By Steve J. Dean

In Lord of the Rings, Tolkien has Treebeard explaining to the Hobbits why the evil Saruman is methodically felling all the trees, so making a wasteland: “[Saruman] has a mind of metal and wheels; and he does not care for growing things, except as far as they serve him for the moment.”

It seems to me that Tolkien identified a main cause of the misuse of our planet’s resources: a mechanistic and myopic mentality that disregards both others and the future.  Jesus said that the whole Mosaic law was reducible to “love thy neighbor as thyself.”

As in many other conflicts, extremists wage combat in the eco wars. Some consumers act as if “Mount McKinley shouldn’t stand in the way of another lane for my SUV!”  Conversely, some reformers might parlay guilt for heating 7 cups of water over 90 degrees for a shower.

Certainly, we should seek to improve institutions and to embody responsibility in environmental law— yet, for most of us, boardroom decisions and bureaucratic agencies are far beyond our meager influence.  Each of us, though, is presented with countless, daily, mundane choices.  Let’s consider some.  “As a person thinks, so he is,” Solomon once said.

First, reform thyself.  It appears to me that Jesus’ maxim, “Remove the log out of your own eye before you take the splinter out of your brother’s eye,” applies to ecology.  Wouldn’t it be easier to fix my leaky, wasteful faucet before suggesting my neighbor downsize his swimming pool?  Is it not more moral to ride my gas conscious bicycle to the grocery store for milk in advance of my efforts to put a tariff on my boss’s SUV?

Second, grow beyond “a mind of metal and wheels.” It seems that thinking humans who are mesmerized by still forests, who must stop to listen to a gurgling stream, and, in Whitman’s words, are “staggered by so tiny a miracle as a mouse,” are unlikely candidates to trash trees, sewer lakes, and make a desert of their own neighborhood.  Thoreau had to go to the woods to keep his internal gyroscope true. You may not need so radical a fix, but do what you must to remain “staggered” by beauty.

Third, practice moderation.  As Frost told us, “the world can perish quite as well by ice as by fire. Zealots and extremists grow as thick as thistles. And moderation is relative, we know. Abe Lincoln’s parents would have deemed a 900 square foot house a palace; to George Bush or Bill Clinton, it’d be stifling. Yet, moderation is age old wisdom. Use some, leave some. Enjoy a few, allow others the same privilege. Our lifestyles don’t always have to be “bigger, better, and more.”

Fourth, avoid waste.  “Waste not, want not” seems quaint in our culture of plenty.  Blessed with our country’s abundance, it’s perfectly understandable to squander resources and develop the subconscious mindset that “there’s always more.”  Dumping chicken in the garbage because “our eyes were bigger than our stomach” is waste— very, very common waste. (It’d never happen in North Korea.)  And so is making a second run to the store because we forgot the milk.

Fifth, “Do Use— but don’t abuse— resources.  But Do Use.” Treebeard never reckoned the evil as Saruman’s serving himself, but as “serving himself for the moment.”  God, or Mother Nature, intended for the earth to sustain its inhabitants.  Part of man’s stewardship is to maintain that life morally and responsibly, not only in man’s relationship to his fellow man, but in his relationship to his environment. Nature is lavish, not miserly or stingy, in its outlays for humanity. There’s really plenty here for billions of moderate, thoughtful humans.

Think! Rethink! Don’t make assumptions, repeat clichés, or follow what’s politically correct. As in arenas other than eco combat, “Judge not,” is often mouthed and less practiced.  One example. It’s “in” to point fingers at SUV owners.  Yet the owner of fuel efficient vehicle who lives 50 miles from work and 10 miles from school may consume more gas the SUV owner who lives 1 mile from work and 1 mile from school. Distance as well as engine size matters.

Finally, Jesus said, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  Saruman “does not care for growing things, except as far as they serve him for the moment.” Limited resources must serve others, both presently and in the future. 

Many of our parents taught us:  when visiting a park or public area, leave things better than when you found them. Fulgrum reminded us how simple life is; people must remember what they learned in kindergarten: “put things back where they found them and to clean up their own mess.” Environmental care is as simple as “thinking of others” who will come after you.

I recollect an old photograph of an outhouse built on a foot bridge over a tiny river in Wisconsin; and from Avenue G bridge in Sterling, Illinois, as a kid, I recall staring at green ooze and slime pouring from the giant drainage tiles of Northwestern Steel & Wire Co., directly into our Rock River. Neither the Wisconsin farmer nor that giant Illinois company thought much of others in the future or downstream.  Perhaps there’s a connection:  it was individuals like the farmer who created a corporation like Northwestern. So simple:  think of others.  So when you pass on, leave your little corner of the world cleaner and better for the next person.

It’s easy to talk generalities, so one doable example. Next time you need a loaf of bread, what about leaving the car parked, hopping on that bike, and pedaling to the store— or walking?  Wouldn’t the gas in the tank last longer, the bread would be cheaper, the biker or walker get some exercise, and wouldn’t life slow down a wee bit?

And you might just leave the river a bit purer for your future neighbor downstream.