Friends of the earth
Who, I wondered, are the “heroes” referred to in Mary Ellen Hannibal’s latest book, “Citizen Scientist: Searching for Heroes and Hope in an Age of Extinction?” According to Hannibal, Rebecca Moore, who developed Google Earth Outreach, is one.
As described by Hannibal in the language of Joseph Campbell’s “The Hero With a Thousand Faces,” “‘Seizing the sword’ for Moore meant harnessing and purposing computing power in a way no one had done before her . ... It provides a tool by which the rest of us can become heroic.” Rebecca Moore’s work is clearly significant; in 2013 she was honored by the White House as a Champion of Change.
But I can’t help but think, if in these times one becomes a hero by “harnessing and purposing computer power,” we do indeed live in an “age of extinction.” We are witnessing not only the extinction of animals and plants, but the perhaps inevitable disappearance of certain human qualities that have long inspired us but now seem quaint, nostalgic and ineffective. Throw away the pith helmet and machete, the compass and the wind-blown sail. The heroes of tomorrow will be wielding keystrokes.
“Citizen Scientist” is an intelligent, impassioned and compelling invitation to join these heroes of modern times. It provides a broadly researched, personally experienced account of this new world of “big data.” Sometimes called “crowdsourced science,” sometimes “participatory research,” “Citizen science” most commonly describes situations in which a number of volunteers work under professional guidance, most often collecting data for later evaluation.
A pioneering effort familiar to most readers is the Audubon Society’s Annual Bird Count, wherein tens of thousands of birders across the continent report their sightings according to carefully devised protocols. The massive amount of data collected is far more indicative of the true status of bird populations nationwide than could ever have been gathered by a handful of scientists using sample plots or transects.
Dozens of similar projects have been initiated by other organizations. Volunteers — their efforts often enhanced by smartphones, digital cameras and recorders, shared networks and a growing multitude of apps — collect data or monitor change. EBird, an online checklist program of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, recorded 9.5 million sightings of birds in a single month last year. INaturalist, a social networking site and app that allows anyone anywhere anytime to make identifications for the species list, has been logging observations at the rate of one per minute.
In a recent project on Mount Tamalpais, volunteers discovered 93 species not known to have lived on the mountain. In the last decade, citizen science projects have shifted from supplemental to becoming the core tool of dozens of the world’s most significant research efforts, and have already contributed much to our understanding of the natural world and especially to our attempts to deal with its changing climate.
As this book aptly demonstrates, the entry of nonprofessionals into the scientific priesthood offers an exciting possibility — namely, the infusion of broader humanistic concerns that are generally absent from scientific inquiry. There’s an unexpectedly old-fashioned, personal and literary quality to “Citizen Scientist.” An ambitious book, it is generous, unhurried and discursive, stretching over centuries and teeming with as many characters as a 19th century Russian novel.
Inspired in part by John Steinbeck’s “Log From the Sea of Cortez,” it is unabashedly emotional, literary and philosophical. It also recapitulates the history of relevant science, with lucid descriptions of the contributions of Darwin, Wallace, Asa Gray, Muir and other architects of our understanding of the world, contributions that are presented not only in the context of their time but also in terms of the personalities of their makers.
Especially valuable are Hannibal’s explanations of new ideas. If you have heard of “trophic cascade” but are vague on its exact meaning and its great importance; if you know that E.O. Wilson studied ants but are less certain of his larger ideas and their significance; if you have a notion that Paul Erlich unearthed something major in his study of butterflies but never understood what, “Citizen Science” is an excellent guide to these and other recent developments.
While Hannibal’s interests range throughout the world and extend through centuries, her hands-on experience is local, and residents of the Bay Area will find this book especially rewarding. Her long-term involvement in such projects such as monitoring changes in the tide pools near Half Moon Bay, identifying and banding hawks on the Marin Headlands, and working with a local Indian group to restore and manage its land not only brings home the practice and rewards of citizen science, but also enriches Bay Area’s residents’ sense of the uniqueness, diversity, beauty and vulnerability of our place.
“Citizen Science” is not only about collecting data and expanding knowledge. As Hannibal puts it, “It’s about making a bridge between nature’s drama and people like me.” Her hope is that if “people like me observe what’s happening up close and with personal engagement ... we will be galvanized to do more to help.”
Well-crafted, moving and intelligent, “Citizen Scientist” is essential reading for anyone interested in the natural world. It can be enjoyed simply as a timely and readable book, but it is also clearly a recruiting manual for a new kind of exploration. So, modern heroes, grab your smartphones and sign on. As Hannibal suggests, you’ll get a lot out of it, and so will the world around us.