white men went on safari and hunting by Africans was called poaching.”
As time passed, fortress conservation and colonialist notions of Africa as a Garden of Eden remained the norm.
It remained true when, by the start of the 20th century, game reserves transformed into national parks. Though Blanc does not explore this, I imagine this was influenced by Teddy Roosevelt‘s creation of the National Park System in the United States. Something that, incidentally, involved its own share of evictions.
It remained true when UNESCO and the IUCN cooperated on the 1960–1963 African Special Project that sought to halt wildlife decline by putting conservation on the African political agenda. One of the countries that requested assistance was Ethiopia and three UNESCO missions concluded—as they did for many other African countries—that its unspoilt nature was under threat. An interesting side note here is the idea that the country had suffered tremendous deforestation, even though work by historian James McCann has shown that such statistics were, at best, educated guesses elevated to scientific truths. A similar story is told about deforestation in Madagascar, according to anthropologist Alison Richard, which for me supports the veracity of Blanc’s critique.
It remained true in the 1960s when some African countries gained independence. Many former game wardens found new employment as consultants or international experts, inculcating a new generation of African conservationists with colonial notions of nature. African governments keen for international recognition adopted and internalised these ideas, but also cleverly used national parks and associated evictions as a tool in internal power struggles to e.g. crush rebellions.
It remained true in the 1970s when UNESCO drew up its brand-new World Heritage List. The Ethiopian Simien Mountains were amongst the first sites to be added, on the condition that local agro-pastoralists would be relocated.
“the era of sustainable development […] promised we could have our cake and eat it. […] Though the language was sanitized, on the ground it remained a case of fortress conservation.”
It remained true in the 1980s when international frameworks changed. We entered the era of sustainable development that promised we could have our cake and eat it. Blanc’s critique here is on point. Though it sounds reassuring, “what the world wants to be sustainable is development, and not the capacity of the environment to tolerate its impact” (p. 118). Bright Green Lies co-author Max Wilbert eloquently voiced similar criticism in a recent interview on the Planet:Critical podcast (timestamp 13:27–13:42) and it is a sentiment I much agree with. Sustainable development has gone hand-in-hand with community-based conservation that is dressed in such respectable-sounding technobabble “that it can no longer be challenged“. Terms such as “participative management“, “citizen consultation“, and “local partnership space” (p. 132). Though the language was sanitized, on the ground it remained a case of fortress conservation. Local people were relocated from core zones inside national parks to nearby buffer zones.
It remained true in 1996, when UNESCO put Simien National Park on its List of World Heritage in Danger, hoping it would force Ethiopia to get its act together. The government dangled various carrots in front of the agro-pastoralists in the form of new infrastructure, financial compensation, and training, hoping to tempt them to resettle voluntarily. Because of regime changes and civil wars, relocation was delayed until 2016, and still involved brute force. A particularly shocking side note here is the work of World Bank sociologist Michael Cernea who has prepared and monitored hundreds of such resettlement programmes but found they invariably impoverish displaced people. Compensation cannot make up for the intangible benefits provided by the old communities such as morale, identity, and mutual aid networks. This is a known problem and international organisations “have found themselves struggling to redress the secondary effects of community conservation” (p. 156). Particularly insidious is what Blanc calls the “neoliberal transformation of nature” (p. 143). Where wildlife used to have intrinsic (e.g. sacred) value, people were now taught to attach a monetary value to it through e.g. employment in the ecotourism industry. The COVID-19 pandemic has shown how this can backfire spectacularly.
This book was originally published in French by Flammarion as L’Invention du Colonialisme Vert and translated into English by Helen Morrison. A new afterword allows Blanc to respond to some of the criticism of the French original. Unsurprisingly, both UNESCO and the IUCN swiftly condemned his work. I will take their response with a grain of salt as I think Blanc convincingly shows that there is a seedy side to today’s wildlife conservation. However, despite writing on page 12 that he does not want to denigrate the environmental cause, the danger with critiques like these is that authors get so caught up in making an incendiary argument that they forget to provide some balance, and I was left with some unanswered questions.
