Two Centuries of Experience in

Water Resources

Management

A Dutch-U.S. Retrospective
Two Centuries of Experience in

A Dutch-U.S. Retrospective

Water Resources 

Management

Editors

John Lonnquest Bert Toussaint Joe Manous, Jr. Maurits Ertsen

Institute for Water Resources, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

and

Rijkswaterstaat, Ministry of Infrastructure and the Environment

Alexandria, Virginia, 2014
On the cover:

“Bay and Harbour of New York, From Bedlon’s [Bedloe’s] Island,” ca. 1840, painted by John G. Chapman, engraved by 

James Smillie, and published by John Disturnell. Two centuries earlier, in the early 1600s, the harbor and the lower 

end of the nearby island of Manhattan were under Dutch control as part of the colony of New Netherland, with New 

Amsterdam (present-day New York City) as the settlement’s capital. The lands were ceded by the Dutch to the English 

in 1664, and the English renamed the village New York the following year.

Credit: J. G. Chapman - James Smillie- John Disturnell / Museum of the City of New York
Contents

Foreword ............................................................................................................................................................ iii

Contributors ....................................................................................................................................................... v

Preface ............................................................................................................................................................... vii

Chapter One

Introduction by Bert Toussaint and William F. Willingham ....................................................................... 1

Chapter Two

Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution, Restoration and the Advance 

of Liberalism, 1795–1850 by Toon Bosch ................................................................................................... 11

Chapter Three

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and the Evolution of Navigation Practice and Policy, 

1800–1865 by Matthew T. Pearcy ................................................................................................................ 51

Chapter Four

Large-Scale Projects in a Liberal Era, 1850–1900 by Eric Berkers ............................................................ 77

Chapter Five

U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements, 

1865–1900 by Leland R. Johnson .............................................................................................................. 113

Chapter Six

From Projects to Systems: the Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy, 

1900–1970 by Nil Disco and Bert Toussaint ............................................................................................. 155

Chapter Seven

U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works, 1900–1970 by William F. Willingham ................... 205

Chapter Eight

Environmentalism, Renewed Concern for Flood Safety, and the Europeanization 

of Dutch Water Policies, 1970–2010 by Wim van Leussen and Sander Meijerink ................................ 247

Chapter Nine

The U.S. Moves Towards More Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management, 

1970–2010 by William F. Willingham ....................................................................................................... 287

Chapter Ten

Two Centuries of Dutch and U.S. Experience: Comparative Perspective by Bert Toussaint and 

William F. Willingham ............................................................................................................................... 343

Index ................................................................................................................................................................ 363

i
Maps

Major Rivers and Hydraulic Structures in the Netherlands ............................................................................. 4

Major Rivers of the United States of America ................................................................................................... 5

Dike Breaches ................................................................................................................................................... 31

Development of the National Road Network, 1800–1850 .............................................................................. 37

Canal Projects in the Northern Netherlands, 1814–1840 ............................................................................... 38

The Mississippi River Valley ............................................................................................................................. 56

Railway Network Development, 1839–1890 ................................................................................................... 82

Waal River Channel .......................................................................................................................................... 87

Two New River Mouths .................................................................................................................................... 89

Detail of a Waal River Section ........................................................................................................................ 107 

The Great Lakes ............................................................................................................................................... 115

Lower Mississippi River and Tributaries ...................................................................................................... 130

Four Zuiderzee Reclamation Plans, 1849–1891 ............................................................................................ 167

Map of the Noordoostpolder ......................................................................................................................... 174

Nether-Rhine Canalization System ............................................................................................................... 181 

The Delta Works Program .............................................................................................................................. 188

The Columbia River System ........................................................................................................................... 224

The Missouri River System ............................................................................................................................. 227

Dutch River Basins .......................................................................................................................................... 275

Corps of Engineers Field Organization ......................................................................................................... 323

Hurricane Katrina ........................................................................................................................................... 331

ii
Hon. Jo-Ellen Darcy

Assistant Secretary of the Army (Civil Works)

United States 

Mr. Jan-Hendrik Dronkers

Director General

Rijkswaterstaat, The Netherlands

For over two centuries the Netherlands and the United States followed markedly different paths for 

managing their periodic floods and droughts, navigable 

waterways, coastal zones, and environments. That accumulated experience represents an extraordinarily rich 

record of technological achievement and innovation, 

and it was against that backdrop that representatives 

from each nation’s responsible public works organization — the Dutch Rijkswaterstaat (RWS) and the U.S. 

Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) — recognized the 

need for close collaboration on a wide range of water 

management topics. As the partnership evolved it 

became clear that understanding the similarities and 

differences in backgrounds, institutional organization, 

and development of water management development 

would facilitate the exchanges of ideas and expertise 

between the two nations. The RWS and USACE reached 

a formal agreement in 2004, and this study is one result. 

At first blush, a comparative history of these particular two countries might seem puzzling given the vast 

difference in geographic scale, with the Netherlands’ 

entire area approximating half the size of the U.S. state 

of Maine. What the Dutch lack in space, however, they 

make up for in water management expertise. One quarter 

of the Netherlands lies below sea level, and over the 

centuries the Dutch have devised an intricate network of 

measures to protect against inland flooding and coastal 

storms. In fact, their first water board (waterschappen) 

was established as far back as 1255 in Leiden as a means 

to oversee levee development and maintenance. 

The double blow to the Gulf Coast dealt by Hurricanes Katrina and Rita in August and September of 

2005 opened up opportunities for further collaboration 

between the Rijkswaterstaat and Army Corps of Engineers. Coastal zone protection and management became 

the immediate focus of the relationship. Once the 

affected Gulf Coast area stabilized, however, the partnership deliberations shifted to a variety of additional topics 

including asset management, risk-informed decision 

making, project management, levee safety, integrated 

water resources management, operations and maintenance, organizational change, flood policy standards, 

and the public-private interface. Since 2004, scientists, 

engineers, and policy makers from a variety of Dutch and 

U.S. organizations have met on numerous occasions to 

compare notes on these critical matters and to suggest 

needed improvements to related policies and procedures. Challenges persist in the growing threat of sea 

level rise, salt water intrusion, and land subsidence.

Along the way, it has proven helpful to pause and 

reflect on the various forces that have helped guide 

our organizations since their formations in the early 

nineteenth century. This comparative history explores 

how the evolution of Dutch and American experiences 

shaped their respective approaches to fields as diverse 

as hydraulic engineering, flood management, navigation, building with nature, and urban development.

We look forward to a long and fruitful partnership 

between our two respective organizations, and now 

invite you to enjoy this journey back in time.

Foreword

iii

Eric Berkers is a senior researcher with the Foundation for the History of Technology at Eindhoven University of 

Technology. He graduated as an economic and social historian, specialized in business history and the history of 

technology. His PhD thesis at the Delft University of Technology focused on the Rijkswaterstaat between 1850 and 

1930. He participated in several research projects, including the History of Technology in the Netherlands in the 

Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries and the History of Dutch Business in the Twentieth Century. He has published 

works on the development of the Dutch knowledge infrastructure in different domains, such as water management, 

geodesy, energy, and healthcare. 

Antoon Bosch studied at Radboud University Nijmegen and earned his PhD at the Delft University of Technology in 

2000. Since 1988 he has been working at the Department of Humanities and Law of the Dutch Open University as an 

Associate Professor in Cultural History. He has published several articles and books, including Om de macht over het 

water. De nationale waterstaatsdienst tussen staat en samenleving (1798–1850) (2000); “Changing Societies Produce 

Changing Rivers. Managing the Rhine in Germany and Holland in a Changing Environment, 1770–1850” in T. Tvedt, 

R. Cooper (eds.), A History of Water, Series 2, Volume 2: Rivers and Society: From Early Civilizations to Modern Times

(2010); and L. H. M. Wessels, A. Bosch (eds.), Naties, staten en Nationalisme in Europa sinds circa 1750 (2012).

Nil Disco is a senior researcher at the Department of Science, Technology, and Policy Studies at the University 

of Twente. Trained as a sociologist, he has published in recent years on urban technologies, transnational water 

management, and Dutch water history. He recently co-edited a volume with Eda Kranakis titled Cosmopolitan 

Commons. Sharing Resources and Risks across Borders (2013).

Maurits Ertsen is a member of the Water Resources Management group of Delft University of Technology. He studies 

water history in a broad perspective. He is currently collaborating with archaeologists in order to increase our understanding of human-environmental interactions within water systems in the past. Furthermore, he is interested in 

colonial irrigation in the twentieth century, with a focus on Indonesia and Sudan. He is treasurer of the International 

Water History Association (IWHA), secretary of the Dutch Association of Water History, and one of the two main 

editors of Water History, the official journal of the IWHA.

Leland Johnson, who passed away in late February 2014, held degrees from Murray State University and St. Louis University and a PhD from Vanderbilt University. Specializing in the history of engineering technology, he completed dozens of 

studies and publications during more than five decades of research and writing. Many of these chronicled the work of the 

Army Corps of Engineers and include Situation Desperate: U.S. Army Engineer Disaster Relief Operations, Origins to 1950

(2011) and Triumph at the Falls: The Louisville and Portland Canal (2007). Three times the Society of American Military 

Engineers awarded him the Toulmin Medal for outstanding article of the year published in The Military Engineer.

Wim van Leussen is emeritus professor of River Basin Management at the University of Twente and was senior 

advisor on water management at the Dutch Ministry of Infrastructure and the Environment. From 1974 to 1987 he 

worked at Delft Hydraulics (now Deltares) and from 1987 to 2011 at the Rijkswaterstaat. He specializes in how to 

bridge the gap between engineering and governance aspects of water management, particularly on the scale of catchments or river basins, as well as on flood defense policies. He has been a member of a number of committees and 

councils on water management in the Netherlands. 

Contributors

v
John Lonnquest is the Chief of the Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. As a staff historian 

he served as director of the Corps of Engineers’ oral history program, directed its wide-ranging field history program, 

and led the Corps’ Iraq and Afghanistan history teams. He has also written and edited histories on missile development and the Korean War. He received his PhD in history from Duke University in 1996. 

Joe Manous is a civil engineer specializing in the areas of water resources and environmental security issues associated with water. He is currently located with the Institute for Water Resources, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and 

previously served as an Academy Professor at the United States Military Academy at West Point. He holds a PhD in 

environmental engineering from the University of Minnesota and is a licensed professional engineer. Dr. Manous has 

been recognized as a Diplomate of Water Resources Engineering.

Sander Meijerink is Associate Professor of Water Governance at the Institute for Management Research of the 

Radboud University Nijmegen. He has a PhD with honors from Delft University of Technology and has specific 

research interests in institutional continuity and change within the water policy domain, leadership strategies for 

innovation in the water sector, river basin organizations, and the management of international water resources. He 

has published works in Water Policy, Journal of Water and Climate Change, International Journal of Water Resources 

Development, Journal of European Public Policy, Ecology & Society, Environment and Planning A and C, Environmental Science & Policy, and Land Use Policy.

Matt Pearcy has been a historian with the Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers since 2006. 

He previously worked as the district historian in the St. Paul District of the Corps of Engineers in Minnesota. While 

there, he coauthored (with Charles Camillo) Upon Their Shoulders: A History of the Mississippi River Commission

(2004). He has published related articles in Louisiana History, Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society, Florida 

Historical Quarterly, Military History of the West, and Army History. He holds a PhD in history from the University of 

North Texas and is currently writing a biography of army engineer Andrew A. Humphreys (1810–1883).

Bert Toussaint is employed as a corporate historian in the Ministry of Infrastructure and the Environment. His main 

tasks are management of research projects on the history of water management, infrastructure, and transport, and 

education on these topics. His publications include In een Japanse stroomversnelling (edited with Louis van Gasteren) 

(2000) and Polder Pioneers. The Influence of Dutch Engineers on Water Management in Europe, 1600–2000 (edited with 

H. S. Danner) (2005).

William F. Willingham has long experience in the fields of American history, historic preservation, architectural 

history, water resources development, and community history. He has taught at the college level, served as a district 

and division historian for the Corps of Engineers, and worked as a consulting historian. He has authored numerous 

scholarly books, articles, reviews, consultant reports, and professional papers. He received his PhD in American 

History in 1972 from Northwestern University and a BA from Willamette University in 1966.

Contributors, continued

vi
I

n the spring of 2004, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers 

and the Dutch Rijkswaterstaat agreed to participate in a 

joint effort that promotes mutual cooperation and information exchange to improve water resources management in both countries. As a result of that initiative, a 

2005 workshop in The Hague brought together Dutch 

and U.S. historians and water resources professionals 

to develop the framework of a comparative history to 

explore the social, political, economic, and technological 

factors that shaped the development of water resources 

in the Netherlands and in the United States. 

After the meeting in the Netherlands, a team of 

nine historians—six Dutch and three from the United 

States—spent the next several years examining the 

myriad factors that shaped the evolution of water 

resources development in their respective countries. The history they produced is both collaborative 

and comparative. The introduction was co-written 

by a Dutch and an American historian. Each of the 

following eight chapters, built around a common chronology and investigating many of the same historical 

themes, was written by Dutch or U.S. historians. The 

conclusion, which also was co-written by a Dutch 

and an American historian, provides the comparative 

synthesis of the material provided by the authors in 

the previous chapters. 

This collaborative history required more than 

insightful research and graceful prose. Working diligently to weave together the two parallel narratives, the 

editors sought to provide balanced historical coverage, 

giving Dutch and American readers sufficient information to explain key geographic, social, and political 

background without distracting from the narrative. 

Deciding on a common, or a least consistent, terminology was a challenge. 

Many people on both sides of the Atlantic deserve 

special mention for their support of this project. Dr. 

Marty Reuss of the Office of History, U.S. Army Corps 

of Engineers was instrumental in starting the comparative history but retired before it was completed. Mr. Bert 

Keijts, former Director General of the Rijkswaterstaat, 

and Mr. Steven Stockton, Director of Civil Works for the 

Corps of Engineers, provided valuable support for this 

project. Mr. Hans Pietersen, Mr. LuitzenBijlsma, and 

Dr. Jean-Marie Stam of the Rijkswaterstaat, as well as 

Mr. Robert Pietrowsky and Mr. Paul Bourget of the U.S. 

Army Corps of Engineers’ Institute for Water Resources, 

provided critical insight along the way. We also extend 

special recognition to our reviewers: Dr. Joe Manous, Dr. 

Maurits Ertsen, Mr. Pieter Huisman, Dr. Gerry Galloway, 

Dr. Leonard Shabman, and Dr. Robert Brumbaugh. Mr. 

James Garber and Mr. Doug Wilson, both of the Office of 

History, were instrumental in designing and producing 

the U.S. maps and editing the manuscript. Mr. John 

Mitrione of the U.S. Government Printing Office was 

responsible for the layout and design of this publication, 

and Dr. Jeff Brideau and Ms. Barbara Chastel de Boinville 

provided invaluable copyediting reviews. 

John Lonnquest

Chief, Office of History, Headquarters 

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

Bert Touissant

Corporate Historian

Rijkswaterstaat

Preface

vii

This volume tells a trans-Atlantic story. Its chief 

protagonists are two established and respected 

federal water resources organizations—the United 

States Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) and the Dutch 

Rijkswaterstaat. Founded more than 200 years ago, 

both organizations have a complex institutional history. 

These histories are geographically and culturally 

specific, but overlap in substantively important ways. 

Although the United States and the Netherlands maintain a long tradition of political, economic, and technical cooperation, only recently have these institutions 

formally engaged one another in meaningful forms of 

direct and collaborative interaction. These exchanges, 

which explored the organizations’ experiences in 

managing national water resources, led to this comparative study of their histories, values, and practices.1

In May 2004, the Corps and the Rijkswaterstaat 

signed a Memorandum of Agreement (MOA) that 

formally initiated a program designed to facilitate bilateral collaboration in research, development, testing, and 

evaluation—all directed toward improving the management of water resources in both countries. These formal 

exchanges underscored a need to explore the fundamental similarities and differences between the two 

organizations and instilled a desire to construct a better 

understanding of the historical context that shaped their 

respective water management practices.

In November 2005, a two-day workshop with ten 

participants from each country was held at The Hague, 

Netherlands. This small group of Dutch and American 

water resources historians and others interested in 

the historical context of water resource management 

identified significant decisions and activities that 

shaped water resources programs and policies in the 

Netherlands and the United States. The MOA and the 

workshop were given heightened significance by Hurricane Katrina, which struck the Gulf Coast of the United 

States on August 23, 2005. This storm, which resulted 

in 1,800 fatalities and ranked as the fifth deadliest in 

U.S. history, provided an immediate, tangible incentive 

for both nations to share their extensive institutional 

knowledge about coping with storm surge and other 

water-related disasters. 

A central question discussed during the workshop 

was: “Is a comparative water management history a 

good idea?” At a glance, the countries’ relative size 

1 Introduction

Bert Toussaint and William F. Willingham

1
and physical-geographical features seem prohibitively 

dissimilar, and devising comparative metrics presented 

a serious intellectual challenge. The workshop participants agreed to investigate this question by developing 

a comparative framework. They began by identifying, 

comparing, and contrasting significant events and 

programs in Dutch and U.S. water history. They then 

proceeded to contextualize these historical markers 

with key political, socio-economic, technological, 

demographic, and environmental factors that helped 

shape the water resources infrastructure over time. 

Constructing this historical and comparative framework, 

they hoped, would provide an answer to their preliminary question and offer insight for Dutch and American 

policy makers, planners, and other decision makers as 

they implemented water management and infrastructure projects in their respective countries. 

TIMELINE FOR COMPARATIVE ANALYSIS

 After identifying the main features and events of each 

country’s national water resources development, the 

workshop established historical timelines to chronologically focus a comparative analysis of the identified programs and projects. The timeline used in this 

book was a refinement of the historical phases of water 

resources development that emerged from the workshop discussions. The workshop participants identified 

broad phases of development: two for each century 

and bridging time segment. Condensed from five to 

four phases for this volume, the chronology employed 

reflects the changing role of national governments in 

water infrastructure development and management, as 

well as technological changes and socio-economic and 

demographic factors. 

During the first phase, between 1800 and the 1860s, 

national governments played a limited participatory role 

in infrastructure undertakings. In the United States, the 

national government’s constitutional authority to build 

a transportation infrastructure was debated, inhibiting 

action until mid-century, although Congress did fund a 

limited number of surveys as well as modest river and 

harbor improvements. In the Netherlands, political 

revolution and the consolidation of state power, scarce 

financial and personnel resources, and the turmoil 

surrounding the advent of the liberal state, limited the 

national government from making major commitments 

to river improvement projects until near the end of the 

first phase, although major canal, reclamation, and 

infrastructure projects were accomplished.

During the first half of the nineteenth century, both 

countries evinced a form of laissez-faire economic and 

political liberalism that actively discouraged federal 

expenditure on public works. However, in the latter half 

of the nineteenth century, both national governments 

became increasingly activist and willing to deploy public 

funds and resources for infrastructure projects in their 

respective “national interests,” inaugurating a second 

phase. The outcome of the Civil War in the United States 

largely settled the constitutional debate in favor of expansive federal power, and provided the appropriate political 

conditions for extensive federal navigation improvements 

in rivers and harbors, as well as extensive land-grant 

subsidies for private railroad construction and natural 

resource exploitation. In the Netherlands, the liberal state 

undertook flood control work on the nation’s rivers. In 

addition, it constructed new entrances for the Amsterdam 

and Rotterdam harbors and launched new canal projects. 

The third phase, 1900 to 1970, encompassed for 

both nations the modern industrial state, two global 

wars, economic depression, and the advent of the Cold 

War. The beginning of the period is marked by the 

transition to scientific water resources management 

in both countries. In the United States, this era is characterized by the proliferation and up-scaling of major 

federal water control works, such as multiple-purpose 

dams and large-scale flood control works constructed 

2

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
by several federal agencies, including the Army Corps of 

Engineers and the Bureau of Reclamation. In the Netherlands, the national government planned and developed the technologies required for flood control along 

its coastal zone and for an effective use of its freshwater capacity. Major examples of these efforts are the 

Zuiderzee Works, which included a closure dam that 

closed-off the Zuiderzee and construction of polders in 

the created freshwater lake; development of a national 

freshwater system; and the Delta Plan, a major flood 

protection scheme in the southwestern delta region, 

implemented between 1954 and 1986.

The final, fourth phase covers the last third of the 

twentieth and the beginning of the twenty-first century. 

In both nations, environmental and budgetary concerns 

limited or altered the development of new, large-scale 

water resources projects. An emphasis on the operation and maintenance of existing infrastructure marked 

the era. In the United States, the federal government 

insisted that local interests share the cost of developing 

any new water resources projects, and a proliferation of 

federal legislation and directives institutionalized environmental considerations. In the Netherlands, by then 

functioning within the European Union, there emerged 

a commitment to internationalizing water resources 

development and new plans for flood control on the 

river deltas and the coastal zone were implemented. 

This framework, divided into four distinct and 

historically coherent eras, provides the structure for 

this book, which can be regarded as the first U.S.-Dutch 

comparative account of water management history. 

It focuses on the federal (U.S.) and national (Dutch) 

levels of government.

GEOGRAPHICAL DIFFERENCES

Clearly, there are striking and significant geographical 

differences between the two countries: The United 

States covers 9,629,090 square kilometers (3,717,813 

square miles); and the Netherlands only 41,526 square 

kilometers (16,163 square miles), slightly smaller 

than half the state of Maine. The contiguous U.S. is 

geographically diverse, containing eight distinct physiographic divisions. The most conspicuous divisions 

are the Atlantic Plain, along the coastal regions of the 

eastern and southern continental shelf; the Appalachian Highlands, lying on the eastern side of the 

continent; interior lands called the Great Plains; the 

Rocky Mountain System traversing the inland western 

states; the Intermontane Plateaus that lie between 

the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific Mountains; and 

the Pacific Mountain System that includes the Pacific 

mountain ranges. The Netherlands, except for a few 

hilly regions in the southeast and the coastal dunes 

in the west, is mostly plains composed of river-borne 

alluvial deposits, depositions from the sea, peat bog 

areas, and cover sands. In terms of climate, the U.S. 

includes examples of nearly every global climatic 

zone, from sub-tropical to polar. The Netherlands, on 

the other hand, is situated in a marine climate—cool 

and humid, with strong prevailing westerly winds and 

ocean storms depositing an average annual rainfall of 

833 millimeters (32.8 inches).

