Over the past several decades, the environmental history of Latin America has emerged as a vibrant field. Historians have produced innovative studies exploring nature’s central role in Latin American history. Most of these studies, however, are local or regional in scope. Miller’s Environmental History of Latin America is an excellent synthesis of the literature, inflected by his own original and thoughtful analytical voice.Miller traces the environmental history of Latin America from the eve of the European conquest to the present. The book’s unifying analytical theme is sustainability, in short, “whether the project of tropical civilization has been sustainable” (p. 3). Miller analyzes “four recurring themes: population, technology, attitudes towards nature, and attitudes towards consumption” (p. 4). The book’s treatment of precontact Amerindian societies carefully debunks the “Pristine Myth,” which argues that these societies lived in a purported equilibrium with their natural world. Miller replaces this myth with a more complex story that shows the diverse ways in which Amerindian societies transformed their nature(s). Sometimes, these societies consumed far beyond their biological needs. He lists nine pre-Columbian societies that collapsed before the European conquest, although he does not suggest that these societies collapsed because of environmental mismanagement alone.Miller then turns to the conquest and colonial Latin America, retracing the (now) familiar story of how epidemic diseases contributed to the demographic collapse of the New World populations. Miller argues that this population collapse was the defining feature in shaping Latin American environments from the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries. Low population densities allowed for the recovery and regeneration of Latin America’s landscapes, giving them the appearance (if not the substance) of being “pristine.” The biological conquest, in Miller’s analysis, was not a total catastrophe. Old World plants and animals increased the New World’s biological diversity. They also increased the food supply, making famine a rarity in the colonial New World, at a period when famines were commonplace in Europe. The colonial commodity booms, especially in sugar and silver, did create localized environmental catastrophes, especially on the smaller islands of the Caribbean. But the extent of the depredations was limited by colonial mercantilist policies and imperial monopolies, both of which limited the scope and intensity of export commodity production.The independence movements of the nineteenth century bought an end to the colonial ecological order. Freed from imperial restrictions, commodity production expanded almost unchecked across the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. This created environmental problems on a new scale: massive soil erosion, increased vulnerability to natural disasters, and epidemic crop diseases. Latin America’s populations also began to expand in this period, a demographic revolution driven by improved “death control” (p. 172), innovations in medical and public health that sharply reduced mortality across the region. At the same time, the turn to fossil fuels and other technologies allowed Latin American societies an unprecedented control over the natural world. Here, as in the earlier section, Miller does not tell a story of unremitting environmental decline. He points to the impressive public transportation infrastructure of Curitiba, Brazil, as an alternative to Latin America’s growing dependence on the car. He also explores the emergence of conservationism and environmentalism in Latin America. Here, he relates some unfamiliar stories, such as the history of Joaquín Balaguer’s persistent and sometimes violent efforts to preserve the forests of the Dominican Republic. The book ends with an epilogue presenting Cuba’s (involuntary) shift to organic, local, and sustainable agriculture as a model of modern environmental and ecological sustainability.The book’s greatest strength is its ability to capture complex and nuanced positions on the environment, an area in which simplistic and polemical stories are all too commonplace. The book’s greatest shortcoming is that it frequently reifies “nature” and “culture,” especially at the beginning and ending of each chapter. Sentences such as “in the war against nature, culture will frequently sacrifice its own members” (p. 132) present, at best, a caricature of a more complicated reality. It reinforces a commonly held but overly simple dualist perspective that most environmental historians take great pains to dispute in their research and teaching. Neither nature nor culture is monolithic, nor are they independent of one another. Miller himself recognizes this, noting in the introduction that “as much as we may protest, humans are nature too” (p. 5).Nonetheless, this lucid and concise synthesis will be a welcome addition to undergraduate survey courses on Latin American or global environmental history. For advanced scholars, too, it is a useful overview of the scholarship to date, informed by Miller’s original and provocative historical voice. Miller has captured the intellectual vitality of a field where there are still many live questions and few definitive answers.
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