“[…] the danger with critiques like these is that authors get so caught up in making an incendiary argument that they forget to provide some balance.”
One response by three researchers from CIRAD, the French Agricultural Research Centre for International Development, points out that the IUCN uses seven national park categories, some of which are less restrictive and allow for economic activities. Blanc does not address this. Though his critique applies to Ethiopia and several other countries, are there really no examples of wildlife conservation done right? Is the whole enterprise flawed? Although Blanc does not explicitly say so, he also does not explicitly disavow it, leaving him open to accusations of overextrapolating his findings.
The second question is: what is the solution then? Should the West just get out and leave Africa alone? Is this just, given the mess we have left after centuries of colonialism? Are reparations in place? Blanc instead opts for a more general solution. “The blame lies with consumerism and the capitalism that encourages it” (p. 184), and thus “only a radical reform of the world capitalist system can offer a solution to the current ecological crisis” (p. 185). That is obviously an ambitious goal, though there are many other good reasons to pursue it. However, what exactly he means by this and how he thinks we should achieve it are questions left up in the air. I was rather hoping to hear his thoughts on whether the developed world, given its past track record, can tell the developing world what to do. Having achieved a high standard of living through environmental exploitation, can we deny others this? Who are we to take the moral high ground?
The last question is whether national parks work. Blanc skirts around this question but, reading between the lines, my impression is that he thinks it they are are a palliative solution to a systemic problem. They “constitute a kind of optical illusion which effectively hides the real problem” (p. 12), i.e. the environmental destruction inflicted by capitalism. He later adds that “believing that nature is protected where there are no people (in the parks) is also a way of condoning damage where people live (in the rest of the world)” (p. 178). But could they be an interim solution? And what to do when species are genuinely at risk of extinction? An interesting side note here is that Simien National Park was established to protect the Walia ibex, a species of wild goat. Blanc points out that, though population numbers have rebounded from ~150 individuals in 1963 to ~950 in 2017, conservationists continue to speak of declining populations. He concludes that “the myth of an African Eden is so powerful that, even today, experts set more store by their beliefs than by their own figures” (pp. 170–171). However, some caution is in order. The question is: recovery in comparison to what baseline? Though, for example, whale populations have bounced back with the ban on industrial whaling, we consider they are still on the road to recovery rather than fully recovered. Blanc is aware of this as his afterword calls for more detailed scientific studies, habitat by habitat, to establish current numbers, historical baselines, and long-term trends.
By not working out his proposed solutions, nor considering wildlife conservation’s positive achievements, this book will undoubtedly upset some readers. That does not take away that The Invention of Green Colonialism highlights uncomfortable realities and forces critical reflection, something for which I will happily make time and mental bandwidth available. One does not have to solve a problem to point out that there is a problem. I laud Polity for making this book available to a broader, English-speaking audience.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
The Invention of Green Colonialism
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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In the field of palaeoanthropology, one name keeps turning up: the Leakey dynasty. Since Louis Leakey’s first excavations in 1926, three generations of this family have been involved in anthropological research in East Africa. In this captivating memoir, Meave, a second-generation Leakey, reflects on a lifetime of fieldwork and research and provides an inspirational blueprint for what women can achieve in science.
The Sediments of Time: My Lifelong Search for the Past, written by Meave Leakey and Samira Leakey, published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt in November 2020 (hardback, 396 pages)
With The Sediments of Time, Meave* follows a family tradition. Her husband Richard, and his parents Louis and Mary have all been the subject of (auto)biographies, now many decades old. Science writer Virginia Morell later portrayed the whole family in her 1999 book Ancestral Passions. Much has happened in the meantime, and though this book portrays Meave’s personal life, it heavily leans towards presenting her professional achievements, as well as scientific advances in the discipline at large. Thus, Meave’s childhood and early youth are succinctly described in the first 15-page chapter as she is keen to get to 1965 when a 23-year-old Meave starts working with Louis in Kenya.
