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Discover and define a new relationship between humanity and nature
In Generation Restoration: How to Fix Our Relationship Crisis with Mother Nature Vice President of Climate Action at Salesforce, Tim Christophersen, delivers a clarion call for a new kind of global ecological literacy. You'll discover how we can reset our relationship with nature, conceiving of ourselves as an integral part of it, rather than apart from it.
The book explains how we can change the way we interact with the world around us and rapidly increase the effectiveness of all “green” initiatives. It's filled with stories and case studies of environmental success stories and failures from around the globe.
Inside the book:
Perfect for anyone interested in the future of our planet and our species, Generation Restoration is an inspiring and eye-opening discussion of an issue that's critical to all our survival and wellbeing.
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Seitenzahl: 427
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
Cover
Table of Contents
Praise for
Generation Restoration
Title Page
Copyright
Dr. Jane Goodall's Foreword for
Generation Restoration
Chapter 1: Squandering Our Natural Wealth
Restoration in One Generation
Nature Gone Bust
Shifting Baseline Syndrome
Tipping Point
Resilience Starts with Us
Notes
Chapter 2: A Century of Ecology
Ecology: The Science of Our Only Home
A New Century of Ecology
Ecological Literacy for Everyone
Notes
Chapter 3: Nature Is Us: A Tale of Reciprocity
Nature Is Many, Nature Is One
Nature Is Us
Counterproductive Conservation
A New Hope
So, Are We Part of Nature?
Note
Chapter 4: The Value of Nature
“It's the Ecology, Stupid!”
A New Economy Emerges
The Oldest New Financial Asset Class
A Restoration Boom
All the Money in the World
Notes
Chapter 5: The World Plus 10 Percent
Take No More Than Half
A Movement Is Born: Acción Andina
Living in Harmony with Nature: Satoyama
The World's Largest Protected Area Network: Natura 2000
The Guardians of Nature
Respect for Mother Nature
A New Relationship
Notes
Chapter 6: A Trillion Trees
The Power of Trees
Resetting Our Relationship with Forests
A Rights‐Based Approach
Trailblazer
Learning from the Forest
Forests Under Scrutiny
Is It Too Late?
Notes
Chapter 7: World Restoration Flagships
Brazil's Atlantic Forest
Farther Than the Eye Can See
The Arc of Restoration in the Brazilian Amazon
Community‐Based Natural Farming in India
A New Restoration Economy in South Africa
Building with Nature in Indonesia
Restoring Planet Earth
Notes
Chapter 8: Stubborn Optimists
The Future We Want
A Journey Forward to Nature
Generation Restoration from Local to Global
Notes
Epilogue: The Freedom to Choose
Taking Action
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Index
End User License Agreement
Chapter 1
Figure 1.1 Happy fisherfolk at Key West, Florida, in 1957.
Figure 1.2 Happy fisherfolk in 2007 at the same location, with the...
Chapter 3
Figure 3.1 The “Biodiversity Jenga” statue at the UN Biodiversity ...
Chapter 5
Figure 5.1 Constantino Aucca Chutas (president of Acción Andina an...
Figure 5.2 Local communities are preparing for a tree‐planting fes...
Figure 5.3 Local communities in the Vilcanota region of Peru tend ...
Figure 5.4 Participants planting trees in the Aquia region of Peru...
Chapter 6
Figure 6.1 Plant‐for‐the‐Planet's global campaign with environment...
Figure 6.2 Felix Finkbeiner addresses the UN General Assembly in 2...
Chapter 7
Figure 7.1 The “wonder plant” spekboom, a South African native suc...
Figure 7.2 A restored spekboom plot in the foreground of a large l...
Cover
Table of Contents
Praise for Generation Restoration
Title Page
Copyright
Dr. Jane Goodall's Foreword for Generation Restoration
Begin Reading
Epilogue: The Freedom to Choose
Taking Action
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Index
End User License Agreement
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An urgent and eloquent call to rebuild our bond with nature, and reimagine a thriving future grounded in reciprocity, resilience, and respect.
—Dame Christiana Figueres, Founding Partner, Global Optimism
Generation Restoration is a timely and inspiring call to action. In a world where every decision—from what we buy to how we live—shapes the future of our planet, this book provides the essential knowledge and tools to reset our relationship with nature. By teaching ecological literacy in clear, practical terms, it inspires individuals and communities to make more conscious choices. I highly recommend it to anyone ready to be part of the solution.
—Ellen Jackowski, TIME 100 Climate Leader
In Generation Restoration, Tim Christophersen compellingly illustrates our urgent need—and extraordinary potential—to heal our planet within a single generation. Rich with vivid examples of ecological wisdom and grounded in clear‐eyed economic insights, this book is an essential guide to rethinking humanity's relationship with nature, offering both a sobering reality check and a hopeful pathway forward.
