As in his book, Scott Barrett seizes the reader's interest by describing a dramatic situation of choice. Who cannot be struck by the example of the Large Hadron Collider and the possibility of accidentally annihilating the Earth with it? What does precaution require here?
Barrett argues that cost–benefit analysis, which I criticize as environmentally incautious in cases of scientific uncertainty, would justify precaution in this case. And the Europeans, whose “precautionary” leanings I have applauded, are the ones building the Large Hadron Collider.
Two clarifications are in order. First, it is not just because someone sees a remote possibility of the ultimate catastrophe that we suspend all action. With a little imagination, anyone can conjure a disaster following from almost any action. Before taking a risk claim seriously, proponents of precaution ask questions such as the following: Is this risk a matter of concern to reputable scientists? More than a few? Is the theory that underpins this fear consistent with other theories that are more widely accepted? There is nothing nonprecautionary in the Europeans' decision to proceed with the Collider experiments if the answers to these preliminary questions were “no.”
Second, in Precautionary Politics, I warn against using this sort of example as a test of precautionary intuitions. Hans Jonas—one of the key thinkers in the intellectual genealogy of the precautionary principle—developed the “imperative of responsibility” for cases similar to Barrett's example. Jonas declared that “[n]ever must the existence of man … be made a stake in the hazards of action.” Imagining a risk that imperils the entire future existence of humanity gives the illusion that one can reasonably make absolute, a priori judgments about risk taking. “Might this action destroy the Earth? Then we must never do it.” Today's proponents of precaution do not assume that environmental risk situations are like this. Issues such as climate change mitigation and biodiversity preservation involve not physical annihilation but potentially adverse, long-term changes in large-scale bio-physical systems that have heretofore reliably provided services (stable temperatures, recycling and purifying water, disease resistance that comes from genetic diversity, etc.) essential to the flourishing of human and nonhuman life. The scientific community itself is often divided when attempting to predict the evolution of these systems. Evidence is often patchy, theories of causal mechanisms divergent, and disciplinary protocols difficult to reconcile. In addition, questions of justice—questions of responsibility for the current situation, of the fairness of distributing risk differentially to various populations—inevitably arise. What principles and procedures should guide us in such situations?
Precautionary Politics argues that applying the precautionary principle is not just a matter of policymakers invoking a decision rule, like a judge implementing mandatory sentencing laws. The basic principle of precaution is that where uncertainties are substantial and potentially adverse environmental impacts serious, caution is necessary. Precaution in practice, however, is complicated. In the GMO (genetically modified organisms) case, European authorities convoked multiple scientific committees and extended their disciplinary membership in novel directions; insisted on refined experimental protocols; organized new types of public consultations; developed new rules to enable better monitoring of long-term impact; and worked cooperatively to modify procedures for handling disputed evidence. Precaution is anything but a matter of absolute, a priori judgments (including my own). Rather, it inspires a new type of politics invented in response to humanity's unprecedented environmental predicament and the uncertainties surrounding it.
