New Movements                      in the Study and                     Teaching of Biology                                   Edited by Cyril Selmes                                Temple Smith - London                                                  1974 Hugh Iltis is Professor of Botany and Director of the Herbarium at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. His special interests are in problems of plant distribution and evolution, the origin of maize, and man's optimum environment and need for nature. He has led botanical expeditions to Costa Rica, Mexico and Peru and has published widely in scientific and popular journals. Much of his time recently has been spent in lecturing on the urgent need for the preservation of biotic communities, and criticizing agricultural practices, especially the 'Green Revolution'. Acknowledgements      Professor Iltis wishes to thank George B. Van Schaack, Dan McKinley, Tim Clark, Marylin Bagley, Ralph Buchsbaum, Fred Iltis and Joyce Gutstein for valuable comments.

New Movements in the Study and Teaching of Biology.  Edited by Cyril Selmes, Temple Smith, London.  1974. pp. 289-317.            Flowers and human ecology                                                         HUGH ILTIS A love of diversity Why do I get an irrepressible urge to defend what I love, the beauty and diversity of nature, and, especially the disarming loveliness of its flowers?    One of my earliest recollections is joyfully picking huge and wildly unorganized bouquets of flowers on a Moravian mountain meadow, scabiosas, bluebells and daisies, and then lying on my back in a 'nest' surrounded by tall, tall grass watching the bees and the clouds. Ever since then, I have been an addicted botanist, 'half-plant', as an old friend of mine used to describe me.    My family was always interested in natural history and that tradition gave me much botanical stimulation and often a rather pointed direction to become a botanist (sometimes whether I liked it or not!). Besides being a professional botanist, and an advocate of adult education, my father was also a preservationist already in the 1920s; in a simplistic way, he tried to preserve an acre here and there for its rare flora. Way ahead of his time, he was singularly unsucessful. Then hardly anybody thought preservation worth while, not even the Socialists, among whose ranks he was active, for the archaic creed that the 'people's' needs must always come first, no matter what, was then as now an often ill-applied battle cry against injustice.    In any case, by the time I went to the University of Tennessee in Knoxville I was well prepared to appreciate Professor Jack Sharp, a former student of the still active environmental pioneer Paul Sears. In 1945, Sharp botanically explored the Mexican Sierra Madre and returned with grim tales of horrendous erosion, increasing overpopulation, and outright destruction of forests. Despairing, but never silent, he kept hammering at the issues, at the blind insanity of both hungry and greedy men in a world spinning out of control.

290 But the nearby Great Smoky Mountains National Park offered an alternative lesson - nature can be preserved for its own sake, remain unharvested, and still serve man most genuinely. It was obvious we needed to preserve more national parks, more wild land.     Four years at the Missouri Botanical Garden in St. Louis provided my professional training. There were trips to the Ozarks with botanist Julian Steyermark whose early voice argued for preservation of rare habitats. There were classes with Edgar Anderson who, while a fabulously gifted botany teacher, never took any real interest in preservation. This kept bothering me, for his lack of concern was the rule among botanists there, rather than the exception. It seemed that many, perhaps most, and even the most excellent, professional biologists felt no social responsibilities towards nature, or even towards the very organisms they busily studied. I had one or two teachers who could not care less and said so. The less they cared, the more I wondered what sense there was in revising a genus of plants when it would soon become extinct. And what a pity not to save that which is so beautiful and gives so much joy.    Like all graduate students at the MBG, I took a trip to the tropics with a fellow student. We went to Costa Rica, where we wondered at the tropical flora in more ways than one. Behind the Instituto de Agricola Inter-americana in Turrialba, along the Rio Reventazon, there was a small protected patch of virgin tropical rain forest. It contained what still is probably the largest population in the world of a most remarkable giant tree, Oreomunnea (Engelhardia) pterocarpa, of the walnut family, representing a group of 'living fossils' with an excellent seventy million-year-long paleontological record. Of this species, there exist only a few hundred trees in the world, and about fifty were here in this little patch of timber, this sylvan cathedral, their crowns reaching to the sky. What a marvel! Yet several of the more 'practical' , forestry- oriented botanists at Turrialba thought this forest, and with it these rare trees, ought to be cut. Thus, not only were some botanists not preservationists, some were even professional environmental rapists. That thought alone still makes me sweat! How senseless, how blind can men be? Surely, if only fifty of anything are left, they demand protection. Thus,

291 slowly, slowly but surely, my childhood love and aesthetic awareness of nature matured into a passionate desire to save it.   The preservation of nature as a passionate concern When I came to the University of Wisconsin in 1955, I was flung head-on into an old well-established preservation tradition, a new way of thinking about the landscape and its preservation. There I found organizations called 'The Friends of the Native Landscape' and 'Citizens Natural Resource Association', as well as many concerned new friends and many new books, such as Aldo Leopold's A Sand County Almanac. They taught me to open emotional and intellectual doors previously kept shut by timid 'hang-ups' about the seeming sentimentalities of nature preservation, by feelings of embarassment, which our carefully orchestrated culture, based on nature's destruction, ensures we all have in abundance. In Wisconsin, a state board for preservation of scientific areas administered choice scientific areas preserved solely for teaching and research. Its members, including the famous ecologist J. T. Curtis, supported a new concept: that the state, the body politic, is ultimately responsible for the preservation of nature; that to preserve flowers you have first to preserve and manage their total habitat; and that, if you do not thus ritualise preservation and sanctify it into law, there can be no hope for fish, fowl, or flower!    Not only the state, the sum total of all its citizens, but all citizens themselves must be personally involved in the preservation of nature. But that brought up some very difficult questions. Who will pay for this? What if a poor farmer owns a magnificent virgin oak-maple-walnut forest on part of his land? Is it his duty to save it, voluntarily and without recompense, for university research? Is it his responsibility to keep this ecosystem intact, and as a conseqence deprive his family and sacrifice his profit for the long-range good of posterity, or for some well-to-do city folk to enjoy the wild flowers? What had posterity, or the wild flower lovers, ever done for the farmer? Clearly, the fate of nature cannot be left to the farmer's altruism. There are some who would perhaps wish it to be so. Yet this is quite