—Rhett Ayers Butler, Founder and CEO, Mongabay
Generation Restoration is both a mirror and a map—confronting the hard truths of our current systems while illuminating a bold and optimistic path forward. It challenges our assumptions and shows how regeneration and resilience are core to successful business strategy. A must‐read for anyone ready to redefine their relationship with nature for a thriving future.
—Eva Zabey, CEO, Business for Nature
I have had the privilege to get to know Tim Christophersen during our work together on the UN Decade of Restoration Advisory Board these past four years. Tim's long‐standing commitment to nature, respecting Indigenous knowledge, and seeking solutions to our climate challenges are visible throughout this book. Anyone interested in a sustainable future should read this; it will make you reflect on your own personal journey and give you new ideas to help our planet adapt to climate change.
—Frank Mars, Member, Board of Directors, Mars, Inc.
Yesterday I toured a solar farm with pollinator‐friendly planting between the rows of panels—and as if conjured up from nowhere, insects long thought extirpated from the region have returned to suck the nectar. As this pathbreaking book shows with one inspiring case after another, nature has extraordinary resilience if we give it some room, and sometimes a nudge.
—Bill McKibben, Author of Here Comes the Sun
We're in a planetary emergency—a climate crisis that touches every life and every economy. With over half of global GDP at risk from nature loss, the urgency to act has never been greater. Generation Restoration is a powerful, inspiring call to reimagine our relationship with the natural world. Whether you're an environmental advocate, a business leader, or simply someone who cares about the future of our planet, this book will move you to be part of the generation that helps restore our Earth's abundance and resilience.
—Marc Benioff, Chair and CEO, Salesforce
For years, I urged Tim Christophersen: “We need a guide that empowers decision makers and restoration leaders to make courageous, impactful choices.” Generation Restoration answers this call with wisdom and humility. Through vivid stories and thoughtful reflection, Tim shows us that hope is not lost—there is still light at the end of the tunnel. What sets this book apart is its deep respect for ancestral Indigenous knowledge. Indigenous peoples have always responded to crises with resilience and proactive action. They planned for a future where their descendants would not suffer the same fate, unlike today's focus on mere adaptation. Generation Restoration reminds us that we are part of nature, not above it. It invites us to listen to Indigenous voices, learn from their wisdom, and walk a path of true restoration. For anyone seeking to heal our relationship with Mother Earth, this book is an essential guide—one that inspires both reflection and action.
—Constantino Aucca Chutas, President of Acción Andina and Asociación Ecosistemas Andinos (ECOAN)
As we face a future where clean air, safe water, and a healthy planet can no longer be taken for granted, Generation Restoration offers us something deeply needed: hope rooted in action. This is more than just another survey of the issues at hand—it's a love letter to nature, and to humanity. It's a reminder that restoration is not just possible, it's already happening, and WE ARE the generation that must act.
Tim writes with clarity and compassion, drawing from his own rich experiences living in and working amongst local communities—where real change always begins. He reminds us that protecting nature isn't just about preserving beauty or biodiversity, it's about safeguarding our shared future, and recognizing the deep interconnection between people and the planet.
A gift to the next generation of scientists, activists, community leaders, and everyday nature lovers, Generation Restoration is equal parts inspiration and roadmap—thoughtful, bold, and deeply personal. With humility and heart, Tim invites us to imagine what's possible when we come together to heal the world we love—and offers a vision for how we get there.
—Jennifer Morris, CEO, The Nature Conservancy
Generation Restoration is a timely and urgent call to reimagine our relationship with nature not as something to exploit, but as a partner in healing our planet. Tim weaves together powerful stories, science, and vision to show that restoration isn't just possible, it's already underway. This book is both a blueprint and a rallying cry for the generation that refuses to settle for collapse. A must‐read for anyone who believes in regeneration, justice, and a future we can all thrive in through ecological literacy.
—Kevin J. Patel, Founder, OneUpAction International; Cofounder, Youth Impact Council; American Climate Activist
Tim Christophersen's brilliant narrative in Generation Restoration tells us that ecological literacy is the key educational challenge of our times, and ecological regeneration our most important goal because it can unite citizens, businesses and nations in a global transition towards a better and safer future for all life on earth, including our own. Drawing on poignant examples from human and natural history, as well as his rich personal experience, Tim brings both truths to life with memorable examples, crystal clarity, and an admirable sense of purpose. This book is a “must read” for emerging leaders in all walks of life.