WATER RESOURCES AND INFRASTRUCTURE

 Water is an important feature of both countries. Onesixth of the Netherlands’ surface area is covered by 

water in rivers, lakes, ponds, and canals, while less 

than 5 percent of the United States is covered by water 

(470,131 square kilometers; 181,519 square miles). The 

Great Lakes alone account for 244,106 square kilometers (94,250 square miles) of water surface, though this 

resource is shared with Canada. A striking feature of the 

Netherlands is that one-quarter of the country lies below 

sea level, with the lowest point registering -6.7 meters 

(-22 feet) below Dutch Ordnance Datum. The plains in 

the west of the country are low-lying, while the highest 

1 Introduction

3
point lies in the southeast at 322 meters (1,053 feet) 

above Dutch Ordnance Datum. In contrast, the United 

States contains great extremes of elevation. Its highest 

point is Mount McKinley at 6,194 meters (20,320 feet) 

and its lowest spot resides in Death Valley, California, at 

-86 meters (-282 feet) below sea level.

Rivers have exerted profound influence on the 

historical development of both countries. The two 

major rivers of the Netherlands are the Rhine (1,230 

kilometers; 763 miles) and the Maas (950 kilometers; 

589 miles). When the Rhine enters the Netherlands, it 

changes its name to the Upper Rhine, and once the Waal 

River splits off the Upper Rhine, the latter becomes the 

Pannerdensch Kanaal. Downstream, the Pannerdensch 

Kanaal splits into the IJssel and Nether Rhine. The Nether 

Rhine becomes the Lek, then the Nieuwe Maas before it 

enters the Nieuwe Waterweg. Finally, the Maas flows as 

Bergse Maas into the Hollands Diep. The Dutch coastline is protected by a series of dunes, dikes, and dams, 

and dikes also reinforce the rivers’ banks. The delta is 

susceptible to destruction by strong surge tides, and for 

centuries, storm surges wreaked havoc along the Dutch 

Netherlands

0

0

10

10

20

20

30 Kilometers

30 Miles

Waddenzee

North

Sea

Zuiderzee

Works

Delta

Works Eastern

Scheldt

Storm Surge

Barrier

BELGIUM

GERMANY

groningen

enschede

almere

utrecht

rotterdam

the hague

scheldt river

meuse river

ijssel river

rhine river

nether rhine river

lek river

breda

amsterdam

tilburg

Antwerp

eindhoven

nijmegen

waal river

meuse river

princess margriet canal

amsterdamrhine canal

north sea canal

new

waterway

Major Rivers and Hydraulic Structures in the Netherlands

4

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
coast until the Delta Plan was initiated in the 1950s. By 

comparison, the much longer ocean coastline and series 

of river banks in the United States have protective structures only in areas of high potential storm damage.

The U.S. has several major river systems. These 

include the Mississippi/Missouri rivers and their major 

tributaries (Ohio, Illinois, Arkansas, and Red rivers); 

the Columbia River and its chief tributaries (Snake and 

Willamette rivers); and the Colorado River and its tributaries. The Mississippi River system (3,730 kilometers; 

2,320 miles) is the largest, draining all or part of thirtyone states with a basin of 2,981,076 square kilometers 

(1,151,000 square miles). The Columbia River (2,000 

kilometers; 1,214 miles) drains 352,446 square kilometers (219,000 square miles) in seven western states and 

an additional 63,569 square kilometers (39,500 square 

miles) in British Columbia, Canada (total drainage: 

668,000 square kilometers; 415,076 square miles). The 

Colorado River (2,330 kilometers; 1,450 miles) and its 

tributaries form a watershed of 629,000 square kilometers (242,900 square miles) in seven U.S. states and the 

two Mexican states of Baja California and Sonora.

UNITED STATES

columbia

 river

willamette

river

colorado river

gila river

yukon river

yukon river

tanana river

koyukuk river

coleville river

brazos river

wailua

river

olokele

river

wailuku river

san joaquin river

red river

arkansas river

missouri river

mississippi river

lake superior

lake pontchartrain

lake okeechobee

huron

lake

lake michigan

lake erie

lake

ontario

mississippi river

tennessee river

peedee river

savannah river

alabama-coosa rivers

wabash river

ohio river

potomac

river

hudson river

apalachicolaflint rivers

chattahoochee

river

rio grande

snake river

sacramento

 river

klamath river

great

salt lake

pacific ocean

gulf of mexico

atlantic ocean

0

0

250

250

500 Kilometers

500 Miles 

0

0

250 500 Kilometers

250 500 Miles 

0

0

50 100 Kilometers

50 100 Miles 

CANADA

MEXICO

alaska hawaiian islands

philadelphia

boston

new york

Washington, D.C.

memphis

kansas city

atlanta

st. 

louis

indianapolis cincinnati

chicago

st. 

paul

denver

minneapolis

portland

seattle

san 

francisco

las vegas

phoenix

dallas

san 

josé

los

angeles

san 

diego

san

antonio

houston new orleans

miami

jacksonville

louisville

charlotte

norfolk

honolulu

anchorage

Major Rivers of the United States of America

1 Introduction

5
In their natural state, these rivers could not be 

safely navigated on a year-round basis. Their depths 

fluctuate based on flows affected by seasonal snowmelt, precipitation from storms, and drought. Under 

natural conditions, many of these river channels are 

prone to meandering within their flood plains, and 

large quantities of silt and debris could clog channels. 

During the nineteenth century, the Corps met these 

hydrologic challenges with a variety of engineering 

responses including wing dams, dredging, snagging, 

levees, and revetments. These engineered interventions culminated in the construction of multiplepurpose dams (flood control, hydroelectric power 

generation, navigation, etc.) and levees on main stem 

rivers and major tributaries, during the first half of the 

twentieth century.

A major feature of Dutch water management 

has been the effort to create land by draining lakes 

and marshes. Between the years 800 and 1250, the 

Dutch reclaimed the main part of the peat marshes 

and turned them into arable land or land suitable for 

animal husbandry and livestock. Laborers carried out 

the drainage of peat areas by digging parallel ditches, 

usually starting from a natural watercourse. If a natural 

watercourse was not nearby, workers dug a drainage 

canal that flowed into a river or brook before reclamation began. The reclaimed land was protected from 

the inflow of water from higher-situated peat areas by 

digging demarcation ditches, located perpendicular to 

the drainage canals. These ditches drained the water 

from upstream areas. If drainage proved insufficient, 

laborers broadened drainage canals and demarcation ditches or dug new canals. In this way, the typical 

Dutch polder landscape developed. 

Unfortunately, nearly all of the drained polders 

eventually subsided because of compaction and oxidation of the top soil layer. Hence, the polders’ soil level 

dropped continuously, which increased their vulnerability to flooding. This increased susceptibility made 

structural flood protection measures, like dike and 

levee building, a necessity.

Dutch engineers used a more complex process 

when draining a lake to create a polder. First, workers 

surrounded the lake with a dike and a ring canal. 

Then, they pumped the water out of the lake into the 

ring canal, which conveyed the pumped water into a 

peripheral storage canal for temporary holding. From 

the storage canal, the water was discharged into rivers 

that ultimately carried it to sea. Initially, windmills 

powered the pumping process, but they were successively replaced by steam and diesel engines, then by 

electrically operated pumps. The newly reclaimed land 

was subsequently intersected with drainage canals and 

parceled out into agricultural units. 

In the U.S., land reclamation also occurred, but 

most of the land was reclaimed from freshwater 

rather than the sea. Individual farmers undertook 

the majority of these reclamation efforts, especially 

in the “prairie and pothole” regions of the Midwest.2

Significant reclamation efforts also occurred through 

polder-like techniques in the deltas of the San Joaquin 

and Sacramento rivers of California. In the east, one 

of the most extensive U.S. land reclamation projects 

was the Central and Southern Florida Flood Control 

Project (C&SF Project), which sought to control the 

waters of the meandering Kissimmee River as it flowed 

southward down the Florida peninsula. Authorized by 

Congress in 1948, this project was extremely successful 

in reclaiming wetlands for pasture, agriculture, and 

urban development, but the project’s negative environmental impacts proved so significant that forty years 

later, the Corps, in partnership with local, state, and 

other federal agencies, initiated an even more ambitious project – the Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan (CERP), to restore some of the natural hydrologic functions of Florida’s wetlands. 

6

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
THE COMPARATIVE STUDY

Recognizing the two countries’ similar needs to develop 

and manage water infrastructure, while keeping in mind 

their fundamental geographical and socio-political differences, this comparative study is organized into chronological, narrative chapters alternating between Dutch 

and American authors. The narrative is broken into four 

time periods (chapters) for each nation. This narrative is 

followed by a concluding chapter highlighting the similarities and differences between the water management 

styles and efforts of the Rijkswaterstaat and the U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers. Throughout the text, illustrations, 

maps, photographs, and other graphics are included to 

clarify and illuminate the discussion.

In this book, historians, policy makers, and the 

general reader will find stimulating insights into the 

evolution of water resources management from the 

perspective of two of the world’s preeminent water 

resources agencies. Both journeys have proven exciting, 

economically successful, and essential to the growth of 

their respective nations, while showcasing adaptability 

to changing economic, political, and cultural contexts. 

Alongside the many successes, challenges evolved 

that required innovation, technical expertise, and 

political determination. This book chronicles both the 

successes and the failures of each agency, and celebrates 

champions in water resources management and their 

achievements. It is a scholarly, comparative history of 

both academic and practical merit. The insights from 

this book are intended to help water resources managers 

as they address present and future challenges on both 

sides of the Atlantic.

1 Introduction

7
1 For a recent overview of Dutch-American relations, 

see Hans Krabbendam, Cornelis A. van Minnen, and Giles 

Scott-Smith (ed.), Four Centuries of Dutch-American Relations, 

1609–2009 (Amsterdam: Boom, 2009). 

2 Regions of North America whose land surface was 

modified by glacial activity and is characterized by low permeability glacial till soils and a lack of surface drainage.

ENDNOTES

8

2

Managing water in the Dutch delta has always been governed by the interaction of climatological and 

geological factors with the population and its relations 

with water—water as an adversary and an ally—and 

shaped under changing societal conditions. These water 

management efforts not only made the existence of a 

good part of the country physically possible, but also 

contributed to the emergence of a unique hydraulic 

society. The Netherlands is a country in which managing 

water has a fundamental influence on individual and 

collective behavior and on the environment itself—such 

that it can justifiably be called, in the words of the French 

historian Fernand Braudel (1902–1985), a civilisation de 

l’eau, or water-civilization. The water-civilization of the 

Low Countries acquired specific characteristics from the 

eleventh century on. There was, first of all, a dynamic 

development of hydraulic and craft knowledge. Concurrently, changing political arrangements influenced the 

organization of water management and gave rise to a 

decentralized structure of water governance during the 

Dutch Ancien Regime. In this political arrangement, local 

levels of government and private bodies in the form of 

water boards took the lead. These institutions succeeded 

in raising safety levels and constructing impressive 

water works. They also contributed in cooperation 

with scientist and engineers—among them the famous 

Andreas Vierlingh (1507–1579) who wrote one of the 

first theoretical essays on constructing sea dikes—to the 

development of hydraulic expertise. While these bodies 

were, as a rule, adequate to the task, new hydraulic and 

political developments at the end of the eighteenth 

century caused this system of water governance to enter 

a period of serious crisis. 

This chapter briefly reviews water management and 

the development of the decentralized system of water 

governance during the Ancien Regime. It then concentrates on the causes and forces that put an end to the 

decentralized political framework of the Republic of 

the Seven United Provinces at the end of the eighteenth 

century, which laid the foundations for a new centrally 

governed national unitarian state. In the domain of 

water management, as in other fields, this political 

regime transformation was accompanied by a conscious 

effort at upgrading centralization, and a dominant 

role for the state. This chapter also discusses the politically and administratively troublesome emergence of 

Dutch Water Management In an Era 

of Revolution, Restoration and the 

Advance of Liberalism, 1795–1850

Toon Bosch

11
centralized water management in the period 1795–1813, 

the so-called Batavian-French Time, and its continuation under the new political covenant of the (United) 

Kingdom of the Netherlands, up to the liberal constitutional reforms that were effected at the end of the 1840s. 

The second part of this chapter covers the founding and 

consolidation of the national corps of hydraulic engineers and its new role as representative of the nationstate. This national corps of engineers was a new actor 

in a tension-ridden water-management regime already 

populated by old and established actors together with 

whom it sought a new national style of water management with clearly delineated rights and responsibilities for the different parties active in this domain. The 

outcomes of these efforts by the state engineers is 

covered in the last section of this chapter, specifically for 

the domains of coastal defenses and river management.

POLITICS, CULTURE AND GENERAL WATER 

MANAGEMENT IN THE ANCIEN REGIME

The historical development of the Dutch water civilization can be viewed as “the story of a continuing dialogue 

of people and society with the shaping forces of water”; 

and shows how hydraulic and cultural coping strategies 

altered decisively several times over the course of several 

hundred years.1 From the eleventh century onwards, 

in the context of economic progress and a growth of 

population and changes in the behavior of the sea and 

the rivers, the population of the Dutch delta adopted an 

increasingly defensive posture in the struggle against 

water. Starting in the sixteenth century this was supplemented by an offensive strategy that had adopted a 

manipulative attitude toward water and the environment by the early nineteenth century. The driving force 

of Dutch water management in general was the need 

for safety against floods—particularly because floodproneness was aggravated by soil subsidence in peat 

and clay areas resulting from the systematic lowering of 

the ground water table intended to make and keep these 

areas suitable for agriculture.

The first large-scale collective arrangements in 

the defensive phase consisted of the construction of 

continuous levees along the rivers around the beginning of the eleventh century.2

 Subsequent centuries 

witnessed the development of an increasingly interlocking system of water management with specific local 

and regional characteristics. Its backbone consisted of 

the water boards, sometimes created by the authorities, but in many cases by the inhabitants themselves 

with the approval of local and regional secular or 

ecclesiastical rulers. These bottom-up corporations—

an estimated three thousand—are the oldest civil 

water management and democratic institutions in 

the Netherlands. There were enormous differences in 

the scale at which these water boards operated and in 

the responsibilities they bore. Regional water boards 

managed extensive tracts of countryside, others only a 

single polder or a dike. The way they went to work was 

Three mills on a polder dike near Leidschendam

Rijkswaterstaat

12

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
determined by the specific geographical and hydraulic 

characteristics of the terrain they governed, which in 

turn sometimes required the application of complex 

hydraulic knowledge and methods. In addition to 

the water boards, local and regional powers also had 

an interest in water management. This interest was 

generally limited to adjudicating conflicts, granting 

concessions for peat-digging, and regulating the use of 

the large rivers and the founding of new water boards. 

Higher levels of government at the district or provincial 

level rarely intervened in the daily practice of water 

management. This was almost exclusively the prerogative of the autonomously operating water boards. This 

water management arrangement also remained intact 

during the federally governed Republic of the Seven 

United Provinces (1588–1795) under which the highest 

state authority had nothing to do with water management—in line with contemporary ideals of political 

freedom and administrative autonomy. However, the 

provincial estates did play a more active role than previously. Aside from supervisory and regulatory tasks, they 

also sometimes subsidized impoverished water boards 

and, in some cases, even carried out hydraulic works for 

the benefit of provincial trade and security.

For centuries, this decentralized system of water 

management functioned more or less to everyone’s 

satisfaction. It stimulated taking an offensive approach 

toward water management, and encouraged perseverance in the struggle against water. Together with 

internationally recognized hydraulic engineering knowhow, this contributed in no small part to the cultural 

and economic flowering of the Dutch Republic in the 

seventeenth century. In this famous Golden Age, water 

management was boosted by the investments of huge 

profits, made in all kinds of trade, agriculture, and craftsmanship, and they included reclamations of larges lakes 

into fertile soil. But at the same time the Dutch water 

civilization was and remained a vulnerable society. 

Much of the nation was surrounded by seas, a large 

part of it lay below sea level and it formed the delta of 

three large European rivers. The physical survival of this 

country was and is, therefore, continually dependent on 

the exertions of organizations and individuals who—

inevitably under changing societal, ecological, and 

climatological conditions—dynamically manage and 

adapt the necessary hydraulic institutions and arrangements in the domains of dike-building, drainage, river 

management, and coastal defenses. 

In the second half of the eighteenth century, 

meeting this challenge became gradually more difficult. The fragmented water management system with 

its numerous autonomous actors proved to be progressively less equal to the task of adequate management 

of certain aspects of the water management problem. 

Coastal defenses demanded a continuous, heavy, and 

expensive effort and from time to time heavy storms 

painfully revealed the weak spots in the line of defense. 

With the progressive soil subsidence, it became ever 

more difficult to regulate the drainage of low-lying 

polders using existing pumping technology. But the 

biggest worry concerned the management of the flows 

of the large rivers and the associated flood catastrophes. From the 1780s on, these disasters not only 

became more frequent, but also caused more damage 

to the lands along the large rivers. In this way, the 

already beleaguered nation saw itself confronted with 

a hydraulic crisis of such proportions that many feared 

for the country’s very survival. Inspired by the ideals 

of the French Enlightenment, knowledgeable contemporaries and progressive citizens looked first to scientific and hydraulic solutions for salvation. Gradually, 

however, they also came to recognize the pernicious 

effects of their stagnant federal system of governance 

which, lacking powerful institutions at the national 

level, was especially ill-equipped to tackle the complex 

and large-scale problem of the rivers. 

13

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
THE RISE OF CENTRAL STATE MANAGEMENT IN A 

REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD (1795–1806)

In 1793, the French National Convention decided to 

liberate the Republic of the Seven United Provinces from 

their “tyrannical” ruler and declared war on the Dutch 

Stadtholder (or sovereign) William V. Two years later a 

French Army, accompanied by Dutch Patriots who had 

lived as political refugees in French exile since the failed 

purge of 1787, crossed the frozen rivers, occupied the 

nation, overthrew the stadtholder and his regime, and 

so “liberated” the oppressed people of the Republic by 

granting them the crown jewels of their own revolution: 

freedom, fraternity, and equality.3

 The demise of the Dutch Ancien Regime was 

confirmed by French acclamation and recognition of 

the “one and indivisible” Batavian Republic, a French 

satellite state. In sharp contrast to the loosely federated Republic of the Seven United Provinces that it 

replaced, this new republic was to be a unified state with 

a strong central government, a democratically chosen 

parliament, and a constitution. Yet these ideals were 

met with forceful resistance by the protagonists of the 

“old” republic, who preferred strong and autonomous 

provinces (or departments) and a weak central government. The debate on the future constitution in Parliament resulted in a stalemate between the two opposing 

parties of Unitarians and Federalists. The impatient 

French interfered in January 1798. They supported a 

purge carried out by radical Unitarians, which resulted 

in imprisonment and intimidation of the Federalist 

A session in the National Convention, the parliament, at The Hague, 1796

Haags Historisch Museum

14

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
opposition and they enjoined Parliament to vote for a 

constitution based on the principles of strong unified 

government and the subordination of the provinces.

The constitution also laid the foundation for centralized water management. One of the tasks of the newly 

appointed minister of internal affairs, A. J. La Pierre, 

was the management of “roads, waters and dikes” on a 

national scale—an idealistic, revolutionary approach 

but hazardous as well.4 For centuries, responsibility for 

coastal and river water management and the control 

of the water economy in cities and in polders had been 

entrusted to provincial estates, but was in practice 

carried out by autonomous water boards, formerly 

private associations of local and regional stakeholders. 

Even if full-scale state interference had been politically feasible, the state lacked the knowledge, financial, 

and legal instruments, and a board of state engineers 

to assume responsibility for these numerous and often 

complicated collective arrangements. How then should 

central state water management be organized and 

performed? At La Pierre’s request, prominent hydraulics 

experts answered these questions in a master plan for 

future state water management. Among these experts 

were Christiaan Brunings (1736–1805), the German son 

of a vicar and former head of water management in the 

province of Holland, and the uomo universalis Cornelis 

Krayenhoff (1758–1840), a medical doctor, political 

activist, hydraulic expert, and high-ranking army officer 

and counselor, who had a great interest in hydraulic 

problems. They delegated the overall supervision and 

control of national water management to the minister of 

internal affairs and proposed substantially reducing the 

role of provincial estates and the water boards in favor 

of more state influence. To facilitate this, national water 

management was divided into three separate domains: 

coastal water management, river management, and the 

management of “internal” water. Responsibility for these 

tasks was assigned to a newly founded national water 

board, of which Brunings was appointed chief executive officer. The approval of this scheme by Parliament 

in May 1798 can be considered the birth of central water 

management in the Netherlands.

Nevertheless, resistance to centralized water 

management was far from extinct. In addition to a fundamental political rejection of the idea of a strong central 

state, opponents argued that central water management 

would be both expensive and impotent—simply because 

it would be incapable in dealing with complex local and 

regional water management problems. In this polarized 

political atmosphere a parliamentary commission was 

appointed to define the tasks and the span of control of 

the minister of the interior in the area of water manageChristiaan Brunings (1736–1805), the first chief executive 

officer of the national water management service

Rijkswaterstaat

15

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
ment. Repeatedly, the Federalist members rejected state 

encroachment on the prerogatives of the provincial 

estates and the water boards. Additionally, the representatives of the inland provinces complained of the dominance of the province of Holland in the proposed structure for national water arrangements. A new commission 

eventually broke the stalemate at the expense of the rigid 

centralization model. From now on the minister had to 

abstain from direct involvement in the internal affairs of 

the water boards and the provinces. The direct influence 

of the minister was also restricted by a system that allocated three kinds of water works, according to the actors 

who were legally and financially responsible for their 

supervision and maintenance. Only for the first category 

of works—large rivers and a number of well-circumscribed levees along the shores and the rivers that were 

considered of national importance—was the nationstate held fully responsible for the necessary financial 

and hydraulic arrangements. In the other categories, the 

existing hydraulic actors—provinces, water boards and 

private stakeholders—were assigned this role. Yet one 

major important infringement on this system allowed 

the minister to continue the oversight of water works of 

the water boards. In spite of new protests, Parliament 

approved this arrangement in 1800. Given the vehement 

opposition to any infringement of the former republican 

autonomy, this was a surprising outcome. In the literature this remarkable turn is ascribed to the changing 

political tide in which economic decline and the loss of 

overseas colonies to England eroded the “Batavian” revolutionary spirit and stimulated the longing for stability.

In any case, out of the revolutionary turbulence 

emerged a new model for water management. This 

included old collective arrangements and practices but 

also new revolutionary elements. The upshot was a new 

nationwide arrangement in which the old actors—the 

provinces and the water boards—now also had to take 

account of the nation-state and its national water service 

in carrying out their tasks. This was certainly a widely 

contested arrangement that “did not match with the 

character of the nation,” but, given the serious problems 

that threatened the physical survival of the Dutch Delta, 

it was apparently the lesser of two evils. The extreme 

centralization of 1798 obviously did not harmonize with 

Dutch political culture, but in spite of the ongoing opposition and the gradual restoration of the political influence of the provinces, the essential revolutionary core 

of the new polity—state intervention—remained intact. 

