10
The roots of conservation biogeography
use in biogeography and conservation biology (e.g.
‘ equilibrium ’ , ‘ alien species ’ , ‘ native species ’ , ‘ climax
community ’ and ‘ natural ’ ) are deeply value - laden and
defy easy objective defi nition.
Although not included in the chronology of ideas in
Figure 1.1 , crucial to the recent progression of the conservation movement has been the emergence during
the late 1980s of the concept of ‘ biodiversity ’ , a term
of technical and scientifi c resonance but one that
defi es precise scientifi c defi nition (Takacs, 1996 ).
Indeed, as noted in Box 1.1 , it has been argued that
biodiversity defi nitions are closer to being subjective
‘ value judgement ’ concepts (such as quality of life)
than they are to being an objective measure of an environmental property. Most commonly used defi nitions
imply in some way that biodiversity is a ‘ good ’ thing
per se and that, conversely, biodiversity loss through
human action is ‘ bad ’ and should be prevented or
minimized.
Another diffi culty implicit in many of the defi nitions
of biodiversity, including that adopted by the 1992
Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD), is that biodiversity can, and should, be both conserved and used.
The extent to which we regard these goals of conservation and development as compatible or in confl ict
describes, to a large degree, where we position ourselves as members of our society. How might this infl uence our work as scientists?
Similarly, others have observed that natural scientists working on conservation science problems have
traditionally worked within rather static equilibrial
frameworks that portray nature as unchanging in the
face of abundant evidence of inherent variability and
fl ux in many natural systems (Pickett et al ., 1992 ; Wu
& Loucks, 1995 ). The language used in the ecological
and conservation literature, according to Stott (1998) ,
frequently reveals a desire for ‘ stability ’ and ‘ safety ’
(the so - called ‘ precautionary principle ’ ), whereas in
reality we live in a world in which change takes place
all the time, in all sorts of directions and at all sorts of
scales; everything is in fl ux (summarized from Stott,
1998 , p. 1).
Stott calls for biogeographers and ecologists to wake
up to the non - equilibrium nature of the world around
us and to re - examine the assumptions and the language we use in discussing environmental problems/
opportunities and conservation. Although the so -
called ‘ balance of nature ’ paradigm is rapidly being
superseded in scientifi c circles by more dynamic conceptions of nature, as a handy metaphor it still has
scientifi c guidance, and the language in which it is
couched, is value - laden (see, for example, the passionate polemic by Stott, 1998 ) and that there is still a
debate to be had concerning which properties of
nature we wish as a society to foster (Trudgill, 2001 ).
Much of the scientifi c guidance and of current conservation practice assumes that this debate will have a
particular and almost preordained outcome, without
paying much attention to the possible validity of alternative value systems (but see: Redford et al ., 2003 ). For
instance, we might wish to emphasize saving species
from extinction as the prime goal, without paying great
attention to the assemblages and landscapes they
occur in. Or, we may wish to emphasize the importance
of intact megafaunal assemblages, aesthetic and cultural signifi cance of landscapes, ecosystem health, or
biotic integrity (cf. Callicott et al ., 1999 ; Redford et al .,
2003 ; Adams, 2004 ). These ideas are linked to a
similar diversity of social values motivating conservation action in many nations, especially at local scales,
but also globally (Chapter 2 ; Jepson & Canney, 2001,
2003 ; Trudgill, 2001 ).
The decision to adopt a particular set of values is not
within the bounds of science and, although conservation scientists are well placed to contribute to this
debate, there is an important distinction between the
processes leading to the adoption of a set of values and
the process of deriving the scientifi c guidelines to
implement these values. In our view, conservation biogeographers should be in the business of providing
alternative scenarios that address differing end goals
(cf. Williams et al ., 2000 ; Dimitrakopoulos et al ., 2004 )
if they are to place their science at the service of society
so as to best inform decision - making processes.
To expand on this a little, any system of conservation prioritization, even if based on the application of
numerical algorithms to comprehensive data sets, ultimately refl ects value judgements about which features
are important and how to weigh them up (Knight &
Cowling, 2007 ). Applying funding or protection to
areas ranked highly by the chosen protocols may, in the
end, diminish the opportunity for conservation elsewhere, perhaps including other areas of pressing conservation concern. On the scale of landscapes, regions
and states, biogeography is well placed to inform such
choices.
Some, reading this introduction, may wish to contest
the notion that values are separable from science at all,
a view with which we have some sympathy. Indeed, as
pointed out by Trudgill (2001) , many of the terms in
The roots of conservation biogeography
use in biogeography and conservation biology (e.g.
