prwarren – American Environments to 1893

May 4, 2014

Semester Summary

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This semester has been one filled with thoughtful and intelligent discussions about a topic that in recent years has become more popular–environmental history. This class was no regular history class where one learns about a specific disaster or group of people who impacted the environment in a specific way. We learned about how and why the United States is in its current state and where the nation might be headed if a more symbiotic relationship fails to develop between humans and nature. Thus, we, with the help of interesting and theoretical texts, determined that nature was an actual actor and had agency, something that most of us had not thought of before this class.

US history and environmental history cannot be told without each other. Their histories are intertwined. This class has made this apparent. As Chelsea said last week, “Steinberg doesn’t simply blame human agency for the use and overuse of resources and the exploitation of land. Steinberg emphasizes that nature played a huge role in the development of American history.” While humans impact and continue to impact nature, nature also has the ability to effect humans and other parts of nature. One could argue that humans are the “bad” people 90% of the time, but nature has the potential to be the “bad” person the other 10% of the time.

This class has made me realize the separation that exists in environmental history. There is a history of natural disasters and a history of nature. Determining a natural disaster is not as difficult as determining something to be apart of nature. This semester has largely been about determining the extent to which something (or someone?) is “natural.” I think a good way to think about things being “natural” is to think about who and what exist in this world. If something exists, then it is “natural” and therefore apart of nature. So often people try to make a division between things that are natural and unnatural. Many time something thought to be natural is not actually “natural” at all. Why make such a distinction? Well, it is crucial when understanding that components of the environment have the potential to be destroyed by human interactions. But, the environment has the potential to destroy humans as well.

This course has taught us to think about the effects of building a house or town in an area that is not fit for living. It has taught us that environmental history dates back to a period well beyond the boundaries most people set. I challenge you to think about nature, its beginnings, if it has an actual beginning, and if humans are a natural component of nature.

April 27, 2014

Steinberg Has the Final Say

Writers are always trying to find that “hook.” It is that one sentence or caveat that gets a reader’s attention, keeps him or her entertained, and therefore unable to put the book down. I guess you could say Steinberg does exactly that. However, I am not so certain about my incapability of being unable to put the book down, but regardless of the book that is usually the case for me. Furthermore, Steinberg captures one’s attention with the satellite image of Earth and proceeds to explain how U.S. history books begin with an image of the states and ignore the history of how lands moved to form the nation we know today. These history books immediately talk of immigrants who arrived to the lands but hardly ever do these works explain how the land came to be in its current formation. Turn the page and there it is, the exact image of the U.S. that Steinberg warned us about. Does having that image four pages later really make that much of a difference? Is my notice of this trivial to the overall quality of his work? He mentions Pangaea, but then, in my opinion, does almost exactly what he criticizes textbooks of doing. Where is my history of Pangaea? Maybe I am being a bit picky here…

There are positives to Steinberg’s work. While it reads much like a textbook, I think that is helpful in getting historians, specifically younger historians at understanding the role environment plays in U.S. history. Human and environment interactions have been the major topic of this semester’s class. I think Chelsea makes a good point in her post from two weeks ago. She states, “I found it interesting that the conservation movement began when American lawmakers redefined what was considered legitimate uses of the environment.” When humans overstep their boundaries is when conflict between humans and the environment develops. However, humans are not always the ones who overstep a boundary. For instance, Steinberg mentions slavery and its inability to function in a cool climate. Thus, the South had the environment to support such a system. Nature allowed for the system, but it was man who allowed the system to happen.

This entire semester we have been trying to figure out the relationship between humans and nature. And even though I was critical of Steinberg’s introduction, I think he makes his readers understand that history cannot be told without all of the key players, and these key players do not always involve animate actors. The environment is not always the innocent bystander.

For a bit of praise–I commend Steinberg for the amount of information he manages to present in his relatively short “textbook.” Steinberg’s work is useful for grounding the many themes we have talked about this semester. Thankfully he did not do so in eight hundred pages.