—Pavan Sukhdev, Founder/CEO of GIST Impact
Tim's book invites us to return home—to reintegrate with nature. It weaves a compelling scientific and philosophical case for realigning society with the natural world, rekindling ecological literacy, and setting humanity on a new path: the ecological century. It moves on to describe the new economy we need for this project of reunification. An economy that recognizes nature as a source of human well‐being, any loss of nature as a liability, and any investment into that most critical infrastructure as an asset. He explains that economics is a mere instrument to index, mint, and share wealth. Assets, currencies, and economies based on nature could make nature internal again to our model of wealth generation—and inspire billions of ecopreneurs to start a century of regeneration.
—Professor Martin R. Stuchtey, Founder The Landbanking Group and SYSTEMIQ
Copyright © 2026 by Tim Christophersen. All rights reserved.
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We are going through dark times, politically, socially, and especially environmentally. For thousands of years, early humans, like most animal species, lived in harmony with the natural world, hunter‐gatherers taking only what they needed to survive. Gradually, that changed. As our populations grew our demands on the planet's natural resources increased and became increasingly unsustainable. In many instances, need became greed. Far too many became trapped in a materialistic outlook where success was based on acquiring wealth. There was an unrealistic idea that there could be infinite economic growth on a planet with finite natural resources. Billions of people have become increasingly divorced from the natural world, and instead live in a virtual world defined by technology.
I have spent much of my life studying the amazing animals with whom we share or should share this planet. I have come to understand the complexity of ecosystems, where each animal and plant is interconnected and has a role to play in the complex web of life. The chimpanzees that my team and I have observed and worked to protect since 1960 are amazingly like us. They can live more than 60 years, have distinct personalities, form close bonds between family members, and can use and make tools. They show emotions similar to ours: love, compassion, joy, grief, and so on. They live in complex communities and are territorial. Like us they can be aggressive and brutal, but like us they can also be loving and altruistic.
There is one major difference that separates us from chimpanzees and other animals—the explosive development of our intellect. For although animals—and not just the Great Apes, elephants, and whales, but rats and pigs, birds, octopuses, and even some insects—are far more intelligent than was once thought, that capacity cannot compare with an intellect that has allowed us to explore outer space and the depths of the oceans and create the internet and AI.
Unfortunately, though we are unquestionably the most intellectual creature that has ever lived on Planet Earth, we cannot claim that we are the most intelligent—if we were, we would not be destroying our only home. We have lost the wisdom that we see in so many of the Indigenous peoples, who make major decisions only after asking how they will affect future generations. Those who have, for hundreds of years, been stewards of the land.
The good news is that we are beginning to use our intellect to find ways to repair the web of life. As we use our intellect to understand the complexity of the natural world, we are better able to work together to find ways to heal the damage we are inflicting. The path we have been on—one of unsustainable consumption and destruction of nature's resources—has led us to a crisis.
Carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases have led to a warming planet and changing weather patterns. Species have disappeared at an alarming rate, vast tracts of forests and woodlands have been cleared, wetlands drained, coral reefs bleached, grasslands destroyed. While we cannot fully bring back what is gone, there is much we can do to begin the healing. Nature, when given the chance, has an incredible capacity for regeneration. Forests can be restored, rivers can run clean again, and animals—even those on the brink of extinction—can be given another chance and return to their restored habitats.
This book, Generation Restoration, is a call to action, a roadmap that we can follow as we attempt to heal the harm we have inflicted. It presents a vision of how the world can be for future generations. It is a plea to all—young and old, individuals and nations—to come together to tackle the daunting, but essential task of restoring the Earth's degraded ecosystems on a planetary scale. More than that, it is an invitation for us to reflect on our relationship with Planet Earth, to rekindle a sense of awe and gratitude for the beauty, diversity and complexity of the natural world, for then we will understand the importance of working to protect it and understand that our well‐being is inextricably linked to the health of ecosystems‐forests, oceans, prairies, wetlands, and all the rest. If we fail, we are doomed. Humans are not exempt from extinction.
It is important to recognize that the movement toward planetary restoration is not so much a scientific or technical challenge, because we know what to do and we have the tools to do it. The challenge is to develop a new mindset in which the protection and restoration of the natural world are central to government policy, business practices, and everyday life. We must reduce unsustainable lifestyles; alleviate poverty; transform industrial farming with its reliance on chemical pesticides, herbicides, and artificial fertilizers; and tackle the problems of pollution and waste, and much more.
It is very important to involve local communities and help them find ways of supporting themselves and their families without destroying their environment, so that they understand that protecting nature is not just for wildlife, but for their own future. For then they become our partners in conservation. I know this is true because of the community‐led conservation program of the Jane Goodall Institute in six countries, where we work to project chimpanzees and their forest environment. Of course, in many cultures around the world, the relationship with nature is still strong. We have much to learn from indigenous communities as we seek to re‐establish a respectful relationship with the world that surrounds us, and on which we depend.