When considered in detail this was quite a remarkable 

course of events because the national government and 

the provinces disagreed fundamentally about their 

legitimate spheres of influence—giving rise to interminable and laborious negotiations. Eventually they agreed 

to decentralize the power of the state by instituting 

cooperation between state and provincial officials in 

two national commissions for coastal and river management. Though this was a new infringement on the principle of central state water management, it was rather 

short-lived. In 1805, the discontented French dismissed 

the Batavian government because of its inability to meet 

French fiscal and military demands. They bestowed 

absolute power on the head of the Amsterdam lawyer 

R. J. Schimmelpenninck, a prelude to a new period of 

centralization of state power. The first fruit of this policy 

was the passage of a national river law in 1806 that for 

the first time enabled the implementation of a truly 

national policy for river management.

THE FRENCH VERSUS THE DUTCH STYLE OF 

CENTRAL WATER MANAGEMENT (1806–1813) 

When Louis Bonaparte arrived as king of the newly 

created Kingdom of Holland in 1806 he was astonished 

by the way Dutch water management was organized 

and performed. In his memoirs he characterized Dutch 

hydraulic culture as an almost complete anarchy in which 

extreme individualism, traditionalism, and absolute 

16

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
exclusion of state engineering expertise characterized 

the water management of villages, cities, and provinces. 

He immediately took firm measures to reinforce the role 

of the national state in managing coastal and river areas, 

a policy already initiated by the previous head of state, 

R. J. Schimmelpenninck.5 His ideal was the implementation of the French absolutist model of national agency in 

hydraulic and infrastructural matters, but this model, as a 

committee of experts wisely advised, was not congenial to 

specific Dutch conditions and needs.6

Nevertheless, the king reinforced the position of 

the corps of state engineers and, together with elite 

members of that corps, designed a grand scheme for 

improving and (re)constructing rivers, canals, dikes, and 

water works. This monarch fully understood the strategic position of his kingdom, which he described as a 

floating island, a country under permanent siege by its 

seemingly invincible water enemies. His water management policy, “the first concern of the nation,” in his own 

words, was characterized by a sense of urgency and the 

promotion of science as an instrument for developing 

hydraulic know-how by savants, expert craftsman, and 

engineers organized in the Royal Academy of Sciences 

and ad hoc advisory boards. When a catastrophic flood 

ravaged a great part of the Dutch delta in 1809, the king 

instantly visited the stricken area, established a national 

disaster relief fund based on charitable donations, 

and sent his corps of engineers to repair the broken 

dikes and to assist the stricken population. In addition to inventing traditions of royal concern for water 

management and of supporting charitable campaigns 

for victims, King Louis ordered his ministers to draft a 

law detailing a uniform national system of dike maintenance. The execution of his truly modern Dike Law, 

which subsumed the countless idiosyncratic polders 

into a mere seventeen hydraulically inspired “dike rings,” 

floundered when it was introduced in 1810. It fell victim 

to administrative difficulties and to resistance from the 

water boards and provincial estates who still objected 

to any infringement of their hydraulic autonomy.7 As a 

result, neither the royal government nor the Napoleonic 

French government, which annexed the Dutch kingdom 

to its empire in the summer of 1810, were ultimately able 

to administer this law in an effective manner. Beside this 

short-lived Dike Law, these years witnessed the development of laws and regulations about the free course 

of navigable rivers and canals, and about improvement 

of non-navigable water courses and the maintenance 

levees. These regulations became part of the legal basis 

of the national water management and the activities of 

the Rijkswaterstaat since 1813. 

As had been proven often in the years before the fall 

of Napoleon in 1813, the French model of rigid centralization was incompatible with the specific local and 

Louis Napoleon, king of the Netherlands, 1806–1810

Rijkswaterstaat

17

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
regional hydraulic conditions of the nation and with the 

associated centuries-old culture of autonomous local 

and regional-based water management—including its 

experience and informal know-how—as it had developed since the early Middle Ages. The nascent central 

state had neither the capacity nor the expertise to 

replace the local hydraulic actors without damaging the 

nation’s safety and welfare. Yet in the Batavian-French 

period in a relatively short time—despite resistance—

this system of water management lost its exclusive 

nature. Despite the fact that during these years continuity prevailed in the routine practice of water management, it was nonetheless clear that the foundations had 

been laid for the political, legal, and hydraulic establishment of a new regime in water management and infrastructure wherein the national state, as a new actor next 

to the provincial estates and the water boards, would 

soon be demanding a decisive role.

CENTRALIZED WATER MANAGEMENT IN THE 

(UNITED) KINGDOM OF THE NETHERLANDS 

(1815–1840)

The institutions of national water management survived 

the collapse of the French Empire, the retirement of the 

French troops and the proclamation of the Kingdom of 

the Netherlands in 1815. The constitutions of 1814 and 

1815 reasserted the supervision of the national state 

over water management which, in the political culture 

of the time, meant that the sovereign could command a 

central role in the water polity.8 The king’s minister was 

formally placed at the head of the water management 

system and functioned according to constitutionally 

sanctioned instructions. In addition to these political 

achievements of the Batavian-French period, many of 

the water management laws of the period were also 

retained. Policy making and implementation were once 

again delegated to the Ministry of Internal Affairs where, 

apart from a few brief episodes, they would remain 

until the establishment of a separate Ministry of Water 

Management in 1877. Initially, the provinces played a 

subservient role, despite the fact that in principle the 

Constitution of 1815 granted them a more prominent 

role in the scheme of things. The water boards were, to 

be sure, subject to provincial supervision, but in practice they stuck to their independent and autonomous 

tradition. They were supported by King William I, who, 

in 1814, partly repealed the extremely unpopular Dike 

Law of 1810. Moreover, in 1817 he restored to the water 

boards their “ancestral” rights by renewing the judiciary 

powers they had lost during the annexation by France. 

Two years later, the provinces were also charged with the 

direct supervision and management of a large number 

of hydraulic works, the upkeep of which had proven to 

be too great a financial burden for the central state to 

King William I, who reigned over the Netherlands 

until 1840 under the constitution of 1815

RKD, The Hague

18

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
bear. These were remarkable decisions, in view of the 

brief history of centralized water management, in which 

the national state had attempted to achieve a powerful 

position. This is even more remarkable because of 

what is commonly viewed as the “autocratic” style of 

governance of the “canal-king” William I and his intensive involvement in the financing, policy making, and 

execution of hydraulic works and other infrastructure. 

These characteristics have encouraged history’s image 

of an egocentric monarch whose word was law, but a 

closer look reveals that this is too extreme a view. This 

monarch recognized that it would be utterly impossible 

to realize a successful system of water management 

based on a dominant central state without widespread 

societal acceptance and the cooperation of the water 

boards and provinces. Evidence of this recognition can 

be found in the broad-based composition of the Royal 

River Commissions of 1820 and 1825, in the employment of external technical advisors, and in the king’s 

dealings with the water boards and provinces. Beyond 

the domestic water issues, the king had to deal with 

the German states who put pressure on the Central 

Commission for the Rhine Navigation (1815) to improve 

the Rhine as a transport chain to the North Sea. 

From a strict constitutional perspective, the influence of the central government and of King William I 

on the institutions of water management was greatest 

during the first six years of his reign. The administrative partition between national and provincial hydraulic 

infrastructure marked the end of this period, but it can 

also be seen as a search for a new policy, in which, to a 

greater degree than previously, the state searched for a 

form of “co-governance” with the other actors in order to 

assure the physical integrity of the nation.9

This necessary balance could profit from the 

further development of workable political arrangements. But since the advent of centralization the 

political framework—along with financing—had 

proven to be the Achilles heel of a national system 

of water management. The biggest problem was and 

remained the division of labor among the national 

state, the provinces, and the water boards. The partition into national and provincial hydraulic works did 

stabilize relations, but despite ad hoc repairs and 

corrections, the achievement of a practical balance in 

the precise delineation of state and provincial spheres 

remained unrealized. A similar situation prevailed in 

relations with the water boards. The government tried, 

to no avail, to get a new dike law passed. In 1835 they 

proclaimed null and void the remaining portions of 

the old law. The curbing of the judicial power of the 

water boards met with more success. This power was 

abrogated in 1841. But at a number of places local 

government and water management continued to be 

de facto intertwined for several more decades.

Compared to the Batavian-French period, the 

reign of William I exhibited little initiative in regard to 

constructing and modifying the basic legal framework 

of water management. Nonetheless, under this king 

the legal and administrative underpinnings of water 

management rapidly expanded. This had to do with a 

number of factors: the expansion of state intervention; 

the enlargement of state responsibilities; the division 

of labor among the state, provinces, and water boards 

in the system of water management; the execution of a 

series of large public works; and the efficient functioning 

of the national water management agency. Until the 

1840s, the usual form in which this legal instrument was 

cast was the Royal Decree. These were “general administrative measures,” independent acts of material legislation in which the king simply circumvented the EstatesGeneral. The framing and formulation of such measures 

was usually entrusted to the Water Management Department of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, but even here 

the king kept a sharp eye on his civil servants and did 

not hesitate to intervene when he thought it expedient. 

19

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
The constitutional reforms of 1848 marked the close 

of a period of more than five decades in which the state 

and society cast about for a workable model of national 

water management. Over the course of this period, 

extremely centralistic variants relinquished the field to a 

decentralized model of water management in which the 

state (with the king as most powerful player), the provinces, and the water boards each searched for the limits 

of their own specific responsibilities and their roles 

vis-à-vis one another. However, the development of an 

adequate legal-administrative instrument, essential to 

establishing this division of labor and defining spheres 

of influence appropriate to the national state, the provinces, and the water boards, remained a weak point. 

Despite the criticism of His Majesty’s Water Policies, 

aimed first and foremost at the rather opaque financing 

of infrastructural works, his regime formed a crucial link 

in sustaining and anchoring centralist water management in Dutch society between the Batavian-French 

time and the water management regime of the liberal 

period—considering the problematic financial-economic 

and political conditions that plagued his reign. In the 

new democratic phase of water management, the king 

formally retained ultimate supervisory powers, though in 

practice these were exercised by his minister under the 

watchful eye of Parliament. The constitutional reforms 

also reaffirmed the public legal status of the water 

boards. From then on, the executives of the water boards 

were bound to generic legal regulations governing their 

charters and procedures. The appointment of the Dike 

Count (chief officer of a water board) became the responsibility of the king and his ministers.

BUIDLING A NATIONAL CORPS OF STATE 

ENGINEERS (1798-1849)

Shortly after the introduction of the Constitution in 

1798, Parliament decided that the Minister for Internal 

Affairs would be supported by a corps of technical civil 

servants called the Bureau of the Waterstaat. (Waterstaat refers to the hydraulic condition of the nation and 

the related water management activities.)10 This first 

national water management agency (which acquired 

the full name Rijkswaterstaat after 1848) was staffed by 

several administrators and fifteen hydraulic “engineers” 

who as “commissars-inspector over the nation’s waterways and waterstaat” were stationed at various posts 

across the country from which they exercised managerial authority over public works in a specific region. 

Aside from being responsible for the large rivers and the 

sea defenses, they also supervised drainage projects, 

public roads, canals, locks, and the business of the water 

boards. The bureau was led by Christiaan Brunings, 

one of the most authoritative Dutch and European civil 

engineers with an impressive record as former inspector 

of water management in the province of Holland and as 

hydraulic engineer in the service of the large and prestigious Rijnland Water Board. Brunings’ new bureau was 

organized according to strict hierarchical principles, 

based on the professional organization of the technical services of large water boards like Delfland and 

Rijnland, in which the position and tasks of every functionary were spelled out in detailed instructions. 

The composition of the bureau showed that it was 

steeped in craft practices, rather than in science and 

scholarship. The majority of the “engineers” can be classified as practically-schooled hydraulic “tinkerers”—

self-made men, generally from the lower bourgeoisie. 

With very few exceptions, they had been practically 

trained, lacked formal technical/hydraulic education 

and had, prior to their employment by the state, been in 

the service of provincial estates and water boards. A few 

of these early engineers were men of culture, enlightened intellectuals who were well-acquainted with each 

other’s work and knew one another through common 

employers, through memberships in learned societies, 

or both. Another shared characteristic was the impres20

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
sive empirical knowledge and know-how that these 

experts had accumulated in practice. This knowledge 

was not only fundamental for sustaining routine water 

management, but also served as the foundation of a 

broad, national knowledge system and was the future 

basis of the professionalization of centralized water 

management. Thus, from its very inception the new 

Bureau of the Waterstaat carried out systematic soundings, measurements, and inspections that were recorded 

and centrally archived.

The first phase of the existence of the national water 

management service was heavily influenced by the 

political and financial climate of the newly emergent 

nation-state. Central water management, and hence 

also a national agency for water management, was by 

no means uncontested. As a result, the new bureau 

served as a pawn in the struggle between proponents 

and critics of a centralized state in interaction with the 

Construction of a navy dock at Hellevoetsluis, under the direction of Jan Blanken, 1802

Jan Blanken (1755–1838), chief executive officer 

of the national water management service from 

1808 until 1827

Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Maritiem Museum, Rotterdam

21

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
demands that the French were making on the Batavian 

Republic as a vassal state. These factors shaped the 

response to the decentralizing reaction of 1801. From 

that moment on, the increasing influence of the provinces on national water management took the form 

of internal reorganizations and a reduction in the list 

of national hydraulic works for which the bureau was 

responsible. Two years later the bureau was split into 

two sections, one bearing responsibility for the estuaries and harbors and the other for large rivers. This 

functional organizational model mimicked the organization of the military fortifications in the Batavian 

Republic. Some of the engineers in the Bureau of the 

Waterstaat, including the eminent Jan Blanken, seized 

on this development to argue for a merger between 

the (civilian) bureau and the corps of army and navy 

engineers. This would mean a substantial increase 

in status for the bureau engineers with their modest 

bourgeois backgrounds. But in the social hierarchy 

of the times, the largely aristocratic officers of both 

services were so far elevated above the craft-based 

Waterstaat that this proposal could not even be taken 

seriously. From this example it is apparent that the 

national Waterstaat service not only wrestled with its 

ambiguous political setting, but also struggled with 

its social-cultural acceptance in a society that thought 

and acted within the mental framework of the Ancien 

Regime, while progressive vanguards were already 

initiating a thoroughgoing societal modernization. The 

status and prestige of the Bureau of the Waterstaat as a 

“revolutionary state institution” were further compromised by internal strife between the civil servants in 

the ministry and the top officials of the bureau. The two 

groups held divergent views on the optimal implementation of central water management policy and tried 

to win the ministers’ favor for their respective plans. 

This situation turned to the bureau’s disadvantage after 

the death of the first director-general Christiaan Brunings in May 1805, when the minister, for financial and 

other reasons, decided not to fill Brunings’ vacancy 

but instead to divide the position’s responsibilities 

between two inspectors. This was a major blow to the 

Waterstaat’s influence on policy making. Falling into a 

tinderbox of personal frictions, rivalry among a number 

of prominent engineers and disgruntlement over the 

low social status, it also ignited new tensions within the 

Waterstaat service itself. This developed into a latent 

organizational culture with a tendency for cooptation 

and, as a consequence, the creation of family networks 

within the corps of engineers. With changing political 

circumstances, internal social contradictions, reorganizations, and engineering conflicts, these latent features 

could sometimes erupt into open conflict—either with 

civil servants or among the engineers—culminating in 

progressive segmentation within the corps itself.

UNDER THE FRENCH WING (1806–1813)

From the moment that the French assumed power in 

1806—with the demise of the Batavian Republic and 

the founding of the Kingdom of Holland—the Bureau 

of the Waterstaat found itself in a more stable situation. 

King Louis Napoleon called an almost immediate halt 

to the decentralizing tendencies. For the institutions 

of centralized water management this meant, among 

other things, a reinforcement of the authority of the 

nation-state over the provinces. This authority took 

the form of the establishment of a separate Ministry 

of Waterstaat, a novel step in Dutch (water) history. 

The Bureau of the Waterstaat itself became the object 

of vigorous reforms. The principle of a single director 

was restored and the bureau was strengthened in both 

quantitative and qualitative respects. Besides more 

personnel in both the higher and lower ranks, the 

bureau also acquired a so-called “General Service.” 

This was a specialist department that focused on 

knowledge-acquisition in general, including geodetic 

22

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
investigations and surveying, and which also assumed 

responsibility for preparing large infrastructure projects and provided assistance when dike breaches and 

other hazards threatened. Finally, the king improved 

the program of formal technical education for junior 

Waterstaat engineers, instituted in 1805.11

Efforts to mimic the French educational system, 

particularly the model of general education for aspiring 

state engineers at the Ecole Polytechnique, had mixed 

results. Up to 1813, future cadres of the Dutch Waterstaat 

were formed according to French political and pedagogical ideals, including semi-military discipline, residential 

barracks, and compulsory uniforms. However, it soon 

became clear that the strong emphasis on theoretical 

(mathematical/physical) schooling was not compatible with the culture of Dutch water management and 

the specific practical demands of water management 

itself. An advisory committee of prominent scholars and 

hydraulic experts managed to change the king’s mind, 

at least in part. Thereafter Dutch water management 

curriculum afforded an important place to the practical 

training of aspiring engineers.12

Louis Napoleon’s reorganizations mark a decisive 

shift in the development of the fledgling Bureau of 

the Waterstaat. In the short run, the king’s measures 

enhanced the social status of this civilian, technical state 

agency—and not just with the introduction of a mandatory uniform. In the long run, these reforms were initial 

steps in a process whereby the Waterstaat transformed 

itself (with the usual growing pains) from an association of craft-based hydraulic engineers into a professional technical organization. After Louis Napoleon 

relinquished the throne, the Waterstaat came under 

the direct authority of Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte 

himself. The incorporation of the Kingdom of Holland 

into the French Empire in 1810 portended a wholesale 

metamorphosis for the Bureau of the Waterstaat. From 

then on the bureau functioned as the sixteenth division 

of the French imperial Corps des Ponts et Chaussées. This 

French technical state agency, founded during the reign 

of King Louis XIV in 1714, was characterized by a strict 

militaristic hierarchical mode of organization which 

now also became the rule for Dutch state hydraulic engineers—including the French functional titles and the 

mandatory Corps uniforms.13

From that moment on, Dutch hydraulic experts 

adopted ingénieur as their preferential form of address 

and aspiring state engineers attended the Ecole Polytechnique in Paris. This situation lasted no more than three 

years. Nonetheless, in a remarkably brief time a further 

break with the originally craft-based mode of organization of the Bureau of the Waterstaat became evident. 

Decades after the French departed, this break continued 

to influence the organization’s development.

Rijkswaterstaat engineer in official uniform around 1820

Atlas van Stolk

23

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
FIGHTING FOR RECOGNITION IN A NEW NATIONSTATE (1813–1849)

Despite various political and mental blocks, the BatavianFrench period had demonstrated the practical utility and 

necessity of centralized water management: for example, 

in completing the digging of a drainage canal to the North 

Sea at Katwijk.14 In the same way, the intercession of the 

state and its hydraulic engineers also facilitated the reclamation of the Zevenhoven and Nieuwkoop Lakes. Both 

of these works had been initiated before the Batavian 

revolution, but had stagnated because of administrative complexity and deficient finances. In addition, there 

were the beginnings of centralized river management, 

including national dike surveillance and emergency 

procedures, as well as the first steps toward the construction of a national road system. These accomplishments, 

together with the resolve that a strong central state should 

be maintained, contributed to the continuation of the 

achievements of centralized water management realized 

during the Batavian-French period. 

Nonetheless, in these years the position of the 

Bureau of the Waterstaat was once again an object of 

debate. Critics of central water management reiterated 

their conviction that the status and influence of the 

Waterstaat had increased disproportionately after 1810 

and that uniformed Waterstaat engineers had behaved 

arrogantly in their dealings with provinces and water 

boards. The resolve for a strong central state continued 

following the defeat of Napoleon and the succession of 

William I as sovereign of the United Netherlands. While 

not insensitive to these criticisms of the Waterstaat’s 

influence and status, the king also realized the necessity of a national Waterstaat service. This conviction, 

together with the government’s weak financial position, 

led in 1816 to a reorganization. The king, following the 

French organizational model, consciously pursued 

the formation of a broad technical state service which, 

in addition to water management tasks, could also 

perform in other domains. The sovereign also retained 

the formal schooling of aspirant engineers and the 

Digging of a drainage canal to the North Sea coast near Katwijk, 1805

Collectie Hoogheemraadschap van Rijnland

24

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
administrative-legal instruments developed in the 

Batavian-French period which (except for the much 

criticized Dike Law of 1810), formed the legal basis of 

national water management. The king maintained the 

existing two-person directorate of the Waterstaat and 

established a new Council for the Waterstaat, which 

implied recognition of the expertise of Waterstaat engineers and granted them direct and indirect influence on 

water management policy. To the great disappointment 

of the corps of Waterstaat engineers, the introduction 

of new uniforms was put off and petitions for integration with the army and navy engineers were systematically ignored. The Bureau of the Waterstaat therefore 

remained a civilian institution. 

Hence, despite the Waterstaat’s development into 

one of the largest (if not the largest) state agency and 

despite the uniforms, which were eventually issued in 

1824, the organization could not resolve its ambiguous 

position. This position was exacerbated by the persistence of a number of quasi-military characteristics: for 

example, the strict hierarchy and the stiff disciplinary 

measures and punishments. Prominent Waterstaat engineers were, accordingly, manifestly dissatisfied. This was 

not only because they were frustrated in their pursuit of 

social recognition and status, but also because in their 

eyes the king had too firm a hold over the Bureau of the 

Waterstaat and even intervened in personnel questions 

and the delimitation of the Bureau’s responsibilities. 

Relations did not improve when, in 1819, the king, under 

strong pressure to cut his budget, transferred a good 

deal of the hydraulic works supervised and managed 

by the state to the provinces, including part of the corps 

of Waterstaat engineers, making them subject to the 

authority of the provincial estates. 

In the decades to follow, the Waterstaat was subject 

to further attrition. In 1828 responsibility for state roads 

and canals was ceded to the so-called Amortisatiesyndicaat, a private institution founded by the king that 

accumulated capital by selling state property and loans. 

