Key theme(s):

Media Type: Book
Title: Silent Earth: Averting the Insect Apocalypse
Author: Dave Goulson
Year of Publication: 2021

What’s it about?

The insect world in all its biodiversity, the harm we are doing to it and how we can start to repair some of the damage.

Picking up on the title of Rachel Carson’s legendary Silent Spring (1962), this book sets out to “explain why we should be teaching everyone from a young age to cherish these tiny creatures [insects]; why they matter” (p. 8). Goulson acknowledges that there is a bit of a challenge here in that he:

…started writing popular science books about bees, and more broadly about insects, with the aim of trying to reach a broader audience, and ideally, entice in a few of the non-believers. This has been enormously satisfying, but also a little frustrating, since I find that most people who buy them are the ones who already care. (p. 232)

It’s a fine balancing act to write a book that can both keep the attention of those who already have a little knowledge on the subject and, at the same time, draw in those who don’t know anything and have perhaps never been particularly interested. And much like Silent Spring, Goulson does this by appealing to both the head and the heart. He is obviously a highly respected researcher with an encyclopaedic knowledge of the subject, but his writing style is also lyrical and deeply compelling. One difference between him and Carson, I suppose, is that this book is not the first to flag the harm that we are doing to insect biodiversity, but I have no doubt that when (and I do say ‘when’, not ‘if’) the insect-ravaging pesticides our farming systems have become addicted to are finally banned and we have made all the other changes Goulson recommends, this book will have played no small part in getting us there.

What’s the key message?

Insects are essential to our planet’s health, and they are hugely threatened by our actions. Also, they’re sort of magical.

I have to confess, I’m not a natural lover of insects. I like bees, but then who doesn’t? (Unless you’re allergic, of course.) And I’m quite fond of butterflies, ladybirds and dragonflies, in a generalised aren’t-they-pretty sort of way. But I’ve always viewed them as a sort of necessary evil. Well, not ‘evil’ exactly, more of a necessary neutral. I find eusocial insects, like ants, fascinating but only from a distance. Up close, they unsettle me. I think it’s something to do with the fact that the average observer can’t really understand what they’re doing, or track all their movements and actions. There’s a sense of completely inscrutable purpose and drive, and they seem to be completely disinterested in us, except when we disturb them, or they want to bite us. And yet, I do know, intellectually, how important they are to the vegetables I grow, in the case of pollinators, and to keeping other pests down, or as food for more readily sympathetic creatures like birds and all the myriad other things they do to keep our world turning. I guess you could say that they had my head, but not my heart.

Has that changed having read this book? Well, one thing that does really come across is just how kaleidoscopically diverse the insect world is. Goulson does a really excellent job of zooming in on individual species and celebrating that variety. He manages to bridge the human and insect worlds, despite the vastly different scales involved. And he also highlights just how sensitive and vulnerable so many of those species are to our actions. This combination has inspired in me a similar sense of injustice to the one I feel about how we are threatening the ‘poster animals’ of the biodiversity crisis. It does make me want to stand up for the, quite literally, little guy. Don’t get me wrong – I was always firmly convinced of the importance of insect biodiversity, but I guess I now have a more visceral understanding of the crisis, and the injustice that has engendered it.

You should read this book if…

You have a vague understanding of the harm we are doing to the insect world, but would like some more details. And also to know what you can do about it.

I’ve just explained how effectively Goulson appealed to my heart, but he also made a very appealing case to my head. As you might expect of a respected academic and researcher, he presents all of the facts and stats that you could need to be convinced of his argument. But he also does something that is often left out of popular science books with a particular agenda: transparently laying out any weaknesses in the evidence. That sounds like it should be confusing or undermine the case, but it actually does quite the opposite – it convinces the reader that the author is not just presenting a one-sided argument. It inspires a sense of confidence that he has actually weighed up what all of the data shows and how it was obtained. And that means that you come away from reading the book with a nuanced and detailed understanding of the issues. It also highlights gaps in the research and areas that require further investigation, revealing that there might be an even bigger problem yet to be uncovered.

Taken together, the situation is pretty dire. I’ll leave you to read the book for yourself, but suffice it to say, it’s worse than I had realised. One thing I really do appreciate, though, is that it’s not all doom and gloom. In fact, the entire last section of the book is devoted to Goulson’s vision of an insect-friendly (and therefore all-nature-friendly) future, nicely contrasted with a lyrical and moving description of what the alternative, disastrous future might look like. And it’s not just a vision, there’s plenty of concrete actions that the reader can take as well. I’ve made this point before that readers of this kind of book want to know not only what can be done but also what they can do. It leaves the reader energised and full of what you might call a grimly determined optimism. It’s a powerful combination – I finished the book feeling more knowledgeable and also more empowered to act.

What makes the book effective?

Perfect blend of substance and style

For all the academic research and knowledge is rigorous, it nevertheless manages to escape being too dry. Goulson delivers the information with a wry, at times biting, commentary that often mirrors what the reader may be thinking. It feels almost like you’re being given a short lecture by an impassioned university professor (and I suppose in a way you are), and it provides signposts about how to interpret seemingly impenetrable figures and statistics. More importantly, it keeps you engaged, by emphasising that you are not alone in your confusion and outrage.

Brief interludes profiling particular insects

One of my favourite features of the book is the one-page descriptions of particular insects and their fascinating habits that are interspersed between chapters. They make a really nice break from the ‘big picture’ stuff, and they constantly remind the reader that behind the population sizes, biomass levels and vast volumes of pesticides etc, there are actual living creatures living fascinating lives that are worth preserving for their own sakes, not just because of how they benefit us..

Concise chapters

Another feature that is really worth highlighting is just how concisely Goulson presents his argument. The average chapter length is about 14 pages, which doesn’t sound like it should be enough to lay out and explore all of the complicated issues that the book covers. But he marshals his facts brilliantly, weaving them seamlessly into a narrative that is both detailed and compelling. The narrative just flows so brilliantly that you don’t realise how much information you’ve taken in. I’m tempted to say it has all the force of a freight train, but that sounds unnecessarily negative. It’s more like each chapter has the feeling of a perfectly crafted short story – the stage is set, the action begins, the story progresses to its inevitable conclusion, then stops. It’s masterful writing.

Is there anything that could be improved?

Honestly? Not really.

There’s several pages in the book devoted to how marvellous allotments are compared to conventional farming, so I naturally think it’s a perfect book (I may have sent some quotes from that bit to my allotment neighbour). But to be quite frank, I think the book does achieve what it sets out to do – it provides a really effective introduction to those who are completely new to the issues it discusses, whilst also refining and sharpening the knowledge of those who do already have some familiarity with the subject. It also managed to engender in me a more emotional attachment to the insect world, rather than a purely intellectual one. I suppose at a very superficial level, it might have been nice to have some more pictures or illustrations of actual insects, including those briefly profiled, There are a couple, but most of the visual elements are graphs and charts chosen to illustrate the scientific points being made. But that’s a very minor criticism, and all in all, it’s a thoroughly enjoyable and engaging read – I strongly recommend it.