The
Conservation Challenge of the 80s
Robert Cahn
Berkeley, California February 19, 1980
New decades are fair game for those who want to look back and look
forward - to assess and predict - and I'm sure you all have heard
more of that sort of thing than you care to in the past few months.
Yet I ask your indulgence for yet another look at the decade this
evening. For in our area of interest-conservation and environment
- this particular moment in time is of great significance and not
a little danger. As my title suggests, the decade of the 80s presents
a distinct challenge.
The 1970s gave us what is sometimes referred to as an environmental
revolution. I'm afraid the term revolution is a bit strong. The
70s saw no radical overthrow of the nation's approach to environment
and replacement with another. Rather, the decade saw an awakening
to what we were doing to the environment and a resolve to make our
concerns felt in Congress, the White House, and the state houses.
Citizen environmental organizations expanded to new highs in membership,
in lobbying ability, and in participation in government when other
steps failed. The results, as you all know, included passage of
many strong federal and state laws and regulations, the formation
of state and federal environmental regulatory and advisory agencies
and the start of a process requiring public decision makers to assess
environmental impacts of their proposed actions and to consider
less harmful options. It was a time when in case after case, the
court system construed the new environmental laws generously and
in the spirit I of the strong environmental preference expressed
by Congress.
Era of Scarcity
As we begin the new decade, however, we are confronted by a set
of conditions entirely new to this nation, and which will require
a reordering of priorities, some changes in our system of values,
and a willingness to alter our lifestyles and even some of our very
basic philosophies.
What I see as the conservation challenge of the 80s is to reshape
our attitudes and values and our practical approaches in such a
way that we can live in an era of scarcity without ruining the life
systems on which we depend.
It was the seemingly endless frontier and boundless resource base
that allowed our nation to achieve world leadership in the brief
span of two centuries and give full vent to individualism, ingenuity
and freedom of movement and action. Now we are within sight of physical
boundaries. We are feeling restrictions closing in on our use of
resources. We are beginning to recognize that conservation can no
longer be the pet province of an aware minority; it is now an absolute
and universal requirement.
I am not suggesting that the limitations we now face will rob us
of the individualism and freedom that are so basic to the American
psyche, but that these ideals will have to stretch their bounds
to include a wider acceptance of community interest - sometimes
at the expense of personal self-interest - and an enlightened sense
of our relationship with the planet and its inhabitants that can
be called an environmental ethic.
One of our cherished philosophies that has already been shattered
is that "a man's house is his castle" - that we can use
land we own according to our personal dictates. Of course, we have
learned to abide by laws that limit how and where we can develop
our property, and how and where we can dispose of our refuse - laws
enacted out of necessity because it was discerned that the welfare
of the entire community superseded the indulgence of oneself or
family. And in the world of commerce the time honored philosophy
that "the business of business is profits" is being somewhat
tempered by a growing concern for wider and longer-range considerations
which include social and environmental responsibility.
National Parks as a Microcosm
Tonight I ask you to consider with me this conservation challenge
as it applies to one particular area of interest - the very serious
problems and issues confronting our national parks. These great
crown jewels of our nation constitute perhaps the country's best
example of an emerging environmental ethic. And many of the problems
and opportunities facing the parks are similar to the conservation
issues that confront the nation, and indeed, the world. So even
if this were not the Horace Albright lecture - dedicated to the
National Park Service's second Director and respected elder statesman
- our national parks would nevertheless offer an appropriate vehicle
for discussing the conservation challenge of the decade.
Still another reason why I choose to focus on national parks is
that they are what changed my own life from that of a journalist
who went from subject to subject at the whim of the breaking news
or the dictates of an editor, to a full time environmentalist whose
profession happened to be in the writing field.
Actually, I have to confess I protested strongly when, in 1968,
the editor of The Christian Science Monitor assigned me to write
a series of articles on national parks. I argued that my principal
beat as a Washington based reporter covering urban affairs was much
more important. In those hectic days, you'll recall, Detroit was
going up in flames and rioting was rampant all over urban America.
But I dutifully turned to the national park series, "Will Success
Spoil the National Parks," and thus began the revolution in
my life.
Traveling 20,000 miles around the country to assess most of the
major national parks, I saw visitors encountering traffic jams,
crowds, noise, even smog when masses of slow-moving automobiles
pumped their exhaust into confined areas such as Yosemite Valley.
The sheer numbers of people were overburdening some of the parks
with sewage and garbage, polluting spark-ling streams and lakes,
causing erosion of the land, and disturbing the wildlife. The parks'
very popularity was damaging the unique environment that attracted
the visitors.
Yet despite these problems, I became aware of a rare attitude in
the visitors. These were their parks, a part of their heritage,
and they felt fiercely protective of them, I found that to harm
or threaten a national park is to touch a sensitive nerve in the
American public. Many visitors as well as park employees seemed
to live by a set of values rarely seen elsewhere, and that they
themselves might not live by outside the park. They appreciated
the natural beauty around them - the land, the plants, the birds,
the animals. And what's more, they showed a regard for other people's
chance to share the park experience. They seemed to feel they were
part of a whole natural system, and most of them behaved as if they
did riot want to leave that system any worse than they found it,
so that others and even future generations could enjoy and share
it.