Whereas Louis and Mary were famous for their work in Olduvai Gorge in Tanzania, Richard and Meave have made their careers around Lake Turkana in northern Kenya. The first two parts of the book take the reader chronologically through the various excavation campaigns. These include the decade-long excavations in and around Koobi Fora, one highlight of which was the find of Nariokotome Boy (also known as Turkana Boy), a largely complete skeleton of a young Homo erectus. The subsequent campaign in Lothagam yielded little hominin material but did reveal a well-documented faunal turnover of herbivore browsers being replaced by grazers with time. Meave has also described several new hominin species. This includes Australopithecus anamensis, which would be ancestral to Australopithecus afarensis (represented by the famous Lucy skeleton), and Kenyanthropus platyops, which would be of the same age as Ardipithecus ramidus. That last name might sound familiar, because…
“Woven into Meave’s narrative of exploration and excavation is an overview of how palaeoanthropology developed as a discipline, and what are some of its big outstanding questions.”
Having just reviewed Fossil Men, which portrayed the notorious palaeoanthropologist Tim White, I was curious to see what Meave had to say about him. In Fossil Men, Kermit Pattison already mentioned that she described White “with a note of sympathy” (p. 5), and she affirms that picture here, writing that he is “a meticulous scientist […] intolerant of bad science […] outspoken and frank […] although he was charming and a gentleman in less formal situations” (p. 136). And though they meet more than once to compare fossils, notes, and ideas, they remain at loggerheads over certain claims.
Woven into Meave’s narrative of exploration and excavation is an overview of how palaeoanthropology developed as a discipline, and what are some of its big outstanding questions. A recurrent theme is the influence of climate on evolution, often by impacting diet and available food sources. There is the difficult question of naming species and how much difference is enough to recognise a separate species, which ties into the whole lumpers vs. splitters debate in taxonomy. The latter readily name new species whereas the former (White being an example) point to sexual dimorphism and morphological variation and recognize only one or very few hominin species. Your stance in that debate affects what you think of Meave’s descriptions of Au. anamensis as being part of a lineage towards Au. afarensis, and whether K. platyops is a species distinct from Ar. ramidus (White obviously thinks not).
This discussion of topics relevant to palaeoanthropology strongly comes to the fore in the book’s third part, by which time Meave is examining the Homo lineage and the question where we appeared from. This sees her tackling topics such as human childbirth and the role of grandmothers, Lieberman’s hypothesis of endurance running as a uniquely human strategy to run prey to exhaustion, palaeoclimatology and the mechanism of the Milankovitch cycles, the spread of Homo erectus around the globe (the Out of Africa I hypothesis), and the use of genetics to trace deep human ancestry. I feel that Meave overstretches herself a little bit in places here. Though her explanations are lucid and include some good illustrations, some relevant recent literature, on e.g. ancient DNA and Neanderthals is not mentioned.
“Meave can draw on a deep pool of remarkable and amusing anecdotes that are put to good use to lighten up the text. And though the focus is on her professional achievements and the science, real life interrupts work on numerous occasions.”
Meave can draw on a deep pool of remarkable and amusing anecdotes that are put to good use to lighten up the text. And though the focus is on her professional achievements and the science, real life interrupts work on numerous occasions. Some of these are joyful, such as the birth of her daughters Louise and Samira. Some are a mixed blessing, such as Richard’s career changes, first when Kenya’s president hand-picks him to lead the Kenya Wildlife Service and combat rampant elephant poaching, then when he switches to attempting political reform. It removes him from palaeoanthropology and their time together in the field. Other occasions are outright harrowing, such as Richard’s faltering kidneys that require transplantations, or the horrific plane crash that sees him ultimately lose both legs despite extended surgery.
Illustrator Patricia Wynne contributes some tasteful drawings to this book, though the figure legends do not always clarify the important details these images try to convey. And I would have loved to see some photos of important specimens, whether during excavation or after preparation, especially given how much Meave focuses on the scientific story in this book. Many specimens are described in great detail but the colour plate section mostly contains photos of the Leakeys and collaborators in the field. Another minor point of criticism is that I was not clear on Samira’s part in writing this book. The dustjacket mentions her as a co-author, but the story is told exclusively through Meave’s eyes, and the acknowledgements do not clarify Samira’s role. I am left to surmise that Meave and Samira together drew on their store of memories for this book.
