Many species remain undiscovered for a reason well understood by field biologists. These biologists have learned that the most elusive species tend to be rare and isolated in narrow niches limited to small, remote habitats, and hence could be much more numerous than suggested by published data sets… E.O. Wilson
Taxonomy, by definition, is the science dealing with the description, identification, naming, and classification of organisms (Global Taxonomy Initiative). In an excerpt from his book, Half Earth, biologist E.O. Wilson, makes a case for the importance of taxonomy to “… the unfinished mission of science to discover and conserve all of life on Earth.” I think he is saying that we cannot begin to protect and preserve biodiversity if we are, most of us, clueless about the vast range of creatures which inhabit planet earth. We don’t know their names, or anything else about them, and so they remain objects of our disregard and carelessness.
I get it. It is a natural human characteristic to want to know the names of things. What will you name your baby? What is the name of that river? And to feel inadequate in saying, “I love those yellow flowers,” when “daffodils” says so much more. It’s why I weight my backpack with wildflower and bird books, and fuss at myself when I forget them.
As a Southerner, I understand in my bones this desire to name, know, and classify. I grew up fielding questions from strangers who exhibited no shyness in asking me about my daddy, my mama, and any other significant people and places in my life. Satisfied, the inquisitor would sit back and conclude, “Oh, yes, I know your people,” or ominously, “I don’t believe I know your people.”
As with all insects and critters, what we think we know about a person’s lineage may not completely predict the character and behavior of a stranger we have just met. Such classification can be difficult to overcome.
In the urgency to complete the naming and classification of all creatures “yet to be discovered”, I can’t help feeling concerned. What if we don’t get it right? Are there really undiscovered insects and critters waiting to be named “harrisonfordi” for lack of enough names which we think appropriate? What do such names tell us about them or them about themselves?
I worry that so-named, they come within our purview, and we develop a sense of responsibility for them - dominion of a sort. Taxonomy, Wilson says, is necessary to manage and protect these creatures, and ultimately to save them. Are the vast numbers of species on board with that?
We humans don’t have a good track record with those goals. We fall short of either the will or the know-how or both. The consequences of human intervention on the species we already know are devastating.
A principle of physics, called the observer effect, states that “simply observing a situation or phenomenon necessarily changes that phenomenon” (Wikipedia). While our intentions are good, I fear for the hidden, unknown species as we find them, observe them, and classify them. You have to lift up a rock to find the creatures that live beneath, and when you do, others will also want to look under that rock. Newly discovered beings cannot escape our attention unscathed. They may not escape at all. It is a conundrum. If we don’t find them, we cannot save them, and yet, it is our finding them that might destroy them.
I believe these beings have evolved just as nature has intended. They are the perfect embodiment of themselves and fulfill their purpose, in their niches, just as they are meant to. We might only dimly imagine that purpose and what role it plays in relation to all other beings.
Wilson calls these unkowns “elusive… rare, and isolated.” I think this, too, is as it is meant to be. Rather than “awaiting discovery” - a strictly human perspective - maybe they are meant to remain hidden, undiscovered, and untouched. Their elusiveness serves a purpose. Rather than awaiting discovery, perhaps they are busy fulfilling their destiny - billions of years in the planning - to save the planet when our unholy dominion has failed.
Oh, elusive soldiers in the soil, the earth thrums with your industry. Can you complete your task before I step on your home?