This—in addition to the permanent financial crisis and 

new budget cuts, the secession of Belgium in 1831, which 

halved the personnel and budget of the Waterstaat, and 

a weak directorate that after 1831 was staffed by no less 

than four inspectors—dragged the Waterstaat along in 

the general social malaise. In the 1830s, the organization 

found itself in a downward spiral, exacerbated by the 

simultaneous emergence of internal contradictions. The 

problems derived from the ceaseless staff reductions and 

budget cuts but also from a generational conflict between 

older engineers, who had been practically trained and 

who occupied the key posts in the Waterstaat, and 

a young scientifically educated generation of ambitious Waterstaat engineers. It appeared to the younger 

engineers that the non-meritocratic system of promotion, based on years of service, condemned them to 

stunted careers and burdened them with colleagues who 

performed their duties ever less adequately and who no 

longer understood the pulse of their time. A temporary 

reorganization did not temper the dissatisfaction but did 

offer new chances for the most brilliant young Waterstaat 

engineers. It was all the virtually bankrupt government 

could do, not least because both Parliament and the 

provincial estates opposed an influential and therefore 

expensive national Waterstaat. But at this point the king 

and successive governments did succeed in drawing a 

line; they resisted all further efforts to undermine the 

Waterstaat’s position.15

They met with some success. The government was 

able to drag the beleaguered agency through a difficult 

period until, at the end of the 1830s, new opportunities 

presented themselves. The ratification of the Treaty of 

London in 1839, which definitively settled independence 

for Belgium, freed the nation from a costly and seemingly interminable conflict. Doing so made it feasible to 

think about new large projects, such as the reclamation 

of the Haarlem Lake and the construction of railway 

25

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
lines. Additionally, the supervision and management of 

the state roads and canals were restored to the Waterstaat, followed in 1841 by the restoration of supervision 

of water management in the province of Limburg. These 

favorable developments coincided with gradual improvements in the political and fiscal-economic climate.

After the abdication of King William I, ever more 

progressive liberal forces in the government and Parliament exerted influence on the creation of new economic 

policies and associated infrastructural innovations. 

During this time new technologies began to emerge. 

Steam power began to be applied in hydraulic engineering, and the Waterstaat devoted itself increasingly 

to the construction of railways and electromagnetic 

telegraph lines. These developments were a source 

of technological inspiration and exploration for the 

Waterstaat. For the younger generation of hydraulic 

engineers it was obvious that these emergent technologies would play a key role in the future political and 

social-economic development of the nation-state. But 

to realize this promise, it was imperative that the organization of the Waterstaat be adapted to the spirit of the 

times. In this connection they demanded an elaborate 

set of measures from the government which they considered essential in order to realize the professionalization 

they so adamantly desired. In addition to schooling and 

the cultivation of knowledge, they also demanded an 

adequate organizational structure and personnel policy 

as well as higher salaries and status. Moreover, a number 

of progressive state engineers, most notably Frederik 

Willem Conrad and Leopold van der Kun, expressed 

fears that in a rapidly changing society that placed new 

demands on technological leaders, the Waterstaat engineers would lose out to private industry.

After years of sometimes heated polemic, Johan 

Rudolf Thorbecke, the first Liberal Dutch prime 

minister, finally resolved some of these thorny issues. 

A year after his epochal constitutional reforms of 1848, 

in which the power of the king was cut back in favor of 

Parliament and ministers, he approved a reorganization of what had come to be called the Rijkswaterstaat

(literally, state water management). This reorganization 

incorporated some of the demands of the progressive Waterstaat engineers. A new personnel policy 

made promotions and raises dependent on individual 

accomplishments, and a new balance between the 

segment of practically trained engineers and that of 

the modern, scientifically schooled engineers was realized, thanks to a shockwave of dismissals and promotions. The schooled engineers were now also better 

represented at the top of the Rijkswaterstaat hierarchy. 

For the rest, there was little reason to celebrate. The 

desired increase in salary and status was rejected, the 

agency was not expanded, no provision was made for 

a Council of the Waterstaat, leadership was not vested 

in a single director-general, and the power of the provinces over state engineers was actually augmented, 

albeit marginally. Under changed governmental and 

political conditions it was once again made clear to 

the corps of state engineers that their perception of the 

role and status of the organization differed materially 

from that held by the government. The agency was and 

remained dependent on the political landscape and on 

the financial position of the government. These were 

the two constants that determined the prestige, the 

power, and the societal role of the national Waterstaat 

agency in an era of revolution, restoration, and the 

emergence of the liberal democratic state.

NEW SPACE, OLD PROBLEMS, NEW 

CHALLENGES—NATIONAL WATER 

MANAGEMENT (1798-1850)

While in principle the founding of the unitary state in 

1798 portended a drastic break with the organization 

of water management under the Ancien Regime, at first 

continuity ruled. The persons and institutions that for 

26

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
centuries had been turning and draining the waters, for 

the most part blithely carried on. At the same time they 

were confronted with a new actor—the national state 

and its Bureau of the Waterstaat. From its very inception 

this new actor had been charged with the mission of 

unifying and upgrading the fragmented organization of 

water management. This mission included the general 

task of appropriating and systematizing specific technological, hydraulic and geographic knowledge.

In addition, the agency was charged with specific 

tasks in the areas of coastal defenses, the estuaries and 

harbors, the large rivers, the development of a national 

road network, and the reclamation of large lakes. In a 

later phase this charge would be extended to include the 

construction of canals, railways, bridges, and telegraph 

lines, and the construction and maintenance of government buildings. Because the national government directly 

managed only a small selection of hydraulic works, but 

was nonetheless charged with ultimate legal responsibility for all water management and hydraulic works 

in the country, it was inevitable that at many points the 

interests of the Waterstaat touched on those of the provinces and the water boards. It was thus essential to cooperate, not only to maintain quality, for which local knowledge was often essential, but also in the execution of 

hydraulic works for which the Waterstaat employed local 

and regional contractors, workers, and suppliers. The 

manner in which this complex mission was accomplished 

in interaction with the provinces and water boards is 

the central topic of this section. The discussion includes 

coastal defenses, river management, reclamations and 

infrastructure, and the construction of state buildings. 

Stormy weather approaching the harbor at Harlingen in Frisia, ca. 1815

Collectie Gemeentemuseum Het Hannemahuis, Harlingen

27

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
COASTAL DEFENSES

Defending the coasts along the North Sea and the 

Zuiderzee had traditionally been the business of water 

boards. In some cases, where costs of construction, maintenance, and management exceeded the budgets of the 

water boards, the provincial estates intervened directly 

in coastal defense.16 This was the case, for example, in the 

provinces of Holland, Zeeland, and Groningen, where 

the provincial estates deployed provincial engineers to 

several locations and provided subsidies for the protection of the dunes and the reinforcement of dikes. Despite 

the catastrophic storm surges that ravaged the coasts 

from time to time, it proved possible in the course of the 

eighteenth century to defend the coast more efficiently 

using new techniques, including improved dike-building 

techniques, progressive armoring of dikes with stone, 

and the construction of groynes. These long double 

rows of wooden poles stretching from the beach into the 

sea direct strong sea currents away from the coasts and 

prevent beach erosion. The role of the national state in 

coastal defense focused primarily on inspecting the sea 

defenses for which the provinces and water boards were 

responsible. Aside from a measure of quality assurance, 

this surveillance also produced reports which in turn 

provided the basis for new insights into coastal defense. 

While in the normal course of events the national state 

had only an indirect role to play, this was patently not 

the case when calamity struck. Under these conditions the national Waterstaat sprung into action and 

supported provinces and water boards with rescue and 

salvage operations and the repair of destroyed dikes. 

Examples include the storm surges that struck the province of Zeeland in 1808 and the north and middle of the 

country in 1825. The Waterstaat also had an active role in 

managing coastal defenses for which the national government was directly responsible, or which it subsidized. In 

The 1825 storm surge in the Zuiderzee hits a dike near Durgerdam

Waterlands Archief, Purmerend

28

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
addition to building and reinforcing hydraulic works like 

groynes, dikes, and defensive dunes, related projects like 

the construction of piers, ferry slips, and lighthouses were 

also carried out in the coastal provinces.

The national state played a prominent role in the 

coastal defenses of the province of Zeeland since 1798. 

Because of the extremely vulnerable setting of this 

coastal province, its polders suffered more than elsewhere from storm surges, dike collapse, and erosive 

currents. Traditionally, the provincial government 

supported the affected water boards in their struggles 

with the sea, but after the introduction of national water 

management, the national government took this task 

upon itself. During the Batavian-French period the state 

provided extra support for the most vulnerable polders. 

Under this arrangement thirty-six polders were denoted 

as “calamitous,” a legal status that assured them of 

government subsidies for dike maintenance but which 

also placed the technical and financial supervision of 

this maintenance firmly in the hands of the national 

government. The gravity and scope of this problem 

concentrated the exertions of the national Waterstaat in 

the domain of coastal defenses for decades on the province of Zeeland. This hydraulic challenge was gradually 

mastered through the further development, formalization, and theoretical elucidation of practical craft 

knowledge, which in turn stimulated the search for new 

techniques. An example was the notion of “mixed dike 

defenses,” a concept introduced by Abraham Caland, a 

national Waterstaat engineer originally from Zeeland. 

This approach, universally recognized as a significant 

innovation, sought to direct strong sea currents away 

from the coast by means of heavy defenses on projecting 

dike angles. These efforts led to the reclamation of land 

that had previously been considered useless and to the 

modernization of the dikes in Zeeland. The seaward 

slopes of these dikes were progressively faced with stone 

using standardized procedures and materials such as 

prismatically shaped blocks of basalt. By the middle of 

the nineteenth century the coast was substantially reinforced, the province was safer than ever, and 5,300 hectares of farmland were added to the province. 

The Waterstaat proved less successful in discharging 

its responsibility for the estuaries and harbors. The 

seaways leading to the harbors of Amsterdam and 

Rotterdam were permanently threatened by shoaling of 

the fairways with the ceaseless deposits of sea and river 

sediments. In view of the fact that the national government now also counted the maintenance of harbors 

and seaways among its responsibilities, it fell to the 

engineers of the Waterstaat to devise an efficient solution for this venerable problem. This proved a difficult 

task because the state of knowledge of marine currents, 

sedimentation, and dredging was still in its infancy. 

The recourse was a tried and tested hydraulic solution: 

digging new canals to improve access to the harbors. 

This was an efficient remedy, though, as time would tell, 

only a temporary one.

STAGNATION AND PROGRESS: WRESTLING WITH 

THE LARGE RIVERS

The biggest hydraulic problem with which the Netherlands had been wrestling since the second half of the 

eighteenth century was taming the ferocious behavior of 

the Rhine and its (delta) branches the Nether-Rhine, the 

Lek, the Waal, and the IJssel.17

Floods in the river delta were an almost annual 

occurrence that sometimes took the form of widespread 

catastrophes with great loss of life and property. The 

causes of this flooding problem were complex. The 

main cause was the subsidence of the clay and peat soil 

behind the dikes because those areas were continuously being drained. The dikes concentrated the sedimentation in the floodplain, and as a consequence 

the difference between the polder and the floodplain 

level increased over the years. In addition to the influ29

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
ence of climate change—a secular long-term decline 

in average temperatures that brought with it increased 

precipitation and colder and longer winters, also known 

as the Little Ice Age—the persistent deterioration of the 

management of the river system itself was also to blame. 

Since 1770, for example, the situation at the point where 

the Waal and the IJssel split had progressively deteriorated and the entire river system suffered from an insufficient number of mouths through which to discharge the 

waters and ice floes into the sea. But human activities in 

and around the river were also responsible for the poor 

state of the shipping channels and riverbanks. Since 

the early Middle Ages, riparian lords and communities, 

lacking supervision, had dammed up river branches 

in order to protect the shores, reclaimed land from the 

riverbed, and used the floodplains for various kinds of 

economic activities. This activity seriously hampered 

not only navigation but also the annual discharge of 

large quantities of water to the sea in the winter and 

spring. This situation combined with the discharge of 

masses of ice floes, which sometimes formed enormous 

ice dams in narrow meandering stretches of the river. 

Behind the ice dams the water 

piled up, leading to dike 

breaches. Between 1750 and 

1850 more than two hundred 

dike breaches followed this 

scenario. In the fragmented 

system of water management of the Ancien Regime, 

the riparian water boards 

and provincial governments 

were incapable of tackling this 

immense problem, despite the 

fact that on several occasions 

the provinces productively 

cooperated in regulating the 

division of water among the 

Rhine and its distributaries. Impressive modifications 

were made, especially after 1770, in the border region 

where the Rhine enters the Netherlands.18

From the moment the Waterstaat was founded, 

therefore, the core of its societal mission was to improve 

the rivers so that the country would eventually be spared 

these calamities. Almost immediately after the introduction of centralized water management, it became clear 

what the government’s intention in this sphere would be 

and what role the Bureau of the Waterstaat would play.19

Based on the legal stipulations that the national government bore sole responsibility for the channels, some 

of the river dikes and the shores, the river problem was 

attacked from three closely related angles. 

The backbone of the effort was formed by the 

systematic inspection of the channels, dikes, groynes, 

and sluices that were directly managed by the central 

state. The inspections were carried out by engineers of 

the Waterstaat in their proper districts in the spring and 

fall. On the basis of these inspections it was possible 

to make decisions about repairs, improvements, and 

clearing channels; to enter into negotiations with water 

An ice formation builds up at a levee near Ochten along the Waal River, January 1789

Atlas van Stolk

30

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
boards whose dikes were substandard; and to grant 

subsidies to those water boards whose own means 

were insufficient to cover the costs of maintenance and 

repair. At the same time, the reports provided the basis 

for the production of a national system of knowledge 

concerning the behavior of the large rivers and the 

conditions of the dikes and shores.

The second approach was the patrolling of the river 

dikes in times of high water. To this end, a national 

system of dike surveillance was developed, the so-called 

“extraordinary correspondence,” during which engineers of the Waterstaat—assisted as needed, by local 

water board personnel, inhabitants of nearby towns 

and villages, and, in serious situations by army troops—

systematically monitored river stages, the behavior of 

ice masses, and the condition of dikes at twenty-two 

stations along the rivers. Couriers on horseback continually transmitted data to the Waterstaat directorate 

situated in emergency quarters in the middle of the 

river district. The directorate then decided what, if any, 

measures needed to be taken. In case of emergency the 

assigned Rijkswaterstaat engineers had the authority 

to command the local water boards to take necessary 

measures. In order to facilitate quick responses, water 

boards were mandated to set up and maintain “dike 

repositories”—sheds containing tools and emergency 

materials in case the dike required acute reinforcement 

or repair. In addition, after 1809, safety measures for the 

river region were proclaimed at regular intervals. Hence, 

the government stipulated that a sufficient number of 

lifeboats be available and defined communications 

protocols and procedures for evacuation. In case of 

flooding, the Waterstaat assisted the water boards with 

emergency measures, provisional dike repair, and strucdike

location of burst

Maas

Waal

1799

1784 1805

1799

1784 1784 1784

17841784

1784

1781

1784 1784

1811

1781

1757

1781

Tiel

1776

1820

1757

1757

1757

1809

1789

1778

1760

Grave

1764

1757

Zaltbommel

1799

1809

1799

1809

1781

1784

1806

1799

1809

BOMMELERWAARD

LAND VAN MAAS EN WAAL

RIJK VAN 

NIJMEGEN

1799

Waal

Maas 1820

0 5 km

Dike Breaches 

Dike failures along the Waal and Meuse in the Betuwe region, between 1750 and 1820

Matrijs, Utrecht

31

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
tural improvements in the local system of flood security. 

This was the case after the flood of 1809 when the Waterstaat orchestrated the execution of flood-prevention 

works on the Linge River, including large-scale dike reinforcement and the improvement of drainage facilities in 

the western portion of the Betuwe Polder.20

The third point of entry of national water management was the development of new knowledge in civil 

engineering, geography, and hydrology. The water boards 

and provinces certainly possessed qualified personnel 

and empirical knowledge in these areas, but this knowledge could not readily be accessed by the national Waterstaat. Moreover, the expertise was adapted to a local and 

regional scale of water management and therefore not 

congruent with the ambition of river management at a 

national scale. In addition, the critical rationalism of the 

Enlightenment stimulated the rise of a theoretical-based 

knowledge type in river hydraulics among prominent 

hydraulic state engineers. This required a different, 

universal and theoretically oriented type of knowledge 

based on standardized methods of research and registration so that data could be 

exchanged and compared. 

This knowledge was gathered 

in different ways.21 The daily 

practice of engineers and 

technicians of the Waterstaat 

was the basis for the accretion of this kind of knowledge. 

According to their instructions they were obligated to 

acquire old and new hydraulic 

knowledge in their districts on 

a permanent basis. In addition, 

a second stream of information concerning the condition 

of river sections, shores, dikes, 

river stages, dike breaches, 

and other particulars got underway via the reports of the 

spring and fall inspections of the district engineers and 

the accounts of the “extraordinary river correspondence.” 

This information was centrally registered by the Bureau 

of the Waterstaat and the ministry and augmented by the 

research, measurements, and soundings of the General 

Service, the department of the Waterstaat set up in 1808 

for the purpose of performing technological-scientific 

research and preparing large projects.22

During the first half of the nineteenth century these 

registration systems were steadily enhanced. In 1829 the 

government authorized the introduction of a national 

system of river stage gauges and launched a project to 

compile a general river atlas. The initial objective of 

this river atlas was the registration of the existing situation between the main river dikes, meant to support 

the regular inspection. Hence, this tool helped to avoid 

discussion with users of the river bed and enabled river 

engineers to control all kinds of illegal practices that 

could obstruct the discharge of water and ice floes. Later, 

the river atlas proved to be an excellent instrument in 

A river landscape, ca. 1800

Christie’s

32

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
the planning of the large-scale river improvement works, 

because the atlas was supplemented by registers that 

described in detail the hydraulic situation for every page 

of the map. Another route along which the top cadres of 

the Waterstaat contributed to the expansion of hydraulic 

and related civil engineering knowledge was realized 

through the study of domestic and foreign technical 

literature, publications, experiments, and memberships 

of the Royal Academy of Sciences, the Royal Advisory 

Commissions on river improvement, learned societies, 

and finally, after 1847, of the Royal Institute of Engineers. 

The outcomes were sometimes remarkable, such as 

the invention by Waterstaat engineer H. F. Fijnje of the 

steam-powered double-acting vertical piston pump, 

which was responsible for a breakthrough in the problematic drainage of the river polders in the early 1840s. 

While taming the large rivers was the most urgent 

water management challenge facing the nation in 

the first half of the nineteenth century, it proved 

extremely difficult to develop a firm understanding of 

the dynamics of the rivers. There were several reasons 

for this stagnation. Aside from the social and hydraulic 

complexities, it could be ascribed to insufficient knowledge of riverine hydraulics, technologies, and logistics. 

Moreover, the experts appointed to the Royal Advisory 

Commissions in the wake of the 1821 floods in order to 

find a consensus regarding the best way to tackle the 

problem could not come to an agreement. Nonetheless, 

the government charged the Waterstaat with implementing a series of recommendations published in the 

report of the Commission of 1825. These projects were 

aimed at dike reinforcement in cooperation with the 

riparian water boards, facilitating the flow of water and 

ice by cleaning up the floodplains, improving the organization of dike defense, and several river works in the 

Nether- Rhine and the Waal which were also aimed at 

improving navigability. Still, this could by no means be 

interpreted as wholesale, systematic river improvement, 

a vision that, thanks to discussions among hydraulic 

engineers and the Royal Advisory Commissions, was 

slowly gaining ground at the cost of the alternative—the 

method of diversions. The proponents of the diversion program believed that the risk of flooding could 

best be kept at bay by constructing a system of low sills 

and floodways that would allow the river water to flow 

away into other beddings. By contrast, in the systematic approach that aimed at improving the hydraulic 

efficiency of the existing river, every river was to have 

its own opening to the sea and to have its bedding 

optimized by structures that constrained and directed 

the current.23 It was expected that this would strongly 

improve the discharge of large quantities of water and 

ice, the safety of the riparian lands, and the navigability of the rivers. While in the Netherlands debate 

raged about the most effective method for improving 

the rivers, in the German Rhine principality of Baden 

a project had been underway since 1817, based on the 

plans of the engineer Gottfried Tulla, which aimed at 

wholesale improvement of the Upper Rhine. Although 

Tulla encountered considerable resistance, he managed, 

in the space of a few years, to improve the discharge 

capacity of the river and the safety of the riparian lands 

by constraining the channel and eliminating meanders.24

In the Netherlands, proponents of such large-scale 

improvements, including the prestigious hydraulic engineer C. R. T. Krayenhoff, emphasized that this approach 

would also improve the safety of the Dutch delta and 

the navigability of the rivers. But the Royal Advisory 

Commission of 1825 somewhat arrogantly concluded 

that this approach was unsuited to the Dutch situation. Hence, much remained the same and the Dutch 

government was confronted in increasing measure with 

complaints from the German Rhine states. The conclusion of the Royal Advisory Commission poisoned relations with the Central Commission for the Navigation of 

the Rhine (founded in 1815 in the aftermath of the fall 

33

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
of the Napoleonic Empire to guarantee freedom of and 

a secure navigation on the Rhine) and with the Prussian government. The Central Commission complained 

about the poor navigability of the Rhine and its tributaries in the Netherlands. Though not insensitive to the 

criticism, the Dutch government faced such staggering 

financial and political problems in the 1830s and 1840s 

that it simply was unable to satisfy these international 

demands. Even if it had not been confronted with these 

problems, presumably no government would have been 

able to solve the very difficult hydraulic situation in the 

Dutch delta in this period. 

At the end of the 1840s, political and economic 

reforms provided new impetus for decision making on 

river improvements. The streamlining of state finances 

and the laws governing trade by the liberal ministers 

Van Hall and Van Bosse was a key factor. Thanks to the 

growing political influence and ambition of the first 

generation of Dutch liberals the stalemate regarding the 

best hydraulic approach to river improvement was finally 

and rather simply resolved. In 1849 Rudolf Thorbecke, 

the first liberal minister-president of the Netherlands and 

animating spirit of the constitutional reforms that laid 

the groundwork for a modern democratic state, charged 

the authoritative engineers of the Waterstaat, Jean Henri 

Ferrand and Leopold Joannes Antonius van der Kun, 

with drawing up a national plan for systematic river 

improvement. The pragmatic minister-president emphasized that the new proposal should build on the most 

acceptable insights from the debates and plans of the 

past half century. Barely a year later the two engineers 

presented their blueprint, Parliament lent its approval, 

and Dutch society and its Waterstaat plunged into one of 

the biggest and riskiest ventures of its existence. 