I wondered whether this attitude was really as pervasive as it
seemed, so I decided to include a questionnaire in my series and
see how readers would react. To my delight - and to my editor's
surprise - some 2,000 people cared enough to tear the sheet out
of the newspaper, answer the questions, and mail it to The Monitor.
Their answers were overwhelmingly selfless - they wanted national
parks preserved, even at the cost of limiting their own personal
use of the parks. Over a third approved the idea of a campground
reservations system. They agreed to setting a maximum capacity for
each park, with the gates to be closed once the capacity was reached,
and opened again when the number of visitors went below the limit.
More than half agreed that a 35-mile-per-hour speed limit should
be enforced in the parks, and that no U.S. highways should pass
through parks. Fewer than 10 percent favored additional visitor
services such as stores, restaurants and coin laundries, and only
5 percent thought grizzly bears should be eliminated from the parks,
even though two campers had been killed by grizzlies the previous
year.
Roots of an Ethic
The instincts of the people followed the hopes of those early explorers
who visited the Yellowstone area in the late 1860s and early 1870s,
and who worked to have it protected. "It seems to me that God
made this region for all the people and all the world to see and
enjoy forever," one of the explorers, Cornelius Hedges, told
his colleagues. "It is impossible that any individual should
think he can own any of this country for his own in fee. This great
wilderness does not belong to us. It belongs to the nation, Let
us make a public park of it and set it aside...never to be changed,
but to be kept sacred always."
Imagine vision like that in an era when people were pushing to
tame the wilderness as quickly as possible. Those founders of the
national park concept were undoubtedly guided by a force that I
was beginning to recognize - an environmental ethic. It is an ethic
that has been present in greater or lesser degree in this country
for three centuries - even before that if you consider that the
continent's original inhabitants, the Indians, lived in comparative
harmony with the natural environment.
The view of humankind as part of an interrelated, natural world,
rather than as a superior outside force using and exploiting nature
for humanity's immediate self-interest was best enunciated more
than a quarter of a century ago by Aldo Leopold. I was introduced
to A Sand County Almanac and Leopold's other writings shortly after
I began discovering some of the values of the national parks. His
ideas awakened, inspired and educated me - as they have thousands
of others - to what he called "the land ethic."
Leopold defined the land ethic as: "simply enlarging the boundaries
of the community to include soils, waters, plants, and animals,
or collectively: the land. This ethic," wrote Leopold, "changes
the role of Homo sapiens from conqueror of the land-community to
plain member and citizen of it... We abuse the land because we regard
it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community
to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect...that
land is a community is a basic concept of ecology, but that land
is to be loved and respected is an extension of ethics."
This philosophy surely guided those who led the United States to
set aside vast areas as national parks out of a concern for the
welfare of the land as well as for the long-term interests of all
the people, including generations yet unborn.
The national park idea, which was officially established in 1872
with the Yellowstone Park Act, has now spread to more than 100 countries
throughout the world. But here at home, U.S. national parks have
from the beginning been influenced by two persistent factors. First,
the people factor - the constant pressures to manage the parks in
such a way that they can be used for recreation by ever increasing
numbers of people. The other is the development factor - the incessant
pressures on parkland or adjacent lands for commercial development
and other non-park uses that intrude on the park resources and may
irreversibly damage or detract from the values for which the park
was set aside.
People Problem
The people problem was foreseen as far back as 1864 when Congress
gave public lands in Yosemite Valley and the nearby Mariposa Grove
of Giant Sequoias to the State of California for preservation purposes
in what some historians claim really amounted to the first "national
park." Noted landscape architect and Yosemite preservation
advocate Frederick Law Olmsted warned that the few hundred annual
visitors to Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove would in a century
"be counted in the millions." Olmsted advocated in 1865
that construction be limited to the "narrowest limits consistent
with the necessary accommodation of visitors."
He added: "An injury to the scenery so slight it may be unheeded
by any visitor now, will be one of deplorable magnitude when its
effect upon each visitor's enjoyment is multiplied by these millions.
But again, the slight harm which the few hundred visitors of this
year might do, if no care were taken to prevent it, would not be
slight, if it should be repeated by millions..."
By 1954 Yosemite recorded one million visits. Today the yearly
attendance is about 2 1/2 million. The road network and visitor
accommodations have for a long time been inadequate to take care
of the masses of visitors to Yosemite Valley, and the road congestion,
overcrowding of campgrounds and facilities, and urban-like atmosphere
have, for many visitors, detracted from the national park experience.
