CHAPTER 1
The Tower of Babel was a Coastal Edifice
Wouter van Dieren
The subject of this chapter is, to the outside observer, not a very dramatic one. Clearly,
experts from along the coasts of northern Europe get together and tell each other·stories about the technical miracles they perform. Their technology is, probably, some
5000 years old, or even more. Wherever there is a coast, a river delta and a resourceful
upstream hinterland, there is trade and other economic activity, and on these spots
cities were built and harbours constructed. This is all history, and it will be future, Deo
volente. The question is what the environmental commentator would tell you at this
very occasion. No doubt you discharge your duties with care and respect for the natural
beauty of these coasts, respect for the rare, sometimes endangered animals which live
on the sands, the flats, the tidal estuaries, the dunes and the pastures of these blessed
lands. It takes very little to disturb it, but the effort to preserve it is heavy and bears
great responsibilities for all those involved.
Yet, it is with some fear, and also diligence, that I observe your activities. The sturdiness of coastal engineering, the powers of the interventions, and the sheer optimism of
the technician do create a sense of alarm for the naturalist, because these are the signs
of danger. Notwithstanding the influences of the green wave in the last decades, we
observe a victorious revival of the old economic order, which believes in expansionist
economies and eternal economic growth. There is little doubt that the ensuing energies
will cast dark shadows over our coasts.
This chapter therefore deals with the tensions between desired next "coastal
greatnesses" and the need for extra care and prudence. Assuming that the world is at
the cross-roads of a next, final blow at nature or a diversion into a world which we call
sustainable, I will address you with a plea for the latter; to ensure that the coast remains
what it was and is - the transformation zone between water and land, the edge where
one day oceanic life crawled onto the land. It is here where nature is most vulnerable
and yet most dynamic, where all life began, but also where it can end.
There is no doubt that man is able to design very large structures which mimic the
Creation itself. More over, this is what he really wants, though in the knowledge that
this is an act of profound blasphemy. Throughout history, any attempt to depict the
natural world was considered an act against God Himself; He being the Only Creator,
who could make forms out of Nothingness, life out of clay. For man to do likewise was a
trespass on the divine prerogative, and, of necessity, a parody of it.
The most impressive of all these parodies, and the most punished, is in no doubt the
Tower of Babel, which in the three paintings by Pieter Breughel the Elder is a very largescale coastal construction. The Tower and its history represent the ultimate metaphor
of vanity, arrogance and ignorance, where man tried to become equal to God, in efforts
The Tower of Babel was a Coastal Edifice
Wouter van Dieren
The subject of this chapter is, to the outside observer, not a very dramatic one. Clearly,
experts from along the coasts of northern Europe get together and tell each other·stories about the technical miracles they perform. Their technology is, probably, some
5000 years old, or even more. Wherever there is a coast, a river delta and a resourceful
upstream hinterland, there is trade and other economic activity, and on these spots
cities were built and harbours constructed. This is all history, and it will be future, Deo
volente. The question is what the environmental commentator would tell you at this
very occasion. No doubt you discharge your duties with care and respect for the natural
beauty of these coasts, respect for the rare, sometimes endangered animals which live
on the sands, the flats, the tidal estuaries, the dunes and the pastures of these blessed
lands. It takes very little to disturb it, but the effort to preserve it is heavy and bears
great responsibilities for all those involved.
Yet, it is with some fear, and also diligence, that I observe your activities. The sturdiness of coastal engineering, the powers of the interventions, and the sheer optimism of
the technician do create a sense of alarm for the naturalist, because these are the signs
of danger. Notwithstanding the influences of the green wave in the last decades, we
observe a victorious revival of the old economic order, which believes in expansionist
economies and eternal economic growth. There is little doubt that the ensuing energies
will cast dark shadows over our coasts.
This chapter therefore deals with the tensions between desired next "coastal
greatnesses" and the need for extra care and prudence. Assuming that the world is at
the cross-roads of a next, final blow at nature or a diversion into a world which we call
sustainable, I will address you with a plea for the latter; to ensure that the coast remains
what it was and is - the transformation zone between water and land, the edge where
one day oceanic life crawled onto the land. It is here where nature is most vulnerable
and yet most dynamic, where all life began, but also where it can end.
There is no doubt that man is able to design very large structures which mimic the
Creation itself. More over, this is what he really wants, though in the knowledge that
this is an act of profound blasphemy. Throughout history, any attempt to depict the
natural world was considered an act against God Himself; He being the Only Creator,
who could make forms out of Nothingness, life out of clay. For man to do likewise was a
trespass on the divine prerogative, and, of necessity, a parody of it.
The most impressive of all these parodies, and the most punished, is in no doubt the
Tower of Babel, which in the three paintings by Pieter Breughel the Elder is a very largescale coastal construction. The Tower and its history represent the ultimate metaphor
of vanity, arrogance and ignorance, where man tried to become equal to God, in efforts