These minor criticisms notwithstanding, I found The Sediments of Time an inspiring memoir that provided a (for myself long-overdue) introduction to the Leakey dynasty. Meave has led a charmed existence and she is a fantastic role model for women in science.
* I normally refer to authors by their last name but, for obvious reasons and with all due respect, I will be deviating from that habit here and mention the various Leakeys by their first name.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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When thinking of human ancestors, the name “Lucy” will likely come to mind. But a dedicated team of scientists spent decades labouring on the discovery of a species more than a million years older still, at 4.4 million years of age. Nicknamed “Ardi” and classified as Ardipithecus ramidus, it was finally revealed to the world in 2009. For a full decade, journalist Kermit Pattison immersed himself in the story of Ardi’s discovery to bring to life both the science and the scientists. The resulting Fossil Men is an incredibly well-researched book that tells the definitive insider’s story of how one of the most divisive fossils in palaeoanthropology was discovered by one of its most divisive characters: Tim White.
Fossil Men: The Quest for the Oldest Skeleton and the Origins of Humankind, written by Kermit Pattison, published by William Morrow & Co. in December 2020 (hardback, 534 pages)
Fossil Men stands out for its brutally honest portrayal of the main protagonist, Tim White, something for which Pattison has had the full cooperation of White, his co-workers, and his many adversaries. From the very first pages, he is unsparingly described as a relentless perfectionist with “a razor intellect, hair-trigger bullshit detector, short temper, long list of discoveries, and longer list of enemies” (p. 2). He will take as long as he darn well needs to make sure his findings are beyond bulletproof. And while many loathe being at the receiving end of his withering criticism—”enemies not only resented him; they fucking hated him” (p. 71)—many also admit that he excels at what he does: “Tim White is brutal. He’s a real scientist. His literature will stay forever” (p. 4).
Pattison follows White’s story of fossil discovery in Ethiopia from its start in 1981. Against a backdrop of bureaucracy, corruption, and civil wars, White organised annual expeditions that “he micromanaged without apology“, while fellow anthropologist Bruce Latimer marvels that he is “without question the best field worker there is […] His science, logistics, and efficiency are phenomenal” (p. 127). What stands out, and endeared him to this reader, is how he insists on local capacity building, employing and training numerous Ethiopians, and only rarely recruiting foreigners, the Japanese Gen Suwa being one of these notable exceptions.
As a journalist who has published in the New York Times, GQ, and other outlets, it comes as no surprise that Pattison engagingly portrays the human interest story. He has extensively interviewed the people around White, including Ethiopian collaborators such as Berhane Asfaw, Alemu Ademassu, and Yohannes Haile-Selassie, or the creationist-turned-palaeoanthropologist Owen Lovejoy. But he also speaks to White’s many adversaries, including Ian Tattersall, Lucy team members Jon Kalb and the celebrity-loving Don Johanson, as well as members of the world-famous Leakey dynasty.
“Fossil Men stands out for its brutally honest portrayal of the main protagonist, Tim White”
What positively surprised me, however, was how thoroughly and accurately Pattison delves into the biological details. Whether it is related species such as Ardipithecus kadabba, the anatomy of the foot and spine, or the genetical wonderland of ancient DNA, evolutionary developmental biology, or comparative genomics—he puts to good use the more than 500 pages that have been crammed into Fossil Men. White’s obsessive attention to detail seems to have rubbed off on Pattison, and in the acknowledgements he admits the enormity of writing this book: “Nobody in their right mind takes on a project like this” (p. 423). The bibliography reveals just how deeply he has ventured: next to books and peer-reviewed papers, Pattison has consulted unpublished manuscripts, interviews, grant proposals, video material, oral histories, court files, and archives of private correspondence.
