The case against golf

As the golf world gears up for the final stages of the US Open this weekend, and the rest of the world yawns, it is worth pausing to consider what a pernicious phenomenon golf truly is. No, this is not a diatribe about the game's elitism, its sexism, how frustrating it is to play, boring it is to watch, or how silly its outfits and traditions are - though all of that is true. Those are all normative points, and, to varying degrees, reasonable people can differ on their merits.
But the serious case against golf is empirical, and undeniable. That is its environmental impact. The construction and maintenance of golf courses is harmful to fragile ecosystems the world over. Its proliferation as the international pastime of the leisure class is multiplying the problem, and its approval by governments and societies epitomises the wasteful and scurrilous approach to development that is replicated in miniature on millions of suburban lawns.
According to a United Nations Environment Programme report on the impact of tourism:

"Golf course maintenance can also deplete fresh water resources. In recent years golf tourism has increased in popularity and the number of golf courses has grown rapidly. Golf courses require an enormous amount of water every day and, as with other causes of excessive extraction of water, this can result in water scarcity. If the water comes from wells, overpumping can cause saline intrusion into groundwater. Golf resorts are more and more often situated in or near protected areas or areas where resources are limited, exacerbating their impacts."

And Tourism Concern (a British organisation that works "with communities in destination countries to reduce social and environmental problems connected to tourism") calculates that "an average golf course in a tropical country such as Thailand needs 1,500kg of chemical fertilisers, pesticides and herbicides per year and uses as much water as 60,000 rural villagers".

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And just in case the archetypal plutocratic golfer is inclined to dismiss those concerns as only of interest to the denizens of developing-world tropical resort countries, it must be noted that the United States suffers from water scarcity and despoliation of natural land to feed the golf-playing frenzy as well. In water-scarce Las Vegas, for instance, golf courses accounted for 28 of the top 100 water users in a 2003 survey. And since access to water in the growing desert communities of Arizona and Nevada is subsidised by tax-payers throughout the country, all Americans pay the price for the wastefulness of their recreation.
Indeed, the proliferation of golf courses - there are now approximately 16,000 in the US, by far the most of any country in the world (with the UK coming in a distant second at 2,741), according to Golf Digest magazine - epitomises the profligate approach America has taken towards developing its landscape.
Golf courses and the attendant resort and retirement communities demonstrate a preference for carefully crafted imitations of nature and small-town life to the real thing, and they impose landscape and architectural norms better suited to the American northeast climate than the sun-belt, where development is booming. Indeed, golf even comes with its own class of vehicle - no other sport, save the other emerging American pastime of auto racing, can make the same claim, nor can other sports use nearly as much land per player.

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Just as developers destroy real forest in the northeast to replace it with imitation forest on a golf course and attendant suburbia ("community" in the parlance of developers), in the southwest the norms of a much more arid climate are imposed. Free-standing homes that require more energy to heat and cool, surrounded by lush lawns adjacent to golf courses, both of which require tremendous amounts of water during 100-degree summers, are not natural to the desert. And yet they are constructed, from Florida to California.
These artificial monstrosities consume on average 150 acres of land that could be put to some more useful purpose, if not just left alone. From the Everglades to the San Fernando Valley, they pervert the natural habitat and divert water resources.
So if you turn on the TV and stumble on the US Open, pause before changing the channel. No, not to watch with bated breath as a guy in a sun-visor named Tiger or Phil swings a mallet every couple of minutes in an intense effort to poke a ball towards a tiny hole, but rather to consider whether the country could do with about 15,000 fewer places to play the silly game. After all, when you talk to someone who just came back from seeing the Grand Canyon or Yellowstone National Park you never hear them say: "Yeah, that was nice, but you know what it really needs? A golf course."

 Ben Adler The Guardian 2007