292 unrealistic. Rather, preservation of nature and of diversity must be considered the duty and reponsibility of the state because it benefits all citizens. It must, therefore, be paid out of public funds and administered as a governmental function; its preservation cannot be left to chance or to the goodwill of a farmer. If the state is unwilling, or as yet unenlightened enough, to purchase such forests or prairies, then private citizens should organize and buy the land.    Nature preservation was often presented with promises of economic reward as the main rationale: the foods yet to be discovered, the drugs yet to be found, the lovely shrub or bulb yet to be brought into cultivation, the breeding stock to be saved - nothing useful to us or our children should be allowed to become extinct. The utility of nature preser- vation, especially of scientific areas, was a main theme of many a lecture (Iltis 1959). Despite its flaws, this still makes much sense, and, to many people, remains the only valid argument.    However, basing preservation on such purely utilitarian views left out any genuinely natural reasons. Gradually, some rather subtle but very basic questions kept intruding - what if people simply required unspoiled nature with its patterns and diversities to be happy, or simply to  maintain their health? Did we not evolve within nature? Are we not adapted to it?    In 1962, the environmental crisis broke, suddenly, with Silent Spring. Even while Rachel Carson was publicly ridiculed as a sentimental old lady, and the ecological concern over DDT as silly, the subtle necrotic effects of pollution became only too apparent. It began to look as if DDT and mercury compounds might inherit what was left over after cow and plough. In the meanwhile, from colleges of agriculture to big chemical corporations, the organized opposition to any sensible approach was making sure that the public would remain deluded and misinformed. Profit was profit - to hell with nature. More primitive cultures- more natural ways - more tranquil humans During this time, two trips to Latin America stimulated a major turning point in my thinking. One, in 1960, took us to Mexico to search for a natural and quickly degraded

293 insecticide, the 'Sabadillo' (Schoenocaulon) of the lily family, and another, in 1962, to Peru to study the evolution and taxonomy of wild and weedy potatoes. Travelling through primitive villages and ancient towns we saw Indians in a new light. In the high Andes or Sierras especially, the natives lived with the land, in it and from it, and, poor as they were, only rarely deliberately destroyed it. Perhaps this was merely natural, because they did not have tractors or other technological weapons and could scarcely be violent with it. In any case, uneducated, even illiterate as they were, the Indian men and women knew a great deal about both wild and cultivated crops, where they grew best, what they were good for, and which they loved best for taste, colour or form. They knew by common name hundreds of wild species of plants; and each of even the most subtly distinguished 'criollo' varieties of potatoes, for example, had its own common name. The phrases es bonito or es linda, often applied to a flower or to a brilliantly coloured ear of corn, transferred to us their gentle appreciation of natural beauty.    They were also gentle and undemanding of their children as well. I watched women breast-feed their young children as evolution had meant that relationship to function, on roadsides, on buses, in a calmness and naturalness quite rare (at best) in hectic suburban America. There were no plastic bottles with canned formulas here, only an innate, quiet understanding of the nurselings' needs and the undemanding relaxed love of their mothers (cf. Montagu 1972). These babies were suckled for two or even three years, and if this causes surprise, it is well to remember that our closest kin, the chimpanzee, may suckle its young to the age of four!    The contrast between that blessed peace and our frantic turmoil kept obsessing my brain. In the villages, even older babies were always carried, usually by their mothers, or by older brothers or sisters. They hardly ever cried, which one could hardly say for offspring in urban America. When they were hungry. they fed, when sleepy, they slept. Some questions came back again and again: if, in their natural way, these mothers were fulfilling their young children's natural, innate demands, was that the ultimate reason for the tranquility of the adults? If babies have to have mothers to nurse from, and mothers to be loved by in order to be happy

294 and tranquil, may not humanity similarly require nature to live in, and nature to interact with, to be happy and tranquil? For us, after all, nature should know best: did we not evolve to fit her ecological requirements; or better, were not our ecological requirements determined by her? These analogies may be somewhat misleading. Nature does not always love us, by any means. Yet they do allow us to ask a very basic question: what is it, in nature, that man needs? That makes him happy? Is there a basic optimum human environment? The insight hit hard one day, that love for and involvement with nature, as a human trait nearly universal among people both primitive and civilised, may in part be genetically determined; that human needs for love, must be inherent (Iltis, 1966). Man's love for natural colours, patterns, and har- monies, his preference for forest-grassland ecotones which he recreates wherever he settles, even in drastically different landscapes, must be the result (at least to a very large degree) of Darwinian natural selection through eons of mammilian and anthropoid evolutionary time and even through the ten millenia of human agricultural history. Out eyes and ears, noses, brains, and bodies have all been shaped by nature. Would it not then be incredible indeed, if savannas and forest groves, flowers and animals, the multiplicity of environ- mental components to which our bodies were originally shaped, were not, at the very least, still important to us? Would not such a concept of 'nature' be a major part of what might be called a basic optimum human environment?    One could elaborate this insight in a thousand obvious as well as more subtle ways. Yes, air to breathe, water to drink, plants and animals to hunt and eat, sounds to hear, images to see, textures to touch, land to wander on, people to love. But, moreover, does not spring, with sprouting meadows and flowering trees, stimulate joy? Do not then lovers go courting in the country, flowers in hand, sensitive as never before to the 'feel' of the awakening, growing land, to every odour of blossum or lover, intoxicated with the dark, demonic urges to dance, to touch, to mate close to the earth? And do not boys and girls fish, men hunt and fight, both men and women

295 garden? Do we not, if we have money, build swimming pools or greenhouses, or second homes in the mountains? Do we not stream out of our cities by the million to camp in nature every spring and summer, a weekend exodus of human lemmings? Do we not, if we have a choice, keep pet dogs, cats, or fish, cyclamen, primula, or begonia, and humidifiers and flickering fireplaces in our miserably cold northern winters as ethnological fragments, almost symbolic bits, of that ancestral ecosystem which shaped our physical needs and subconscious desires? Could this also be the reason why some of us get seduced by surrogate plastic flowers, or even plastic trees (Krieger, 1973) ? Is it to satisfy such basic innate needs that we wish to keep in touch with nature?      If there is then a biologically valid concept of a basic optimum environment for mankind, would it not have to include, because of the innate needs of the original naked apes and ape men, not only mothers for babies, but much real nature for children and adults? Is it not this optimum human environment, modified somewhat, to be sure, during hominoid evolution, definable in its essence as a compromise containing maximum contact with nature without giving up all the advantages of culture and civilization? And would not human needs for this nature-contact be of different intensity and quality for different ontogenetic stages: water, mud and love for babies, shrubs to hide behind and protected excitement for six-year-olds, groups to defend, fields to dig in and grass for adolescents and adults? How long since we left the savannas? the tribes? the villages? Surely not long enough for all of us to have lost all need for their natural settings?     Here, finally, was an argument for nature preservation free of purely utilitarian considerations: not just clean air because polluted air gives cancer; not just pure water because polluted water kills the fish we might like to catch; not just saving plants or ducks because they could be 'useful' or 'edible'; but preservation of the natural ecosystem to give body and soul a chance to function in the way they were selected to function in their original phylogenetic home. The ultimate argument for nature preservation, as well as for landscape architecture or urban planning, would then rest squarely on evolutionary principles.