Back in 1917, when Horace Albright as assistant, and Stephen Mather
as Director, set out to establish and build a National Park Service,
too many visitors was by no means their problem. In the days just
after World War I, Mather and Albright had the twin mandates to
build a professional cadre that could adequately manage and protect
the park system, and at the same time, build Public interest in
the parks and increase visitor accommodations. There were important
reasons for this. In a recent conversation Horace Albright told
me that Congress had slapped a budget limit of $5,000 on the management
of any one park unless there was specific congressional approval
for a higher sum. The only way a higher amount could be justified
was by proving that use of the park demanded the increase. It was
also a political necessity to create a national constituency so
that the parks could be defended against the development forces
that were always ready to convince congressmen that the sparsely-visited
parks could be put to uses more beneficial to some of their constituents.
The Parks' Elder Statesman
I would like to pause here to say something about Horace Albright
for those of you who may not know of the great debt our nation and
the cause of the national parks - and conservation - owe to him.
And, I might add, to his wife, who has been an active partner in
their very full 64 years of marriage. Horace and the former Grace
Noble also are two of the most illustrious alumni of this campus
- Class of 1912.
As a young Interior Department employee Albright became to Mather,
helped write the legislation that created the National Park Service
in 1916, and was instrumental in getting it through Congress. It
is not widely known that Mather became seriously ill in 1917, and
the 27-year-old Albright presided as acting director during the
formation of the National Park Service in 1917 and 1918. He went
on to become the first civilian superintendent of Yellowstone and
set the pattern of administration for the major national parks.
In 1929, he succeeded Mather as the second Director of the Park
Service.
Among his many accomplishments was that of persuading Franklin
D. Roosevelt to give the National Park System control of all battlefields
and historical monuments - a move that expanded the Service into
a strong, nation wide agency instead of the obscure, poorly funded
entity it had been up to that time. The way the coup was accomplished
is worth repeating for what it reveals of Horace Albright's ability
to seize a chance opportunity and turn it to the good of his agency.
In early 1933, President Roosevelt and his entourage took a motor
trip to inspect as a possible "weekend White House" a
camp on the Rapidan River given to the government by former President
Herbert Hoover. It was soon to be added to Shenandoah National Park,
and Albright, as Park Service Director, was included in the outing.
On the way back to Washington, Albright happened to be seated in
the limousine's jump seat just behind the President. Aware of Roosevelt's
lively interest in American history, Albright mentioned that the
second battle of Bull Run began in this vicinity. The history conversation
continued and gave Albright the opportunity to tell the President
of the Park Service hope that these and other historic battle areas
and monuments be transferred from the War Department to the National
Park system. The President agreed it should be done and indicated
that Albright should set the plan in motion immediately. Roosevelt
also spoke of his interest in having Saratoga Battlefield, near
his home in New York, preserved as a monument, and told Albright
to give him a report on it the next day. The events that unfolded
as a result of that conversation led, within two months, to the
transfer of all historic battlefields and all national monuments
to the jurisdiction of the National Park Service. Besides instantly
giving it influence in nearly every state instead of only in the
few where national parks existed at that time, it enlarged and strengthened
the agency and its political clout. And at the same time, it effectively
squelched efforts then being made to merge the Park Service with
another bureau and transfer it from the Department of the Interior
to the Department of Agriculture's Forest Service.
Notes historian Donald Swain in his biography of Albright: "No
other man ... defended the national parks more faithfully and contributed
more creatively to the institutional strength of the National Park
Service during its first fifty years."
Even after leaving the Park Service, Albright remained a power-ful
advocate of parks and conservation. Today, at 90, he is still consulted
for his advice on national park matters by the Director of the National
Park Service, Bill Whalen, and by many other leaders in the conservation
world.
Threats to the Parks
Over the years, threats to park resources have never ceased, even
though in the public's mind protection of national parks has become
almost a motherhood issue, There have been some setbacks, the most
flagrant of which was at Hetch Hetchy. In 1913, after a long fight,
the forces trying to keep a dam out of Yosemite were overridden
by the political clout of San Francisco, which wanted the water
for its urban growth. Thus a large dam and lake were constructed
in the pristine Hetch Hetchy Valley. Yet the lost battle, led by
John Muir and The Sierra Club, so aroused the nation that it left
an indelible impression that national parks and dams do not mix.
And in the almost 70 years since Hetch Hetchy, no other dam has
ever been built within a national park, despite strong campaigns
for dams within Dinosaur National Monument and Yellowstone and Grand
Canyon National Parks.
National parks are today more that) just places for vacations or
outdoor recreation. They are valued as samples of the nation's ecological
variety and habitat for threatened or endangered species of wildlife.
And as the highest example of the nation's environmental conscience,
they constitute a harbinger for the future and an early warning
system for what we are doing to our entire habitat.
Early Warning Signal
So what do the parks tell us about our quality of life today -
are they giving us an early warning signal? The answer may come
as a shock to some people, but information compiled recently by
the National Park Service reveals that threats to national park
resources and values are the most serious they have ever been in
the history of the national parks!