April 13, 2014

Binaries, Language, and This Interlocking System

This weeks its back to the binaries with Karl Jacoby’s Crimes Against Nature. His research tells the rise of conservationism in American history. This is the story of the battle between law v. lawlessness, East v. West, urban v. rural–the transformation of once acceptable environmental practices into illegal acts. The nineteenth century saw a change in the manner in which language concerning environmental acts shifted. A battle erupted between those who lived in the rural West and rural areas of the United States. Jacoby’s work not only calls out those who attempted to colonize people and places disguised as environmental conservatism but also historians who have perpetuated environmental practices between urban and rural folk, the rural folk portrayed as the antagonists. He states, “Historians have largely concurred with such judgments, viewing rural folks as operating a flawed understanding of the world” (2). Jacoby acknowledges that primary sources authored by rural folk are extremely limited, but there are other routes to finding information about their lives and their interactions with the environment. He wants to debunk the following myth: “the belief that prior to the advent of conservation, rural folk, in keeping with the supposed rugged individualism of the American frontier, did as they pleased with the natural world” (193).

I like to think of people’s relationship in relation to Emily’s commentary from last week. She stated, “Finally, disasters were understood to be, though destructive, also creative of new life. In disasters, authors found a way to understand their local concerns about social change as possibly a good thing in the end.” Thus, is it not natural that humans have a destructive element in how they interact with the environment? Of course conservation is important to slow any process of degradation, but were/are not these actions inevitable?

As Jacoby states, “Conservation thus extended far beyond natural resource policy, not only setting the pattern for other Progressive Era reforms but also heralding the rise of the modern administrative state” (6). Thus, Jacoby’s story suggests more than just the rise of environmental preservation came with its supposed birth. Once the system was defined according to those in charge, each event was then (and continues to be) based off of the created “norm” or in this case “law.” These laws determined how society was “supposed” to be organized, not how it was supposed to be. The history of conservation in the United States is all about language and those who have the means to enact what they want to happen. If there is opposition, whether good opposition or bad, is irrelevant (at least to them). It is crucial to be aware of a system that has the potential to cause good but also cause bad–not only towards the environment but also towards different groups of, often marginalized, people.

April 7, 2014

Does Bergman Have It Wrong?

Jonathan Bergman’s essay speaks to what Ted Steinberg does in his Acts of God. Bergman states, “With the advent of environmental studies, disasters have become something of a ‘growth field in American history.’ Armed with novel theories of disaster, scholars have set out to examine urban life, race, class, politics, and governmental culture through a variety of socially dislocating events” (938). Using disaster studies as a lens for studying traditional topics serves to boost both environmental history and the field of history as a whole. Bergman has his doubts about the the manner in which disaster studies has taken (and taking). He is skeptical of disaster studies and its future. While I think I understand his perspective, having read Acts of God and other environmental works, I must call him out and suggest he re-think his argument. I think disaster is a useful category for historical analysis. Disaster can allow for a nuanced analysis of a period that and using other categories of analysis can also allow for a more nuanced interpretation of the events before, during, and after the disaster.

The essay I chose for this week, “Fighting the Hessian Fly: American and British Responses to Insect Invasion, 1776-1789,” serves as a proper contribution to the environmental/disaster studies field. When read after Bergman’s essay, one can understand how Bergman “got it wrong.” Philip J. Pauly’s states in his essay, “Looking beyond the eighteenth century, I suggest that the Hessian fly provides a useful starting point for examining how nationalism–involving issues of both political sovereignty and, more diffusely, xenophobia–has influenced the science of policy of biological invasion (486). Yes, it is possible for analyses to get carried away with other categories of analysis and thus take away from telling the story of the disaster, but I think it is possible to tell both at the same time. As Ian reminded us last week in our discussion of Chicago, “. . .they also altered their environment by flooding and freezing a region that would not have faced these conditions without human alteration.” Cronon’s analysis would have been much stronger if he had added commentary on this matter (regardless of the fact that this might not have been his primary purpose).

After completing the readings for this week I thought a lot about language. Are actually doing these events justice by calling them “natural disasters.” This phrase carries a negative connotation, so how does one rid that from the phrase without changing the name or replacing it with something that no one will recognize? Instead is it suitable to call them “natural events”? Other words with just as negative connotations are brought into the conversation as well. With these words and negative connotations come negative interpretations of the events and nature. Nature is made out to be the bad force. Now, I am not suggesting that Steinberg does this in his work, not at all. He makes this obvious. We as readers know exactly with whom the fault stands, but could this be an inadvertent (and most likely subtle) component that is in some ways difficult to separate? Are these concerns the at crux of Bergman’s struggle and argument?