296    The optimum environment of any organism is the one in which it evolved, whether man, grasshopper, water lily or amoeba. This is given - it has to be, and no one has to prove it. On the other hand, most of us city dwellers live in a human environment which is but a few thousand, and to most human genotypes, only about a hundred years old. In 1810, only about 8 percent of the world population lived in towns; today it approaches 50 per cent. Today, many of these people live in metropolises which, in many crucial parameters, are not optimum environments by any stretch of the imagination. And why not? Because, in them, we are like wild colts which evolved to roam the steppes but are tethered in a dark cave. Unlike rapid cultural evolution, physiological and physical evolution is an immensely slow process in which a hundred and sixty years (or eight sexual generations) will produce no, or at best only the most minute and imper- ceptible, changes in our basic adaptations. True, we must have slowly evolved into more docile creatures during the 10,000 years of predominantly agricultural life, and today, especially since the industrial-urban revolution, we are still evolving, perhaps even rapidly, in response to urban selection pressures, but whither and to what final fate no one, of course, can say. While perhaps in 20,000 years we may evolve into a half-blind, half-deaf Homo Sapiens subspecies, post- sapiens, composed of environmental morons programmed to tolerate pollution, noise and ugliness, and perhaps allergic to the confusing diversity of natural conditions, today we are still part of Homo s. sapiens, a subspecies with strong genetic needs for the natural environment, whose members, depend- ing on individual variability, try at every turn to find nature surrogates, from air-conditioned humidified domiciles, to aquaria with fish, to plastic trees designed by well-meaning landscape architects.    Clearly, the finest human and artistic attributes of even the most civilised man and culture have their roots in nature. Judging from the intensity of man's feelings and his search for substitutes we may yet preserve these roots and their substrate as the basis of his humanity. The substitutes we find for our original habitats are legion, and many are important and satisfying. Clearly, we cannot all go back to the African savannas, for there are too many of us! And even

297 if we could we would not want to - for most of us may have lost the ability to live and hunt like cavemen. Yet if, depending on age, climate, and season, we wish to experience a highly optimal physiological-psychological environment, we must retain the option of replicating the environment of our ancestors thousands and tens of thousands of years ago, at least now and then.  And that means a return to biotic diversity and adventure, reaching from the simplicity of a colourful flower garden all the way to the unmanipulated, undepleted complexity of a wilderness. And, above all, it means the opportunity for intimate sensory contact with natural beauty, both cultivated and wild. We do need well-kept colourful gardens, as we do fields of grain and fibre. But to me at least, in terms of sensory contact, these are only special substitutes for wild land, with crucial yet limited functions and usually with low diversity.     Thus, today, for the sake of diversity, we have ever more urgent reasons to preserve the many, many species of plants and animals which cannot be grown in gardens or maintained and reproduced in zoos. Except for a few domesticated species, this can only be done by protecting their original wild habitat, by preserving the very special ecosystem ro which each species is adapted and of which it is a part. (Even for man, despite his immense adaptability, only time will tell how strictly that great principle holds true for him as well.) This is why we need so many nature preserves, whether small scientific areas and county parks or giant wilderness areas of immense size, because there are so many species and ecosystems to be protected ! This is why we need inter- national agreements on animals and ecosystems, subsidies and concerted efforts for the preservation of the tropics and the oceans on a scale as yet hard to imagine. And for the preservation of many habitats even tomorrow may be too late. Thus, and finally, this is why every biology teacher must be passionately committed to the establishment and pro- tection of biotic preserves of whatever size. Not only membership in preservation societies is required of the teacher, both to help financially and personally in the task and to give every student a shining example of genuine committment, but the biology teacher must transfer to the student tne respect, the love, and the value such preserved

298 and undeveloped areas have to society. He must in fact teach the student how to use them and protect them.    In arguing for preservation of nature, the diversity of wildernes is not the only concern today. We need to preserve human ecosystems showing high diversity, stability and natural beauty. Thus, apple or peach orchards, vegetable plots and fields of specialty crops such as artichokes, or small low-yielding but diverse farms on the outskirts of cities are all agricultural communities, essentially ecotonal in character, combining forest and grassland into a kind of anthropogenic savanna of great aesthetic and ecological value for many people, Such small farms with many kinds of crops and groves of trees are quite stable, unlike the monocultural systems of Montana wheat or Iowa corn. The picturesque landscapes of Normandy, or of my native Czechoslovakia, the alternating farms and forests of southern Ohio, the mixed farming area of the Ontario Peninsula, and the unique combination of farming, market gardening, woodland and lowland in Kent and Sussex also deserve our concern. Now much of such land is being deliberately subdivided in the name of growth and profit or developed and destroyed in the name of progress in a global gesture of supreme carelessness. Biology teachers and planners, especially, need to explain to their students the elusive meaning of this loss to man and offer them viable alternatives: statuatory limits to the growth of suburbia, the benefits of good zoning, with changes in taxation structure to allow farming next to apartment houses, and above all a deliberate policy of restraint on growth and on making money out of the selling of land. What new research would help humanity construct a more liveable world? The general malaise of mankind, especially of Western civilization, would make it appear that urban humanity has become the unhappy involuntary guinea-pig of a giant experiment in sensory deprivation (coupled to lopsided sensory overstimulation), in which the crowded cities are our cages, and the inexorably cumulative acceleration of tech- nology and the loss of nature the experimental variables. Nobody really is exclusively to blame - not technology per se, not capitalism, nor overpopulation. But the syndrome is such

299 that nobody can get out of participating in this experiment (except temporarily, perhaps, the young drop-outs that pack a tent and go back to the woods). True, while we have reached much higher standards of living and a longer life expectancy, there are other basic measures of an optimum environment, measures which would make it appear that we are reaping the synergistic effects of this sensory deprivation- overstimulation syndrome on a gigantic scale. The sea of broken homes; the epidemic of first unwanted, then unloved, then battered children; the ill-disguised anger of many childless and husbandless women seeking surrogate solutions for their biologically unfulfilled lives from Cosmopolitan; the blandness of purposeless males seeking salvation in Playboy philosophies; and the increasing alienation of young and old alike, both from society and from nature, all speak of unpredicted, unwanted consequences of our high culture, if not of an inescapable flood-tide of social pathology, and certainly not of an optimum environment to which humanity is genetically adapted.    Explanation for this gradual collapse of social structure and biological intercoherence (of man to nature, including other men) are legion, and include crowding, pollution, and the unbearable continuous roaring noises of the large city. Significantly, recent research has shown mental disease to be twice as high in New York City than in rural northern Illinois, a not unexpected conclusion. Yet why should this be? If we even cursorily analyse the difference between these two habitats of man, New York City and northern rural Illinois, we find that in addition to the lack of noise, pollution, and crowding, there is the presence of beautiful green plants, which to us mammals have always been either 'neutral' and unthreatening or even inspiring, as well as to a variety of animals, all combined into an infinitely varied landscape.  Could it then be that the stimuli of non-human living diversity makes the difference between sanity and madness ? If so, is it not about time to find out why? Is it not finally time for experimental psychologists, human etho- logists, and landscape architects or urban planners to get together and design experiments, scientifically indisputable and clinically impeccable, which would give us insights into how the brain of the human animal reacts to natural diversity