The evidence to support this conclusion is now being assembled
in a comprehensive study requested by Congressman Phil Burton of
California and Keith Sebelius of Kansas, the ranking majority and
minority members of the House Interior Committee's Subcommittee
on National Parks. They asked the Park Service in July 1979 to prepare
a major assessment of all existing and potential activities and
forces which may be damaging or threatening the natural and cultural
resource integrity of all units within the system. This state of
the parks report, soon to be completed, will list all threats, both
inside and adjacent to park areas - threats such as specific types
and effects of air, water and noise pollution; esthetic degradation
or actual damage to resources from mineral exploration, timbering,
grazing and land development; and impacts from visitor use. Each
park is being required to show whether a specific threat is adequately
documented by research, and whether the threat is being addressed
in the park's resources management plan.
The preliminary findings, representing almost all of the 323 National
Park Service areas will reveal that:
Land development adjacent to the park areas is threatening the natural
resources in 132 areas, while private landholdings within park boundaries
cause problems in 40 areas.
One or more of a dozen water quality problems are already evident
or suspected of being threats in almost every park area. For instance,
toxic chemicals from sources outside the parks threaten water quality
in 21 areas and are suspected of causing damage in 43 others. And
acid rain is damaging resources in 20 areas, and is suspected of
harming 62 others.
Gas, oil, geothermal and hardrock mineral exploration on adjacent
lands threaten 56 park areas and are suspected of causing problems
for 32 other units.
Logging next to parks causes damage in 27 areas.
Threats to air quality are evident at 140 areas, 94 of them reporting
visibility problems due to smoke or contaminants coming from outside
the parks.
These statistics come from superintendents of almost all park service
areas (except most of the new Alaska national monuments, created
in late 1978, which are not yet staffed). This means that many urban
historic and cultural sites are included. These statistics thus
fail to reveal the full significance or extent of the threats to
the large natural areas - the national parks, preserves and monuments.
The study shows an average of only 13 threats per park for the
entire system. But when broken down to the dozen major national
parks and monuments that are designated international biosphere
reserves, there are 35 threats per park. And for Yellowstone, Grand
Canyon, Everglades and Mesa Verde - the four national parks accorded
official international recognition as World Heritage areas and supposedly
guaranteed the highest type of U.S. Government protection under
the international World Heritage Convention, there are 31 threats
per park.
Before one jumps to the conclusion that the national park system
is in a shambles, it must be pointed out that the State of the Parks
study is a hastily-done first cut of what is to become an annual
state of the parks report, and there may be flaws in the subjective
analyses by superintendents of their park's problems. The majority
of these threats are not documented, nor is the extent of the damage
known, based on the limited research that does exist. And from the
visitor's standpoint, except for some air pollution, and occasional
overcrowding at some areas, almost all national parks appear presently
to be in a reasonably healthy condition. But the State of the Parks
report should be taken seriously for the early warning signals it
gives of potentially serious disruptions that may lie ahead. It
should at least flash yellow caution lights to Congress and the
Park Service.
Geysers Threatened
Some of these yellow warning lights seem ready to turn red. For
instance:
A major American oil company, without notifying the National Park
Service, and with no studies to determine potential impacts on geyser
activity nearby, drilled a 4,000-foot-deep geothermal test well
on privately-held land within the boundary of Lassen National Park,
very near a large, continuous steam vent called Terminal Geyser,
and only 1 1/2 miles from Boiling Springs Lake, the largest hot
lake in the world. On the western border of Yellowstone National
Park, 145 applications have been received by the Bureau of Land
Management to commence geothermal operations in the U.S. Forest
Service's Island Park Geothermal area, not far from Old Faithful.
Very little is known about the "plumbing systems" beneath
geyser basins, and whether exploration or extraction could dry up
or otherwise damage those wonders of nature. One of the world experts
on geothermal matters, Dr. Donald E. White of the U.S. Geological
Survey, has warned that "we cannot exploit the geothermal energy
of an area and also preserve its geysers," and he cites four
major thermal areas in the world where natural geysers became inactive,
coinciding with geothermal exploitation.
Our unique Everglades National Park is being seriously threatened
by intense competition for the scarce water supply that is essential
to its survival, and the maintenance of habitat used by several
endangered species. Farming interests, flood control development,
urban demands and public utilities and industrial development in
South Florida all covet the park's water supply.
We have only recently discovered, after eight years of archeological
digging, that Chaco Canyon National Monument in New Mexico is a
treasureground that may tell us the story of the Chacoan people,
a culture earlier than that of the inhabitants of Mesa Verde. Chaco
Canyon, in fact, could surpass Mesa Verde in significance. Yet we
may never unlock the mysteries of this prehistoric civilization,
for Chaco Canyon is in the San Juan Basin, which has one-sixth of
the world's uranium and one-quarter of the U.S. coal reserves. Three
prehistoric roads have already been disturbed by uranium exploration.
A producing oil well three-quarters of a mile outside the park boundary
has seriously disturbed 15 acres of land with known Chacoan cultural
resources., And uranium mining, with resulting erosion damage and
potential seepage of toxic chemicals, is also a threat to vegetation
and,, animal life in the large (21,5 10-acre) national monument,
which has significant natural as well as cultural values.
