Take the Aswan Dam on the Nile River. A well-meaning government authorized the dam to regulate the flow of water. The idea was to improve agricultural production and prevent devastating floods. The dam accomplished those things, but not everyone is cheering. That's because it also created grave new problems of disease, and the area behind the dam is silting up far faster than anticipated.

Another example: Kudzu, an incredibly fast growing plant, was introduced to the southern U.S. to help reduce soil erosion. It did that — and more. No one anticipated that, immune to anything short of flame-throwers, it would smother vast tracts of land in the grip of its impenetrable green lattice.

The examples, of course, are endless: We dam rivers to produce power, and devastate species of marine life. For years, we fought to prevent forest fires. Then we decided that controlled burning is good for the forest. But the fires we start occasionally incinerate vulnerable homes and animals. We introduce predators or kill off predators — and unleash some unexpected scourge.

In other words, despite good intentions, these things happen because the ecosystem is incredibly complex and the appropriate intervention is sometimes counter-intuitive.

Now let's take a quick look at a parallel issue: the impact of well-meaning travelers on the environments they visit.

Many believe that traveling the world is one important way to build understanding and tolerance. Yet in doing so, we risk damaging the people and environment we travel to experience. The stakes are high because, no matter how well-intentioned, some losses are irreversible.

More examples: We exalt those with the courage and skill to summit forbidding mountain peaks. Yet they and their brethren leave behind mountains of debris on previously pristine slopes. And we encourage wild animals to habituate themselves to humans, but soon they are begging for grocery-store food.

When a country such as Bhutan opens itself to foreign travelers, there are important gains. For example, travelers spend money. Even if only a minority of that income reaches local people, the standard of living is raised. Some locals learn a new language — English, French, German, Japanese — which increases their opportunity to earn a better living. Women's rights often advance after visitors arrive. And the presence of outsiders inevitably brings an increase in political freedom over time.

But there is a price to pay. Traditional dress that distinguishes villages and subcultures gives way to Levis and T-shirts. Family solidarity is threatened. A group of cynical locals learns to prey on tourists. Crime increases. Competition takes the place of the tradition of cooperation. Toxic weeds of dissatisfaction and envy are sewn.

Whether culture or habitat, there is no simple solution, since cultures are at least as complex as ecosystems. In the big picture, we can urge or protest intervention in either and hope we have it right. At the more intimate level, each of us should be aware of the impact of the footprints we leave behind.

Your awareness that good intentions are not enough is a good sign.

Thanks for your concern,
Rob