Economic growth, as we have traditionally defined it, can no longer be our guiding star. Instead, we must prioritize the health of the planet and all its inhabitants, and balance this with a way to meet human need and reduce human greed. This will not be easy, but it is essential if we are to create a future where people and nature can thrive in harmony.
Generation Restoration presents a vision of hope, but also a challenge. It is a book for everyone who wants to understand what went wrong in our relationship with nature, and learn how to fix it. Young people, the leaders of tomorrow, are already stepping up to this challenge with passion and determination. They understand that their future is at stake, and they are demanding change. Movements for climate action, conservation, and rewilding are gaining momentum around the globe, driven by a generation that knows we cannot afford to wait—but they cannot do it alone. We must all play our part, recognizing that each of us—no matter how small our actions may seem—can contribute to the restoration of our planet. If enough people, especially those in the corporate world, understand the urgency of the situation, and take action, politicians will support, rather than oppose, the tough decisions that must be made.
Generation Restoration calls on each of us to rethink our relationship with Planet Earth, our only home, and to work together in the greatest restoration project ever undertaken. This is a task for all people of all ages and all nationalities. Tim Christophersen helped to set up the UN Decade on Ecosystem Restoration 2021–2030 while working for the UN Environment Programme. In this book he outlines a collective effort for all of us living in the 21st century, and beyond. In undertaking this journey, we will not only restore the environment of Earth but also restore something deep within ourselves—a sense of awe and wonder at the complexity and beauty of the living world around us, and to which we belong.
Over the millennia, Mother Earth has nurtured us, and now she needs our help. Let us move forward with passion, determination, and hope and work together to heal and care for planet Earth. Let us enter into a new era of moral and spiritual evolution.
Dr. Jane Goodall, DBEFounder—the Jane Goodall Institute& UN Messenger of Peace
Any foolish boy can stamp on a beetle, but all the professors in the world cannot make a beetle.
—Arthur Schopenhauer
Thousands of people travel around the world each year and pay vast amounts of money to witness one of nature's most awesome dramas: the great migration on the East African plains, from the Serengeti into the Masai Mara and back. Over 2 million wildebeest and other ungulates and their predators migrate with the seasonal rains, and Earth itself seems to shake with the sheer weight and force of wild animals on the move. Looking on from a safe distance, we suddenly feel small. We marvel at the power of nature. Few people realize that such massive migrations of wild animals once took place all across the world, as recently as a few decades or a few centuries ago.
While living in Kenya for almost 10 years, my family and I witnessed firsthand how nature is still breathtakingly rich. However, we also realized how the former continental‐scale migration arena for wildlife such as the African elephant has shrunk to a few haphazardly connected national parks. I remember visiting Amboseli National Park during a prolonged drought and seeing a large herd of elephants, numbering over 100 animals, shuffling around in the bone‐dry soil, and kicking up enormous dust clouds. In past centuries, they would have migrated north or west during droughts until they reached a more suitable habitat, returning to the foot of Kilimanjaro only with the next rains. However, in East Africa today, there are few migration corridors left, and many elephant families have lost the experience of migrating long distances and the knowledge of the best routes. The matriarchs of these families once possessed a deep understanding of the migration routes and the wisdom of when to make a move, which they had accumulated over the course of their long, migratory lives. In recent decades, poaching, habitat fragmentation, and human‐wildlife conflicts have severely limited their range, not only geographically but also mentally: They have lost the knowledge of how to navigate in landscapes that are now full of fences, roads, and settlements. Their loss of a mental map limits how far they dare to venture.1 Africa is not the only place where nature is just a shadow of her former diversity and abundance.* Much of our natural heritage has disappeared across the Americas, Europe, Asia, and Australia, and we no longer remember how immensely rich we once were.
Despite all we have lost, with the right political will, finances, and knowledge, we can regain a diverse and abundant natural world within one generation. This is our generation's moonshot or, rather, our “Earthshot,” as Prince William fittingly calls his global initiative to award innovators in this space. Ecosystem restoration is not about a longing for the past. Rather, it is the only way forward that will allow us to enjoy a life in abundance and diversity for generations to come, because our wealth, health, and well‐being all depend on nature. We are the first generation that has the global perspective, knowledge, and tools—including sufficient finances—to rebuild nature as our most critical planetary infrastructure. Yes, there are some trade‐offs between space for wildlife and space for humans. But there are far more win‐win opportunities where more biological diversity creates more abundance for both wildlife and humans. We read about some of those cases in the second half of this book. And ecosystem restoration is as much about people as it is about nature. Countless examples show where the degradation of nature has impoverished people and where ecosystem restoration will trigger a restoration of local communities and the economy.