Over the years, White’s team unearths fragmentary remains and puzzles together the creature that will become known as Ardi. However, much to the frustration of peers and grant agencies, White refuses to go public until he has every detail nailed down. This is not a popular strategy and the briefly-featured Michel Brunet was similarly scolded in Ancient Bones for holding back important material. After an initial 1994 announcement in Nature, White and collaborators labour for a full 15 years in strict secrecy. Pattison here exclusively reports the many twists, turns, and realisations during this long period.
The crescendo of Fossil Men comes with the big reveal of Ardi in a 2009 special issue of Science. As expected, the popular press laps it up while the academic establishment is initially more resistant. Pattison again excels at showcasing the range of opinions. Reading the objections it is easy to see how White’s arguments go against the grain. Specifically, A. ramidus was initially considered to be the most chimp-like ancestor known so far. However, the more White’s team looked at the anatomy of the feet, pelvis, skull, and other body parts, the more they argued that human ancestors never went through a stage resembling modern apes. The long-held paradigm that modern apes are good models of our human ancestors was declared dead. Instead, compared to Ardi, humans are the ones retaining primitive anatomical aspects, while modern African apes are considered evolutionarily more derived. It would require several instances of convergent evolution amongst apes for this to happen, and is thus considered less parsimonious by evolutionary biologists, but that does not mean it is impossible.
“Ardi, it seems, has everyone flummoxed, proving to be “a simian-human combination that nobody had predicted“”
Ardi, it seems, has everyone flummoxed, proving to be “a simian-human combination that nobody had predicted” (p. 353). Refreshingly, some opponents have come around to White’s arguments after they have been given the opportunity to inspect the fossils for themselves. Another supporter is David Begun who dedicated a section to A. ramidus in The Real Planet of the Apes, discussing the configuration of the big toe. He agrees with White that “meticulous collection of data should come before interpretation“, and highlights how the assumption that hominin ancestors by definition cannot have a grasping big toe imposes restrictions on how to interpret new and contradictory evidence such as Ardi.
Arguments over Ardi’s status continue unabated. While writing this review, New Scientist reported on a study in Science Advances that analysed Ardi’s hands, arguing that they are more chimp-like and adapted for swinging from branches (suspensory locomotion). Unsurprisingly, White has responded to this in his usual gruff fashion: “This is another failed resurrection of the antiquated notion that living chimpanzees are good models for our ancestors“.
I admit that I was initially mildly concerned that the publisher was overselling Fossil Men by calling it a scientific detective story. However, it did not take long for me to become completely engrossed by Pattison’s portrayal of these scientists, and to be in awe of the skill with which he tackles numerous complex biological topics. This is a chunky book, but it is a page-turner that you will not regret.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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“There is a vast, arterial power humming all around us, hiding in plain sight” (p. 320). With these words, geographer Laurence C. Smith concludes his engaging and impressive book on the environmental history of rivers. Touching on a multitude of topics, some of which I did not even know I cared about, I found my jaw dropping more than once.
Rivers of Power: How a Natural Force Raised Kingdoms, Destroyed Civilizations, and Shapes Our World, written by Laurence C. Smith, published in Europe by Allen Lane in April 2020 (hardback, 364 pages)
For a big book on the environmental history of rivers, you expect some classical history, Brian-Fagan style. Rivers of Power does not disappoint and dishes out fascinating introductions to the ancient Harappan civilization in South Asia who mastered municipal plumbing two millennia before the ancient Romans, the early Mesopotamian cities that sprang up around the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, and the importance to ancient Egypt of the Nile and its annual flooding.
But Smith ranges far wider—take his sections on more recent historical events that revolve around rivers. One of the decisive battles of the American Revolution was Washington’s nighttime crossing of the Delaware River which helped America win its war for independence with Britain. Or the sordid history of Britain’s opium wars in China, which relied heavily on shipping traffic up the Yangtze River and the opening of so-called treaty ports to force China to accept the importation of opium in exchange for goods the English wanted. These are both examples of historical episodes I knew little about, but for which Smith here provides context and background in a pleasingly compact manner.