RECLAMATIONS

Since the seventeenth century, the reclamation of large 

lakes had been one of the internationally acclaimed 

specialties of Dutch hydraulic engineering. The impressive results have since come to be considered as the 

cornerstone of Dutch water civilization, a judgment 

seconded by the recent accession of the Beemster 

Polder, constructed in the years 1608-1612, to UNESCO’s World Heritage List. Besides creating fertile soil, 

an important motive for reclaiming pools and lakes was 

increasing security against flooding. This was the case 

in South Holland where centuries-long peat extraction 

had led to the creation of enormous peat lakes. Besides 

disturbing the ecological balance, these lakes posed 

an increasing threat to their surroundings because the 

progressive erosion of the soft shores occasioned significant loss of land. 

From the inception of central water management, the 

state and its engineering corps were partner to the prepaThe world’s first steam-powered pumping station, near 

Rotterdam, draining the polder Blijdorp, opened in 1787

Atlas van Stolk

34

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
ration and execution of reclamation projects. Formally 

this was a task for the provincial governments, but 

important considerations of safety as well as the financialadministrative and technological complexity of these 

works made the intervention of the central state imperative. This was the case with the reclamation of the Meijdrecht, Zevenhoven, and Nieuwkoop Lakes—all three 

projects had been initiated prior to 1795 but had stalled 

due to various causes. Together with the water boards 

and the provinces, the Waterstaat managed to resurrect them. In the roles of designer, contractor, builder, 

and coordinator, the Waterstaat successfully saw these 

projects through to completion and, despite the political 

turbulence of the Batavian-French period, demonstrated 

the usefulness of central water management and the 

hydraulic-technological potential of its own organization. The 

corps of engineers remained 

active in this domain, playing a 

prominent role in the preparations and execution of the reclamation of the Zuidplas Lake 

near Rotterdam in 1816. While 

the works were supervised 

by a Commission of Inspection composed of provincial 

and local stakeholders, it was 

clear that the technical leadership was entrusted to the 

Waterstaat engineers. Their 

problem-solving ability carried 

the project through a number 

of crucial decisions involving 

deviations from the original 

plan. In fact, it was partly 

thanks to the influence of chief 

engineer J. B. Vifquain that the 

Zuidplas reclamation adopted 

a unique approach: the use of a mixed pumping system 

depending not only on wind power but on steam as well. 

But the pièce de résistance in this domain was 

certainly the reclamation of the huge Haarlem Lake.25

Plans for this project dated back to the eighteenth 

century, but it was only in 1836, when destructive storms 

demonstrated that society was growing ever more 

vulnerable to this sometimes raging mass of wild water 

with its resemblance to an inner sea, that King William I 

seized the opportunity and ordered a plan for its reclamation. After parliamentary approval, it transpired that 

the administrative organization of the project was a 

direct copy of that of the Zuidplas reclamation, except 

for the fact that the Waterstaat and the Commission of 

Inspection now also had to deal with the interests of 

“Cruquius,” one of the three steam-powered pumping stations 

that drained the Haarlem Lake, 1849–1852

Collectie Nationaal Onderwijsmuseum, Dordrecht

35

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
other ministries, including the Ministry of War. Here 

too, the big question was whether to use steam power 

for pumping. Almost all of the Waterstaat’s experts 

pondered this question deeply, including the internationally recognized authority, J. A. Beijerinck, who had 

also advised the American government on the drainage 

and reclamation of the swamps near New Orleans.26

Despite its authoritative participation, the Waterstaat was not in a position to monopolize the discussion, and the decision on the pumping technology 

was taken in close consultation with the Commission 

of Inspection and external experts. After experiments, 

study trips to England, and consultation with Dr. G. 

Simons (the government’s advisor for mathematical 

and chemical questions), Beijerinck shoved his own 

reservations aside and advocated for the exclusive use 

of steam-powered pumps. In rapid succession, three 

huge steam-powered pumping stations were built and 

drained the Haarlem Lake between 1849 and 1852—an 

unparalleled achievement that brought the Waterstaat 

international respect and esteem.

INFRASTRUCTURE AND GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS

The emergence of a centrally administered unitary state 

also set the stage for general societal modernization, 

including the renovation and construction of harbors, 

roads, and waterways. After the strengthening of French 

influence on public administration, serious efforts were 

deployed toward the construction of a system of national 

highways. After 1813, King William I continued this 

policy, including the French system of classification, the 

associated financing, and the division of maintenance 

responsibility between the national and lower levels of 

government. These arrangements were modified several 

times in the following years in the context of a new politics of fiscal restraint and decentralization. Nonetheless, 

and also in line with the French approach, the national 

state maintained a firm grip on road construction, both 

by means of legislation and the active involvement of the 

Waterstaat. Waterstaat engineers were involved in the 

design, construction, and management of all the roads 

for which the state was at least partially responsible. 

Although Waterstaat engineers based their legitimacy 

and their professional pride above all on water management, they nonetheless succeeded without great difficulties in constructing the first national highway network 

between 1820 and 1850.

The national state and its Waterstaat also occupied 

a pivotal position in the domain of canal construction.27

On the basis of foreign theories and examples it was clear 

to King William I that the economic modernization of 

his kingdom required canals in addition to roads. They 

would serve not only to incorporate isolated regions 

into the state but also to improve communications 

between the northern and southern portions of his newly 

founded United Kingdom of the Netherlands, formed 

at the behest of the Congress of Vienna in 1815 uniting 

the Austrian Netherlands (Belgium) with the Northern 

Dutch Kingdom. The success of this embryonic state 

and its forging into a single nation depended crucially 

on such improved means of transport and communication. High state officials, private institutions, and regional 

governments were also quite enthusiastic about canal 

building. From time to time they would submit plans 

that had already been ripening for years. In this favorable 

climate the king and other interested parties succeeded 

in mobilizing the requisite capital, and in the 1820s this 

expressed itself in a true Dutch “canal mania.” In both 

the southern and the northern Netherlands, existing 

canals were modernized and new, large-scale canal projects were executed, including the construction of locks, 

harbors, and feeder systems. In the southern part of the 

country local entrepreneurs and chambers of commerce 

generally took the initiative. There, the state played a 

modest role. In the north, by contrast, the state took the 

lead in consultation with the provinces and other stake36

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
holders, as in the construction of the South Williams 

Canal and the Great North Holland Canal.

The Waterstaat had no formal power in deliberations regarding new infrastructure, but in practice the 

monarch began receiving serious advice from his top 

engineers at quite an early stage. Once a plan was 

approved, the minister would formally involve the 

Waterstaat. The agency subsequently drew up an overall 

project plan in the context of which it performed geodetic 

research, surveyed the terrain, took measurements, and 

Aangelegd:

voor 1800

1801-1820

1821-1840

1841-1850

onbekend

Arn. = Arnhem

Gor. = Gorinchem

Hen. = Hengelo

Rot. = Rotterdam

Zut. = Zutphen

Delfzijl

Groningen

Leeuwarden

Deventer Hen.

Apeldoorn

Leiden

Almelo

Maastricht

Venlo

Tilburg Eindhoven Goes

Vlissingen

Waalwijk Breda

Roosendaal Middelburg

‘s-Hertogenbosch

Gor. Dordrecht Nijmegen

Rot. Winterswijk

Arn.

Amersfoort

Utrecht

‘s-Gravenhage

Zut.

Enschede

Amsterdam Haarlem

Zwolle

Hoorn Kampen Alkmaar

Meppel

Enkhuizen

Lemmer

Den Helder Assen

Harlingen

Development of the National Road Network, 1800–1850

Red lines: built prior to 1800; green lines: built in the period 1800–1820; purple lines: built in the period 1821–1840; 

dotted purple lines: built in the period 1841–1850; gray lines: unknown

Walburg Pers, Zutphen

37

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
Dender

Schelde

Havenkan. van

Middelburg

Westerschelde

Roos. en

Steebe

Vliet

Maas

Dintel

Aar

Vecht

Zuiderzee

Noord-

 hollands-

 kanaal

Dedemsvaart

Hoogeveense Vaart

Drentse Hoofdvaart

Willemsvaart

Regge

Apeldoorns IJssel

Kanaal 

Markens Kanaal Zaan

Berkel

IJssel

Neder-Rijn

Amstel

Keulse Vaart

Haarlemmermeer

Drecht

Vliet O.R.

Oude Ijssel

Waal

Gouwe H.IJ.

Zederikkan.

Schie

Voornse Kan.

Rijn

Lek

K.v.S.

Mark

Nete

Demer

Leuvense Vaart

Maas

ZuidWillemsvaart

Canal du Nord

Dijle

Schelde

Leie

Kanaal

Gent 

Terneuzen 

Bestaand (1815)

Nieuw

Verbeterd

Niet voltooid

H.IJ.= Hollandse IJssel

K.v.S. = Kanaal van Steenenhoek

O.R. = Oude Rijn

Gor. = Gorinchem

Rot. = Rotterdam

Zw. = Zwolle

Arnhem

Nijmegen

‘s-Hertogenbosch

Hellevoetsluis

Dordrecht Gor.

Breda

Roosendaal

Middelburg

Vlissingen

Terneuzen

Sluis

Brugge

Gent

Antwerpen

Lier

Boom

Dendermonde

Mechelen

Diest

Lozen

Venlo

Maastricht Leuven

Brussel Aken

Rot.

Vreeswijk

‘s-Gravenhage Utrecht

Leiden

Deventer

Apeldoorn

Amsterdam

Haarlem

Zaandam

Zw.

Alkmaar

Meppel

Lemmer

Stavoren

Den Helder

Harlingen Groningen Leeuwarden

Dokkum Delfzijl

Canal Projects in the Northern Netherlands in the Era of King William I, between 1814 and 1840

Green lines: built prior to 1815; red lines: new connections; blue lines: improved connections; 

dotted blue lines: not completed connections

Walburg Pers, Zutphen

38

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
prepared appropriation proceedings. While the canal 

was being built, the agency bore the main responsibility 

and in that capacity monitored the progress and quality 

of the work. Upon completion, the canals remained 

under the management and surveillance of Waterstaat 

functionaries. The center of state participation in canal 

building lay in the northern part of the kingdom. But 

in the south, even though the role of private actors was 

much larger, the state was also active, certainly when 

technically interesting problems presented themselves. 

Hence, when canals were being built in the south 

between Brussels and Charleroi and from Pommereuil 

to Antoing, a number of Waterstaat engineers travelled to England to gather knowledge about building 

canals in elevated terrain and about applying steam 

power to the feeding of canals. In contrast to the road 

system, there was no plan for constructing a national 

canal network. Nonetheless, impressive results were 

achieved, resolving a number of inter-regional transport 

problems and markedly improving the problematic 

access of harbor cities to the sea.

The role of the national Waterstaat agency with 

respect to infrastructure acquired a new dimension after the opening of the world’s first railway line 

between Manchester and Liverpool in 1830. This 

example inspired Dutch entrepreneurs, who promptly 

filed requests for concessions to build similar lines. 

The king and his government were receptive and in 

turn requested engineers in the Waterstaat’s General 

Service to report on the technical feasibility. While a 

heated social debate about the pros and cons of railway 

construction exploded in the background, the WaterNorth Holland Canal, completed in 1824

Stadsarchief Amsterdam

39

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
staat engineers concentrated on crucial aspects of 

railway technology. Their findings, as well as positive 

advice from the Royal Advisory Commission, disposed 

Parliament favorably towards a plan whereby the state 

would finance an elaborate national railway network. 

An important motivation behind this decision was the 

fear that the energetic Belgians with their proposed 

Iron Rhine—a railway connecting the Belgian port of 

Antwerp with the Prussian Rhine port of Cologne—

would be able to challenge the Dutch trade monopoly 

with the German and Central European hinterlands. 

In a fair imitation of France, the Dutch state now 

manifested itself as entrepreneur and builder of large 

nation-spanning railway lines and used its engineering 

corps for the technical preparation and actual management of the construction process. Given the many lakes, 

rivers, and canals in the Netherlands and the exceedingly soggy soil, this was no simple task. It was a technologically complex enterprise that demanded superior 

geodetic knowledge and considerable know-how in 

the fields of railway technology and bridge-building. 

Such knowledge was gathered partly through study 

trips in foreign countries. The construction of the first 

railway lines between Amsterdam and Haarlem (1839) 

and between Rotterdam and Amsterdam (1842) proved 

that, aside from a capacity to learn, the Waterstaat was 

capable of mastering all the technical problems that 

came up. For example, the construction of stations, 

A bend in the railway track near Delft: the land owner refused to sell his land, 1847

Stichting Historie der Techniek, Eindhoven

40

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
warehouses, and other railway buildings presented no 

problems, but that was to be expected. As the state’s official architect and builder, the national Waterstaat agency 

had already been actively employed for decades in 

supplying expertise and management for a wide variety 

of the state’s civil engineering needs. State engineers had 

been asked to advise on the introduction of gas lighting 

in The Hague, on the organization of Amsterdam’s public 

water supply, and on the construction of border demarcations with the neighboring countries. The agency was 

also responsible for the maintenance of government 

buildings, including palaces, courts, schools, museums, 

national monuments and memorials, and later 

churches, prisons, and military barracks.28 King William 

underlined the importance of the state engineers for the 

safety and development of the state by the creation of 

Royal Academy for education of civil engineers in Delft 

in 1842. At this academy, apprentices were trained for 

performing technical service to the nation and industry. 

The academy became the Polytechnical School in 1864 

and the Institute of Technology in 1905. Since 1986 the 

Institute bears the name Delft University of Technology.

CONCLUSION

The transitions that took place in the structure of Dutch 

water management at the end of the eighteenth century 

occurred in a global and especially European context in 

which, since 1750, critical political and cultural transformations had been taking place, influenced in part 

by the rationalist ideology of the Enlightenment. These 

Opening ceremony of the temporary railway station at Rotterdam, 1855

Atlas van Stolk

41

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
led in turn to the revolutionary disintegration of old 

regimes and laid the foundation for the rise of centrally 

governed nation-states in the first half of the nineteenth 

century. This period, in which the political and mental 

map of large parts of Europe was utterly transformed, 

is characterized in the literature as “the age of Atlantic 

revolutions” (by the American historian J. J. Palmer) and 

as “Sattelzeit” (by the German historian R. Koseleck). 

Both authors point to the fundamental rifts in social and 

cultural science, also labeled as modernization, that 

emerged across all sectors of society and influenced the 

way in which humans interacted with nature and their 

own direct habitats in the period 1750–1850. In those 

nations where water management was a prerequisite for 

survival—including the Netherlands and the German 

Rhine riparian states—this led to upgrading the attention to the political-administrative arrangements for 

water management, a process in which the central state 

and its bureaucratic apparatus insisted on a gradually 

more important role in the planning, management, and 

construction of hydraulic works. 

In the Netherlands, this transition to a system of 

central water management “Dutch style” was a fitful 

business.29 The originally envisioned extreme centralization, in which the central state absorbed virtually the 

whole of water management, was quickly found to be 

untenable in the context of Dutch political and hydraulic 

traditions. The physical maintenance of the nation could 

simply not do without the routine work of local and 

regional water managers and their knowledge and skills. 

However, a return to the old situation was rejected by 

prominent politicians, scientists, and hydraulic experts, 

notwithstanding the mounting pressure of opponents of 

centralized state and hydraulic administration. French 

intervention prevented a return to decentralization and 

the premature marginalization of the national corps 

of Waterstaat engineers. French influence, at its zenith 

during the incorporation of the Netherlands into the 

French Empire between 1810 and 1813, also stimulated 

the professionalization of state water management and 

the development of hydraulic knowledge, including the 

schooling of aspiring engineers. Hence, while the Low 

Countries had an impressive hydraulic past, the French, 

in less than two decades, had managed to make a deep 

impression on the future of Dutch water management. 

Indeed, after the French had departed, the further 

development of national water management followed 

the political and institutional lines set out by the French 

in the Batavian-French period. At the same time, there 

was a search for a socially acceptable balance between 

the rights and responsibilities of the state and those 

of the provinces and water boards. In this sometimes 

difficult process of exploration, which was increasingly confounded by political and financial instabilities, 

central water management increasingly assumed the 

guise of a form of co-governance with semi-autocratic 

characteristics. Where decisions on large projects were at 

issue, or the financing, status, influence, and role of the 

Waterstaat in the state bureaucracy was at stake, Parliament played a subservient role and the king had a strong 

position. But the liberal constitution of 1848 curtailed the 

royal powers, and from that moment on a democratic 

form of water management began to emerge in which 

Parliament played a progressively more important role. 

In the somewhat longer term this change naturally also 

benefitted the national Bureau of the Waterstaat, now 

called the Rijkswaterstaat. Nonetheless, the agency had 

already proved its viability during the first half of the 

nineteenth century under often-difficult conditions and 

had developed into a professional civil engineering organization able—in addition to its primary tasks in water 

management—to make a crucial contribution to the 

creation of a national space, particularly in the domains 

of coastal defenses, reclamation, emergency relief, and 

infrastructure.30 Pressing societal demands for the wholesale improvement of the Rhine and its tributaries were 

42

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
impossible to satisfy at that time. There was certainly 

considerable effort put into the nationwide compilation 

of knowledge about the rivers and their dynamic currents 

and numerous plans for improvement were advanced, 

but prominent Waterstaat engineers and other experts 

could not agree about the preferred hydraulic method by 

which the river improvements should be carried out. But 

even had they succeeded in achieving a consensus, the 

sorry state of the treasury would probably have prevented 

actual implementation. This stalemate was only resolved 

with the advent of liberalism at the end of the 1840s. 

The ambition and resolve of the liberal movement 

ended stagnation and cleared the way for a comprehensive program of river improvements that in their wake 

brought fundamental changes in riverine landscapes and 

their ecological balance. At the same time, this reconstruction of the Dutch river region was of vital importance for flood safety and the economy and therefore a 

precondition for the modernization of the Dutch nation.

43

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
BIBLIOGRAPHIC ESSAY

ENGLISH SOURCES

For a general overview on the Dutch socio-cultural 

history around 1800, see Joost Kloek and Wijnand Mijnhardt, 1800: Blueprints for a national community (Assen/

Basingstoke, 2004). Jan Luiten van Zanden and Arthur 

van Riel offer a solid analysis of the nineteenth-century 

Dutch economy in their The strictures of inheritance: 

Dutch economy in the nineteenth century (Princeton, 

2004). Hans Krabbendam, Cornelis A. van Minnen 

and Giles Scott-Smith (ed.), Four centuries of Dutch–

American relations 1609–2009 (Amsterdam, 2009) is a 

rich collection of essays covering various aspects of four 

centuries American–Dutch relations.

A comprehensive survey of Dutch water resource 

management is provided in G. P. van de Ven (ed.), 

Man-made lowlands. History of water management 

and land reclamation in the Netherlands (Utrecht, 

2004). Pieter Huisman, Water in the Netherlands, 

managing checks and balances (Utrecht, 2004) offers 

a succinct overview. An older account is Paul Wagret, 

Polderlands (London, 1968), an English translation 

of a book written in French, Les polders (Paris, 1959). 

The classic account by J. van Veen, Dredge, drain, 

reclaim, the art of a nation (The Hague, 1955) is still 

valuable. M. Reuss (ed.), special issue on Water Technology in the Netherlands, in Technology and Culture

43 (2002) 3, pp. 465–584, focuses on various aspects 

of Dutch water management from the Middle Ages 

until the 1980s. F. M. van der Meer, “Water Management in the Netherlands in the 19th and 20th Centuries,” 

in: J. C. N. Raadschelders (ed.), Cahiers d’ histoire de 

l’administration 8, special issue on The Institutional 

Arrangements for Water Management in the 19th and 

20th Centuries (Amsterdam, 2005) pp. 45–62, offers a 

succinct overview on Dutch water management and 

major projects in this period.

On the development of river management, see 

the English edition of A. A. S. van Heezik, Battle over 

the Rivers: Two Hundred years of River Policy in the 

Netherlands (Haarlem and The Hague, 2008), a popular 

version of this Ph.D. thesis (see below). A true environmental history is M. Cioc, The Rhine: An eco-biography, 

1815–2000 (Seattle and London, 2002), that sketches 

a vivid picture of ecological degradation of a major 

European river due to repeated river training projects. 

W. ten Brinke, The Dutch Rhine: A restrained river, 

(Diemen, 2004), is a richly documented portrait of the 

river Rhine from a geological, geographical, hydraulic, 

and historical perspective. P. H. Nienhuis explores the 

interrelatedness between the developments in river 

management, its ecological impact on the landscape, 

flora, and fauna, and the role of climate change in 

Environmental History of the Rhine-Meuse Delta. An 

ecological story on evolving human-environmental 

relations coping with climatic change and sea-level rise 

(Dordrecht/London, 2008). Toon Bosch focuses on 

the period 1770–1850 in “Changing societies produce 

changing rivers. Managing the Rhine in Germany 

and Holland, 1770–1850” in Terje Tvedt and Richard 

Coopey (eds.), A History of Water. Series II, Volume 2: 

Rivers and Society: From Early Civilizations to Modern 

Times, (London/New York 2010), pp. 263–86. On the 

Meuse, see Toon Bosch, “‘Canalise the Meuse! Do it. 

Now or never!’ Aspects of the struggle for the improvement of The Meuse in the Dutch province of Limburg 

(1839–1925),” in Physics and Chemistry of the Earth 

34/3 (2009), pp. 109–18.

“Knowledge development” in Dutch water 

management has not often been the subject of a book, 

but it is the heart of the matter in C. S. Maffioli, Out of 

Galileo. The science of waters 1628–1718 (Rotterdam, 

1994), a Ph.D. thesis on the theoretical insights of 

Italian scientists and their impact on Dutch eighteenthcentury civil engineering.

44

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
DUTCH SOURCES

There are various good and recent general books on 

Dutch history. R. Aerts et al., Land van kleine gebaren. 

Een politieke geschiedenis van Nederland 1780–1990

(Nijmegen, 2013) is a lucid account on Dutch political 

history. A fascinating portrait of socio-cultural shifts 

in the era 1780–1810 can be read in Joost Kloek and 

Wijnhardt Mijnhardt, 1800: Blauwdrukken voor een 

samenleving (The Hague, 2001), the Dutch edition of 

1800: Blueprints for a national community. The standard 

work on economic development in this period is J. L. van 

Zanden and A. van Riel, Nederland 1780–1914. Staat, 

instituties en economische ontwikkeling (Amsterdam, 

2000), the Dutch edition of The strictures of inheritance: 

Dutch economy in the nineteenth century.

A. van der Woud, Het lege land. De ruimtelijke orde 

van Nederland 1798–1848 (Amsterdam, 1987) is a stimulating Ph.D. thesis about Dutch spatial management, 

including water resource management, in the first half of 

the nineteenth century. H. Knippenberg and B. de Pater, 

De eenwording van Nederland, schaalvergroting en integratie sinds 1800 (Nijmegen, 1988) unravels the interplay 

between societal integration and infrastructural development in the Netherlands since 1800. H. W. Lintsen (ed.), 

Geschiedenis van de techniek in Nederland. De wording 

van een moderne samenleving 1800–1890, vol. 3 (Zutphen, 

1993) provides in a number of chapters stimulating overviews on nineteenth-century civil engineering and water 

management. R. Filarski, and G. Mom, Van transport naar 

mobiliteit (2 volumes) (Zutphen, 2008) is a standard work 

on the development of Dutch infrastructure since 1800.