Innovation, imagination, and collaboration are the keys to this collective challenge. Despite the moonshot analogy, there are some key differences between restoring Planet Earth and the Apollo space program. The legendary inventor, architect, and futurist Buckminster Fuller once said that “there is one outstandingly important fact regarding Spaceship Earth, and that is that no instruction book came with it.”2 While I appreciate Fuller's quirky humor, Earth is in fact nothing like a spaceship. Earth is more complex, sophisticated, and marvelous than any spaceship we could ever build. Earth is a living system, and we are a core part of that system. The good news is that Earth's systems are not only self‐contained but, for the most part, also self‐repairing. Earth has immense self‐healing powers. To activate them, we need to understand the basic principles of Earth's systems and life cycles. Because, for better or worse, we are the crew of Spaceship Earth, and we need to learn more about this tiny blue and green marble, our only home on which we are hurtling through space. Escaping to Mars is not an option.
Before we can move on to build a new relationship with nature, we must take a hard look at the damage we have done and continue to do. Our study of Spaceship Earth begins with an understanding of nature's original wealth and abundance. In the next section, we look at lessons from stories of some ecosystems and species that are disappearing under our watch.
If you had been a passenger on one of the many ships that took European settlers to the New World in the 17th or 18th century and you were headed to the Caribbean or New York, your ocean passage would have been accompanied frequently by pods of dolphins swimming alongside your vessel and different species of whales spouting at all longitudes—from sperm whales to gray whales, humpbacks, and North Atlantic right whales (named, by the way, for being “just right” for commercial hunting: large, moving slowly, and staying afloat when harpooned).3 Getting closer to shore in the Caribbean, your sleep would have been constantly interrupted by the thuds of sea turtles crashing into the wooden hulls. The Spanish priest Andrés Bernáldez (1450–1513), a chronicler and contemporary of Christopher Columbus, for instance, wrote in 1494 about Cuba's sea turtles: “The sea was all thick with them, and they were of the very largest, so numerous that it seemed that the ships would run aground on them and were as if bathing in them.”4 So plentiful were these magnificent creatures at that time that ships carried limited provisions of meat because they could easily catch large numbers of sea turtles and store them on board, scooped up from the sea or caught on islands during their journey.5 Kept alive on board, their meat would stay fresh.
If you were bound for New York and you disembarked at what today is New York Harbor, your eye would have met crystal clear waters that were filtered at least once a day by giant banks of oysters, covering almost 220,000 acres (90,000 ha)—about the size of 180,000 football fields—home to probably more than 300 billion oysters.6 As one oyster can filter up to 50 gallons (190 l) of water daily, the oysters were continuously filtering the entire coastal ecosystem. They were also feeding the fast‐growing local human population. The oyster reefs provided habitat and food to a vast diversity of marine life, including seals, dolphins, whales, crabs, striped bass, and huge shoals of herring. Hundreds of species in the harbor enjoyed the benefits of the vast oyster habitat. The oyster banks almost wholly disappeared after overharvesting, and they have been gone for more than a century now.7
In his book The Big Oyster, Mark Kurlansky writes:
Before the 20th century, when people thought of New York, they thought of oysters. This is what New York was to the world—a great oceangoing port where people ate succulent local oysters from their harbor. Visitors looked forward to trying them. New Yorkers ate them constantly. They also sold them by the millions, supplying Chicago, St. Louis, Denver, and San Francisco, but also shipping to England, France, and Germany.8
Today, New York has to import its oysters. The city’s last commercial oyster bed closed in 1927. Around the world, 85 percent of all oyster reefs have been lost over the last 200 years. Today's oyster populations in the Hudson‐Raritan Estuary are less than 0.01 percent of what they once were in New York Harbor.9 After the last oysters had been eaten and industrial shipping increased, the waters of New York Harbor and the mouths of the East River and Hudson River became murky because of untreated sewage. They are now almost devoid of life. With the disappearance of oyster reefs, the city and coastline have lost one of their most crucial storm and flood defenses. It takes a vivid imagination to see the lost universe of teeming life behind this now‐lifeless and polluted body of water. Most people visiting New York today probably think it has always been this way. In reality, the cycle of life has come almost to standstill in the waters around the city.
Nature basically works like a flywheel, which needs critical mass and speed. Nature becomes more powerful, stable, and resilient the more life and diversity we add. For the past few centuries, since the first Industrial Revolution, most of human efforts have been targeted at slowing down nature's flywheel for the purpose of controlling it. Monocultures, industrial agriculture, and overharvesting of natural resources all go against the fundamental principle in ecology that life and diversity produce more life and diversity. Therefore, the most important thing we can do for ecosystem restoration is to start the process of increasing the diversity and abundance of life. A local initiative is about to do just that for the oysters in New York Harbor. The Billion Oyster Project wants to restore oyster banks around Governors Island and other former sites around the Upper Bay and the river's estuaries. The project releases over 50 million small oysters each season, anchoring them in their former habitat. Millions of oysters have already established themselves in the wild. Despite obstacles such as bad water quality and a lack of funding, the project forges on.