Polluted Vistas
National Park Service Director Whalen ranks air pollution and visibility
deterioration as the number one threat to the parks. He claims that
visibility - so vital to enjoyment of Grand Canyon - deteriorates
there about 100 days a year, largely because of nearby power plants.
And although the 1977 Clean Air Act Amendments were supposed to
guarantee against deterioration air quality for Class I areas (which
all national parks are), Whalen says that he cannot guarantee good
visibility for Grand Canyon or for 18 other national park areas,
including Acadia, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, Crater Lake, Glacier,
Great Smoky Mountains, Mesa Verde, North Cascades, Olympic, Redwood,
Shenandoah and Voyageurs.
With the rapidly increasing energy development program in the Southwest,
experts predict that the air pollution problem in parks will increase.
One example: Bryce Canyon National Park, where a complex of coal-fired
power plants is scheduled to be built within the park airshed and
a major coal strip mine is planned just three miles from - and in
the main line of sight of - Yovimpa Point, a vista which attracts
400,000 people a year to see the array of colorful pinnacles and
spires. Also, some of the delicate formations would be threatened
by the blasting activities at the nearby mine.
Someone may protest: Why worry about some haze at scenic vistas?
How can this compare with the need to supply increased electric
power for all the wants of Southern California? I'm reminded of
the story of the two victorian ladies who went into a tearoom and
ordered apple pie with cheese, as listed on the menu. When the waiter
brought the pie he explained that they were out of cheese. One of
the ladies insisted that cheese was on the menu and she had a right
to be served it. The manager was called to the table and soon realized
the lady was not going to compromise. So he sent someone out to
buy cheese. The second lady felt embarrassed by her companion's
stubbornness over a little bit of cheese. "You don't like cheese
that much - why did you make such a fuss?" Replied her adamant
companion: "If you let them take your cheese this time, next
time they'll take your apple pie."
As far as scenic vistas in national parks are concerned, I heard
Bill Whalen tell an audience recently that "A scenic vista
is just as much a national resource as coal in the ground."
Whalen's view, however, is not presently supported by government
energy policy.
The sacrifice of the Southwest's scenic vistas for production of
electricity carries a note of irony. Most of the power is being
produced to satisfy the energy demands of a growing Southern California.
Yet many people who value these scenic areas as vacation spots are
Southern Californians. But public officials and power company executives,
with inadequate concern for the environment and an unquestioning
assumption that citizens will continue to consume at a growing rate,
automatically push onward to produce new supplies at whatever environmental
cost.
It is the same assumption that underlies the decision by the President
and the Congress to rush into a multi-billion-dollar synthetic fuel
production program without first assessing the potential environmental
damages in acid rain, water shortages, air pollution, toxic substances,
ruin of the land, and running roughshod over environmental laws
without giving at least an equal priority to equally massive energy
conservation programs, which could have an immediate effect, while
synthetic fuels are at least 10 years from being a major source
of energy, if ever.
These and the multitude of other specific dangers outlined in the
State of the Parks study are certainly serious. There are also some
park conditions the study does not address that I believe are equally
troubling.
Alaska Challenge
First among these is the need to save the nation's last great wilderness
frontier in Alaska. For almost 10 years the battle has been raging
over which areas would be left open for transportation access, mineral
extraction, logging and other commercial, development, and which
areas would be maintained in the interests of future generations
as part of the national park, wildlife refuge and wilderness systems.
Legislation has been held up for two years, mostly by Alaska Senator
Mike Gravel. At stake for the National Park Service and all Americans
are 44 million acres of pristine land unequalled in scenic quality,
and providing habitat for hundreds of bird and animal species. The
proposed legislation would double the size of the entire national
park system by designating seven mammoth new national, parks, three
national park preserves, upgrading and enlarging Glacier Bay and
Katmai National Monuments to national park status, and enlarging
Mt. McKinley National Park (and changing its name to Denali National
Park).
When Congress failed to enact the legislation in 1978 to protect
these lands permanently, President Carter issued a series of executive
orders designating these areas as national monuments. A bill to
settle the issue is the top legislative priority in the conservation
area in 1980.
Meantime, Alaska Senator Ted Stevens has also used his position
as ranking minority member of the Appropriations Committee's Interior
Department Subcommittee to block the use of any funds for hiring
rangers to protect and manage the Alaska lands the President declared
as national monuments.
This funding restriction contributes to another basic problem:
the National Park Service is severely understaffed. The parks have
grown from 187 units in 1960 to 323 units today, with about 265
million visits last year. But while the number of visitors has tripled,
the number of employees has not even doubled. And established park
units are raided for personnel to plan, administer and protect new
areas, diluting the maintenance, protection, visitor services and
resource management at the older parks.
Ecosystems Management
Another problem is the difficulty of planning, protecting and managing
the large national park system natural areas for their unique ecosystems.