300 and quality (beauty), to technological sterility, and what exactly happens when we look at the symmetrical pattern of a leaf or smell the odour of a brilliant flower? With modern EEG equipment and a little imagination, it would be rather easy to design experiments, using a diversity of groups of different ages and with diverse social and ecological back- grounds, comparing children with adults, farm youngsters with high rise apartment dwellers, the emotionally healthy and the mentally sick. Hardly anything is known about the way we neurologically relate to our surroundings. Could it be, perhaps, that we don't want to know? That if the truth were out, many of the powers that be would then be forced to stop making a desert out of the green earth, which would cut into profits, among other things, and rising GNPs?    The truth of the matter is that hardly anyone has bothered to think about the connection between the alarm of the 'preservationists', the social pathology of the cities, and the overwhelming ignorance regarding human needs in general and especially for the aesthetics of nature, a subject generally reserved for the abiological disciplines of the humanities. It is thus interesting to read at the conclusion of Reflections on Environmental Education (Stillman, 1972) a very stimula- ting, if often rather derogatory and ill-informed attack, on 'prophets of doom' (such as this author), the following perceptive admission:    I have been able to find nothing in the environmental    literature to help me understand what it is in natural    environments that inspires human imagination, response,    and excitement. Whatever it is, it should be added to the    tool-bag of sensitive and imaginative teachers. Indeed it should! For 'whatever' Stillman is talking about is our innate response to the natural environment, a response selected (like us) over many millions of years. It is a natural human response to our original basic optimum environment, to the world of nature. There have indeed been no efforts made whatever to establish in a clinical and scientific way just how this interrelationship functions. Yet, the above insight is not all that ingenious. Wise men since time immemorial have subjectively sensed the important relation- ship of human happiness to natural conditions and incor-

301 porated it into ethics and religion. And artists have had it in their bones since the beginnings of recorded cultural time in the torchlit caves of Lascaux. Most are itself is but a reflection of nature, caught by ear or eye, and transfixed by the mirror of the human psyche. 'In a magnificent, but seldom read essay, Susanne Langer (1967) has suggested that all art is rooted in our response to natural form' (Stillman 1972). Others, from Goethe to our times, have agreed.    But today it is not enough to pay homage to human love for nature, nor to art's dependence on nature, but rather high time to press for experimental proof and scientific under- standing of the 'why' and the 'how', and thus furnish the factual scientific-mechanistic bases and arguments for the deliberate preservation of the natural environment. Crowded rats, growing brains, and denatured environments Where are some of the frontiers in physiological research to redirect man's view of himself? What does this have to do with the biology teacher?     Human needs for nature surely cannot be disputed. Because we evolve in it, this, the biosphere, is the best of all possible worlds for us; and if we lose it, or even lose pieces of it, no one can predict the consequences. These cannot, in the long run, be good. Just to look at our urban problems is to glimpse into a hellish future darkly!    It is common knowledge that denatured human environ- ments produce denatured (i. e. unnatural) humans. This is demonstrated over and over again in our crowded inner cities, our human zoos (see Morris, 1969), and especially well in the ultimate of denatured horrors invented by man - our sterile, crowded prisons. It is now equally well-established scientific knowledge that an unnatural rat environment produces unnatural (i. e. sick) rats (cf. Ward, 1972). In a series of classical experiments, John Calhoun of the National Institute of Mental Health showed how increased crowding in rat populations elicits maltreatment or abandonment of their young, as well as an increase in homosexuality and irrational violence, phenonmena which are replicated by crowded Homo sapiens every day in the treeless slums of Chicago or under the smoggy skies of Los Angeles, and in a lot of nicer places, too.

302    The effects of crowding per se in man, irrespective of the nature of the environment, have not been as well understood or objectively studied. Recent tests (Ehrlich and Freedman 1971) suggest that under crowded conditions 'men become more competetive, somewhat more severe, and like each other less, whereas women become more cooperative and lenient and like each other more', an ethologically not unexpected finding. However, another study (Freedman, et al., 1971) showed that people-density per se had no significant effect on performance of a variety of specific tasks carried out during four-hour periods on three consecutive days.    It may thus well be, as many technological optimists defending larger populations have hopefully repeated, that crowding alone, by and in itself, isolated from any con- comitant side effects, exerts no particularly bad sociological influence on most people. (I personally doubt this, but for the sake of argument we may accept it here.) Why, then, are there so many of the most terrible modern human problems endemic to the crowded urban centres? If the cause is not crowding directly, perhaps it is crowding indirectly.  Could it be, perhaps, that intense crowding, inevitably resulting in the total destruction of all complex biological ecosystems (allowing survival of a few species only, such as bacteria, fungi, certain weeds, insects, sparrows and rats) indirectly deprives man of a whole battery of inherited needs which can be satisfied easily and well only by nature? To put it in another way, since crowded places tend to be denatured, would this indeed no seem to, at least indirectly, support the ideas presented here: namely, that humans cannot live very well without the biological diversity of nature, and especially without the beauty and pattern of plants - to view, to explore, to be stimulated by. If it is nature and its diversity that has to be made available for man, the implications of this concept to biology teaching, to landscape architecture, urban planning, medicine, and to certain businesses, especially flori-culture and tree nurseries, are vast. A fundamental and synthesising, consciousness-raising re-evaluation of much of our literature is clearly in order. (cf. McHarg's 1969 maps of human pathologies concentrated in the heart of Philadelphia; see also Tinbergen and Tinbergen, 1972, a most remarkable ethological appraisal of autistic children, whree, while the

303 human interaction component is stressed, the natural needs for health care are, if only barely, hinted at. Yet, one cannot help but wonder whether such overly timid children might not respond more readily to therapy in the uncrowded, unhur- ried, non-intimidating and more natural - for children especially - rural settings freely provided by village, farm or camp.    That 'poor', 'unstimulating', 'loveless' environments 'deprive' children, even without crowding, is likewise common knowledge, as do environments without the stimula- tion of some adversity, some rigour. But why should this be? How does this work? If we could demonstrate what is actually happening anatomically or physiologically to these understimulated children, might we not then be able objec- tively and realistically to plan a 'better' world for them?    Until recently, nothing was known about the mechanisms of deprivation, though much, of course, about the negative results. At long last, however, we are beginning to understand rather precisely what a 'poor' environment does, or rather does not do, for the mammalian organisms inhabiting it. In an article in the February 1972 issue of Scientific American entitled 'Brain Changes in Response to Experience', Mark Rosenzweig and his associates at the University of California in Berkeley summarized a series of experiments which demonstrated that baby rats raised in large cages with a diversity of stimulating objects turned out to become much more adept at solving problems than their siblings kept in smaller, duller cages.     A 'better' environment produced 'better' rats - of course! That in itself any biology teacher, in fact, almost any man in the street could have predicted. But Rosenzweig and his associates were able for the first time to show clearly in morphilogical, anatomical and physiological terms why these animals grow up to be more intelligent. By measuring, sectioning, and comparing their brains, they demonstrated a direct relationship between environmental diversity and the size and probable complexity of the brain (cf. Henderson 1970). In a stimulating environment, the cerebral cortex of the brains of baby rats grew larger by about 5 per cent to 10 per cent compared to those kept in a dull environment, a truly sig- nificant increase! Or to put it another way, the ordinary and