April 6, 2014

“Architects of Destruction”: Ted Steinberg’s Acts of God

Ted Steinberg’s Acts of God: The Unnatural History of Natural Disaster in America deals with the human dimension of natural disasters. Steinberg suggests three issues with which his research and analysis attempt to define. He looks at the role of human complicity in response to disasters, the rise in a particular set of social relations in an attempt to restore order, and the ways in which people have attempted to rationalize natural disasters as events beyond human control. He poses questions like, “Why have those in power, for example, at times denied the risks of living in seismically active areas? Whose vision of society is at stake when nature and culture collide? How and why have some Americans come to view natural disasters as amoral, chance occurrences?” (xvii-ix). Steinberg suggests these three themes intersect with three fields of study: environmental history (interactions between humans and nature), social history (power), and cultural history (meaning and interpretation). Thus, with his brief but detailed outline of his structure, readers are fully aware of Steinberg’s agenda, a very political agenda. He states, “Ultimately, this book critiques the approach to natural calamity that has dominated U.S. politics over the last century. This approach has tended to overemphasize the natural forces at place while diminishing the human, social, and economic forces central to these phenomena” (xix). Thus, according to Steinberg, when viewed as “freak events” as separate from everyday life, natural disasters are posited outside the boundaries of the ordinary; therefore, no one individual or group of people is held accountable.

The title Acts of God comes from the once popular (in some areas it still is) belief that natural disasters happened as a result of God’s disappointment with humans. If a certain area experienced an earthquake or flood, it had to be because the people living there had displeased God and this was to be there punishment, a sign they needed to change their ways. This notion became popular in the eighteenth century, and quite possibly before then. Steinberg states, “For the colonists, what we now call natural disasters were events heavily laden with moral meaning. They were morality tales that the God-fearing told to one another” (xxi). This theme stayed prominent into the nineteenth century. In some cases, these events moved those who strayed from their faith to turn back to religion and become God-fearing people again. Steinberg suggests that twentieth-century efforts at secularization helped to demoralize nature and its powers as well as these events being an act of God. However, roughly one-fifth of the current population still believes moral lessons can be learned from the extremes of nature. Steinberg also suggests that some use the God-fearing method as a simple way to evade human accountability. While the demoralization of nature has been a positive, Steinberg recognizes negatives to this. He believes this demoralization came with the federal government’s role in rationalizing disasters. This has especially been the case since World War II. The government provided now offered relief to those in disaster-struck areas. Steinberg states, “For the most part, these changes helped to underwrite increasing development in hazardous areas” (xxii). He suggests this transition severed the risk from physical space. Thus, when a disaster occurred, deciding who to blame became difficult. He states, “Natural disasters have come to be seen as random, morally inert phenomena—chance events that lie beyond the control of human beings” (xxiii). Steinberg provides a great example of how humans can warp nature into something that it is not. He mentions Hurricane Hugo from 1989 and how new reports exaggerated the wind speed. One report mentioned a wind speed of 150 miles per hour, while some said 135 miles per hour. However, sustained winds were actually between ninety and ninety-five miles per hour. Steinberg suggests that since the 1960s engineers have known about the need for better building requirements in hurricane-prone areas but chose not to act. Thus, the hurricane turned out to be as destructive became of man and not nature; therefore, the media needed to make a connection between the event and the resulting effects.