The range of the caribou and grizzly bears in Alaska - or of the
grizzlies, elk, deer and other large animals in the "Lower
48" - or of migratory birds, far exceeds the boundaries of
any one national park unit. Also water (both quality and availability),
air, soil and vegetation are subject to conditions that rarely,
if ever, can be addressed within park boundaries.
The planners developing boundaries for the massive new Alaska park
areas sought unsuccessfully to work into the legislation provisions
for coordination of management among the Park Service and those
owning adjacent lands - the Bureau of Land Management, the Native
Corporations and the State of Alaska. Ecosystem management through
coordination of landowners is even more of a problem in the Lower
48, where park areas are smaller, where there are long-established
traditions of "turf" protection, and intense rivalries
prevail among adjacent land owners, be they the U.S. Forest Service,
Interior's Fish and Wildlife Service or Bureau of Land Management,
or states, timber companies, stockmen or other individuals. Adding
to the confusion is the paucity of knowledge about the workings
of the ecosystems, and the present strictures on basic research
in the parks. What little research goes on has little relationship
to the problems outlined in the State to the Parks study, except
for a disproportionately large share going to air pollution monitoring,
which in 1981 is due to receive more than 25 percent of the total
scientific research budget. Also, although every park is supposed
to have a resource management plan, few if any parks have adequate
plans or are carrying them out well enough. One reason is the before-mentioned
scarcity of knowledge about the status of the resources. Another
is that natural resources management is a secondary activity for
the Park Service, as most of the attention goes for protection of
visitors and facilities protection. The number of resource managers
in the Park Service trained to deal with all the new resource threats
is extremely small, and the budget for resource management is a
low priority item and one of the first to get whacked. It is hoped
that the State of the Parks study will persuade the Park Service
and Congress to raise the priority and funding for research and
for resources management.
Interpretation Neglect
A final basic problem I want to mention is the need to upgrade
the interpretive and environmental education programs of the National
Park Service, which have declined deplorably in recent years as
funding, personnel and priority have been directed toward the squeaky
wheels. In addition to the failure of recent National Park directors
to give interpretation high enough priority, many superintendents
fail to appreciate its importance.
Despite the lack of priority, I hasten to say that a number of
excellent interpretive programs and environmental education activities
still go on at many of the parks, carried on by dedicated rangers
or by seasonal help from colleges. Some of the best programs are
developed by young people hired only as park "technicians".
Most park areas are uniquely suited to educating. Families come
to a park mentally open to ecological ideas that they might not
listen to elsewhere. I attended a campfire talk at one of California's
State Parks at Lake Tahoe one night. The families heard what they
came for - some facts about the ecology and natural history of Tahoe.
But they got some more basic information and philosophy as well.
The young seasonal state ranger added to his slide show the story
of The Lorax.
Using color slides made from pages out of the Dr. Seuss book, the
ranger unfolded the tale of the unthinking Once-ler who cut down
all the Truffula trees and built factories in the pleasant valley
so he could manufacture more and bigger Thneeds - a frivolous consumer
product. This despite the pleas of the environmentally oriented
Lorax, who speaks for the trees, the animals, the birds and the
fish. Finally, the last Truffula tree was destroyed, the air and
water polluted and the land ruined; the birds and fish and animals
all fled and the Lorax departed in despair. When the Lorax went
away, he left behind a little stone monument engraved with one word:
UNLESS. When the unprincipled Once-ler finally realized what he
had done to his environment, it was too late. The book ends with
the Once-ler sadly telling a small boy that at last he understands
the meaning of the message left by the Lorax:
UNLESS someone like you
Cares a whole awful lot,
Nothing is going to get better.
It's not.
The ranger finished his campfire talk by leading the parents and
their children to draw some environmentally ethical conclusions.
I warrant you that those visitors learned some things that night
that will enrich their lives and lead to a protective concern for
the parks - and the environment.
Understandably, it is difficult for the interpretation and education
programs to compete with the more obvious and demanding priorities
in a seriously understaffed Park Service. But this could be a short-sighted
policy that would work to the political disadvantage of the parks
in particular and conservation in general in years to come. The
parks exist both for the conservation of the natural objects and
for the enjoyment of future generations. We are wasting the opportunity
to use the parks as unique classrooms in which to impart a broader
understanding of an environmental ethic. The parks' perpetuation
will be in the hands of today's children and their children. Unless
tomorrow's citizens have an ethical awareness of the true ecological
values of these great natural areas, it bodes ill for the future.
Jewels Still Untarnished
Despite my harping on problems, I want to emphasize that the National
Parks are still the nation's natural crown jewels, and they remain
untarnished. And they are loyally supported by the public. The danger
is that in thinking of the parks only as places to go to satisfy
our recreation or wilderness needs, we will forsake our responsibilities
as citizens to safeguard the basic natural resources and the ethic
that underlies the park ideal. Unless we find ways to deal with
the threats or turn around some of the basic policy deficiencies,
we may wake up some morning and discover that it is The Twenty-Ninth
Day.
