Driving less, walking more, using less energy, turning off your air conditioner—these things will “leave the end result exactly the same.” At least that is what Nobel-prize-winning Physicist Dr. Robert B. Laughlin argued in his cover story for The American Scholar. The magazine cover proclaimed, “The Earth Doesn’t Care If You Drive a Hybrid,” and columnist George Will giddily cited the article in his Newsweek column in mid-September.

Laughlin applies a geological time frame of millions of years to the impact humanity is, he admits, having on the climate, but decides that it just doesn’t matter. Over the long run, the earth doesn’t even know we exist, he basically concludes. If you switched around the spatial for the temporal dimension, you might get a title like “The Universe Doesn’t Care Where You Put Your Sewage.” While the statement might be true, it’s not a perspective that will endear you to your neighbors.

Indeed, there are a number of lessons we can learn from reviewing Earth’s history (never mind the history of the universe) through the lens of geological time (or even by viewing the universe through the Hubble telescope). One is a lesson in mind-blowing sizes and durations (leading people of faith to ponder anew what kind of Creator-God we encounter in prayer and worship).

The other is a lesson in anthropological humility. We humans—our footprint and our history—are tiny in the grand scheme, and recognizing such things is a salutary perspective for those of us tempted to think we are at the center of all things.

Both of those lessons seem consonant with orthodox Biblical faith.

But the fatalistic lesson drawn by Laughlin is that human actions just don’t matter on the longest time scales. The earth is resilient, he argues, and a stable, liveable climate should return in a couple thousand years, no matter what we do.

Fair enough--few would disagree on that point, although there are no guarantees. But Laughlin misses the point of those who think about things like atmospheric pollution. No one is asking what impact our actions will have on an oblivious earth or an uncaring universe. And the Bible itself certainly never uses that as an ethical filter to help us decide right actions. The questions for us in the here-and-now have to do with human history and futures, not with geological time scales: Do our actions harm our neighbors? Do they honor the Creator and uphold the integrity of his good creation?

Laughlin recognizes that carbon dioxide pollution from burning oil, coal, and natural gas is causing global warming. He even recognizes that the resulting “hot spell” will last a thousand years. But a millennium is “only a brief instant of geologic time.”

And what of the plight of millions of Bangladeshis who will lose much of their country to rising sea levels and serious storms? “It might be best to unload your property in Bangladesh,” he advises.

That the climate can probably stabilize itself over the time scale of millennia is cold comfort to those affected by environmental degradation. Our future descendants, and our global neighbors, are likely to be very glad for us to focus on the “short-run” of decades and centuries, rather than wait for 1000-year planetary recovery.

So while the earth might not care if we drive a hybrid, our grandchildren do.

The last point really reveals Laughlin’s view: humanity is absolutely not in the driver’s seat, even when we cause permanent damage. We are passengers, albeit sometimes very ill-behaved ones. But we are not in control. And he implies that we can therefore be blissfully and guiltlessly irresponsible.

The message seems to be: go ahead and do what you like to the earth, because you can't hurt it in the long-run. It's a secular version of the religious denialism that comes from the purveyors of some fundamentalist attitudes toward environmentalism. Those more cheaply-acquired beliefs say, "a sovereign God wouldn't have created a world we could mess up.” They deny the power of biblical notions of dominion and stewardship, turning them into mere play-acting. We don’t need to behave responsibly in a world that is “child-proofed” against our actions.

In fact, we seem to inhabit a world which is stable within limits. Planetary resilience to injury is not infinite, just as the human body is not infinitely resilient to injury. Stability can be overcome, and that appears to be part of the design of the universe. Recognizing and respecting these natural limits requires the virtues of prudence and wisdom. The stabilizing mechanisms that will bring a warming world back into order do not appear to operate rapidly enough to prevent a great deal of suffering.

Laughlin’s heady vision of earth history unfolding over vast geological eras reminds us that we aren’t in control of the planet in any simple sense. The Earth isn’t asking us to drive hybrids. Nor is it asking us to be careful where we put our sewage.

Over the geological long run—“if the Lord tarries,” as my family likes to say—the Earth can recover from most of the insults we throw at it. But our neighbors and their way of life may not. We have the capacity to affect the health and welfare of the people who live on the Earth now and in the near future, and the way forward requires learning how to exercise wisely the limited dominion we’ve been granted.

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How important are our actions and choices in maintaining balance and health in the world? In your opinion, where does Laughlin get it right / wrong?

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