The Bright Side of Overpopulation

By Barbara Ehrenreich

The United Nations Conference on Population in Cairo leaves us with a lot to think about -- most of it charged with acute self-loathing. Why did I have those kids? responsible citizens might ask themselves, or, Why don't I ease the problem by just dropping dead right now? From a hard-nosed ecological viewpoint, humans -- along with their Styrofoam and cellophane leavings -- have become a form of pollution. One population expert, anthropologist Warren Hern of the University of Colorado, has even taken to calling our species an "ecotumor" or "planetary malignancy" that is recklessly devouring its host, the poor Earth.

The Pope and I would probably agree about one thing: this is a hell of a way to think of human beings. Every moral system known to our species starts with the proposition that each human life is precious (even though we may not agree on when that life begins), each child a potential source of delight. Surely there are other philosophies -- Hitler and his epigones in Bosnia represent one -- but they cannot claim the label moral. When we start thinking of the neighbors' kids as pollutants, we're on our way to Rwanda writ large.

But there's a bright side to overpopulation, if we take the long long-term point of view. Until about 10,000 years ago, the human population was probably less than 25 million, mostly scattered in bands of 30 to 40 members each. Mates were probably hard to find -- especially if you weren't interested in mating with a sibling or a parent -- and extinction was only an Ice Age or epidemic away.

So the fact that there are 5.7 billion of us today, many living in cities that could house half the entire Paleolithic population, doesn't have to be seen as a disaster. Overpopulation also represents an enormous biological victory, if that's how we choose to see it. In either case, of course, we're going to have to start contracepting and curbing births far more vigorously than ever before. But the spirit is entirely different, depending on how we interpret our numerical strength: if the current population is an achievement rather than a "bomb," then we should be patting ourselves on the back and heaving a deep sigh of relief. Population control should be seen as a reward for a job well done rather than as a new form of discipline and self-denial.

And from a maternal way of thinking, our current numbers are indeed a stunning achievement. Over the millenniums, millions of women gave their lives to "overpopulate" the earth. They died in childbirth, as did three of my own great-grandmothers, each by the age of 31. Or they squandered their health on pregnancy after pregnancy, with as many as half ending in miscarriage or dead babies. Even within this century, medical wisdom held that "maternity is another word for eternity" and that women really were the weaker, sicker sex.

One obvious bright side of overpopulation, then, is that no one -- not even a Pontiff -- can tell women that they must hew to their traditional role or risk letting the human race die out. This was the bottom-line argument against women's liberation in the 19th century. But in Cairo the priests and mullahs could hardly invoke biological necessity to silence the forces of feminism. It's not just that women's empowerment is "the new population control weapon," as the New York Times proclaims. Empowerment is also women's overdue reward for filling the planet with humans.

With more women freed from repeated childbearing, each child can potentially have a more generous share of attention and resources. If, for example, Hillary had six children instead of just Chelsea, she wouldn't have had many moments to spare for volunteer work with the Children's Defense Fund. "It takes a village to raise a child," according to the African adage, and that ratio of resources to child might be good for the villages as well as our children.

But the happiest consequence of overpopulation, which no one at Cairo dared say and probably few have even ventured to think, is that sex can finally, after all these centuries, be separated from the all-too-serious business of reproduction. Technology has made it possible to uncouple sex and babymaking; ecology has made it necessary. Now all that remains is for us to make the cultural leap to an ecologically responsible sexual ethic. This means, at a minimum, guaranteeing contraception, with abortion as a backup, to all who might need it. But it also means telling our teenagers the hard ecological truth -- which is probably also the best news they could get -- that sex, in our overpopulated world, is best seen as a source of fun.

If, after all, the essence of morality is respect for each life, and if, , furthermore, all future life is threatened by rampant reproduction, then what could be more moral than teaching teenagers that homosexuality is a viable life-style? Or that masturbation is harmless and normal? Or that petting, under most circumstances, makes far more sense than begetting? The only ethic that can work in an overcrowded world is one that insists that women are free, children are loved, and sex -- preferably among affectionate and consenting adults -- belongs squarely in the realm of play.