Many of you, I am sure, have heard of the French school children's
riddle cited by the authors of Limits to Growth and as the key to
Lester Brown's book The Twenty-Ninth Day. The riddle is used to
teach schoolchildren the nature of exponential growth. Your lily
pond has a single leaf, and each day the number of leaves doubles
- two leaves the second day, four the third, eight the fourth, and
so on. If the pond will be full on the 30th day, the riddle goes,
at which point is it half-full? The environmental lesson of exponential
growth is that at first the growth of leaves in the pond seems insignificant,
and you feel no urgency to do anything about it, But on the 29th
day, when the leaves cover half the pond, you discover you have
only one day left in which to correct the situation, and it may
then be too late.
Global Issues
I have used national parks as a microcosm of the conservation challenge
that confronts the world, and as an early warning system for the
state of the environment. There are, of course, many other serious
resource problems that I have not had time to cover and for which
there is no quick fix, either technological, economic or political.
And like the park ecosystem problems, they transcend solution by
a single community or state or even a single nation.
Some of the global resource issues fall in the 29th-day category.
Deforestation is expected to reduce the world's forest cover by
33 percent from 1960 to the year 2000. Between 25 and 50 million
acres are being cut each year in tropical rainforests. The loss
of wildlife habitats in tropical rainforests and elsewhere is expected
to eliminate more than one million species of wildlife and plants
by the year 2000. Desertification in many parts of the developing
world, coupled with alarming population growth rates, give little
hope of feeding the hungry, and will place greater demands on U.S.
food production capabilities at a time when our agricultural lands
are being lost to development at the rate of 3 million acres per
year, and 2 billion tons of productive soil is being destroyed by
erosion annually. Climate changes will result from a combination
of forest cover loss and the increased burning of fossil fuels.
Nuclear plant safety, nuclear waste disposal and nuclear proliferation,
acid rain fallout and inadequate disposal of toxic substances all
appear to be problems without current solutions, problems that could
erupt into disasi ter on some future 30th day unless we can find
a completely new approach that can deal with the causes instead
of vainly trying to cope with the effects.
At the same time, we have abundant environmental problems of a
less apocalyptical magnitude that ought to be solvable, but which
at present defy solution. They include such issues as the lack of
adequate water supply to meet demands in many parts of the West;
the attempt by some western states to take over federal public lands
in what has been called a "sagebrush rebel-lion;" the
need to restore of preserve open space in our urban areas and give
higher priority to improving the quality of life in our cities,
where environmental degradation affects the people most acutely;
the struggle to determine what Forest Service and other public lands
should be set aside in the national wilderness system; and the massive
synthetic fuel development program about to be set in motion by
the President and Congress, posing potential environmental damage
to extensive areas of the West.
Environmental Ethic Essential
If you have glanced at your watch, you know that there is no way
I am going to present solutions to all these problems in the time
remaining. Indeed, for many of these problems no practical solutions
seem readily apparent. You will recall, however, that at the outset
I defined the conservation challenge of the 80s this way: "to
reshape our attitudes and values and our practical approaches in
such a way that we can live in an era of scarcity without ruining
the life systems on which we depend." I submit I to you that
it is only with this change of attitude - in other words, with an
understanding and practice of what I call an environmental ethic
- that we will begin to resolve many of I these issues.
Six years ago I set out to write a book about the significance
of practicing an environmental ethic. My experiences as a member
of the President's Council on Environmental Quality had convinced
me that passing laws or setting up new governmental agencies would
not be sufficient to solve the kind of dilemmas we were approaching.
Nor could we depend on business and industry to exercise corporate
environmental responsibility simply because the law prescribed certain
actions or imposed certain standards. I was confident, however,
that the seeds of an environmental ethic had been germinating, and
I optimistically set out to find good examples in the all-important
business sector. I expected to research and write the book within
one year. But I found the evidence to support my optimism so hard
to come by that it took me four years to write the book. I discovered
that although an environmental ethic is sprouting, it is not yet
strong enough to exercise a real influence on the choices most people
make, especially those who make the big decisions that affect much
of the nation.
I did find in government, as well as in corporations and other
entities of the private sector, a few organizational structures
through which environmental effects could be factored into decisions
before actions were taken. But those structures proved effective
only when some individual in the organization was sufficiently imbued
with an environmental ethic to give force to environmental concerns-an
individual business leader, a lawmaker, a public official or a local
citizen activist who cared enough to lead the way.
Wherever I encountered these environmentally caring decisionmakers,
I found that their actions resulted from a kind of enlightened self-interest.
Instead of acting only for "me" (their own restricted,
personal interests), they were considering "us" (their
neighbors, their community and the natural world) in their decisions.
And they had widened their span of interest from a preoccupation
with "now" to consideration of a "now that includes
the future." They were practicing what might be called "environmental
citizenship." Considering the impact of their decisions and
living as responsible members of nature's system amounts to environmental
citizenship much the way abiding by the law, voting, paying taxes
and acting responsibly toward the community constitute political
citizenship.