Section I is titled “Return of the Suppressed,” followed by Section II, “Federalizing Risk” and Section III, “Containing Calamity.” Steinberg starts off with the story of the August 31, 1886 Charleston earthquake. Charleston experienced several bouts with disaster long before the 1886 earthquake. Disasters struck Charleston as far back as the late 1600s. Hurricanes, smallpox, drought, fire, and storms attacked Charleston. The years 1783, 1787, 1792, 1797 and 1800 proved to be detrimental to Charleston as storms struck, and in some cases resulted in death. However, Steinberg suggests that the earthquake surprised many. Disasters before this one were the result of weather, disease or war. Steinberg coins the 1906 San Francisco earthquake as the archetypal disaster, but not an archetype for reasons one might think. The quake is by far the most sizeable (in magnitude) on record. He states, “Moreover, the notorious San Francisco quake, for all the tremendous attention lavished on this one slip of earth, has hardly had the effect on development and building in the city that one would expect. In this sense, the disaster has both tremendous meaning and almost no meaning at all, at least not in its impact on reducing seismic risk throughout the bay area” (26). Steinberg suggests that with disasters such as the San Francisco quake, other areas of seismic activity or areas of potential seismic activity received, and in some cases continue to receive, less attention. He specifically wants his readers to think about the difference between the risk of an earthquake and the risk of disaster. There is a difference, and one he suggests is often overlooked. Steinberg transitions from earthquakes to hurricanes. He talks about how hurricanes became naturalized when the U.S. Weather Bureau used gendered names to identify the storms. He states, “Women hurricanes were routinely described in the 1950s as wild, capricious, fickle, whimsical, and erratic, creating the sense that nature was literally out of control, when of course economic development, driven by private property, was as much if not more than nature to blame for disaster” (68). Florida boosters and others who sought to profit from property saw this as a positive for their system. Steinberg’s research is brought full-circle when he talks about more current disasters such as Hurricane Camille and the 1989 California earthquake and its impact. Thus, the response to natural disasters might appear to be different, but the same underlying issues and thoughts two hundred years still exist.

Steinberg is very passionate about his work and analyzes these natural disasters in interesting and thought-provoking ways. He is conscious of the social climates and uses stories of how marginalized groups were treated as a social justice outlet. His primary concern is to bring these issues together and bring about awareness. This book, this first edition is now fourteen years old, stands a marker and foundation for the environmental justice movement. His writing is compelling and demands that readers begin to understand the impact humans have on the environment and how humans can stand in the way of nature’s happenings. This is most certainly a call-to-action approach to environmental history and history as a whole. He allows each natural disaster to tell the history of the period in which it occurred.

Steinberg wants his readers to do what those who have experienced nature’s extremes have thus failed to do—learn and make changes that have the potential to alleviate destruction. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina Steinberg released a revised edition of his book. Published approximately one year after the storm hit, the book has an added section about the hurricane and its impact. Steinberg talks (in the first edition) about what he warned would happen if humans did not heed his advice.

While I agree with many of Steinberg’s assertions, a book review should not be written without a critical lens. Thus, Steinberg’s passion can also stand in his way. Ultimately, Steinberg suggests that humans should be faulted for building in disaster-prone areas and/or not building structures that can withstand these events. Humans ignore safety reports and continue their attempt to win the battle of human vs. nature. What about the events that happen where a disaster has never occurred?

March 30, 2014

Cronon and Interconnectedness

Cronon speaks using binaries–country/city, commodity/not commodity, first nature/second nature. While individuals (a majority of the class) found Cronon’s use of a “first” nature and a “second” nature to be less than helpful, Parts II and III of his work make his distinction of the two natures all the more clear. In my opinion, Cronon loosely uses these terms for his reader to understand the connections and shifts that happened in the nineteenth century.

In the latter two thirds of his book, Cronon nuances his readers’ understanding(s) of the impacts of railroads and trains. He states, “The train did not create the city by itself. Stripped of the rhetoric that made it seem a mechanical deity, the railroad was simply a go-between whose chief task was to cross the boundary between city and country” (97). The train connected urban and rural areas. Is Cronon suggesting the rise of cities acted as a go-between for humanity and nature? Nineteenth-century cities were test-runs. Either way, cities and a “controlled” and “healthier” version of nature could not exist without the other.

How would humanity and nature with the rise of capitalism learn to coexist? Cronon argues that in order to understand this, all stories must be told. He insists, “But one can understand neither Chicago nor the Great West if one neglects to tell their stories altogether. What often seem separate narratives finally converge in a larger tale of people reshaping the land to match their collective vision of its destiny” (369). Thus, here exists another binary. I use the term “binary,” because that is how Cronon presents them, but in the end, he de-bunks his representation and suggests what most of our discussions end on each week–humanity and nature are more interconnected than most think. To further add to my point, think back to last week’s discussion about water politics. Ian stated, “Some might argue that the Erie Canal being man-made removes it from nature, but the water that fills it and the first that inhabit it are both indicative of this waterways places within the environment.” Cronon suggests that commodification and the rise of capitalism came about thanks to the agricultural system. Trains and railroads facilitated this change in a passenger’s seat position. Humanity and nature can no longer (and most likely never could) be mutually exclusive.

