Science can help us, but wisdom will help us even more

This column first appeared in the Victoria Daily Times on Jan. 31, 1942.

When snow falls on the Pacific coast, even in January, as it did for a brief period this year, no one welcomes it except the children.

They pull out their old sleighs and make for the nearest hill, but the older people see nothing in it but the prospect of bad roads and the necessity of wearing rubbers and having to wax the floors again. It is a fair but false friend, and the sooner it goes the better.

Even the robins resent it, for it covers their feeding grounds and compels them to attack their “iron rations,” the rowan and pyrocanthus berries. But that brings them up to the house and causes the bare cherry trees to redden again.

Snow is hard on the men who sail the boats, too. Fog and rain they can handle, but snow deadens the echoes, and becomes a real problem.

Notwithstanding all that can be said against it, we of the colder regions of Canada love the snow, even the fleeting glimpses we get of it here. Just a tantalizing glance — like seeing a friend at the train — a few hurried words — a wave of the hand.

It is easy to become depressed these days when every newspaper and broadcast tells of destruction and death, scorched earth, havoc and loss. Where is all this going to end, we ask ourselves and each other. How are we ever going to pay the bills? The words of the old music-hall song have a new meaning, What Will We Do When the Rent Comes Round?

I find the best cure for depression is to get out of the house. Four walls can grow very gloomy when you look at them for too long. Surely, the sun brings assurance by day and the moon and the stars by night.

It seems that God knew rightness in the processes of nature which calms our fears. It seems that God knew what man would do with his creation and so underwrote the whole human experiment by putting it into the heart of primitive man to plant crops and save seeds. For seeds have a way of carrying on.

There is a new word now which is not as well known as it is going to be. It is a magic word, too, but has no connection with taboos, curses or graveyards at night. It deals with charms and pots of gold and sudden transformations, such as turned Cinderella’s mice and pumpkin into a golden carriage drawn by dappled grey horses; a lifesaver for the young lady at the prince’s ball when the hands of the clock began to close like a pair of scissors on the hour of midnight.

The word is “chemurgy” and it means “chemistry at work.” We all know about soy beans and have seen how they can be made into steering wheels for cars and furniture, paint and linoleum. And we have heard, too, that wool and ivory can be made from cottage cheese.

Now we always believe that ivory was the substance that elephants used for tusks and that when they are used for keys on a piano, some elephant had been deprived of that part of his equipment. This is no longer the case.

The scientists who have put chemistry to work explain the process this way. When sheep eat grass one of the results is wool; and when an elephant eats grass he turns part of it into ivory. So when a chemist produces wool and ivory, he is merely processing grass.

We all understand about coal. It comes from vegetation which died many years ago, and we know that from it dyes and acids and aspirin tablets, silk and hogs’ bristles and a million other things can be made. But now the scientists tell us that even if we should run out of coal, we can use the plants now growing on the earth. By science we can hasten the processes, which in nature’s deliberate way takes probably a million years.

Chemurgy is the organized effort to create for man’s use the real wealth which lies dormant in the power of the soil, air and sun; and these wise men hope that if the sun keeps on shining and plants growing, they will be able to lead all people into the abundant life of peace and plenty.

But there is always that unpredictable human element which has to be reckoned with. In 1913, a great German scientists Fritz Haber, perfected a process of taking nitrogen from the air. In this simple way, all the crops in Germany could be fertilized. But the leaders in Germany immediately thought of explosives as the best use for nitrogen, and armed with this great discovery, they launched the first World War, which destroyed 40 million lives and impoverished their own country.

Then out of their poverty and humiliation they were willing to let liberty go for the promise of security. Their evil genius, Adolf Hitler, rounded out the picture when he threw the great scientist, Fritz Haber, out of his laboratory because he was not a “pure Aryan.”

So, you see it is not enough that the sun shines and the grass grows, and wise men have discovered how to utilize these great forces for our benefit in the matter of food, clothing and transportation; heat, light and power — we still have the terrific task of making men want peace and plenty for everyone.

We hear much about the problems of the farm. Farmers have been paid not to produce, and no one likes that. The farmer knows it is an unsound policy, and emergency measure. The chemurgists have a brighter hope for the farmer.

Henry Ford, who was one of the pioneers in this field, has declared: “I believe industry and agriculture are natural partners, and the time is coming when the farmer, in addition to feeding the nation, will become the supplier of the materials used in industry. Agriculture now suffers from a lack of markets. Industry cannot guarantee regular work to all its employees. Bringing them together will heal the ailments of both.”

Some day, when people have ceased to quarrel, having learned that toil is better than theft, the good earth, the good, green, productive earth, warmed by the sun, watered by the clouds, will feed all her children. This has always been the vision of the poet, and the desire of many a scientist.

William Morris, author of that beautiful poem Jerusalem, wrote another poem called The Day Is Coming wherein he tells of the time of peace and plenty such as the wizards of chemurgy are unfolding. In it, he speaks about “the lovely cities, the little houses and happy fields” and “wisemen seeking out marvels.”

For cheerful reading in these anxious days, I recommend a study of chemurgy, and the poems of William Morris.

Some of McClung’s columns from the 1930s and 1940s have been collected in a book, The Valiant Nellie McClung: Selected Writings by Canada’s Most Famous Suffragist, by Barbara Smith.