For general books on Dutch water resource management, see in the first place G. P. van de Ven (ed.), Leefbaar laagland (Utrecht, 2003), the Dutch edition of Manmade lowlands. W. ten Brinke, Land aan zee (Diemen, 

2007) provides a vivid general overview of Dutch water 

management, linking geographical, climatological, and 

historical perspectives. C. Rooijendijk, Waterwolven

(Amsterdam, 2009) sketches in a colorful account the 

development of the Dutch water resource management 

since prehistory, emphasizing the role of a few important and influential water management experts. H. C. 

Toussaint offers a brief overview on eleven centuries 

of Dutch water management in Bert Toussaint, “Met 

subtiliteit en zoetheid. Een overzicht van elf eeuwen 

Nederlands waterbeheer,” in Jaarboek Central Bureau 

voor Genealogie 57 (2003) pp. 5–52. Eelco Beukers (ed.), 

Hollanders en het water. Twintig eeuwen strijd en profijt 

(2 volumes) (Hilversum, 2007) offers a valuable overview 

on water management history in central Holland since 

the prehistoric era, covering governance, flood management, navigation, fishery, fresh water management, military aspects, and recreation. Toon Bosch emphasizes the 

significant role of Lodewijk Napoleon for the emerging 

national water resource management in “‘‘t voornaamste 

onderwerp in Holland.’ De betekenis van Koning 

Lodewijk Napoleon voor de nationale waterstaatszorg 

(1806–1810)” in Tijdschrift voor Waterstaatsgeschiedenis

16/2 (2007), pp.108–19.

Alex van Heezik, Strijd om de rivieren. 200 jaar rivierenbeleid in Nederlandof de opkomst en ondergang van 

het streven naar de normale rivier (Haarlem, 2008), is 

a Ph.D. thesis covering two centuries of river management. W. ten Brinke, De beteugelde rivier (Diemen, 2004) 

is the Dutch version of The Dutch Rhine: A restrained 

river. A still informative account of Rhine navigation is 

H. P. H. Nusteling, De Rijnvaart in het tijdperk van stoom 

en steenkool (1831–1914) (Amsterdam, 1974). G. P. van 

de Ven, Aan de wieg van Rijkswaterstaat. Wordingsgeschiedenis van het Pannerdens Kanaal (Zutphen, 

1976) provides a very detailed description of a crucial 

eighteenth-century Rhine training project. Ch. Jeurgens, 

De Haarlemmermeer. Een studie in planning en beleid 

1836–1858 (Amsterdam, 1991) is a solid Ph.D. thesis on 

the Haarlemmermeer reclamation. The impact of river 

floods around 1800 is pointed out in detail in the Ph.D. 

45

2 Dutch Water Management in an Era of Revolution
thesis from A. M. A. J. Driessen, Watersnood tussen Maas 

en Waal. Overstromingsrampen tussen 1780 en 1810

(Zutphen, 1993) and in A. Bosch, “Nijmegen en zijn 

‘gryze Stroomgod,’ Hoog water, strenge vorst en calamiteuze watersnoden, 1781–1861,” Jaarboek Numaga 56 

(2009), pp. 32–51.

On flood coping strategies, see Petra van Dam’s 

inaugural lecture, Petra J. E. M. van Dam, De amfibische 

cultuur. Een visie op watersnoodrampen (Amsterdam, 

2010) and the special issue of the Tijdschrift voor 

Waterstaatsgeschiedenis 21 1/2 (2012), that further 

explores this theme. 

M. L. ten Horn, Wonderen der techniek, Nederlandse ingenieurs en hun kunstwerken (Zutphen, 1994)

provides valuable essays on a number of major Dutch 

engineering projects in the nineteenth and twentiety 

centuries. R. Filarski, Kanalen van de koopman-koning

(Amsterdam, 1995) is a solid Ph.D. thesis on the development of navigation and the canal building in the first 

half of the nineteenth century, including thorough costbenefit analyses. R. G. W. Hisgen and R. W. P. M. Laane, 

Geheimen van de kust, van Zwin tot Marsdiep (Diemen, 

2008) is a colorful collection of essays on Dutch coastal 

engineering in the past and the present.

The first decades of the nineteenth century are 

reviewed in a recent biography on the brilliant engineer, 

physician, and topographer Kraijenhoff: Wilfried Uitterhoeve, Cornelis Kraijenhoff 1758–1840: een loopbaan 

onder vijf regeervormen (Nijmegen, 2009), a vividly 

written Ph.D. thesis. R. M. Harbourdin et al., De physique 

existentie dezes lands: Jan Blanken, inspecteur-generaal 

van de waterstaat (1755–1838) (Beetsterzwaag, 1987) is a 

rich collection of essays on Jan Blanken, one of the most 

prominent Dutch nineteenth-century engineers, issued 

at the occasion of a 1987 exhibition on Blanken in the 

Amsterdam Rijksmuseum.

A valuable collection of essays on the institutional 

development of the Dutch water boards is J. C. N. 

Raadschelders and A. J. Toonen (eds.), Waterschappen 

in Nederland. Een bestuurskundige verkenning van de 

institutionele ontwikkeling (Hilversum, 1993). A general 

corporate history of the Rijkswaterstaat is provided in 

A. Bosch and W. van der Ham, Twee eeuwen Rijkswaterstaat, 1798–1998 (Zaltbommel, 1998), an overview 

that integrates developments in society, technology, 

and engineering and its impact on the Rijkswaterstaat 

organization. An organizational analysis of the Rijkswaterstaat organization and the position of its engineers 

in the nineteenth century is provided by H. W. Lintsen, 

Ingenieurs in Nederland in de negentiende eeuw, een 

streven naar erkenning en macht (The Hague, 1980). 

Toon Bosch gives a detailed account of the establishment and formative decades of the Rijkswaterstaat in his 

Ph.D. thesis A. Bosch, Om de macht over het water: de 

nationale waterstaatsdienst tussen staat en samenleving 

1798–1849 (Zaltbomel, 2000).

46

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
1 M. van Buuren, C. van Drimmelen, W. Iedema 

(eds.), Rapport Waterlandschappen. De cultuurhistorie van de 

toekomst als opgave van waterbeheer (Lelystad: RIZA, 2002), 

54. The periodization that follows is also inspired by this report.

2 G. P. van de Ven, Man Made Lowlands. History 

of water management and land reclamation in the Netherlands (Utrecht: Matrijs, 2004), 38–100; Frits M. van der Meer, 

“Water Management in the Netherlands in the 19th and 20th

Centuries”, in: Jos C. N. Raadschelders (ed.), Cahier d’Histoire 

de ‘l’Administration no. 8, IIAS. The Institutional Arrangements for Water Management in the 19th and 20th Centuries 

(Amsterdam: IOS Press, 2005), 45–61; A. Bosch en W. van der 

Ham, Twee Eeuwen Rijkswaterstaat, 1798–1998 (Zaltbommel: 

Europese Bibliotheek, 1998), 19–29; A. Bosch, Om de macht 

over het water. De nationale waterstaatsdienst tussen staat en 

samenleving 1798–1849 (Zaltbommel: Europese Bibliotheek, 

2000), 19–40.

3 Laura Cruz, Dutch Revolutions (1780–1848) in: 

Gregory Fremont-Barnes (ed.), Encyclopedia of the Age of 

Political Revolutions and New Ideologies 1760–1815, Vol. I 

(Westport, Conn., London: Greenwood, 2007), 205–09; Jonathan Israel, The Dutch Republic: Its Rise, Greatness and Fall 

1477–1806 (Oxford History of Early Modern Europe) (Oxford: 

Clarendon Press, 1995), 1098–1112 and 1113–1130.

4 Bosch, Om de macht over het water, 42–57.

5 Bosch, Om de macht over het water, 57–62; 69–89; 

91–107; Toon Bosch, “Koning van een dobberend land. De 

betekenis van Lodewijk Napoleon voor de nationale waterstaatszorg 1806–1810”, in: Tijdschrift voor Waterstaatsgeschiedenis

16, no. 2 (2007): 108–19; G. P. van de Ven, Lodewijk Napoleon 

en de Waterstaat in: J.Hallebeek, A.J.B. Sirks (red.), Nederland 

in Franse schaduw. Recht en bestuur in het Koninkrijk Holland

(1806–1810) (Hilversum: Verloren, 2006), 125–46.

6 See for a description of the French organization of 

water management during the ancien regime: G. C. Gillespie, 

Science and polity in France at the end of the old regime (Princeton: University Press, 1980), 497–98.

7 Bosch, Om de macht over het water, 62.

8 For the political-administrative elaboration of 

central water management between 1813 and 1849 see: Bosch, 

Om de macht over het water, 109–27.

9 Following: Th. A. J. Toonen, “The unitary state as a 

system of co-governance: The case of the Netherlands”, in: 

Public Administration 1990 (68), 281–96.

10 See for the development of the corps of engineers 

of the “Waterstaat”: Bosch and Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen, 

33–44; Bosch, Om de macht over het water, 87–89.

11 For the French situation see: Gillespie, Science and 

polity, 479–98; briefly for the Netherlands: Bosch, Om de macht 

over het water, 85–86.

12 See for the development of technical education for 

Waterstaat engineers: G. P.  J. Verbong, “De uitgangssituatie”; 

“Gescheiden paden 1813–1842”; “De spanning tussen aanbod 

en vraag: ingenieurs en nijverheidstechnici 1842–1863”, in: 

H. W. Lintsen (ed. et. al), Geschiedenis van de techniek in de 

negentiende eeuw. De wording van een moderne samenleving 

1800–1890, vol. 5 (Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 1994), 45–49; 53–60; 

101–09 and the literature cited there.

13 See for the development of Dutch state engineers in 

the nineteenth century: H. W. Lintsen, Ingenieurs in Nederland 

in de negentiende eeuw. Een streven naar macht en erkenning (‘s Gravenhage: Nijhoff, 1980) ; for the history of the 

French Ponts et Chaussées: J. Petot, Histoire de l’administration 

des Ponts et Chaussées 1599–1815 (Paris : Rivière, 1958); A. 

Brunot, R. Coquand, Le corps des Ponts et Chaussées (Paris: 

Centre national de la Recherche Scientifique, 1982) en: A. 

Picon, L’invention de l’ingénieur moderne L’Ecole des Ponts et 

Chaussées 1747–1851 (Paris: Presses de l’école nationale des 

ponts et chaussées, 1992).

14 This section based on: Bosch, Om de macht over het 

water, 91–107, 163–97; Bosch, Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen, 

97–116.

15 See: Bosch, Om de macht over het water, 149–50.

16 Based on: G. P. van de Ven, Man Made Lowlands, 

255–59; Bosch, Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen, 58–60; Bosch, Om 

de macht over het water, 175–76.

ENDNOTES

47
17 Based on: Toon Bosch, Gerard van de Ven, 

“Rivierverbetering”, in: H. W. Lintsen (ed. et. al), Geschiedenis 

van de techniek in de negentiende eeuw. De wording van een 

moderne samenleving 1800–1890, vol. 2 (Zutphen: Walburg 

Pers, 1993), 106–27; Van de Ven, Man-made Lowlands, 346–67; 

Alex van Heezik, Strijd om de rivieren. 200 jaar rivierenbeleid in 

Nederland of de opkomst en ondergang van het streven naar de 

normale rivier (Haarlem: Van Heezik Beleidsresearch, 2006), 

43–52; 53–86.

18 Van de Ven, Man-made lowlands, Ch. 4.

19 See: Bosch, Om de macht over het water, 94–103; 

177–84.

20 See: G. P. van de Ven, “Jan Blanken en de Waterstaat” 

in: P. C. Jansen (ed. et al.), De Physique existentie dezes lands. 

Jan Blanken inspecteur-generaal van de waterstaat (1755–1838)

(Beetsterzwaag: AMA Boeken, 1987), 70–74.

21 See: Bosch, Om de macht over het water, 199–201.

22 See for the history of the “General Service”: Bert 

Toussaint, Uitgemeten en uitgetekend. De geschiedenis van de 

Algemene Dienst van de Rijkswaterstaat (Den Haag: Rijkswaterstaat, 1998).

23 See for these discussions: Bosch, Van de Ven, 

“Rivierverbetering”, 106–27. 

24 Mark Cioc, The Rhine. An eco-biography 1815–2000

(Seattle-London: University of Washington Press, 2002), 59–62; 

Christophe Bernhardt, “The correction of the upper Rhine 

in the Nineteenth Century: Modernizing Society and state 

by Large-Scale Water Engineering”, in: Susan C. Anderson, 

Bruce Tabb (eds.) Water, Culture, Politics in Germany and the 

American West (New York: Peter Lang International Academic 

Publishers, 2001), 183–202; David Blackbourn, The conquest of 

Nature, Water, Landscape and the Making of modern Germany

(London: Cape, 2006), 71–111.

25 See: C. Jeurgens, De Haarlemmermeer. Een studie in 

planning en beleid 1836–1858 (Amsterdam: NEHA, 1991).

26 J. G. W. Fijnje, “Levensberigt van Frederik Willem 

Conrad, voorzitter en een der opgrigters van het Koninklijk 

Instituut van Ingenieurs en eene bijdrage tot de geschiedenis 

van den waterstaat van zijn tijd”, in: Notulen van het Koninklijk 

Instituut van ingenieurs (‘s Gravenhage: KIVI, 1870), 187.

27 See: R. Filarski, Kanalen van de koning-koopman. 

Goederenvervoer, binnenscheepvaart en kanalenbouw in 

Nederland en België in de eerste helft van de negentiende eeuw

(Amsterdam: NEHA, 1995).

28 Bosch, Om de macht over het water, 193.

29 Harry Lintsen, “Two Centuries of Central Water 

Management in the Netherlands” in: Technology and Culture

vol. 43, no. 3 (July 2002): 549–68.

30 For the environmental consequences of these spatial 

interventions see: Piet H. Nienhuis, Environmental History of 

the Rhine-Meuse Delta. An ecological story on evolving humanenvironmental relations coping with climate change and sealevel rise (Dordrecht: Springer, 2008), 543–46.

This chapter is dedicated to my beloved friend P. J. W. Elly Wilbers–Berndsen (1951–2014)

48

3

The greatest legacy of the early Army Corps of Engineers was its work on rivers, canals, and harbors. 

America was a vast young nation, and its waterways 

bound it together. They provided routes from western 

farms to eastern markets and aided settlers seeking 

new homes beyond the Appalachian frontier. These 

vital arteries beckoned and enticed, making progress possible, but they were also quick to destroy the 

dreams of unwary travelers and shippers whose boats 

were punctured by snags or stuck on sandbars. Both 

commercial development and national defense begged 

for more reliable transportation arteries. Beginning 

in 1824 with the General Survey Act, Congress turned 

to the Army Corps of Engineers to carve navigation 

passages for a growing nation.1

The Corps of Engineers was uniquely positioned 

to assist in the development of a water transportation network. Although its history stretches back to the 

American Revolution, when Gen. George Washington 

appointed Col. Richard Gridley as chief engineer of the 

Continental Army in 1775, the modern Corps dates to 

1802. In that year, Congress permanently established 

the Army Corps of Engineers and founded a military 

academy at West Point under Corps supervision as the 

first engineering school in United States. Until the 1850s, 

West Point served as the main source of academically 

trained engineers, both military and civilian. Training 

there was closely modeled on the program taught at the 

French Ecole Polytechnique. Over time, elements of civil 

engineering became an increasingly important component of the curriculum. In addition to acquiring skills 

in the construction of fortifications, graduates of West 

Point gained the knowledge necessary to play a key role 

in shaping the nation’s internal improvements such as 

mapping, road building, canal construction, improving 

rivers and harbors, and surveying for railroads.

TOWARD FEDERAL INVOLVEMENT IN INTERNAL 

IMPROVEMENTS

The authority of the federal government to engage in 

internal improvements had to overcome serious questions involving the interpretation of the U.S. Constitution. Throughout the antebellum period, the several 

decades before the Civil War, many American political 

leaders questioned whether the Constitution authorized 

the federal government to construct roads and canals, 

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and 

The Evolution of Navigation Practice 

and Policy, 1800–1865

Matthew T. Pearcy

51
to improve the navigability of rivers and harbors, or to 

contribute to private efforts to accomplish such work. 

A line of presidents from Thomas Jefferson to James 

Buchanan, together with members of Congress of 

various political parties, expressed support for certain 

federal internal improvement efforts but interpreted the 

Constitution to limit the conditions under which federal 

monies could be expended for such projects. According 

to this reasoning, the projects had to be tied to one of 

the enumerated powers granted under the Constitution, 

such as national defense, mail delivery, or the collection of federal revenues. James Madison, who joined in 

questioning federal powers in this sphere, could recollect that the Constitutional Convention had approved 

Elbridge Gerry’s proposal to allow Congress to establish post roads but rejected Benjamin Franklin’s plan 

to include among the enumerated powers of Congress 

the authority “to provide for cutting canals,” despite 

support for the clause in the Virginia delegation. Such 

debates consumed the first decades of the nineteenth 

century and stood in the way of direct federal funding 

for these enterprises.2

Among the earliest and most influential advocates 

of a federal role was Secretary of the Treasury Albert 

Gallatin. He produced the first comprehensive study of 

American transportation needs in 1808 recommending 

an elaborate system of interconnected roads, canals, 

and improved waterways to bind the young republic 

together. Gallatin not only balanced the federal budget 

but also accumulated a surplus that he hoped to use for 

“Looking Down the River,” a view of West Point from above Washington Valley, 1834, by George Cooke

Library of Congress, LC-DIG-pga-00210

52

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
construction of the transportation system. The Embargo 

Act of 1808 and the Anglo-American War of 1812 

(1812–1815) interrupted revenue collections, eroded the 

budget surplus, and delayed action on Gallatin’s recommendation; but the war also drew attention to the need 

for a better transportation system.3

During the war, transportation and logistical problems severely handicapped the operations of American 

armies on the frontiers. Field commanders often 

complained that the lack of material support contributed to their defeats, and the high costs of reinforcement 

and supply created a new national debt. Among the few 

bright spots of the war was the last-minute reinforcement and supply of Gen. Andrew Jackson and the American Army at New Orleans via the inland rivers in 1814–

15. These events resulted in the direct involvement of the 

War Department and its Corps of Engineers in postwar 

transportation planning. A Baltimore newspaper editor 

commented in 1815 that “the exigencies of the nation, 

during the late war, has raised all those advantages of 

roads, bridges, and canals, etc., which our country so 

happily presents to us.”4

NATIONAL DEFENSE AND INTERNAL 

IMPROVEMENTS

A board of officers, composed of Gen. Simon Bernard, 

Col. Joseph Totten of the Corps of Engineers, and a 

naval officer, began a study of national defense needs 

in 1816, in light of the experiences of the war. The board 

reported that national defense should rest on four 

pillars: a strong navy, adequate coastal fortifications, 

a regular army and organized militia, and improved 

interior transportation to permit swift concentration 

of armed forces to meet foreign threats. The secretary 

of the board later explained the rationale supporting 

the fourth pillar, water improvements: “While every 

improvement in the channels of communications has... 

a direct relation to national defense, it especially tends 

to develop the agricultural industry of the country, the 

fundamental basis of public prosperity, and to consolidate the internal peace of the citizen.”5

In 1818 John C. Calhoun of South Carolina, secretary of war in the James Monroe administration, initiated an experiment with the use of rivers and steamboats for military logistics. He sent Maj. Stephen H. Long 

of the Corps of Engineers to Pittsburgh to construct a 

trial steamboat named the Western Engineer, which 

was specially designed for service on shallow, tortuous, 

and obstructed inland streams in connection with the 

western advance of the army into the Missouri basin. 

Long designed a more mechanically efficient steam 

engine, placed the paddlewheel in a recess at the stern 

to protect against damage from snags, and developed 

an improved hull design to reduce the draft of the boat. 

His remarkable vessel was the prototype for the inland 

river steamboats that later played such a significant role 

in the development of the Mississippi River basin. Its 

travels evidenced the need for river improvements for 

both military and commercial purposes. Although the 

Western Engineer could navigate on a mere nineteen 

inches of water, it spent nearly six months in port at 

Paducah, Kentucky, because of shallow waters.6

OBSTACLES TO RIVER TRANSPORTATION

Fluctuating river depths adversely affected river transportation. Extended low water stages during each year 

from 1818 to 1820, for example, disrupted regular river 

traffic for long periods and caused severe seasonal 

economic recessions in the Midwest. Millions of dollars 

worth of commodities piled up at river ports each 

year awaiting navigable stages on the inland streams, 

bringing commerce to a stop, forcing the closing of 

mills, and triggering widespread unemployment. 

Concerned by these conditions, state governments in 

the Ohio River basin established a joint commission 

to survey the Ohio from Pittsburgh to Louisville and 

53

3 The Evolution Of Navigation Practice And Policy
to plan an improvement project. In its reporting, the 

commission decried the “painful spectacle” of many 

commercial craft stranded on bars and rotting useless 

in ports “whilst through a fertile and populous region of 

1000 miles in extent, the commerce and interchange of 

domestic commodities are completely embargoed.” The 

commission recommended that state governments fund 

improvements on the Ohio River upstream of Louisville 

and appeal to Congress for assistance.7

In the same year, Calhoun called for a federal 

effort to improve waterways and transportation routes 

more generally. He argued that such projects would 

contribute significantly to national defense, not only as 

a direct benefit to military logistics, but also as a means 

of enhancing American commercial and economic 

development on which national defensive capabilities 

ultimately rested. “It is in a state of war,” he explained, 

“when a nation is compelled to put all of its resources 

in men, money, skill, and devotion to a country into 

requisition that its government realizes in its security the 

beneficial effects from a people made prosperous and 

happy by a wise direction of its resources in peace.”8

EXTENSION OF THE OHIO RIVER SURVEY

Congress responded to the petitions from the states and 

the recommendations of Secretary Calhoun by appropriating $5,000 in 1820 to extend the survey from Louisville and continue with it down the Ohio and Mississippi 

to the Gulf of Mexico. Calhoun assigned the river survey 

to General Bernard, Colonel Totten, and their Corps 

Stephen Long’s steamboat, the Western Engineer, at Engineer Cantonment, winter quarters on the 

Missouri River, 1820, by Titian R. Peale

American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia

54

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
of Engineers staff who were then traveling the country 

planning seacoast fortifications and the logistic lines to 

support them. Upon reaching Louisville in 1821 to begin 

the survey, they were greeted with newspaper editorials 

emphasizing the dual civil and military benefits of the 

proposed project. One read:

The contemplated improvement of the two 

principal rivers in the west, so as to render them 

navigable at all seasons must be an undertaking of the first magnitude to the government 

and people. It will greatly facilitate the passage 

of our produce to market at the most important 

season of the year, while the government will be 

able at any time, in case of the future invasion 

of New Orleans, to send men, arms, and ammunition in time to defend it.9

The engineers finished the survey of the lower 

Ohio and Mississippi rivers in 1822, submitting their 

maps to the secretary of war and a report to Congress. 

