Wealth & Money Quote by E. O. Wilson

The provocation lands because it flips the human self-image from apex species to ecological rounding error. E. O. Wilson isn’t making a misanthropic quip so much as running a cold thought experiment: remove Homo sapiens and the planet doesn’t mourn; remove insects and the systems we treat as “background” stop functioning. The punch is comparative, not absolute. Humans can build marvels, but we are, ecologically speaking, recent and optional. Insects are ancient infrastructure.

Wilson’s intent is partly rhetorical triage. Conservation debates often get stuck in charismatic megafauna and moral sentimentality. He yanks the camera down to the overlooked majority: pollinators, decomposers, soil engineers, the tiny laborers that make forests, farms, and food webs work. The “ten thousand years” marker quietly points to the pre-agricultural Holocene, before large-scale landscape engineering and species acceleration. It’s a reminder that what we call “nature” has a baseline, and our era is an intervention.

The subtext is also a rebuke to human exceptionalism dressed as a scientific claim. He’s not arguing humans have no value; he’s arguing we’ve mistaken dominance for indispensability. Insect decline becomes the real apocalypse scenario: not cinematic destruction but slow, cascading failure - fewer pollinated plants, poorer soils, collapsing bird and fish populations. It’s a line designed to sting, because guilt is one of the few fuels strong enough to compete with convenience. Wilson’s larger project - biodiversity as the planet’s operating system - needs that sting to be felt, not merely understood.