And the momentum is growing, thanks to the enthusiasm of schools, restaurants, ecopreneurs, and investors. The Billion Oyster Project is now part of the curriculum, both in theory and in practice, of more than 100 public school campuses across New York City, mostly middle and high schools, as well as a growing number of schools in northern New Jersey. Once oyster populations become self‐sustaining and begin to reproduce on their own in significant numbers, they will be able to form sustainable reefs that support ongoing reproduction and habitat creation. They would start to filter large amounts of water, and their sturdy banks would once again provide storm protection, habitat, and food for fish, birds, and marine mammals. Once we make a strong and intentional start, nature herself will do most of the heavy work. Life could return to the waters around the Big Apple in breathtaking diversity and abundance. Let us now look across the Atlantic at another example of a drastic decline in once‐abundant wildlife under our watch.
For centuries, the European eel was the most important commercial fish species in European estuaries. However, following a loss of 95 percent of the entire population over just the past 30 years, the species has recently been categorized as critically endangered in the International Union for Conservation of Nature Red List of Threatened Species.
You might think of eels, if you ever think of them at all, as very slippery (they are!) and perhaps not very good to eat. They are, in fact, delicious, in particular as smoked eel on toast. Eels are medium‐sized fish up to 3 feet (1 m) in length and can live up to 20 years in the wild. In my youth, I used to catch eels in a lake near our house. During summer, we would sit around a campfire and wait for eels to take our bait, triggering the little bells we had attached to our fishing lines. To understand what went wrong between us humans and the eel, it is worth a short excursion into the life of Anguilla anguilla, which has one of the most fascinating biological cycles in the animal kingdom.
Eels spawn only once in their lifetime, and it was a mystery for centuries where and how they reproduced. In 1922, Danish researcher Johannes Schmidt identified the Sargasso Sea in the western Atlantic as their spawning grounds. The Sargasso Sea is a vast ocean gyre located between Bermuda, the Bahamas, and the southeastern coast of the United States, more than 3,100 miles (5,000 km) from the European coast. When eels sexually mature, their bodies turn a silvery color, and they start their journey from their freshwater and brackish habitats toward the Atlantic Ocean, never to return. Depending on their departure location in rivers, ponds, and lakes across Europe, some eels travel up to 6,200 miles (10,000 km) to get there. They migrate from the freshwater of lakes and rivers toward the coast, into the brackish water of estuaries, and then into the salt water of the ocean. It is assumed that they navigate by Earth's magnetic field. They can breathe through their skin and live on land for extended periods, moving like snakes across fields, preferably during rain or when the fields are still wet from dew. They often live in landlocked ponds and lakes, and to reach the ocean, they sometimes must travel long distances across land to migrate into rivers and streams, which has given rise to many folk tales about their supernatural abilities.
Once they reach the ocean, they start an epic journey westward across the Atlantic, which can take up to one year. During their journey, they no longer eat. Instead, their intestines are transformed into reproductive organs, which are not fully developed before they start their migration. Upon arriving in the Sargasso Sea, they spawn, often at depths of up to 1,000 feet (300 m) and then die. The tiny eel larvae now start an epic journey of their own: They drift with the Gulf Stream eastward, back toward Europe, a trip of up to 300 days. During their Atlantic crossing, they feed on plankton and other marine biomass and grow into small fish, but they are still translucent when they arrive at the southeastern coast of Europe and the Mediterranean, which is why they are called “glass eels” at that stage. From the coast, they start their journey back upstream into even the remotest freshwater bodies of Europe.
The more than 90 percent drop in population size over the past few decades did not happen due to sport fishing, such as my occasional catch of an eel in my youth. Industrial fishing fleets in the Atlantic and Mediterranean catch the translucent glass eels in large quantities, mainly off the coasts of Portugal, Spain, and France, for export to aquaculture worldwide and in particular to Asia, where these eels are considered a prized delicacy. Prices for glass eels soared to 6,800 USD per pound (15,000 USD per kg) in Japan recently. So highly prized is this once‐common fish that it has caught the interest of organized crime. The Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species places heavy restrictions on the export of eels, and the annual illegal trade in European eel is estimated to be worth up to 3 billion USD per year.10 On October 28, 2019, French police arrested two people on their way to Kunming, China, with 300,000 live glass eels in their luggage, in water‐filled plastic bags, weighing 200 pounds (91 kg ) and worth over 110,000 USD (100,000 euros).