They recommended the removal of boulders and snags 

from the channels of the Ohio and Mississippi and the 

construction of low dams behind islands and at shoals 

to concentrate stream flow at low stages to a single welldefined channel. 

CONGRESSIONAL DEBATE ON FEDERAL AUTHORITY

Armed with the favorable survey report, Speaker of 

the House Henry Clay of Kentucky and his political 

supporters from the Mississippi River basin states 

launched a campaign in Congress to secure an appropriation for federal improvement of the Ohio and 

Mississippi rivers. Other congressmen, mostly from 

seaboard states, stood in opposition, asserting that an 

appropriation for a waterway development project would 

be an unconstitutional extension of federal powers. 

The debates over federally funded waterways projects 

assumed a sectional character, with eastern seaboard 

states pitted against states in the Mississippi valley 

that resented the apparent neglect of inland rivers as 

compared with regular funding for seacoast fortifications 

and lighthouse construction at seaports. 

Speaker Clay believed that the Ohio and Mississippi 

rivers, forming boundaries of several states and being the 

common commercial highway of all, were national properties, deserving special consideration from Congress. He 

argued that the debate on an appropriation to improve 

their navigation should concern only methods and expediency, not constitutional issues. Congressman Robert P. 

Henry of Kentucky pointed out that the Ohio valley states 

had joined in 1819 to survey the river, and predicted that 

if the federal government did not fund the proposed 

navigation project, it would be undertaken by a regional 

compact of state governments. Recalling the threats of 

secession heard in the Mississippi valley over the issue 

of free navigation on the inland rivers during the years 

before the Louisiana Purchase, Henry warned Congress 

that a confederacy of states united to conduct the navigation project might become a threat to national union. 

Federal action was required.10

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers, H. Abbot Collection

Joseph G. Totten (1788–1864), who became 

Chief of Engineers in 1838

55

3 The Evolution Of Navigation Practice And Policy
Clay and Calhoun finally won the day. On April 30, 

1824, Congress passed the General Survey Act authorizing the president to use Army engineers to survey 

road and canal routes “of national importance, in a 

commercial or military point of view.” A few weeks later, 

on May 24, Congress appropriated $75,000 for experiments with dam construction at the shoals of the lower 

Ohio River and for the prompt removal of all snags from 

both the Ohio and Mississippi. Henry Clay had beaten 

back amendments to add such tributary streams as 

the Monongahela to the authorized project but had 

allowed extension of the work to include that section 

of the Mississippi between the mouths of the Ohio and 

Missouri Rivers or between Cairo and St. Louis. While 

Clay thought the amount of the appropriation inadequate, he was pleased that a principle had been estabThe Mississippi River Valley 

The Mississippi River watershed is the largest in North America and the fourth largest in the world. Its 

tributaries, including the Missouri, Ohio, Arkansas, and Red rivers, drain all or parts of 31 U.S. states 

and two Canadian provinces between the Rocky and Appalachian mountains. 

Missouri

Missouri

Yellowstone

Little Missouri

Grand

Cheyenne

Niobrara North Platte

Platte

Loup

South Platte

Republican

Smoky Hill

Arkansas

Osage

Neosho

Atchafalaya

Canadian

White

Ouachita

Red

Yazoo

Tennessee

Cumberland Holston

Kentucky

Green

Kaskaskia

Ohio

Wabash

Kankakee

Scioto

Monongahela

Kanawha

Allegheny

Wisconsin

Iowa

Des Moines

Mississippi

Minnesota

James

Big Sioux

Mississippi

Illinois

Black

Kansas

Milk

Tongue

Bighorn

Wind

Lincoln

Omaha Pittsburgh

Columbus

Cincinnati Indianapolis

Lexington

Memphis

New Orleans

Oklahoma City

Tulsa

Topeka

Des Moines

Minneapolis

Denver

Evansville

Springfield

St. Louis

Baton Rouge

Chicago

Peoria

Kansas City

NORTH CAROLINA

VIRGINIA

MARYLAND

DELAWARE

NEW

JERSEY

NEW

HAMPSHIRE

MASSACHUSETTS

CONNECTICUT

RHODE I

MARYLAND

DELAWARE

OHIO

MICHIGAN

WISCONSIN

NEBRASKA IOWA

SOUTH DAKOTA

NORTH DAKOTA

MONTANA

MINNESOTA

WYOMING

INDIANA

GEORGIA

FLORIDA

ALABAMA

MISSISSIPPI

LOUISIANA

TEXAS

NEW MEXICO

ARIZONA

CANADA

MEXICO

OKLAHOMA

KANSAS

COLORADO

UTAH

IDAHO

TON

NEVADA

ARKANSAS

MISSOURI

SOUTH

CAROLINA

TENNESSEE

KENTUCKY

ILLINOIS

PENNSYLVANIA

NEW

JERSEY

NEW YORK

MAINE

VERMONT

NEW

HAMPSHIRE

MASSACHUSETTS

CONNECTICUT

RHODE I

WEST

VIRGINIA

100

100

200 Kilometers

200 Miles

56

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
lished by this legislation. The inland rivers thereafter 

would be regarded, in Clay’s words, as “our seas—as our 

Atlantic Ocean and Mexican gulph.”11

ARMY ENGINEERS IN DEMAND

The second act also authorized the president to select 

any engineers in the federal service he thought proper 

to supervise the project, and some support existed 

for giving the job to agencies other than the Corps of 

Engineers. Congressman Alexander Smyth of Virginia, 

for example, advocated for the Navy. Reflecting the 

simplistic view of river projects then prevalent, Smyth 

proposed that the Navy build more gunboats at 

Pittsburgh and dispatch them downstream with crews 

ordered to clear river channels on their way to New 

Orleans and foreign service. 

Clay and Calhoun argued persuasively for choosing 

the Army Corps of Engineers as project supervisors. First, 

the Corps had performed the project surveys and, because 

West Point in 1824 was the sole formal engineering school 

in the nation, the Army engineers had the necessary 

professional training. Calhoun also argued that Army 

engineers would produce greater design and construction 

efficiency. Moreover, supervision of waterways projects 

during peacetime would furnish the engineers with excellent training for military construction in wartime. Finally, 

the project had both direct and indirect value for national 

defense. Apparently persuaded by those arguments, President Monroe directed Gen. Alexander Macomb, the chief 

of the Corps of Engineers who was personally familiar 

with river navigation hazards, to undertake the Ohio 

and Mississippi River project. Macomb sent Major 

Long to the lower Ohio to begin experiments with dam 

construction and fluvial hydraulics and, as directed 

by the authorizing act, contracted for the removal of 

snags from the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, with Capt. 

Samuel Babcock of the Corps serving as project engineer and contract administrator.12

Early success put Army engineers much in demand. 

They supervised the construction of the Cumberland 

Road; they built fortifications and lighthouses along 

the Atlantic Coast; and they surveyed railroad routes 

and prepared construction specifications for more than 

twenty railroads between 1827 and 1838.13 They also 

turned their attention to river improvement work. 

CANAL CONSTRUCTION

The subject of internal improvements became increasingly divisive during the antebellum period. The Whigs, 

a new conservative opposition party established in 1834, 

generally supported federal funds for transportation 

improvements. Democrats generally did not. While the 

debate raged, states and local interests pushed ahead with 

road and canal construction. Numerous canal companies 

had been chartered in the nation’s early history, but of 

all the canals projected, only three had been completed 

by the War of 1812. These were the Dismal Swamp Canal 

in Virginia, the Santee Canal in South Carolina, and the 

Middlesex Canal in Massachusetts. It remained for New 

York to usher in a new era in internal communication by 

authorizing the construction of the Erie Canal in 1817. 

This bold bid for western trade alarmed the merchants 

of Philadelphia, particularly since the completion of the 

national road threatened to divert much of their traffic to 

Baltimore. In 1825, the legislature of Pennsylvania grappled with the problem by proposing a series of canals to 

connect the great Philadelphia seaport with Pittsburgh on 

the west and with Lake Erie and the upper Susquehanna 

on the north.14

Like the turnpikes, the early canals were constructed, 

owned, and operated by private joint-stock companies 

but later gave way to larger projects funded by the states. 

The Erie Canal, proposed by New York Governor De Witt 

Clinton, was the first canal project undertaken as a public 

good to be financed at the public risk through the sale of 

bonds. When completed in 1825, the canal linked Lake 

57

3 The Evolution Of Navigation Practice And Policy
Erie with the Hudson River through 83 separate locks 

and over a distance of 363 miles. The success of the canal 

spawned a boom in canal-building around the country, 

and more than 3,326 miles of artificial waterways were 

constructed between 1816 and 1840. Small towns that lay 

along the main canal routs (including Syracuse, Buffalo, 

and Cleveland) grew into major industrial and trade 

centers, whereas exuberant canal-building pushed some 

states such as Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana to the 

brink of bankruptcy.15

The magnitude of the transportation problem was 

such, however, that neither individual states nor private 

corporations were able to meet the great demand for 

internal trade. Treasury Secretary Albert Gallatin had 

earlier advocated the construction of an ambitious 

system of internal waterways to connect East and West, 

at an estimated cost of $20 million. But the only federal 

contribution to internal improvements during the Jeffersonian era was an appropriation in 1806 of 2 percent of 

the net proceeds of the sales of public lands in Ohio for 

the construction of a national road, with the consent 

of the states through which it should pass. By 1818, the 

road was open to traffic from Cumberland, Maryland, to 

Wheeling, West Virginia.16

As the country recovered from financial depression 

following the Panic of 1819, the question of internal 

improvements again moved to the forefront of public 

debate. In 1822, President James Monroe vetoed a bill 

to authorize tolls on the Cumberland Road. In an elaborate essay he set forth his views on the constitutional 

aspects of a policy of internal improvements. Congress 

could appropriate money, he admitted, but it could not 

I. N. Phelps Stokes Collection, Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Arts, Prints and 

Photographs, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations

View on the Erie Canal, 1829, by John William Hill

58

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
undertake the actual construction of national works or 

assume jurisdiction over them. For the moment, the drift 

toward greater participation by the national government 

in internal improvements was stayed. Two years later, 

Congress authorized the president to institute surveys 

for such roads and canals as he believed to be needed 

for commerce and military defense. No one pleaded 

more eloquently for a larger conception of national 

government than Senator Clay. He called the attention 

of Congress to provisions made for coast surveys and 

lighthouses on the Atlantic seaboard and deplored the 

neglect of the interior of the country. Andrew Jackson 

also supported a general survey bill, as did John Quincy 

Adams, contrary to the narrow view of his section on 

this issue. Of the several presidential candidates in 1824, 

only Treasury Secretary William Crawford of Virginia 

felt the constitutional scruples that were everywhere 

being voiced in the South. He followed the old expedient 

of advocating a constitutional amendment to sanction 

national internal improvements.17

In his first message to Congress, newly elected 

President John Quincy Adams advocated not only the 

construction of roads and canals but also the establishment of observatories and a national university. Although 

President Jefferson had recommended many of these 

and called for Congress to consider necessary amendments to the Constitution, Adams seemed oblivious to 

any legal limitations. In much alarm Jefferson suggested 

to Madison the desirability of having Virginia adopt a new 

set of resolutions, patterned on those of 1798 and 1799 

(the Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions), and directed 

against the acts for internal improvements. In March 

Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection, LC-DIG-det-4a10697

Portland (Maine) Head Light, the first federal lighthouse, renovated and maintained by the Light House Board

59

3 The Evolution Of Navigation Practice And Policy
1826, the Virginia General Assembly declared that all 

the principles of the earlier resolutions applied “with full 

force against the powers assumed by Congress” in passing 

acts to protect manufacturers and to further internal 

improvements. It was a foregone conclusion that the 

administration would meet with opposition in Congress.

RIVERS AND HARBORS

Federal assistance for internal improvements evolved 

slowly and haphazardly, the product of contentious 

congressional factions and an executive branch generally concerned with avoiding federal intrusions into 

state affairs. In 1824 the Supreme Court ruled in Gibbons 

v. Ogden that federal authority covered interstate law, 

a ruling that, together with the General Survey Act, 

marked the beginning of the Corps’ continuous involvement in civil works. This initial legislation authorized the 

president to have surveys made of routes for roads and 

canals of national importance, in a commercial or military point of view, or necessary for the transportation 

of public mail and to improve navigation on the Ohio 

and Mississippi rivers by removing sandbars, snags, and 

other obstacles. Such congressional authorizations for 

the benefit of navigation became known as rivers and 

harbors acts. After 1824, successive Congresses passed 

one or more of these acts to provide for maintenance 

and improvements on America’s waterways. Each act 

contained two principal parts: a section authorizing 

and directing preliminary examinations and surveys at 

designated localities, and a section authorizing specific 

river and harbor works in accordance with reports previously submitted by the Army’s chief of engineers.18

R. W. Norton Art Gallery, Shreveport, Louisiana

Capt. Henry M. Shreve clearing the raft from the Red River, 1830s, by Lloyd Hawthorne in 1969

60

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
By 1829, U.S. Army engineers 

were using snagboats developed by 

the famous steamboat captain, Henry 

M. Shreve, to remove obstructions 

in river channels. Appointed by the 

secretary of war as superintendent of 

western rivers, Shreve realized that 

the use of a steam engine and other 

design techniques would reduce by 

half the cost of snag removal. His first 

double-hulled snagboat, the Heliopolis, successfully removed extensive 

obstructions along the lower Mississippi and Red rivers (and later the 

Missouri, Ohio, and upper Mississippi 

rivers). An iron beam connecting the 

two hulls was used as a battering ram 

to dislodge a snag from the river bed. 

Lifting capability was provided by machinery instead of 

by hand, which made the vessel a much more powerful 

snag remover. These Corps snagboats, which could lift 

a submerged tree weighing seventy-five tons lodged 

up to twenty feet deep, became known as “Uncle Sam’s 

Toothpullers.” Shreve, who eventually received a patent 

on his snagboat design, also began clearing riverbanks 

to prevent falling trees from sinking into the river and 

becoming navigational hazards.19

In the mid-nineteenth century, the Army began 

constructing wing dams, stone structures that extended 

downstream from the bank of the river at a forty-fivedegree angle. The dams decreased the width of the 

channel, thereby increasing the current’s velocity and 

directing its force against the riverbed. Theoretically, 

these structures would cause the river to scour a deeper 

channel. Major Long experimented with wing dams 

along the Ohio in the 1840s on a compacted gravel bar 

near Henderson, Kentucky, just below the mouth of the 

Green River. At low-river stage, this bar was covered by 

only fifteen inches of water. After preliminary studies, 

the major outfitted several flatboats with hand-powered 

pile drivers and began to build a wing dam. Long experimented with various widths, lengths, and heights, but 

his final structure was 402 yards long and consisted of 

twin rows of 1,400 piles joined with stringers and filled 

with brush. Sediment gathered against the dam and 

helped anchor it to the riverbed. The project’s total cost 

was less than $3,400. Wing dams were used on the Ohio 

and other major rivers during most of the nineteenth 

century, but the stone and brush structures were easily 

destroyed and only marginally effective.20

NAVIGATION ON THE GREAT LAKES

Beginning in the early 1820s, the federal government 

encouraged the settlement of the Great Lakes region by 

subsidizing the improvement of transportation routes. 

Congress appropriated $20,000 in 1824 to deepen the 

channel leading into the harbor at Erie, Pennsylvania. 

Over the next sixteen years, a steady stream of federal 

St. Paul District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

Henry Bosse photograph of wing dams below Nininger, Minnesota, 

on the upper Mississippi River, 1891

61

3 The Evolution Of Navigation Practice And Policy
money flowed to this and other harbor projects in the 

region. Congressmen favoring strict adherence to the 

Constitution, however, continued to oppose federal 

expenditures for internal improvements. By 1840, the 

opponents of federally subsidized internal improvements 

prevailed in Congress and such spending was greatly 

curtailed until after the U.S. Civil War (1861–1865).21

Officers of the Army Corps of Engineers had responsibility for overseeing federal lake harbor improvements 

between 1824 and 1838. In that latter year Congress 

established an independent Army Corps of Topographical 

Engineers (topogs) and gave it authority to conduct most 

internal improvements, especially canal, road, and river 

and harbor improvements while the Corps of Engineers 

turned its attention primarily to coastal fortification. 

Beginning in 1832, the topogs sought to clear the sand 

bar at the mouth of the Chicago River and to build piers 

for a harbor at that location. To complement this effort, 

the state of Illinois, with a federal subsidy, dug the Illinois 

and Michigan Canal to connect the Great Lakes with 

the Mississippi River. Constructed between 1836 and 

1848, the canal began at the head of navigation on the 

South Branch of the Chicago River and extended for one 

hundred miles southwesterly to the Illinois River, which 

then drained into the Mississippi. The Chicago harbor 

served as the eastern terminus of this vital commercial 

waterway. In spite of uncertain funding and environmental and political problems, the Army Engineers built 

port facilities that eventually saw Chicago dominate the 

trade of the West. By 1854, commerce through the Great 

Lakes at Chicago exceeded that at New Orleans.22

Early harbor improvements consisted of channel 

deepening by constructing parallel jetties from just 

upstream of a river’s mouth into the deep water of a lake. 

The jetties, usually 200 feet apart, trained the river’s flow 

to wash away sand and other debris from the channel. 

To provide a breakwater so that lake vessels could enter 

a harbor in rough weather, engineers extended one of 

the parallel jetties beyond the other. Over the years, they 

were extended into deeper water to accommodate everlarger lake vessels and provide greater harbor depth. The 

extension of the jetties, however, lessened the scouring 

effects of river freshets. 

Engineers used wood in most harbor improvements, 

but as early as 1835 they employed masonry in pier work 

at Buffalo. In 1839, the engineers tried concrete instead 

of timbers as a foundation for a new masonry pier. 

Concrete construction proved more costly than wood 

and required special skill not always available. Until the 

end of the century when large wooden timbers became 

scarce and more costly to acquire, wood remained the 

primary material for constructing harbor improvements 

for navigation. Typically, the wooden piers consisted of 

a series of timber or log cribs about twenty or thirty feet 

square. Held together with iron bolts and strengthened 

with cross beams, the heavy structures were constructed 

on shore, floated into position in the channel, filled 

with stones, and sunk to the lake bottom. Once a line of 

cribs had been placed, workers built a superstructure of 

sawed timber over them to a height of six or seven feet 

above the water level and then filled the superstructure 

with small stones and planked over it to form a deck. 

Although the underwater timber cribs lasted indefinitely, the superstructure—exposed to rugged weather—

required frequent repairs.23

Army Engineers also had responsibility for other 

navigation improvements on the Great Lakes, including 

beacons and lighthouses. By 1837, sixteen lake harbors 

had such structures, then operated by the Treasury 

Department. The Lake Survey, another congressionally assigned duty of the Corps, began in the pre-Civil 

War era. Although the Army Engineers had long made 

surveys on the Great Lakes in order to prepare accurate 

charts for navigation, the first systematic survey of the 

lakes began with a $15,000 appropriation from Congress 

in 1841. It assigned the task to the new Topographic 

62

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Corps. When the topogs merged with the Corps of Engineers in 1863, the survey became the responsibility of 

the latter agency. The mission eventually expanded to 

include surveying the navigable waters of the New York 

State canal system, Lake Champlain, and Lake of the 

Woods. The Corps completed surveys of Lakes Michigan 

and Superior in 1874, Lake Ontario in 1875, and Lake 

Erie in 1877. The Lake Survey issued its final report in 

1882, but the increased number and size of lake vessels 

soon required updated charts. The work of the Lake 

Survey, headquartered first at Buffalo and later Detroit, 

continued late into the twentieth century.24

The number and size of lake vessels increased as did 

commerce and demands for further improvements. The 

value of lake trade increased from $4 million in 1835 to 

over $60 million in 1846. In response to heavy lobbying 

by commercial interests, Congress again appropriated 

money for improvements. It voted funds in 1844 to carry 

out work at twenty different harbors. These monies 

enabled the Army Engineers to make repairs, complete 

unfinished work, or modestly extend existing projects, but 

more ambitious improvements necessary for permanent 

protection of lake commerce were not possible. Another 

eight years passed before Congress again funded these 

projects. The 1852 river and harbor appropriation of $2.25 

million—although the largest of its kind in the antebellum 

period—paid for only the most urgent repairs and maintenance of existing work and a few new undertakings. 25

Between 1853 and 1861, Democratic presidents, 

Franklin Pierce and James Buchanan, opposed federally 

sponsored internal improvements 

and vetoed river and harbor bills 

intended to improve conditions 

for lake navigation. Lacking federal 

support, local interests did what 

little they could. In 1856, Congress 

overrode Pierce’s veto to appropriate money to improve St. Clair 

Flats, which connects Lake Huron 

and Lake Erie; and St. Marys River, 

which connects Lake Superior with 

Lake Huron. 

By the Civil War, efforts to 

survey and improve the nation’s 

rivers and harbors were hampered 

by politicians with myopic and 

strict constructionist views. 

Because of the parochial interests 

of the legislators, Congress appropriated small amounts of money 

primarily for scattered projects 

of local or regional value. Advocates for internal improvements 

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, ARCE 1900

Engineers making observations of the current near the International 

Bridge just north of Lake Erie at Buffalo, New York, 1899, as part of the 

effort to survey the Great Lakes

63

3 The Evolution Of Navigation Practice And Policy
secured votes only by pandering to reluctant legislators. Sectional jealousies, constitutional questions, and 

conflicts between legislative and executive branches 

further muddied the river-improvement waters, making 

comprehensive planning impossible. 

FEDERAL FLOOD CONTROL

While the federal interests bickered over rivers and 

harbors legislation, regional interests from the Mississippi valley made headway toward the federalization 

of flood control. The first step came with the passage of 

the Swamp Land Grants of 1849 and 1850. Approved in 

the wake of two devastating floods, these acts provided 

aid to the people of the Mississippi valley in the form 

of land grants that transferred unsold swamplands to 

the states of the alluvial valley with the stipulation that 

funds from the sale of these lands be used for building 

levees and drains required for reclamation purposes. 