Rivers can also influence human affairs in more roundabout ways and Rivers of Power includes some remarkable examples. The disastrous 1889 Johnstown flood changed the face of US law forever. When a neglected dam belonging to a gentlemen’s country club burst, it wiped this Pennsylvanian settlement off the map. When neither the club nor its millionaire members could be held responsible for the death and destruction caused by their negligence, the ensuing national uproar led to the introduction of strict liability laws, creating a culture of litigation that persists to this day. Similarly, Smith argues that the 1927 Mississippi flood changed the face of US politics for good. Herbert Hoover cleverly used the disaster for self-promotion, contributing to his victory in the next presidential election. But when he never made good on his promises to provide black sharecroppers with mortgage payments for land resettlement, it spelt the end of African American support for the Republican Party.
“Rivers can also influence human affairs in more roundabout ways […] The disastrous 1889 Johnstown flood […] created a culture of litigation that persists to this day.”
Smith possesses some serious writing chops and has contributed pieces to the Financial Times, New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and other major outlets. My jaw dropped more than once. The identity of the young German boy that historians now believe was saved from drowning and grew up to be an influential statesman? That reveal hit me like a bombshell. Some of the details of the aftermath of the Johnstown flood make for chilling reading. And the interview with a veteran of the Vietnam war, a war largely fought from riverboats in the Mekong delta, was particularly gripping.
And what of the topics I would otherwise snooze through? Normally, my eyes are likely to glaze over when you say “transboundary river treaty” or “mega-dam geopolitics”. Instead, I found myself reading with great interest about Laos’s unilateral decision to build dams in the Mekong River, or the current construction of the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam in one of the Nile’s two main tributaries and the political upset this is causing in Egypt. Smith also makes clear the immense scale at which we are now modifying landscapes. No longer content with simply building dams and canals, China, India, and several African countries are in the process of rerouting whole drainage basins in megaprojects known as interbasin transfers. Rivers of Power will teach you as much about historical events as it does about current affairs.
The above is but a sampling of the numerous interesting stories and studies that Smith covers here. In a book that wanders this widely, there will inevitably be sections that are of less interest. For me, it was the last chapter on riverfront redevelopment projects. Instead, I wanted to read more about Smith’s own hydrological research. For example, I was surprised at how brief his mention of the upcoming SWOT satellite mission was, given that he has been involved in conceiving and planning it for nearly two decades. Short for Surface Water and Ocean Topography, it will map the whole of the Earth’s surface waters in 3D. At the same time, it is testimony to the huge amount of research that Smith has put into this book that he is not choosing the easy option of writing mostly about the topics he knows intimately.
“Smith also makes clear the immense scale at which we are now modifying landscapes. [Several countries] are in the process of rerouting whole drainage basins in megaprojects known as interbasin transfers.”
Despite the chapters appearing long at the outset, they have been divided into shorter subheaded sections, so I never found the book wearing on me. Although no references or annotations are given in the text, the reference section at the back is organised according to the same subheaded structure, so finding sources and more information is fairly painless.
If I have to gripe about something, I feel that Smith is sometimes a bit too neutral in his reporting. Riverfront redevelopment is all fine and dandy but is a luxury for nations that have off-shored their heavy industry. Or take Egypt, which has single-handedly commandeered most of the Nile’s water discharge through the 1959 Nile Waters Agreement: “A new international agreement […] is badly needed. Yet any reduction in the total volume of water flowing downstream is potentially devastating for Egypt” (p. 155). To call Egypt not acknowledging upstream nations a “glaring omission” as Smith does here is putting it mildly, it strikes me as a scandalous example of overreach by a single nation.
Furthermore, a chapter dedicated to the effects of climate change on rivers would have been prudent—coverage of it is now scattered over different chapters. There is, for example, the shocking fact that half of the world’s glacier-fed rivers are past peak water (this refers to the highest discharge rate from glacier melt). Or the increased likelihood of more extreme floods thanks to the Clausius–Clapeyron relation (warm water holds more water vapour and will result in more rainfall—in effect increased temperatures accelerate the evaporation–precipitation cycle).
But these are minor complaints. Overall, Rivers of Power is bristling with fascinating and skilfully told riverine topics. Though meandering widely, it remains captivating throughout thanks to Smith’s excellent writing.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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