304 dull rat environment produced brains with cerebral cortices which were below normal by about 5 per cent. In effect, only in a rich or stimulating environment can the brains of baby rats reach their normal potential. Not only was brain size, brain weight, cortex thickness, etc. increased, but the individual nerve cells were shown to have grown more complex as a result of stimulation by diversity: with dendrites more branched and spines more abundant. Briefly, in the stimulating environment the nerve cells of the rat babies would 'fire' more often. This in turn somehow would cause them to grow more, to become more complex. Analogous to the enlarged biceps of the lumber- jack, the brain 'adapts' by enlarging; or, again, to restate this in perhaps a more accurate way, the dull environment prevents the development of the highest or most optimal neural potentialities which, in a more natural environment, would ordinarily have been reached as a matter of course. This restatement makes it clear that, for baby rats, at least, diversity is not a luxury but biologically the pre-condition for normal development. Only a stimulated brain can become a fully developed and complicated (i. e. normal) brain! Demonstrated experimentally only for rats, it is probably an adaptation of all mammals.    If true for rat babies, is such stimulatory enrichment of brain potential (or suppression of potential) also true for human babies? That question, of course, cannot be answered with anatomical evidence, for such experiments with human babies cannot be done since mothers and fathers would object to having their offspring frozen, killed, and micro- tomed, even for a good cause! By analogy, however, (and perhaps by homology, too) what these tremendously signi- ficant studies clearly say is this: give a growing young mammal, from the earliest months on, a stimulating and healthy, more natural environment, and it will grow up to fulfill its innate potentialities, and develop a more complex, better and probably more harmoniously functioning and larger brain, and, perhaps, a healthier body and psyche as well. The animal will, in fact, become more intelligent! Applied to humans, it means brighter children, happier adults.    The cultural (as well as neurological) gap between humanity and other mammals, including rats, is of course

305 immense. Rats, for example, are more nocturnal, with a more developed sense of smell and touch, humans more diurnal, with a much more developed sense of vision, natural pattern and sound. Because of our evolutionary histories, our needs differ in the kinds of stimulation we might need. Compared to all other mammals, Man does stand alone, unique in a hundred ways - the walking, talking, writing, reading, car- driving, pair-bonding, fire-making, toilet-trained, social naked ape. Yet, even if we are very human, we still share all of our basic physical and psychological attributes with the other primates, and nursing and caring for the young with all other mammals. Thus, as remarkable as our species is, we must not continue to be blinded by our own self-image into believing we are at heart not animals with deep and innate needs and cravings which command so many of our actions. Therefore, the results of animal experiments are meaningful to teachers, to planners, and to politicians. Indeed, our basic human patterns, both physiologically and behaviourally, and those of the primates hardly differ at all. One has only to read Jane Van Lawick-Goodall's (1971) account of her life with a tribe of chimpanzees in Africa to realise that both happiness and misery have universal roots in all the anthropoid apes, including man. Especially for the young in their early ontogeny, happiness means satisfying basic innate natural needs - and to babies the cultural satisfactions, which so many intellectualized adults insist on, are just so much extra whipped cream. The evolution of intelligence as a function of diversity In 'A Biologic View of Human History', a review of Seidenberg's (1950) memorable Posthistoric Man, the gene- ticist Bebtley Glass (1951) says:    The intelligence of man is an evolutionary product of     natural selection for adaptability to great variation of    surroundings, to tremendous vicissitudes of experience, as    Bergson concluded forty years ago. It should follow from    the nature of natural selection that the prolongation of the    dominance of intelligence in man must depend upon the    maintenance of the variety and richness, the vast complexity

306    of that world to which he must adjust his ways. In the evolution of the human species, the vast diversity both in immediate surroundings and in personal experience pro- duced increasingly higher levels of intelligence through natural selection, which was applied to cope with the multiplicity of choices which such a diversity not only offers, but imposes. Likewise, the potential for an increase in brain complexity in response to diversity (especially during the early life stages of a mammal, as shown by the above cited experiments of Rosenzweig) may be viewed as a genetic adaptation with survival value for those individuals which find themselves, for whatever reason (and these in turn probably largely based on genetic factors also), in a diverse environment (i. e. more productive habitat) and which will thus produce more offspring, and then brighter ones, than those which settled in a dull, less productive environment.    Today, more than ever, it is evident that mankind needs diversity and its stimulation not only to elicit the anatomical-neurological responses of the individual growing brain in childhood, bur, on the global and phyletic scale, to continue the high intelligence of the human species. As Glass points out in the above review, just as environmental diversity elicited the evolution of high intelligence in Homo sapiens, so the general lack of diversity will most likely result in a degeneration of this intelligence. The eyes of cave fish, the legs of snakes and the useless muscles in the human ear are cited as telling examples. It is a truism that, to maintain any biological attribute, we need the continuation of the environmental selective factors which produced it. We need the stimulation of diversity to maintain high human intelli- gence, on both the personal and on the phyletic (species) level, and, continues Glass, 'given an environment of diversity and complexity, the evolution of intelligence should pro- ceed'.    Yet what kinds of diversities? I realise that there are all sorts, and civilization produces its own unique brands. But especially compelling and significant for man, I feel, must be the incredibly rich diversity of the 400,000 species of plants and four million or more species of animals which combine and recombine endlessly into a vast array of perpetually and

307 astronomically variable biotic communities. From all indi- cations, this visual natural diversity is especially meaningful to man, and here, at the earliest ontogenetic stages, almost compulsively searched for by children. It is well to stand in awe before this variability, which is of a magnitude quite irreproducible by technology.    Will mankind have enough sense to preserve the com- plexity and diversity of nature which may be necessary to induce, and to continue or preserve, high human intelligence? The current rate of heedless homogenation of the world's once diverse environments is not encouraging. The transfor- mation of natural diversity into cornfields, cow pastures and concrete cities on a worldwide scale appears almost in- evitable. Yet, concurrently, the marvellously interesting cultural diversity of the world is being obliterated as well. Eventually, human intelligence might well degenerate into stereotyped responses to the few stimuli allowed to survive.    Perhaps this evolutionary repression is already beginning in our larger cities where current unnatural selection pressures must be not only totally different from what they (until recently) were in more natural and benign environments, but are probably favouring human genotypes immune to ugliness, noise and pollution, and insensitive towards the life- sustaining systems of nature, since there, in a Chicago or a New York, these have all but ceased to exist. That is not to say that cities do not have compensating good qualities, especially for the socializing adolescent. But pity the young child who needs to see his first frog. Or, indeed, any sensitive or timid human in need of a slower pace, a more tranquil, natural way of living.    Continued 'growth' and crowding of course will inevitably increase these pressures. Growth both of population and of technology implies bigger and grimmer megalopolises and, if continued, condemns future generations (especially of the inner-city poor and black) to become permanently locked into permanently denatured and irrevocably polluted environments. The promise of an unlimited energy supply, especially, is the grimmest prospect of all; for it would postpone almost immediately any population curbs, increase tremendously industrial development and the 'bloating' of cities into megalopolises, and ensure the utter destruction of