The relatively few decisionmakers who are practicing environmental
citizenship have a personal sense of values that is essentially
different from the prevailing value system. This sense of values
makes them willing to go against the power structure of their community
or company or legislative body or government agency. Environmental
citizenship will not be widespread, therefore, until a major shift
in values takes place.
I like the way Wendell Berry stated this theme so eloquently in
a recent article in Sierra Magazine:
"If we are willing to pollute the air-to harm the elegant
creature known as the atmosphere-by that token we are willing to
harm all creatures that breathe, ourselves and our children among
them. There is no begging off or trading off."
The sense of values leading to environmental citizenship will be
increasingly important as population pressures, material growth,
resource depletion and the effects of technology carry the threat
of ever more destructive impacts on the planet. The presence of
an environmental ethic in our everyday decisions could be more important
than we realize. Our decisions as individuals - at home and at work,
as citizens, workers, professionals, or corporate or public officials
- taken together, determine the hopes and quality of life for everyone.
With the predominant values in society weighted toward narrow self-interest,
the role of those who seek the environmentally ethical route is
difficult and often unpopular. Yet if we do not make our choices
on the side of the environment now, our options will narrow rapidly
as the pressures of population growth, resource depletion and pollution
irreversibly alter the quality of living on the planet. Each of
us, individually, can look for ways of making fewer demands on natural
resources. We can seek to live in harmony with the natural order.
We can replace a self-only, short-range outlook with universal,
long-term values. And we can bring environmental considerations
into our decisions, from the smallest to the greatest.
That is the hope. And therein lies the conservation challenge of
the 80s. I, for one, am optimist enough to live by that hope. But
in closing, I think I'll take a cue from that young ranger at Tahoe
and put the conservation challenge of the 80s in the words of the
eminent Theodore Geisel who, under his pen name, Dr. Seuss, plants
a moral imperative among his delightful fables such as The Lorax:
UNLESS someone like you
Cares a whole awful lot,
Nothing is going to get better.
It's not.
Introducing: Robert Cahn
In the summer of 1969, Mr. Robert Cahn, the 19th Albright Lecturer,
was encamped at Lake 2900 on the North Slope of Alaska's Brooks
Range with a group of scientists hired by oil companies to investigate
the impact of the proposed oil pipeline on soil and wildlife. One
morning he left camp for a walk through the tundra to the crest
of a little hill. On the way, he admired the awesome vastness and
beauty of the Alaskan wilderness, tinged with some uneasiness at
the sense of total aloneness in this untamed region hundreds of
miles from civilization. On reaching the hilltop, the uneasiness
was replaced with a shocking view, for below lay the abandoned campsite
of an oil exploration crew, long since gone. Around the site was
the debris of exploration - oil drums, gasoline cans, wooden crates,
piles of tin cans, and other trash. Leading away from the site were
old tire tracks, now two- or three-foot gullies running parallel
down the slope, the product of man's technology and nature's erosion.
The experience left a deep impression, and was a factor leading
Mr. Cahn on a ten-year search for an environmental ethic that would
dominate his activities through the decade of the 70's.
Mr. Cahn is presently Washington Editor for Audubon Magazine, to
which he gives about one-half his time, and a freelance writer and
consultant on environmental matters. A native of Seattle, Washington,
he received his Bachelor's Degree from the journalism school at
the University of Washington in 1939. His first assignment was as
a sports writer for the Seattle Star. Following wartime service
with the U.S. Army, he returned to journalism as a reporter for
the Pasadena Star News, In the period 1946 to 1969 he evolved from
a newspaper reporter into a nonfiction magazine writer and editor,
serving on the staffs of Life, Colliers, and the Saturday Evening
Post. In 1963-64 he was White House reporter for the United States
Information Agency's International Press Service, writing on various
subjects.
Among his many publishing credits was the first national magazine
article about Marilyn Monroe (in 195 1), and articles on nuclear
tests, the rights of wild animals in national parks, and children's
author Dr. Seuss.
In 1965, Mr. Cahn joined The Christian Science Monitor as a correspondent.
Subsequently, in 1968, following extensive traveling and interviewing
in the national parks, The Monitor published his 16-part series,
"Will Success Spoil the National Parks?" for which he
was later awarded the Pulitzer Prize for national reporting. From
that time to the present, his career as a journalist has focused
on conservation and environmental matters.
Mr. Cahn received the honorary Doctor of Laws Degree from Allegheny
College in 1970. He was appointed by President Nixon as one of the
initial three members of the Council on Environmental Quality in
1970, serving in the capacity until 1972. From 1973-75, he served
on the President's Advisory Committee on Environmental Quality,
and from 1976-78 on the Coastal Zone Management Advisory Committee
of the Department of Commerce. He currently serves on the governing
boards of the Trust for Public Land (San Francisco), The Bolton
Institute (Wellesley, Mass.), The Institute of Ecology (Indianapolis),
New Directions, The Environmental Policy Institute, the American
Land Forum (Washington, D.C.), and the John Muir Institute.
Back
to List of Horace Albright Lectures Back
to Horace Albright Lecture
Center Lectures
Center for Forestry Home
|