The relationship between humanity and nature is constantly being reworked and re-positioned. Cronon talks about Chicago’s temporary gateway status. He states, “Gateway status was temporary, bound to the forces of market expansion, environmental degradation, and self-induced competition that first created and then destroyed the gateway’s utility to the urban-rural system as a whole” (377). Thus, Cronon suggests there was (and is) a cyclical component. This interpretation is a great segue into future class discussions about humans and natural disasters.

We speak using generalizing terms, but when paired with nuanced examples and complex interpretations, deeper meanings arise to this too often glossed-over relationship. His book gets off to a slow start, but comes full-circle in the end.

March 23, 2014

Winners and Losers in Nature’s Cycle

“Transformation,” “Control,” “Struggle,” “Law,” “Depleted” and “Fouled.” For this week’s reading Ted Steinberg uses these words in his chapter titles which he splits into three parts with headings such as “Origins,” “Maturation,” and “Decline,” no doubt a cyclical connotation behind the use of those words. Steinberg argues that nature has been disregarded in historical discussions about industrial transformation. In many recent class discussions it has been suggested that until recently nature held the backseat to analyses of several major historical events. Even though nature proved more and more essential to the economy, historians and have tended to think of them as being less related than they actually were (and are).

Steinberg states, “Human history is defined by the transformation and control of nature” (12). With increased obsessions about capitalism came an increase in human need to control the environment. Steinberg suggests that prior to the nineteenth century it was more difficult for humans to commodify and privatize water than land. It was not easily subjected to ownership. With time came progress and better methods and thus water came to be controlled in much the same way as land. According to Steinberg with the nineteenth century came this notion that, “Industrial capitalism is as much a battle over nature as it is over work, as likely to result in strife involving water or land as wages or hours” (16). Nature and human control over it was just as important as the common components of an industrial society embedded in a capitalist economy.

Steinberg sets up a framework of “winners” and “losers.” Prior to the nineteenth century water was not controlled. With the emergence of industry came the need to control water and use its power. As Chelsea said last week, “Nineteenth-century Americans assumed that they could take control of nature and succeed in achieving their goals.” By most standards nineteenth-century Americans did succeed, but with a closer examination a different argument could be made, one suggesting they did not succeed. Industrialization consumed Americans’ lives. Industrialists felt a need to control not only the business world but the natural world as well.

Humanity was not “winning” prior to the 1800s, it won during the 1800s/until the mid-1900s, but what about today, the twentieth century? I would argue that in this current cycle of human vs. nature, humanity is the loser and nature is the winner. Today’s society is bares the consequences of actions committed in the nineteenth century, actions that viewed water and land as necessary to success and malleable to meet any need. While nineteenth-century industrialists thought it crucial and keen to build factories and towns near water, is it possible that such actions hurt society more than it helped?

March 16, 2014

The Civil War and Three Armies

Lisa Brady’s work gives “life” to the most often thought of inanimate world of the physical environment. After reading her work, I think Brady suggests that a third army existed during the Civil War–the Confederate Army, the Union Army, and the Nature Army. In her post from last week, Chelsea Creta stated, “Myth and history are not mutually exclusive.” In reference to this weeks reading, humans and the physical environment are not mutually exclusive. The American Civil War was a turning point in which many Americans came to this conclusion.

Army officials and soldiers on both sides had to maneuver the land. They had to learn how to use it to their advantage, but they also had to combat it in order to carry out a plan of attack. Northern soldiers who fought in the South encountered terrain and soil unlike what they were accustomed to in the North. Southerns (soldiers and civilians) had to deal with the fact that both sides depleted their resources and that Southern lands experienced the brunt of attack during the war. All soldiers had to deal with disease and weather–both products of the physical environment. The environment had to deal with the soldiers and their destruction of the land.

In the end, while the North technically won the war, the Nature Army is the real winner. As a result of four years of battle, Americans broadened their ideas about nature and the manner in which the national government has the ability to protect the physical environment. Yes, Brady does not attempt to give nature a consciousness or intent, but it does have agency–human thought and action are determined by nature’s role. Nature has the ability to infiltrate individuals’ lives. Brady tells of those who used nature metaphors to explain their conditions and emotions. Others wrote detailed descriptions of their surrounding environment. Thus, humans experienced a closer connection to nature than ever before. Brady states, “That nature retained its beauty in the face of an ugly war seemed to bring solace to some” (135). Of course high-thinkers like poets and philosophers thought of these connections, but this was a defining moment for the everyday American and nature.

