Speaking of bets
Betting on the Planet
By JOHN TIERNEY;
Published: December 2, 1990
In 1980 an ecologist and an economist chose a refreshingly unacademic way to resolve their differences. They bet $1,000. Specifically, the bet was over the future price of five metals, but at stake was much more -- a view of the planet's ultimate limits, a vision of humanity's destiny. It was a bet between the Cassandra and the Dr. Pangloss of our era.
They lead two intellectual schools -- sometimes called the Malthusians and the Cornucopians, sometimes simply the doomsters and the boomsters -- that use the latest in computer-generated graphs and foundation-generated funds to debate whether the world is getting better or going to the dogs. The argument has generally been as fruitless as it is old, since the two sides never seem to be looking at the same part of the world at the same time. Dr. Pangloss sees farm silos brimming with record harvests; Cassandra sees topsoil eroding and pesticide seeping into ground water. Dr. Pangloss sees people living longer; Cassandra sees rain forests being decimated. But in 1980 these opponents managed to agree on one way to chart and test the global future. They promised to abide by the results exactly 10 years later -- in October 1990 -- and to pay up out of their own pockets.
Long story short, Simon won the bet in 1990, and if it had been made again, he would have won again in 2000. And, for what it's worth, John Holdren was one of the scientists consulted by Ehrlich to pick out the scare resources.
Anyway, just about everyone else finds Erlich's Malthusian arguments convincing, and yet they are somehow always wrong. (YET, my political opponents are shouting) Ironically, Simon is a positive, happy-go-lucky Cassandra.
The apocalyptic impulse is deep rooted, probably because it is so egocentric. Our society is shallow and decadent, and so of course the arctic ice-caps will melt and send tidal waves roaring through Manhattan, where they'll chase Jake Gyllenhaal around. And it's not just the greens and the cults with funny hair cuts - consider the Terminator movies, where demonic robot gods throw us into an everlasting nuclear fire to punish us for our sins (of making them, I guess), or The Matrix, or The Lord of the Ring series - same deal, really.
The egocentric part is to think that my time, right now, must be the last age, as I am the pinnacle (or nadir, which is a lot cooler, a la that twit Oscar Wilde) of human existence. I think the universe is more sanguine.