During my lifetime, from my childhood years fishing for eels in our local lake without a care in the world to today, a once‐abundant wild animal has turned into a rare and smuggled commodity. Countless other species have met the same fate within the same short time. In the past, fisherfolk or hunters used to just move on to the next species, the next ecosystem, the next exploitation. However, we have reached the end of the road where we can recklessly consume nature to build more financial capital. The blank checks we issue on behalf of nature are starting to bounce. There are few pristine ecosystems left to plunder—the deep sea being one of the few. Yet even the deep sea is no longer safe from our liquidation of its natural capital. A concerted global effort is underway to erode a UN ban on deep‐seabed mining, and industrial‐scale mineral extraction plans exist across many ocean habitats.11 The current plan to mine the deep ocean and the trawling of the bottom of the sea for the last remaining fish are in stark contrast to the fact that the ocean was once teeming with life.
In my home region of northern Germany, much of the year's cultural calendar is based on former animal migrations. The mass migration of herring in their billions along the coast, for example, caused entire villages and towns to shut down for days because everyone was busy catching, drying, and wood‐smoking enough fish to last throughout the year. For hundreds of years, the arrival of whales, dolphins, tuna, and sharks, which trailed the herring migrations, triggered a monthlong fishing frenzy among the human populations along the coasts of Northern Europe, North America, and northeastern Asia each spring. Fall and spring also marked the arrival of millions of migratory birds in the Northern Hemisphere. People caught them by the hundreds of thousands in specially constructed duck decoys, and they provided an essential source of protein. For example, in one specially constructed duck decoy in my home region on the island of Fohr in the Wadden Sea, an ecologically essential tidal estuary for migrating birds on the East Atlantic flyway, an estimated 3 million wild ducks were caught and killed between 1730 and 1983.12 Dozens of such large‐scale duck decoy constructions existed along the coast of the Netherlands, Germany, and Denmark.
In late spring each year, when the salmon run began, people would flock to the rivers and catch salmon and other migratory fish, such as the giant Atlantic sturgeon. This once‐abundant fish is now critically endangered. Sturgeons can reach 20 feet (6 m) in length and weigh up to 880 pounds (400 kg). The last remaining large sturgeons in my home province of Schleswig‐Holstein were caught in the 1950s.13 Once a common sight and catch in the North Sea and all major European rivers, sturgeons are now so rare that they spawn in only one river in France. The decline of the sturgeon played out over several decades. The collapse of other species took centuries, so we often do not remember how rich our natural heritage once was. We lack the ability to perceive the loss of nature at an intergenerational pace. Yet, for nature, it happens in a heartbeat. We are losing species too fast for nature to adjust, at an estimated rate 1,000 times faster than the natural rate of species extinctions, but apparently that is still too slow for us to notice. In Earth's geological history, there have been five confirmed mass extinction events, which basically sent evolution back to the drawing board. Some were caused by volcanic eruptions, some by meteorites, and some due to unknown causes. We are now entering the sixth geological mass extinction event, this time caused by us. Even when there is photographic evidence, as in our next story, we don't seem to notice the steady decline of nature until it might be too late.
In the early morning of April 14, 1957, three tourists set out on a small chartered fishing boat, the Gulfstream II, from the docks of Key West. They were heading for the rich belt of coral reefs off the Florida coast, where they would spend the whole day fishing. For all we know, it was a successful and happy day, judging by the photos taken upon their return, with the day's catch neatly displayed on a special mount at the docks next to the beaming recreational fishermen. The happy hobby fishers and their skipper are posing proudly next to more than 20 large fish of several species hanging from the display board and lying at their feet, including a shark almost 6.5 feet (2 m) long and a goliath grouper larger and presumably heavier than the burly captain.
Over the next 50 years, the same charter company continued to operate fishing tours in the same waters, with the Gulfstream II being periodically refurbished. A photo of each trip was taken in the same way, proudly displaying the day's catch. In 2008, Loren McClenachan, a researcher from the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in California, had the opportunity to analyze the entire collection of photos from 1957 to the 1980s, and she took similar photos for comparison in 2007.14 Her findings are striking. For the 13 groups of most frequently caught trophy reef fish, the average fish size declined by almost 90 percent from an estimated 44 pounds (19.9 kg) to 5 pounds (2.3 kg) over 50 years. Between 1956 and 1960, large groupers and other large predatory fish, including sharks over 6.5 feet (2 m) in length, were commonly caught (see Figure 1.1.). In contrast, by 2007, only small snappers with an average length of 1 foot (34.4 cm) were landed (see Figure 1.2.). Sharks were still caught occasionally, but their average length declined by more than 50 percent. Despite a drastic drop in fish size, variety, and numbers, the company still charged a high price for fishing trips, but customers paid for a much less valuable product.