Class discussions continually lead back to an important question, “Who are the actors?” In the case of Lisa Brady’s work and the American Civil War, there are three actors, three armies, not two. Thus, nature is not some static force that works against us but rather us and nature work in tandem (or at least that is how it should be).

February 23, 2014

Actors and the Inevitable Destruction

There might be several ways to analyze Isenberg’s work, but right away I thought of recent class discussions. Who are the actors? Was the destruction of the bison inevitable? Through determining the actors, we can determine if the relationships among the actors led to an unavoidable event. I propose four actors in this scenario: the bison, horses, the environment, and humans (those whom Isenberg calls “Euroamericans” and “Indians”). On a side note, I have an issue with using these terms. I think Isenberg needs to use either “Europeans” or “Americans”. However, he might have found it difficult to differentiate between the two during the period he talks about. I think “natives” is much more appropriate term to be used than “Indians”; therefore, I will use “natives” throughout my post.

I think the destruction of the bison was inevitable. Europeans brought the horse. As Chelsea said in her post last week, “It is within human nature to value tradition.” Horses and other important necessities for life in the Old World were beneficial to Europeans and their existence in the New World. Old World morals were not the only traditions to cross the Atlantic Ocean. Sadly, the bison was at the bottom of the chain (even below the native).The bison had terrible relationships not only with humans but also with horses and the environment. Since many natives depended on the bison for survival, an invention or improvement of their hunting system seemed beneficial to them.

Europeans brought the horse and passed the use of the horse down to natives. With the introduction of the horse arose competition between the horse and the bison. These two competed for water and food. In way, the competition between the horse and the bison is much like the competition between natives and Europeans (I even find myself being conflicted on which term to use). All of these relationships were then exacerbated by the environment. I challenge many of you to think about this last section of my post.

February 16, 2014

It’s Actually Gentility’s Fault

In the introduction of his research, Richard Bushman, states, “Genteel culture became an independent variable, cutting across society, and leading, I argue, to the confusion about class that has long been characteristic of American society” (Bushman xv). This hearkens back to our first discussion concerning the term “natural.” Much like the manner in which gentility drifted from the top of society downward (and became more difficult to define), so has the ability to spot concrete natural entities in society. Much how humans took over nature and crafted it to suit their needs, gentility worked its way into a republican nation and created a hierarchical system. Bushman states, “Because it [gentility] was formed for an aristocratic leisured class, gentility was out of place in republican, middle-class America, ill suited to the lives of the people who so fervently adopted it” (xvi). This reminds us of how the first Europeans were ill-suited for the New World, and how in some cases, they forced natives to assimilate.

Bushman makes it clear that with gentility came great ties to material possession. Individuals became obsessed with mansions (bigger rooms), silver, mahogany—material possessions that in some way impacted the environment. Thus, gentility impacted social culture and environmental culture. Is it possible that had gentility not infiltrated below the aristocratic line, humans today would be living much simpler lives? I think there might be some plausibility behind an affirmation to that questions, but it is difficult to extrapolate too much.

It can be argued (and Bushman admits that he does not give this the attention it deserves) that gentility and capitalism are dependent on one another. There is a certain refinement of society that had to happen with the onset of capitalism. Recently, in his post about William Cronon’s research on Chicago, Anthony stated, “Railroads are perhaps one of the greatest developments for this country in terms of creating a unified nation along with radically altering the economy.” Without gentility, the railroad system might not have been built. Society was completely invested in material possession and wealthy by the time railroads arrived. However, here in-lies an conflict. Do we think capitalism came first or gentility? I am inclined to say gentility was first. The manner in which people lives evoked the certain types of material possession they wanted (capitalism). I think (and I think Bushman would agree) that gentility is much easier to trace back within the workings of our nation’s history. Thus, we can blame gentility for the blurred and often difficult definition of the word “natural.” We can also blame gentility for the growth of material possessions and the negative impact those have had (and continue to have) on the environment.