308 nature, and with it, ultimately, not only the source of our food and fibre but the sensitive and joyful nature of man.    If we value human intelligence, its superb sensitivities and deep emotions towards nature, and the happiness which ] flows from it, we had better value the natural diversity which still happens to exist by default or accident, and deliberately preserve it. Thus, by whatever route we approach the modern human problem, the answer is always the same: preserve nature, for it is sacred to humanity and its evolution.    Role of biology teachers Why do people love flowers and shrubs more than rusty tin cans? Why do people insist on planting flower boxes and tilling vegetable and rose gardens even in the poorest sections of a town, often against impossible odds, and hire landscape architects at great expense in rich suburbs? Lead poisoning aside, why are there so many school problems with the deprived children of the poor, especially blacks, in big city ghettos? And, finally, to beg a question, why must we now, at this late date, and at the last chance man will ever have, preserve the biotic richness of the lovely and good earth? Only through modern research may we arrive at definitive answers to these difficult and politically loaded questions.    How must biology teachers relate to the fantastic new discoveries of science? How could biology teachers rationally apply this increased understanding of the nature of man to their everyday activities?    Biology teachers could do much to become a major force for ecological good sense. They, more than other teachers, should have the knowledge of scientific principles on which this good sense must be based. They are capable of comprehending and accepting the fact that the animal origins of humanity are at its very base. They can appreciate the need for modern ethological and physiological research and be critical of the vagueness of many current precepts. They are aware that man is a slowly evolved and still slowly evolving primate species, and that any consideration of man in relation to his environment should be placed within the framework of his evolutionary nature. Biology teachers, especially, should be aware of the need for multidisciplinary

309 studies of man, studies which must consider his original environment antedating the industrial and medical revolu- tion, including the ethological predispositions of his tribal pre-nuclear family (cf. Greenbie 1972), the slowness of human evolution, the nature of human natural selection, as well as the great subtleties of chemical, physical and visual pollution effects  and their relationships to sensory and psychological deprivation (Randolph 1962; Cassidy 1967; Iltis 1973a)    Many biology teachers, however, will need to undergo fundamental changes of attitudes; for the biology teacher as an intellectual revolutionary is not the image he generally projects. To encourage such rethinking and redoing, here are a few suggestions for action: 1.  Above all, read critically the writings of the many biologists, environmentalists and social thinkers, such as Paul and Anne Ehrlich's Population, Resources and Environment, Barry Commoner's The Closing Circle, Meadows et al., The Limits to Growth, Garrett Hardin's Population, Evolution and Birth Control, Shepard and McKinley's The Subversive Science and Environ/Mental, or even Rachel Carson's Silent Spring. To get some idea of the limitations to man's technological use of this Earth, the report by the US National Academy of Science - National Research Council's  Commit- tee on Resources and Man should convince even the most optimistic whither our civilization is drifting. The journal Environment in America, The Ecologist in Great Britain, as well as those of other environmental organizations belong in every biology teacher's home. Three exceedingly useful bibliographies also need to be mentioned, On Rediscovering the Biosphere by Dan McKinley (1970), Science for Society, edited by John Moore (1971) and The Environmental Crisis: A Bibliography by Carol Sherr (1973). 2.  Read the writings of the new school of evolutionary perceptive, ethologically oriented anthropologists: the many sensitive books of Ashley Montague, Desmond Morris's The Human Zoo and Intimate Behaviour, Robert Ardrey's African Genesis and The Territorial Imperative, Anthony Storr's Human Aggression, Eibl-Eiblesfield's Ethology, Tiger and Fox's The Imperial Animal, Edward T. Hall's The Hidden

310 Dimension. Paul Shepard's masterful The Tender Carnivore and the Sacred Game, works by Sommer, Lorenz, Tinbergen, Elton, and even Rene Spitz's The First Year of Life. Not that these authors will agree with each other, far from it. But you may get a feeling for the immense force of the primitive genetic components which interact with culture, and especially for the sensitive innate needs of the human animal during childhood. For the lower level teacher, the short but excellent Basic Ecology text of the Buchsbaums (1957), written clairvoyantly before the environmental crisis, is still to be highly recommended. Modern textbooks dealing with the general subject of human ecology and evolution will be most rewarding (e. g. Odum 1971; Boughey 1972; Ehrlich et al., 1973) but, in a sense, every book listed so far deals with these topics.    It is crucial to realise that most of the authors here listed ignore or underplay human genetic needs for nature, or at best tend to confuse it with cultural sophistications of the elite. Very few have a holistic view of genetic programming, cultural training, and environmental input as an indivisible unity (cf. Bateson, Steps to an Ecology of Mind). And very few indeed are truly concerned with, or even aware of, the most irreplaceable and irreversible, tragic, and, yet, ultimately most stupid effect of the exponential growth of human activity, population, and affluence: the current extinction of plant and animal species and ecosystems on a gigantic global scale, especially now in the tropical rain-forest regions, and soon in all the deserts and oceans. David Ehrenfield's superb book, Preserving Life on Earth, Dasmann's A Different Kind of Country, Dorst's Before Nature Dies, the beautiful Wildlife in Danger by Fisher, Simon and Vincent, the many publica- tions of the International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources (IUCN), including its excellent bulletin, and some of my own papers speak to that point. But it is a little hard to comprehend why the otherwise valuable semi-official guide book for the United Nations Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment, Only One Earth, by Barbara Ward and Rene Dubos, hardly mentions extinction of species or of diversity, an almost inconceivable yet not really surprising oversight, considering that most authors and readers today are city-born and city-bred. Even Konrad

311 Lorenz' latest book, on the eight deadly sins of modern man, singles out growth, overpopulation and pollution, but the ruthless eradication of ecosystems and the resulting extinc- tion of plants and animal species is not one of them. Why are we, even renowned biologists, so reluctant to mourn the loss of species, this incredible, incalculable and, from most any perspective, insane calamity? 3.   The need for nature is yet to be objectively documented. There are a multitude of subjective indications, from religion, art, and music to gardening and psychiatry, that suggest man to be indivisible from the living natural environments around him. On the other hand, highly objective indications, such as the physiological-anatomical work cited above, are rare indeed. Clearly, more information, more research is des- perately needed on man's perception of the whole living, blooming, fruiting plant, and animal, both in the landscape and in his kitchen, before it is too late. While Plants/People/ and Environmental Quality (Robinette 1972) has little to say on man's genetic needs for plants or nature,  it does deal thoroughly with the architectural, engineering and climato- logical uses of plants, and includes a very extensive biblio- graphy on that aspect. Paul Shephard's Man in the Landscape is one of the few books that delves deeply into our fundamental physical and psychological adaptations to nature. There is now a vast array of books, symposia and anthologies dealing with the environmental crisis, many of which will give isolated perceptive insights into this question (e. g. the preface to Fisher et al. )    Lewis Mumford's The Myth of the Machine, and others of his books enable one to see technology not only as a servant but as a master of humanity. It might not be amiss to point out that there is now a compendium of failures of tech- nology. On the large scale, and in the long run, it just doesn't work! The Careless Technology, edited by Farvar and Milton, 'is a book full of failures, and failures of the most vivid sort, in fields that are at the heart of what we think we know most about: building dams, fighting disease, making food available, etc. It is the Green Revolution a dozen times over', (Dan McKinley, personal comment). Paul Goodman's essay Can Technology be Humane? insists on prudence and on the

