Conservationists and environmentalists who wish to “minimize their impact” are woefully misguided. The surest way to minimize one’s impact on the Earth, after all, would be to eat a bullet. If you'd prefer to keep living, then do your best to asymptotically approach non-entity. They brand the proliferation of human life itself as a sin, and I suspect they would outlaw metabolism if they could (anything which produces CO2 is suspect).

 An undercurrent of fanatical misanthropy is evident in every facet of these movements. Motivated by a rankling subterranean contempt for humanity, which they cover in a cloak of sentimentality, they continue to devise novel ways to make the human populace cold, tired, enfeebled, submissive and utterly incapable of doing anything except precisely what they're told. The most morally perfect creatures, in this bloodless view of life and ethics, are those approaching wholesale impotence, those who lack the capacity to do harm. They've no appreciation for those who retain great power and use it wisely. (Though they do seem willing to make exceptions for governments tyrannically imposing their asinine ideas.)

 The message, at any rate, is a foolish one. It is not a matter of having “no impact,” or the lowest impact possible; what matters is the nature of one's impact. Having a massive impact on the Earth and its ecosystems can be a resoundingly good thing, provided it leads to the increased flourishing of healthy life on our planet. The world would be much better off with sound human stewardship than it would be in its absence. We have the capacity to regenerate shattered ecosystems, improve the fecundity and biodiversity of existing ones, and discover increasingly harmonious and mutually beneficial ways to integrate our societies with the natural world. We will only discern them if we leave off this cultish self-flagellation and harness our power as human beings with a clear conscience, in service to a noble ideal. Smallness will not save the world—only greatness can do that.