Figure 1.1 Happy fisherfolk at Key West, Florida, in 1957.
Credit: Monroe County Library
Figure 1.2 Happy fisherfolk in 2007 at the same location, with the average catch size reduced by 90 percent.
Credit: Monroe County Library/Loren McClenachan
What I find most striking about the long‐term photo series is that the groups of fishermen and the occasional fisherwoman look equally happy in each photo. They all beam into the camera as if they had just landed the world's best and biggest catch. Imagine if the crew of another charter boat next to them displayed a much larger variety of fish species, at almost 10 times the average size. Our teams would demand their money back. But because there is no immediate comparison to what they have lost, they are blissfully unaware of the steep decline in our natural wealth. They look just as happy in 2007 as in 1957. If this delusion were just a case of a few people's—or even the general public's—complacency with the current state of nature, it might be more humane to keep everyone ignorant about how much we have lost. If you agree, you probably should skip to the next chapter. A psychological phenomenon called the “shifting baseline syndrome” keeps us buffered from some of the grief or anger we might otherwise feel because of the immense loss of what once was ours and everyone's: seemingly unlimited natural abundance.
However, the shifting baseline syndrome is not merely a mental defense mechanism for coping with the effects of biodiversity loss. It is also a form of self‐deception that can lull us into a false sense of security regarding the pace of environmental degradation. It makes us underestimate the looming tipping points at which sudden and drastic changes in ecosystems can occur. It leaves us in the dark about the immense original potential of intact nature and functioning ecosystems to feed, clothe, and shelter humanity as well as to contribute to our recreational and spiritual fulfillment. The shifting baseline syndrome is keeping us poorer, hungrier, and less healthy than we are supposed to be. It is time to reset our original baseline and our future expectations of natural wealth. We should both remember and demand a diverse, abundant world that is rich, fertile, and full of life, because that is how nature is supposed to be and is waiting to be again. Abundance is the true nature of our natural heritage.
Most of us take the current degraded state of our environment for granted. We redefine what is “natural” with each generation, and our particular state of degradation becomes the new normal. But that is only part of the story. Ecology and ecosystems rarely work in linear ways. Nature moves in leaps and bounds, and Earth's complex life system has many known and probably even more unknown ecological tipping points. To better understand tipping points in nature, imagine a large round boulder resting in a slight depression on a hillside. The boulder represents an ecosystem, such as a forest. When something tries to move and dislodge it, such as a storm or a grizzly bear rubbing against it, the boulder might shift slightly, but the depression it rests in keeps it in place. After minor disturbances, it returns to its resting place. That is called “resilience”: bouncing back into a predetermined state of equilibrium. However, when the force moving the boulder is strong enough to push it over the slight edge of its depression on the hillside, the boulder will start to roll downhill with considerable speed and force, until it settles in a new stable location.
The same thing can happen to ecosystems. When their initial resistance to disturbance is overcome and they are pushed over the edge of their natural resilience, they undergo rapid changes, referred to as “tipping points,” and their new resting place is farther down the hill of ecological complexity, where they settle into a new equilibrium of birth, growth, and decay. When triggered, such tipping points can suddenly and sometimes irreversibly flip an ecosystem from a diverse and resilient state into a degraded state. The Amazon forest biome, for example, could flip from a moist forest ecosystem into the degraded state of a savannah woodland if it goes beyond approximately 25 percent of deforestation.15 The warning signs that an ecosystem is close to a tipping point are often overlooked, such as in the case of New York oysters. For much of the 19th century, untreated sewage flowed directly into the waterways, smothering oyster reefs with sediment and toxic runoff. In the early 20th century, New York Harbor was a source of epidemics of typhoid, cholera, and other waterborne diseases due to sewage overflows and industrial waste.16
When it comes to the warning signs of our planetary life support systems, we are like the proverbial frog sitting in a pot of heating water. A frog thrown into hot water will immediately jump out again, but a frog that sits in a pool of cold water that is slowly being heated until boiling point will remain there until it dies. (I have not tried this experiment with an actual frog and hope you won't either.) We simply don't realize that we are headed for a point of no return, possibly leading to sudden collapse, because the change is too gradual for our perception within human time frames until it dramatically accelerates. However, we now have clear indications that the intricate web of life is starting to tear at an unprecedented speed. The latest research highlights nine active global‐scale ecological tipping points, including ice sheet collapses in Greenland and western Antarctica, the Amazon forest dieback, the permafrost thaw, and the potential collapse of the northern Atlantic Ocean circulation, which provides Europe with its mild climate. A 2025 study estimates a 62 percent average probability of triggering these irreversible tipping points unless we change current policies.17