312 need, not only for a change in the values and organization of science, but 'in the kinds of men who make scientific decisions'. Roderick Seidenberg's difficult Posthistoric Man is hardly optimistic about the outcome of human evolution, especially if we do not consciously take alternatives to a technology which makes human activities, and even human needs, superfluous. Rene Dubos's A God Within, Man Adapting and So Human an Animal contain valuable bio- logical observation of man's intimate responses to nature, yet here, and especially in many recent papers Dubos (1973) has turned into a kind of environmental 'Uncle Tom', taking potshots at those concerned with the preservation of species and ecosystems. In some of my papers, I have cited Maxwell Weissman (1965), a psychiatrist, who found much improve- ment in mentally ill patients being taken to a rural natural setting. Others have made similar observations without follow-up research. Our lack of hard knowledge on nature as a healing environment is but a reflection of our almost deliberate and cynical neglect of studying the man-nature relationship, despite the fullness of our mental hospitals and the many other pathological manifestations of a denatured and sick world. 4.   Each biology teacher is on his own to comprehend the evolutionary nature of mankind and synthesise his own philosophy. Hopefully, this will be based on prudence, restraint, respect for innate needs, and a sincere desire to reduce the impact of humanity on the earth. Perhaps nothing is more important today than this. We as individual teachers have to develop our own biological sophistication, or we are lost. What is one to think of pontifical projections of an optimum (!) world population of 50 billion (the figure given by some Russian planners, by the Australian Colin Clarke and the Greek planner Doxiadis), 36 billion (the FAO), or even a mere nine billion (by none other, of all people, than the very man who showed what crowding did to rats; cf Calhoun, 1968), when today, the world in 1973 is heading into unprecedented famine with not quite four billion, and when in fact a total world population of one billion would be more than an ample breeding population and be capable of doing anything the human species would ever want to do? How is

313 one to deal with Krieger's What's Wrong with Plastic Trees? or any of the legion of Utopian environmental optimists which lately have found such favourable editorial reception in Science and Nature, except by ridicule ? (Iltis 1973b). It is obviously important to examine critically the 'glad tidings' of these optimists who will not accept the premise that a finite world has finite resources, including plants and animals; who readily promise, even today, the pie-in-the-sky of unlimited resources, unlimited food, unlimited oceans, unlimited atomic energy, unlimited population, and unlimited wealth, but who neglect to mention the unlimited misery humanity is heading into as a consequence, or the unlimited extinction of plant and animal species. Newspapers and magazines, like- wise, abound with articles making self-fulfilling prophesies: the 'need' for more growth, more electric power, more food, more roads, and more of nearly everything. It is frustrating and galling to observe that in this 'scientific' age, everyone seems to be culturally conditioned to demand exacting proof of human 'needs' for nature, while no one ever questions the 'need' for more cars, more cows, or more concrete, needs that in no sense are biological.    Remember, nobody ever can get something for nothing. 'There is no such thing as a free lunch' to quote Barry Commoner's '4th Law' of ecology. Atomic power without polluting radiation; Green Revolutions without depletion of genetic diversity, without pesticides, or without disastrous plant diseases; population expansion without extinction of plants and animal species; these are the pipe dreams out of which the ultimate human tragedy is now being deliberately constructed. Thus, it is true, as a brilliant if sick joke will have it: 'If you want a higher standard of living, you will have to settle for a lower quality of life!'    Finally, if an all-encompassing eco-evolution is indeed on the horizon (and it had better be if we are to survive with any sanity), it must be based on a thoroughly ecologically-sound restructuring of society to ensure the survival of biotic diversity. The human species, once free and frivolous in its habits of consumption, must be brought into a steady-state harmony with the natural environment. The limitation of population size and consequent restructuring of economics and priorities is the fundamental prerequisite for a

314 meaningful long-term  resolution of the environmental crisis. The ultimate aim for our species must be to find the basic optimum human environment: a compromise between our cultural accomplishments and our biological needs - a com- promise between many of the advantages of technological urban civilization, which have freed man's hands from labour and man's brains for creativity and which we are loath to give up; and the innate and often subtle human needs for the evolutionary theatre of nature, the wild environment which produced our bodies and brains over millions of years through natural selection; needs which we cannot ignore except at gravest peril to our health, sanity, and happiness.    The world is changing at a terrifying rate, but human needs for nature will remain essentially the same, for millenia and decimillenia to come. Even without knowing the precise physiological or neurological details on which these needs are based, we must respect them as the forces which have moulded our species both physically and psychologically. It shall be the true role of biology to make our life livable and human by insisting that our inherited needs for natural pattern, natural form, and natural diversity are not aban- doned wherever we may be in favour of a capricious technological hell. In the preservation of nature lies the salvation not only of biology teaching, but of humanity as well. References R. Ardrey (1961) African Genesis, Collins. R. Ardrey (1967) The Territorial Imperative, Collins. R. Carson (1965) Silent Spring, Penguin.\ B. Commoner (1972) The Closing Circle, Cape. R. F. Dasmann (1968) A Different Kind of Country, Macmillan,       New York. J. Dorst (1970) Before Nature Dies, Collins. R. Dubos (1965) Man Adapting, Yale University Press. R. Dubos (1970) So Human an Animal, Hart-Davis.