‘ equilibrium ’ , ‘ alien species ’ , ‘ native species ’ , ‘ climax
community ’ and ‘ natural ’ ) are deeply value - laden and
defy easy objective defi nition.
Although not included in the chronology of ideas in
Figure 1.1 , crucial to the recent progression of the conservation movement has been the emergence during
the late 1980s of the concept of ‘ biodiversity ’ , a term
of technical and scientifi c resonance but one that
defi es precise scientifi c defi nition (Takacs, 1996 ).
Indeed, as noted in Box 1.1 , it has been argued that
biodiversity defi nitions are closer to being subjective
‘ value judgement ’ concepts (such as quality of life)
than they are to being an objective measure of an environmental property. Most commonly used defi nitions
imply in some way that biodiversity is a ‘ good ’ thing
per se and that, conversely, biodiversity loss through
human action is ‘ bad ’ and should be prevented or
minimized.
Another diffi culty implicit in many of the defi nitions
of biodiversity, including that adopted by the 1992
Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD), is that biodiversity can, and should, be both conserved and used.
The extent to which we regard these goals of conservation and development as compatible or in confl ict
describes, to a large degree, where we position ourselves as members of our society. How might this infl uence our work as scientists?
Similarly, others have observed that natural scientists working on conservation science problems have
traditionally worked within rather static equilibrial
frameworks that portray nature as unchanging in the
face of abundant evidence of inherent variability and
fl ux in many natural systems (Pickett et al ., 1992 ; Wu
& Loucks, 1995 ). The language used in the ecological
and conservation literature, according to Stott (1998) ,
frequently reveals a desire for ‘ stability ’ and ‘ safety ’
(the so - called ‘ precautionary principle ’ ), whereas in
reality we live in a world in which change takes place
all the time, in all sorts of directions and at all sorts of
scales; everything is in fl ux (summarized from Stott,
1998 , p. 1).
Stott calls for biogeographers and ecologists to wake
up to the non - equilibrium nature of the world around
us and to re - examine the assumptions and the language we use in discussing environmental problems/
opportunities and conservation. Although the so -
called ‘ balance of nature ’ paradigm is rapidly being
superseded in scientifi c circles by more dynamic conceptions of nature, as a handy metaphor it still has
scientifi c guidance, and the language in which it is
couched, is value - laden (see, for example, the passionate polemic by Stott, 1998 ) and that there is still a
debate to be had concerning which properties of
nature we wish as a society to foster (Trudgill, 2001 ).
Much of the scientifi c guidance and of current conservation practice assumes that this debate will have a
particular and almost preordained outcome, without
paying much attention to the possible validity of alternative value systems (but see: Redford et al ., 2003 ). For
instance, we might wish to emphasize saving species
from extinction as the prime goal, without paying great
attention to the assemblages and landscapes they
occur in. Or, we may wish to emphasize the importance
of intact megafaunal assemblages, aesthetic and cultural signifi cance of landscapes, ecosystem health, or
biotic integrity (cf. Callicott et al ., 1999 ; Redford et al .,
2003 ; Adams, 2004 ). These ideas are linked to a
similar diversity of social values motivating conservation action in many nations, especially at local scales,
but also globally (Chapter 2 ; Jepson & Canney, 2001,
2003 ; Trudgill, 2001 ).
The decision to adopt a particular set of values is not
within the bounds of science and, although conservation scientists are well placed to contribute to this
debate, there is an important distinction between the
processes leading to the adoption of a set of values and
the process of deriving the scientifi c guidelines to
implement these values. In our view, conservation biogeographers should be in the business of providing
alternative scenarios that address differing end goals
(cf. Williams et al ., 2000 ; Dimitrakopoulos et al ., 2004 )
if they are to place their science at the service of society
so as to best inform decision - making processes.
To expand on this a little, any system of conservation prioritization, even if based on the application of
numerical algorithms to comprehensive data sets, ultimately refl ects value judgements about which features
are important and how to weigh them up (Knight &
Cowling, 2007 ). Applying funding or protection to
areas ranked highly by the chosen protocols may, in the
end, diminish the opportunity for conservation elsewhere, perhaps including other areas of pressing conservation concern. On the scale of landscapes, regions
and states, biogeography is well placed to inform such
choices.
Some, reading this introduction, may wish to contest
the notion that values are separable from science at all,
a view with which we have some sympathy. Indeed, as
pointed out by Trudgill (2001) , many of the terms in