To many people, 'biodiversity' is almost synonymous with the

The seed guardian and visionary Cary Fowler, father of the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, once declared: “To many people, 'biodiversity' is almost synonymous with the word 'nature,' and 'nature' brings to mind steamy forests and the big creatures that dwell there. Fair enough. But biodiversity is much more than that, for it encompasses not only the diversity of species, but also the diversity within species.” In this teaching, he lifts our eyes from the narrow vision of the spectacular—the tiger, the elephant, the jungle—and points us toward the deeper, subtler truth: that the true strength of life lies in diversity both vast and hidden.

To many, biodiversity is imagined as the great forests, the Amazon’s endless canopy, or the savannas filled with lions and elephants. These are indeed part of the living pageantry of earth, yet Fowler reminds us that this is but the surface. For life’s resilience is not only in the grand spectacle of species, but in the variations within each species: the different strains of rice, the thousands of kinds of potatoes, the many breeds of wheat. These may seem ordinary, even invisible, yet they hold within them the keys to survival, adaptation, and abundance.

Consider the Irish Potato Famine of the 19th century. A nation grew dependent on a narrow set of potato varieties. When blight came, the lack of diversity within the species meant devastation. Millions starved or fled, for the crop upon which they depended had no shield against the disease. This is the warning Fowler places before us: without internal diversity, even the strongest species can crumble. Just as armies fall when they have but one strategy, so too life falters when it has but one form.

Fowler’s wisdom flows from his own work: the building of the Seed Vault in Svalbard, deep within the Arctic permafrost, where seeds from every corner of the earth are stored against the day of disaster. Within its vaults lie not only seeds of rare species, but multiple varieties of the same species, for within these subtle differences lies the power to withstand drought, pestilence, and climate change. In this way, humanity honors biodiversity not as a museum of beauty, but as a living arsenal of survival.

The deeper meaning of his words is that strength lies in difference. Whether in ecosystems, cultures, or even human communities, uniformity is fragile, but diversity endures. A forest of one tree falls to one disease, but a forest of many kinds withstands the storm. A society that values only one way of thought withers, but a society that welcomes many voices thrives. Thus, biodiversity becomes a mirror of wisdom itself: the power of life is in multiplicity, in variation, in the unseen richness of difference.

The lesson for us is urgent. Do not limit your vision of nature to the dramatic and the exotic. Do not think only of whales and tigers when you hear “biodiversity,” but remember the humble grains that feed billions, the tiny insects that pollinate fields, the quiet resilience of wild herbs, the hidden variations of seeds. Each carries within it the legacy of millennia, the adaptability of generations, the hope of the future. Protect them, nurture them, and recognize their worth.

Practically, this means cherishing variety in our food, our gardens, our agriculture, and our communities. Support the preservation of heirloom crops, plant diverse species, and stand against the erasure of the small and unseen. In your own life, honor difference, for in difference lies the shield against collapse. Just as the opal shines with many colors, so too does the earth flourish when it carries within itself countless forms.

Thus, Fowler’s words stand as both revelation and command. Biodiversity is not only the glory of lions and forests—it is the humble seed, the hidden strain, the difference within the difference. And if we honor this truth, then life itself will endure, radiant and resilient, a living symphony of endless variety.