315 R. Dubos (1972) A God Within, Scribner's. R. Dubos (1973) 'Humanizing Earth', Science, 179. D. Ehrenfeld (1972) Preserving Life on Earth, Oxford University Press,      New York. P.R. and A. H. Ehrlich. (1972) Population, Resources and Environ-      ment: Issues in Human Ecology, 2nd edition, W. H. Freeman. M. T. Farvar and J. P. Milton (eds.) (1973) The Careless Technology,     Tom Stacey. J. Fisher, N. Simon and J. Vincent (1969) Wildlife in Danger, Viking     Press. P. Goodman (1969) 'Can Technology be Humane?', New York Review     of Books, 20 November, 1969, reprinted in The Social Responsi-     bility of the Scientist, edited by Martin Brown, 1971, Free Press. T. Hall (1966) The Hidden Dimension, Doubleday. G. J. Hardin (ed.) (1964) Population, Evolution and Birth Control: a     Collage of Controversial Ideas, W. H. Freeman. M. H. Krieger (1973) 'What's wrong with Plastic Trees?', Science, 179     (4072). An edited version 'Up the Plastic Tree' reprinted in     Landscape Architecture, 63 (4) (1973). S. Langer (1967) Mind: An Essay on Human Feeling, vol. 1, Johns     Hopkins University Presss. A. Leopold (1949) A Sand County Almanac, Oxford University Press,      New York. K. Lorenz and P. Leyhausen (1973) Motivation of Human and Animal      Behaviour, Van Nostrand Reinhold. D. McKinley (1970) 'On Rediscovering the Biosphere', The Explorer,      12 (2). D. H. and D. L. Meadows, J. Randers and W. W. Behrens (1972) The     Limits to Growth, Universe Books. J. A. Moore (ed.) (1971) Science for Society: a Bibliography, revised     edition, American Association for the Advancement of Science. D. Morris (1969) The Human Zoo, Cape. D. Morris (1971) Intimate Behaviour, Cape. L. Mumford, (1967) The Myth of the Machine, vol. 1, Technics and     Huan Development, Secker & Warburg. L. Mumford (1971) The Myth of the Machine, vol. 2, The Pentagon of     Power, Secker & Warburg. G. O. Robinette (1972) Plants/People/and Environmental Quality, a     study of Plants and their Environmental Functions, U. S. Govern-     ment Printing Office. M. R. Rosenzweig, E. L. Bennett and M. C. Diamond (1972) 'Brain     Changes in Response to Experience', Scientific American 226 (2). R. Seidenberg (1950) Posthistoric Man: an Inquiry, University of     North Carolina Press, reprinted in 1957 by Beacon Press. P. Shephard (1967) Man in the Landscape: a Historic View of the     Esthetics of Nature, Knopf. P. Shephard (1973) The Tender Carnivore and the Sacred Game,     Scribner's. C. Sherr (1973) The Environmental Crisis: a Bibliography in  Lange, C.

316      T. and Klinge, P. E. , see Further Reading. R. Spitz (1965) The First Year of Life, International University Press. C. W. Stillman (1972) 'Reflections on Environmental Education',     Teachers College Record, 74 (2). A. Storr (1969) Human Agression, Allen Lane. J. Van Lawick-Goodall (1971) In the Shadow of Man, Houghton     Mifflin. B. Ward and R. Dubos (1972) Only One Earth: the Care and     Maintenance of a Small Planet, Penguin. Further Reading G. Bateson (1973) Steps to an Ecology of Mind, Ballantine. A. S. Boughey (1971) Man and Environment: an Introduction to     Human Ecology and Evolution, Macmillan, New York. M. and R. Buchsbaum (1957) Basic Ecology, Boxwood Press. J. B. Calhoun (1968) 'Space and the Strategy of Life', paper presented     at The American Association for the Advancement of Science,     Dallas. H. G. Cassidy (1967) 'On Incipient Environmental Collapse',     BioScience, 17. R. M. Chute (1971) Environmental Insight: Readings and Comment      on Human and Nonhuman Nature, Harper and Row. C. A. Doxiadis (1966) Urban Renewal and the Future of The     American City, Public Administration Service, Chicago. P. R. and A. H. Ehrlich and J. P. Holdren (1973) Human Ecology:     Problems and Solutions, W. H. Freeman. P. Ehrlich and J. Freedman (1971) 'Population, Crowding and Human     Behavior', New Scientist and Science Journal, 1 April, 1971. I. Eibl-Eibelsfeldt (1970) Ethology, Holt, Reinhart and Winston. Environment, vols. 1-15 (1973), P.O. Box 755, Bridgeton, Missouri     63044 J.W. Forester (1971) World Dynamics, Wright-Allen Press. J. Fredman, P. Ehrlich and S. Klevansky (1971) 'The Effect of     Crowding on Human Task Performance', Journal of Applied Social    Psychology, 1 (1). B. Glass (1951) 'A Biologic View of Human History', Scientific     American, December (review of Seidenberg's Posthistoric Man) B. Greenbie (1972) Homo Sapiens Habitat: Implications of Ethology     for the Design and Planning of Human Habitations. PhD thesis,     University of Wisconsin. N. D. Henderson (1970) 'Brain Weight Increases Resulting from     Environmental Enrichment: A directional Dominance in Mice',     Science 169. J. P. Holdren and P. Ehrlich (eds.) (1971) Global Ecology: Readings     Toward a National Strategy for Man, Harcourt Brace. H. H. Iltis (1959) 'We Need Many More Scientific Areas', Wisconsin     Conservation Bulletin, 24 (9). H. H. Iltis (1966) 'The Meaning of Human Evolution to Conservation',

317     Wisconsin Academy Review 13 (2). H. H. Iltis (1967) 'To the Taxonimist and Zoologist: Whose Fight is     the Preservation of Nature?' BioScience 17 (12). H. H. Iltis (1968) 'The Optimum Human Environment and its     Relation to Modern Agricultural Preoccupations', The Biologist     50 (3-4). H. H. Iltis (1972) 'Conservation, Contraception and Catholicism, A     20th Century Trinity', The Biologist 54 (1). H. H. Iltis (1972) 'The Biology Teacher and Man's Mad and Final     War on Nature', The American Biology Teacher 34 (3). H. H. Iltis (1972) 'The Extinction of Species and the Destruction of     Ecosystems', The American Biology Teacher 34 (4) April. H. H. Iltis (1973a) 'Pollution and Adaptation: What Hope for Man' in     C. T. Lange and P. E. Klinge (eds.) Pollution, 1-6, (see below). H. H. Iltis (1973b) 'Down the Technological Fix', (original title: 'Can     One Love a Plastic Tree?', an answer to Krieger 1973),     Landscape Architecture 63 (4). H. H. Iltis, O. L. Loucks and P. Andrews (1970) 'Criteria for an     Optium Human Environment', Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists     25 (1). C. T. Lange and P. E. Klinge (1973) Pollution, A special publication     of the National Association of Biology Teachers, 1420 N. Street,     N. W. , Washington, D. C. , 20005 National Academy of Science- National Research Council (1969)     Resources and Man, W. H. Freeman. H. T. Odum (1971) Environment, Power and Society, Wiley-     Interscience. E. P. Odum (1971) Fundamentals of Ecology, 3rd Edition, W. B.     Saunders. T. Randolph (1962) Human Ecology and Sensitivity to the      Chemical Environment, Charles C. Thomas. P. Shephard and D. McKinley (eds.) (1969) The Subversive Science:     Essays towards and Ecology of Man, Houghton-Mifflin. P. Shephard and D. McKinley (eds.) (1971) Environ/Mental: Essays     on the Planet as a Home, Houghton-Mifflin. L. Tiger and R. Fox (1972) The Imperial Animal, Secker and      Warburg. The Ecologist : 'Man and the Environment', 'The Quality of Life',     'Pollution', 'Conservation', vol. 1 (1971) from 73 Kew Green,     Richmond, Surrey. E. A. and N. Tinbergen (1972) Early Childhood Autism - An     Ethological Approach, Fortschritte der Verhaltensforschung,     Beihefte zur Zeitschrift fur Tier psychologie 10 (Advances in     Ethology, Supplement to Journal of Comparative Ethology,     10, Verlag Paul Perey, Berlin und Hamburg.)