I figure a maximum of 5 million intelligent humans (Haida, perhaps), in small bands, distributed far apart, is just about sustainable. Of course the planet can't support humans the way we currently multiply, fight, pillage and waste. Try to calculate how much of the earth's bounty has been turned into implements dedicated exclusively to the destruction of other humans. Even the peaceful applications of technology are mostly insane. I lived in LA briefly - in Anaheim Hills. The fake waterfall in our garden foamed blue bleach day and night, the swimming pool was always heated, the mini-jungle was sprinkled automatically at 7am and the pavement outside was scrubbed down every Wednesday night - two blocks downslope of a sagebrush desert! Anthropocentrism (not humanism) is insane. That insanity produces ideas like organized religion, monetarism, nationalism and militarism. Still, hungry people are even more dangerous than content people, so feeding them intelligently until they reduce their own reproduction would be a good idea. I speculate idly on various impossible ideas. Not gonna happen, obviously, as only the least sensible humans aspire to be world leaders.
I would argue that anthropocentrism lies at the heart of humanism insofar as it posits both ideas and ideals about what constitutes "humanity" and "human nature," and in so doing, complementary notions about what is non-human, inhuman, and subhuman come into play. While we could fill a library or two with documentation on the atrocities committed in the name of, say, religion, we could certainly fill a few stacks with documentation on the atrocities committed in the name of human notions of reason. But I don't want to (argue the matter), in part, because by the far the most common complaint about any and all critiques of humanism is that they seldom posit an alternative. And this is a fair criticism, though--especially over the past three or four decades (with the emergence of posthumanism as a discipline)--many have tried. Their efforts, while admirable, don't often readily "translate"--something or other about incompatible genres of discourse, say. For instance, have you read J.M. Coetzee's The Lives of Animals (or Elizabeth Costello--TLoA is contained within)? The more academic versions (like Donna Haraway, Cary Wolfe, Bruno Latour, for instance) have merit, but can't really be codified, or communicated in an accessible and practical manner. Regardless, speculating on possible (but extremely unlikely) trajectories for anything and everything outside "the human" is now just a fantasy--it's too late, they're already gone (or irrevocably underway towards "gone"). And as for the people, only the wealthiest among us (I think) really have a chance for faring ok in the coming decades. (The Republic, Book 2)
Obviously, you're referring to a quite different philosophy from the one to which I referred - and with which I'm loosely affiliated. Using the name of a person, place, thing or concept to promote an agenda is not the same as acting on behalf of, or for that person, place, thing or concept. I know. Caves of Steel / Soylent Green time coming. Three decades, at the outside. What do you figure will happen in their walled mountain fastnesses when the monetary system breaks down? When money ceases to have any value, who will take care of them? When the food runs out, are the bosses more likely to eat the minions, or the other way around?
