Playing God

Bighorn Sheep Or Mountain Lions? Killing One Species To Save Another

California biologists watching through spotting scopes take note, for this is no ordinary baby and this treacherous sheet of talus rock at 8,000-feet elevation is not particularly safe, even for a creature as sure-footed as his mother.

On this day they'll count him as part of the precarious population of Sierra-Nevada Bighorn Sheep, at 400 one of the most endangered big mammals in the U.S. But they know the odds are 75 percent against this little guy reaching adulthood: rockslides, avalanches, disease and mountain lions all stand in the way.

For a decade California and federal biologists have helped the species by removing the obstacles they could: disease-carrying domestic sheep were banned from Bighorn Sheep territory two years ago and trappers hunted, snared and collared mountain lions suspected of being a threat.

So... you're God, right?

Late last year one of the four program biologists filed a formal complaint about an increase in mountain lion hunting since 2007 prompted by a spike in sheep deaths. It resulted in tense office discussions and, eventually, a ruling favorable to lions this winter from the state Legislative Counsel.

"We have to look at the whole ecosystem and not treat the sheep like they're in a captive breeding program," said Becky Pierce, the associate wildlife biologist and cougar expert who filed the complaint.

So... you're God, right?

"It's so easy to say, `we'll just take out as many as we can in their range' when the bigger issue" – getting sheep to live alongside their main predator – "will ultimately provide the most benefit," said Stephanie Boyles, wildlife scientist with the Humane Society of the United States.

So... you're God, right?

"It's a good question for a college class," said Stephenson, of the California Department of Fish and Game. "Ask them if it's OK to kill mountain lions and they'll say `no.' But ask them if it's the only way to preserve the species and get them back into Yosemite National Park and their other historic ranges, and they might say `yes.'"

Here's an even better question to ask a college class: "Is it okay to play God in pursuit of a cause you feel is just?" The results would be fascinating, but I'll bet very few of them would answer with an unequivocal "no." That's the core of the problem with progressivism and all its bastard children, such as environmentalism.

As an conservative atheist, I have an unusual viewpoint on this sort of thing. You see, I accept my existence for what it is: limited, ephemeral, and ultimately (in the grand scheme of the Universe) meaningless. I find my own personal meaning in family, friends, acquaintances and hobbies. It's a Good Life. When I die, it's game over. I have learned to accept that reality with something like equanimity, no matter how much I may wish it were otherwise. The problem with many liberals is that they can't -- and don't -- accept it. Oh, they make the noises about accepting it, but deep down they're terrified that the little voice in their head might be right.

Why do you think so many on the Left are so quick to attack religion, especially the Judeo-Christian mythology? It's quite simple, really: because they were raised in it. They grew up steeped in it, but then they got to college and suddenly were inundated with the academic, scientific version of reality. They had no choice but to accept that New Reality: it's rational, it's coherent, it makes sense -- everything, in short, that was not true of the religion they were born into. To deny it would be intellectually dishonest. But there's a catch, one that many of them never realize is there: what will replace that huge emotional hole left behind? For many, the answer is hatred.

Hatred not for the religion itself, and not even really for the people who follow it. No, their hatred is reserved for the fact that they feel themselves to have been deceived, and are now afloat on a sea of uncertainty. I speak from experience here, by the way. There was a time when this was me, when I truly despised religion and all it stood for. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was simply scared. Like all scared children, I lashed out at what I perceived as the source -- not of my fear, but of the deception.

And that's what you see in these so-called scientists who on the one hand talk about Nature and Secularism and the Cycle of Life, and on the other choose to interfere with it at every turn. It's fear. They have no anchor, nothing tying them to reality. In substitute, they feel they must Do Something -- you know, Something Important. Whether it be trying to save a species which is doomed to extinction or deluding themselves into thinking their electric automobile is preventing the imaginary destruction of the climate of an entire planet. The method is irrelevant (if mostly predictable); there is a hole in their soul which must be filled.

It is in their minds, though perhaps very far back, that if they can do this Good Thing, the great Mother that is their secretly anthropomorphized version of the Universe will smile upon them and grant the boon of Not Death. Don't bother denying it kids; I've been there and back again.

Nowadays when I see some silly person desperately trying to outguess Mother Nature, I just shake my head. They're so deep into it, they can't see the contradictions in their own actions. They see themselves -- and humanity -- as standing outside of nature, rather than seeing the truth that our factories and planes and houses are just as much a part of nature as a baby bighorn sheep. Pointing out their folly will simply result in a long series of complex justifications, rather than a rational and objective examination of their own motives. Again, I know; I've tried.

So go on about it. You try to save your sheep and your cougars and your lizards and your pond-skitterers and whatever else your anger and fear and hopelessness cause you to fixate on. You play God. And when you've thoroughly botched it up, perhaps you'll look back and find your true motivations. On that day will you become an adult, no matter your age. And then maybe you'll stop teaching college children that they too can be gods.