"We live in an age where only unnecessary things are our only necessities."-Oscar Wilde

For the sake of clarity and precision, I must define the “natural world” and the “artificial world,” for both concepts have become increasingly vague and overused. In my judgment, the “natural world” must be broken down into two categories: the simply “natural” and the “natural proper.” The word “natural” by itself means “existing in or derived from nature, having a real or physical existence.” If one looks up this word in a standard dictionary, the definition, for some odd reason, consistently excludes humans, wrong-headedly suggesting that humans are not a part of nature when we do exist in and are derived from it. Undoubtedly, we are carbon-based creatures. Around 99% of the human body is made up of oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus. Then, the standard definition goes on to state that what is processed, made, or caused by humans (who are natural beings) isn’t natural either. Elementally, what excludes something human-made as plastic from being natural since it “exists in nature and has a real physical existence” and is composed of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, etc?

On the other hand, the “natural proper” is the state of nature where complete ecological units function as systems with little to no human intervention, including all vegetation, animals, microorganisms, soil, rocks, atmosphere, and “natural proper” phenomena (volcanic eruptions, weather, and decay). Wilderness is a perfect example. It’s often idealized and romanticized, described as a Platonic perfection. The distinction between the “natural” and the “natural proper” is an important one because human beings alter and modify their environment like no other species on Earth. When it comes to destruction, of course, we’re not as powerful, as say black holes or supernovae—but as a species with reason and the ability to make ethical decisions about our environment, we have a moral obligation not to harm the Earth.

In truth, there can be overlap between the natural and the artificial. The “artificial world” can be “natural,” but never the “natural proper.” The artificial is basically the built environment: man-made surroundings that provide the setting for massive human activity, ranging in scale from personal shelter to a Manhattan skyline. It has two subsets: the positive and the negative artificial. The positive artificial includes human-made materials that create a balance between our survival and environmental conservation: medicine, x-rays, MRIs, sustainable architecture and agriculture. In contrast, the “negative artificial” includes human-made materials that are unnecessary and over-lavish for our well-being, which are harmful to us and the environment: oil, plastics, paper mills, large gas-guzzling vehicles, electronics, batteries, aerosol sprays, planes etc.

I routinely return home for spring break to Lake Charles, LA, a moderately-sized, southwestern Louisiana port city. While there, I constantly felt as though I were saturated in a negative artificial environment, which was unfortunate, largely because such a state was preventable. Lake Charles is the parish seat of Calcasieu Parish, first organized in 1840. The now-extinct Attakapa Indians originally occupied the area. But in 1781, the French were the first recorded Europeans settlers. Interestingly enough, the infamous pirate Jean Lafitte held a base of operations in the city. By the 1850s, a bemoaning timber and cattle-industry had turned Lake Charles into a fast-growing parish seat. But slightly west of the city, another industry would contribute to its growth; that is—the oil industry. This was the moment when the city completely turned itself into a negative artificial environment. It had a lot of potential to become a “natural proper” environment, given the abundance of freshwater marshes, bayous, marshlands, lakes, cheniers, wild alligator populations, and other teeming wildlife: 28 species of mammals, more than 300 species of birds, monarch butterflies, 39 species of mosquitoes, and 13 species of fish. Further, rice, sugar cane, soybean, and cattle comprised the extent of farming in Calcasieu parish. This city used to be more rural and anti-urban, a condition which could easily transition to a more sustainable living space. Instead, as is the case almost everywhere in the U.S. in the 21^st C, it was turned into an unnecessarily, over lavish mechanized space. A society loses its rural nature once endless rows of commercial restaurants and retail chains, along with multinational oil and gas corporations, replace quaint local businesses and green space.

Heading west from New Orleans, I-10’s large, concrete legs buried themselves in LA’s swamps, bayous, and rivers. The monolith, a decadent living area for oil, grease, and coolant, stretched for miles. When I returned home, I noticed numerous everyday practices that impact our environment: holding the refrigerator door open for too long, cranking the A/C, lacking a recycling program, carbon-emitting vehicles, keeping cell phone chargers plugged while not in use, etc.

When it comes to my land ethic, I wholeheartedly agree with Leopold. In like manner, the land ethic “cannot prevent the alteration, management, and use of these ‘resources,' but it does affirm their right to continued existence, and, at least in spots, their continued existence in a natural state.” Secondly, the role of Homo sapiens should change “from conqueror of the land-community to plain member and citizen of it.” It can be argued that Descartes laid the modern philosophical foundations opposing the above view. Thirdly, we need to end our separation from the land by middlemen and by unnecessary physical gadgets and other barriers ( iPods, Blueray DVD players, shopping malls, Wal-marts, asphalt, concrete, steel, utility poles—I call them electrical crucifixes). More than ever, we need a vital relationship to the true land. As well, we need to examine each ecological question in terms of what is ethically and aesthetically right, not only in economic terms (economics shouldn’t determine all land-use. “A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community.” Lake Charles has failed to abide by this land ethic by building golf courses, paved roads, casinos, and, lastly, oil refineries—PPG, Conoco Phillips, and CITGO. These three refineries are primarily thought of in economic terms, never ethical terms. If they weren’t, it would be nearly impossible to justify the petrochemical wastes found contaminating the Calcasieu River and the estuarine environment. In 1994 Condea Vista leaked about 47 million pounds of highly carcinogenic ethylene dichloride into the river, and then tried to cover up. Most of it drained into the Gulf. Or in June of 2006 when the CITGO petroleum plant released between 15,000 and 18,000 barrels of oil into the Calcasieu ship channel. How can one justify that PPG averages more than 2,000,000 Ib of air pollution nationally? Petroleum production and petroleum products have contributed to air and water pollution, disturbing Louisiana’s fragile wetlands (LA has lost up to forty square miles of marsh per year for several decades). While the river’s diversion is a primary cause of wetland loss, canals dredged for navigation in support of oil and mineral extraction have allowed saltwater to penetrate into previously fresh marshes. Leaking underground storage tanks that may pollute groundwater and create noxious fumes haven’t helped either. Energy from carbon-based fuels such as oil and gasoline produces carbon-dioxide, now a major cause of climate change. Lake Charles could change this by not only switching to renewable energy sources such as solar, wind, water, biomass, or geothermal, but also by practicing energy conservation.