I drove through Cu Chi province in southern Vietnam a few weeks ago. The entrances to the labyrinthian tunnels in which the Viet Cong hid during the war are shaded by lush trees and undergrowth. Twenty years ago this area was barren, as close a thing to a desert as human power could make it. The largest stronghold of guerrillas in the south, Cu Chi had been bombed relentlessly by American and South Vietnamese forces. Agent Orange and other defoliants had been sprayed everywhere.
Nature is supposed to be as fragile as a lotus blossom.
This view of Man versus Nature dictates the most stringent possible restraints on everything. From their dusty, silent perches in our museums, the dodo and the passenger pigeon mutely testify that it is indeed possible for man to do irrevocable harm to other forms of life, that some kinds of exploitation and destruction can never be undone. Still, as my recent tour of Cu Chi shows, nature is a lot more resilient than most people give her credit for, and myths to the contrary, can be positively harmful. A recent case in point is described in the October issue of Scientific American. The fastest recovery is occurring in places where the cleanup was left to the wind and the waves.