However, by transferring federally owned swamplands 

to the states to finance levee construction, the federal 

government sought to keep the onus of flood control 

on local authorities.26

At about the same time, Congress affirmed its 

growing commitment to the Mississippi River problem 

by appropriating $50,000 for a survey geared toward 

the preparation of plans for navigation improvements 

and flood control. Secretary of War Charles M. Conrad 

split the appropriation between the military and civilian 

Library of Congress, LC-DIG-cwpb-00124

Topographical engineers at Camp Winfield Scott in the vicinity of Yorktown, Virginia, by James F. Gibson, May 1862

64

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
engineering communities. Lt. Col. Stephen H. Long and 

Andrew Humphreys, then only an Army captain, spearheaded the military effort, although the latter officer 

performed almost all of the work. Charles Ellet, Jr., a 

prominent civil engineer educated at L’Ecole Polytechnique in Paris, initiated the civilian effort.27

Completed in 1852, Ellet’s report posited an extraordinary but concise examination without extensive 

analysis of the river’s regimen and lacking the precise 

observations and measurements necessary to support 

his conclusions. Despite its brevity, the report evidenced 

Ellet’s advanced understanding of the Mississippi River 

problem. He concluded that the federal government 

should assume responsibility for improving the Mississippi River for both navigation and flood-control purposes 

and identified a comprehensive approach to accomplish 

just that. His plan, which incorporated various engineering techniques working together to both accommodate and control the river, included the improvement 

of the existing levee system, with special emphasis on 

the levees below the mouth of the Red River; the prevention of cutoffs along the excessive bends in the river; the 

construction of headwater reservoirs on the upper Mississippi River and on its main tributaries; the enlargement 

of natural river outlets through Bayou Plaquemine and 

the Atchafalaya River; and the creation of an artificial 

outlet from the river to Lake Borgne, Louisiana. Both in its 

recommendation for the federalization of improvements 

along the Mississippi and its support for a comprehensive 

flood control plan, Ellet’s report represented a valuable 

contribution to the treatment and understanding of the 

river. At the same time, though, he openly conceded that 

his report did not dwell upon “microscopic examination,” 

leaving many of his conclusions open to criticism.28

Such criticism materialized later when Humphreys 

completed the second and far more influential study. 

Humphreys and his assistant, fellow West Pointer 

Lt. Henry L. Abbot, completed their investigation in 

1861, after nearly a decade of exhaustive research. The 

500-page study, titled Report Upon the Physics and 

Hydraulics of the Mississippi River, contained the close 

field experimentations lacking in Ellet’s study and represented the most thorough analysis of the Mississippi 

River ever completed up to that time. The Humphreys 

and Abbot report, also known as the Delta Survey, 

dismissed many of Ellet’s unsubstantiated hydraulic 

theories as flawed and erroneous. Additionally, it 

rejected several of Ellet’s conclusions on flood control as 

either too expensive or too dangerous to be attempted, 

particularly with respect to artificial outlets and headwater reservoirs. The report recommended an approach 

based almost exclusively on levees supported by a few 

natural outlets to prevent overflow.29

LEVEE CONSTRUCTION

In contrast to Ellet’s assertion that a plan based extensively on levees was impractical, the Humphreys and 

Abbot report argued that a general levee system “may 

be relied upon for protecting the alluvial bottomlands 

liable to inundation below Cape Girardeau.” Because 

of its unprecedented thoroughness, the report won 

the respect of engineers around the world. The study 

influenced the development of river policy well into the 

twentieth century in terms of both the data gathered 

and the conclusions rendered. Following the Civil War, 

Humphreys, bolstered by the international acclaim he 

received as primary author of the study, became chief 

of the Army Corps of Engineers, a position he used as a 

bully pulpit in defense of his conclusions. As the merits 

of these influential studies were debated among the 

engineering community, the construction of levees 

along the Mississippi River advanced at a rapid rate.30

The 1850s were a relatively prosperous period for the 

Mississippi valley. With the fiscal impetus of the Swamp 

Land Grants, the planters of the lower valley were better 

prepared than ever to fund levee construction. By mid65

3 The Evolution Of Navigation Practice And Policy
decade, most of the levees along the lower Mississippi 

were in place, averaging about four feet in height. But the 

progress made during this period remained haphazard, 

uneven, and, according to Humphreys and Abbot, “quite 

inadequate.” As late as 1857 and 1858, sizable gaps 

existed in the system, and the completed levees were of 

grossly insufficient size, gauge, and cross section.31

THE FLOODS OF 1858 AND 1859

Severe floods in 1858 and 1859 exposed these inadequacies and destroyed much of the progress of the previous 

decade. In 1858, flood levels in the lower Mississippi 

valley were, according to Humphreys and Abbot, “second 

to none of which we have records.” High water inundated 

the city of Cairo, washed away miles of levees along the St. 

Francis front, and deeply flooded the Yazoo, Tensas, and 

Atchafalaya basins. Below Red River Landing, two major 

crevasses at Bell and Lafourche left the fertile country 

between the Mississippi River and Bayou Lafourche 

submerged for weeks. Few of the much-needed levee 

repairs could be made before the spring of 1859, when a 

second flood struck the valley. Though not as severe as 

that of the previous year, the flood of 1859 was of unprecedented duration. The river at Memphis remained near the 

high-water mark for eighty consecutive days. The strain 

proved too much for the fledgling levee system, and at 

least thirty-two separate crevasses formed, leaving much 

of the lower Mississippi valley inundated.32

The floods of 1858 and 1859 proved conclusively 

that the levees had to be built higher and stronger. 

The people of the lower Mississippi valley had already 

expended $40 million for the construction of the failed 

levee line. Nearing the end of their resources, they 

turned to the federal government with very strong 

appeals for aid. By 1861, both houses of Congress were 

considering the problem, but the country soon found 

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

Workmen shoring up a levee during high water near Memphis, Tennessee, in 1927 using emergency 

techniques little evolved from those used the previous century

66

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
itself occupied with more pressing matters. Another 

deluge arrived in April 1861, but this one did not subside 

with the passing of the spring rains. On the morning of 

April 12, 1861, Confederate forces under the command 

of Gen. P. G. T. Beauregard fired upon Fort Sumter, 

plunging the nation into Civil War.33

The conflict postponed work on civil projects, as 

Army Engineers devoted their primary attention to the 

military mission. Because of the naturally corrosive 

effects of flowing water, levees must be constantly maintained and repaired. Necessarily preoccupied by the war, 

the people of the lower Mississippi valley abandoned 

their flood-control efforts altogether, and the levees 

quickly fell into disrepair. General neglect of the levees 

throughout the war years resulted in untold damage to 

the system, as whole sections washed away or collapsed. 

A major flood in 1862 expedited the deterioration, but 

the most devastating damage resulted from military 

operations in 1863 and 1864. To break the Confederate 

stronghold at Vicksburg and flood rebel supply routes, 

the Union army destroyed many levees, including the 

Yazoo and Huspuckena levee—the finest in the delta.34

With the destruction of the levee system nearly 

complete by the summer of 1865, the states of the lower 

Mississippi valley began to evaluate their predicament. 

Four years of war had done much to destroy the prosperity of the region. In 1860, the state of Mississippi 

had been among the wealthiest in the United States; 

following the war it ranked among the poorest. Louisiana, Arkansas, Tennessee, and Missouri were similarly 

impoverished. Property values throughout the region 

tumbled in the years after the war and, as a result, so 

did tax revenues. In 1860, farm property in Arkansas, 

Mississippi, and Louisiana was valued at $607,385,474; 

ten years later that value had fallen to $213,885,602, 

a loss of almost $400 million. The job of repairing the 

dilapidated levee system represented a daunting task in 

the best of times. One Mississippi congressman noted 

that, with conditions as they were, “the prospect of 

an enforced abandonment of the whole delta country 

grew... more certain.” 35 The postwar years saw the 

federal government gradually ramp up its commitment 

to flood control, and the Mississippi valley would be far 

and away the greatest beneficiary. 

WESTERN EXPLORATION

For much of the antebellum period, the Corps of 

Engineers shared responsibilities for federal internal 

improvements with its brother organization, the Corps of 

Topographical Engineers. In addition to their long association with civil works, the topogs also played a key role 

as the young nation rapidly expanded during the early 

nineteenth century. During his first inaugural address 

in 1801, President Thomas Jefferson said, “However our 

present interests may restrain us within our own limits, it 

is impossible not to look forward to distant times, when 

our rapid multiplication will expand itself beyond those 

limits and cover the whole... continent.” Seizing upon an 

opportunity to greatly increase the land size of the United 

States, Jefferson negotiated with Napoleonic France 

for the Louisiana Purchase. Soon after, the imaginative 

president sought to have this large expanse explored, 

with the ultimate goal of finding a Northwest Passage to 

the Orient. The reconnaissance of the Trans-Mississippi 

West began with the four-thousand-mile epic journey of 

Lewis and Clark in 1804–06. They traveled the length of 

the Missouri, Clearwater, Columbia, and Snake rivers to 

the Pacific Ocean and back again.36

Another ten years would pass before the government began to professionalize official exploration. In 

1816, topographical officers—known as Geographers 

during the American Revolution and Topographical 

Engineers during the War of 1812 and thereafter—were 

added to the peacetime Army. Unlike the other officers of the Corps of Engineers, whose primary duties 

centered on the construction and maintenance of 

67

3 The Evolution Of Navigation Practice And Policy
fortifications, topogs performed essentially civil tasks 

as surveyors, explorers, and cartographers. In 1818, the 

War Department established the Topographical Bureau 

under Maj. Isaac Roberdeau to collect and store the 

maps and reports of topographical operations. Like the 

topogs, who numbered only six at this early date, the 

bureau fell under the Engineer Department. 

Almost from the outset, there was great demand for 

the skills of the topographical engineers. The accelerated 

movement of Americans into the interior of the continent served to emphasize the nation’s need for networks 

of transportation and communication. Congress recognized the compelling nature of the requirement in its 

passage of the General Survey Act. This law became 

the basis for topog involvement in the development of 

canals, roads, and, later, railroads. 

COLONEL ABERT AND THE TOPOGS

Along with the growing importance of the topogs came 

increases in their numbers and improvements in the 

organizational structure. Most of the changes came 

during the first decade of Col. John J. Abert’s tenure as 

chief of the Topographical Bureau. A strong-willed and 

ambitious West Pointer who received the appointment 

after Roberdeau died in 1829, Abert sought independence for both the bureau and the topogs. He realized 

his goal in 1831 when Congress removed the bureau 

from the Engineer Department and gave it departmental 

status under the secretary of war. Seven years later, he 

attained the second objective and became chief of an 

independent Corps of Topographical Engineers, a position he held for twenty-three years. Abert sought a great 

deal more for the topogs than prominence within the 

bureaucracy. Whereas Roberdeau had been content to 

manage the office as a depot for maps and instruments 

and as a clearinghouse for correspondence, Abert saw 

his role as planner and administrator for national policy 

regarding internal improvements and western exploration. As a member of the Board of Engineers for Internal 

Improvements, established to evaluate projects considered under the General Survey Act, Abert had a part in 

the selection of tasks and their execution. But in western 

exploration—which for many years took a back seat to 

internal improvements—Abert’s role remained minor. 

His bureau distributed instruments, collected maps, and 

forwarded correspondence.37 Individual members of the 

Corps of Topographical Engineers, however, achieved 

great importance in western exploration and surveys.

During the expansionist era of the 1840s, from the 

first stirrings of Oregon fever in the early years of the 

decade to the acquisition of the huge southwestern 

domain after the Mexican War, topogs examined the 

new country and reported their findings to a populace 

eager for information about the lands, native peoples, 

and resources of the West. Best known of all was John C. 

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, H. Abbot Collection

John James Abert (1788–1863), who became Chief of 

the Topographical Bureau in 1829

68

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Fremont, the dark-eyed and flamboyant pathfinder who 

led three parties to the Rockies and beyond. The ranks 

also included William H. Emory, author of a perceptive 

assessment of the Southwest, and James H. Simpson, 

discoverer of the ruins of the ancient Pueblo civilization 

of New Mexico. Howard Stansbury, whose report of an 

exploration of the Great Salt Lake is still considered a frontier classic, also wore the gold braid of the Corps of Topographical Engineers. In the 1850s, when the emphasis 

shifted from reconnaissance to more detailed exploration 

and road building, topogs continued to make their marks: 

John N. Macomb laid out the basic road network of New 

Mexico; George H. Derby initiated harbor improvements 

in California; and Joseph C. Ives became the first AngloAmerican to descend the Grand Canyon.38

CONSEQUENCES OF GOVERNMENT POLICY MAKING

The disparity between the renown of members of 

Abert’s Corps and the obscurity of his bureau was due 

to the absence of a government policy regarding exploration. The topographical engineers frequently went 

into new country on an ad hoc basis—at the behest of a 

politically powerful figure like Missouri Senator Thomas 

Hart Benton or to accompany a military expedition. 

Topog exploration often took a secondary position to 

other purposes, such as Major Long’s 1819 journey up 

the Missouri River as a minor adjunct of Col. Henry 

Atkinson’s Yellowstone Expedition, or Emory’s southwestern exploration during the Mexican War and subsequent Mexican boundary surveys. 

When exploration and surveys in the TransMississippi West were finally organized and coordinated in the 1850s, Abert no longer wielded the political influence that had brought his ambitions so near 

fruition in the 1830s. Duties he hoped would devolve 

to the Corps of Topographical Engineers went instead 

to the Office of Pacific Railroad Explorations and 

Surveys, a small organization created by Abert’s political foe, Secretary of War Jefferson Davis, and headed 

by one of Abert’s most talented topogs, Capt. Andrew 

A. Humphreys. It was Humphreys rather than Abert 

who would manage the surveys for railroad routes 

linking the Mississippi River to the Pacific Ocean.39

Despite the lack of a unified policy and central direction, the history of topog expeditions forms a coherent 

entity. Topographical officers provided the link between 

the mountain men—those rude, brawling beaver trappers who first probed far beyond the frontier and were 

walking storehouses of geographical knowledge—and 

the civilian scientists who undertook a rigorous study of 

western natural history and resources after the Civil War. 

Between the trappers and the specialists of the United 

States Geological Survey, topogs provided the nation 

with an overall picture of the Trans-Mississippi region. 

They explored bits and pieces as opportunity allowed 

until a general understanding of western topography 

emerged in the form of topog Lt. Gouverneur K. Warren’s 

map of 1858, completed under Captain Humphreys in 

the Office of Pacific Railroad Explorations and Surveys. 

The Warren map was the first accurate overall depiction 

of the Trans-Mississippi West and a milestone in American cartography that reshaped the American sense of 

self and ushered in a new era of Western settlement and 

the exploitation of its water resources.40

FUNDING INTERNAL IMPROVEMENTS

The period of rapid territorial expansion in the 1840s saw 

Congress substantially extend federal jurisdiction over 

inland waters. An important Supreme Court decision 

in 1870 effectively codified this expansion by declaring 

that “those rivers must be regarded as public navigable 

rivers in law which are navigable in fact. And they are 

navigable in fact when they are used, or are susceptible 

of being used, in their ordinary condition as highways 

of commerce, over which trade and travel are or may be 

conducted in the customary modes of trade and travel 

69

3 The Evolution Of Navigation Practice And Policy
on water.” In this decision, the courts merely confirmed 

what Congress and private interest had long taken for 

granted: the right to regulate navigable waters includes 

the right to improve them. 41

Although federal jurisdiction was expanding, the 

states and other entities were still responsible for a great 

deal of construction in the period before the Civil War, 

and they were often assisted by federal grants. These 

were generally land grants or funds of money derived 

from the sale of public land. In 1819, Congress set aside 

five percent of the monies received from the sale of 

lands in Alabama to be returned to the state as a fund 

for internal improvements. Congress continued the 

practice, though generally at 2 or 3 percent for other new 

states entering the union. In 1827, Congress initiated the 

practice of granting rights-of-way through public lands 

for canal projects in states such as Illinois and Indiana. 

The following year, Congress granted four hundred 

thousand acres of public lands to Alabama to finance 

improvement of the Tennessee River at Muscle Shoals 

and Colbert’s Shoals.42

By the 1840s, Congress had given substantial 

acreage to the states—over a million acres, for example, 

to Ohio and Indiana alone. In 1841, Congress enacted 

500,000-acre land grants for public improvements. 

Under this measure, eight states and every publicland state thereafter admitted to the union were to 

receive a grant of public lands for use for specified 

improvements. By the time the program was terminated in 1889, fifteen states had each received the full 

500,000 acres, and two more, Illinois and Alabama, 

had received 209,086 and 97,469 acres, respectively. 

U.S. Pacific Railroad Survey Reports, Volume 3, 1855

A view of the Bill Williams River valley during Amiel Whipple’s Pacific Railroad Survey (1853–54) along the 35th

parallel, 1855, by John Tidball and lithographed by Sarony, Major & Knapp

70

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
The uses of this land were various—some states used 

it to finance public education, others for railroad 

construction or irrigation; some applied a portion 

to river improvements, canals, or roads; one state, 

Minnesota, liquidated state bonds previously loaned 

to railroads. The Swamp Lands Acts of 1849 and 1850 

were a logical extension of this practice, with funds 

applied to the repair and construction of the Mississippi River levees and other flood protection measures 

and in the drainage and reclamation of the lands. In 

1850, Congress extended the act to cover other states, 

and another extension in 1860 included Minnesota and 

Oregon. Eventually, fifteen states received a total of 

64,853,922 acres of land—or 101,334 square miles, an 

area slightly smaller than the state of Colorado.43

Another form of federal assistance to state, local, 

or private internal improvement projects was the 

purchase of stock in canal companies. The first such 

investment came in 1825 when Congress authorized 

the purchase of 1,500 shares in the Chesapeake and 

Delaware Canal Company. This investment was 

followed by four others, with the total investment 

approaching $2 million. Gradually, as the role of states 

in internal improvements projects declined, the role of 

the federal government increased. 

CONCLUSION

The history of federal participation in water resource 

developments in the nineteenth century is one of 

increasing activity in terms of both kind and degree—

and of increasing calls from states and private interests for ever more federal assistance. The numbers are 

impressive. Altogether, by 1860, Congress had appropriated about $14.5 million for river and harbor improvements and another $2.5 million for canals. These 

amounts include the subscriptions to canal companies 

and the monies from the two- or three-percent funds. Of 

that $14.5 million spent for rivers and harbors projects, 

roughly $5 million had been spent on the Atlantic Coast 

and $1 million on the great inland rivers—the Mississippi, Ohio, Missouri, and Arkansas. A trifling amount 

had been spent on the Pacific Coast. 

The value of the land grants is more difficult to 

determine, but certainly the federal government 

transferred a substantial amount of land. Federal land 

grants for canals, according to figures compiled by the 

Department of Commerce, totaled 4.5 million acres. 

Grants for river improvement projects amounted to 

another 1.7 million acres. The Swamp Land Act grants 

overshadowed all others and approached 65 million 

acres of which 51 million seem to have been used at 

least partly for the purposes of reclamation or flood 

control. The states eventually turned over approximately 

14 million acres to various railroads interests. Of the 

nearly 8 million acres granted under the 500,000-acre 

land grants, a considerable part was used to fund river, 

harbor, and canal work. 

These grants and appropriations represent a 

modest amount of aid compared to the assistance forthcoming after the Civil War. By the 1850s, river interests 

in the interior were agitating for far more aid than they 

were receiving. St. Louis rivermen calculated that river 

obstacles such as snags and sandbars resulted in the 

loss of boats and cargo in the amount of $3.6 million 

just for the years between 1822 and 1841. This is more 

than the total federal appropriations from 1824 to 1860 

for the four great inland rivers. By the mid-1840s, the 

first of the river conventions had met at Memphis to 

lobby for more federal aid. That convention would be 

followed by many others. The Civil War brought almost 

all internal improvement projects to a halt and effectively destroyed commerce on the Mississippi River. 

When work resumed after the war, it would be on a 

scale far greater than ever before.44

71

3 The Evolution Of Navigation Practice And Policy
BIBLIOGRAPHIC ESSAY

Several recent studies track the origins of federal involvement in civil works and the ways in which improvement schemes often foundered on questions of political 

ideology and local interests. The best of these are Daniel 

Howe, What God Hath Wrought (2007), and John Larson, 

Internal Improvement: National Public Works and 

Promise of Popular Government in the Early United States

(2001). Another, Paul Paskoff’s Troubled Waters: Steamboat Disasters, River Improvements, and American Public 

Policy, 1821–1860, offers a comprehensive examination 

of the federal government’s river improvements program 

from its beginnings in the early republic to 1844. 

There is still much work to be done on the early 

history of the Army Corps of Engineers. The best single 

volume is Todd Shallat’s Structures in the Stream: Water, 

Science, and the Rise of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

(1994), a wide treatment of the agency though the post–

Civil War period. Martin Reuss’s Designing the Bayous

(2004) is superb as well with a focus on the Mississippi 

Valley and good coverage of the early years. A number 

of Corps of Engineers district and division histories tell 

civil works stories from regional perspectives. William 

Willingham’s histories of the Seattle and Portland districts 

are groundbreaking and provide a nice balance against 

the more numerous studies detailing Corps efforts in the 

eastern United States. Leland Johnson’s works on the 

Pittsburgh, Huntington, and Louisville districts are strong 

as well. For a textbook level treatment, see The U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers: A History (2008) and History of Public 

Works in the United States, 1776–1976 (1976).

William H. Goetzmann’s Army Exploration in the 

American West, 1803–1863 (1959) ranks among the best 

books ever written about the Topographical Corps and 

western exploration. As useful supplements, see Frank 

N. Schubert’s Vanguard of Expansion (1980) and Garry 

D. Ryan’s dissertation, War Department Topographical 

Bureau, 1831–1836: An Administrative History (1968). 

For a recent history of the Pacific Railroad Surveys 

(1853–57), see Matthew T. Pearcy’s “Science, Politics, 

and Bureaucracy: Andrew A. Humphreys and the Office 

of Pacific Railroad Explorations and Surveys” (Military History of the West, 2008). W. Turrentine Jackson’s 

Wagon Roads West (1979) and, especially, Forest G. 

Hill’s Roads, Rails, & Waterways (1957) stand out on the 

subject of road and waterway construction. An excellent 

new addition is Robert G. Angevine’s The Railroad and 

the State: War, Politics, and Technology in NineteenthCentury America (2004). 

There are some superb primary sources on the 

activities of the Army Corps of Engineers in the nineteenth century. Among the best of these are the Annual 

Reports of the Chief of Engineers (ARCE), exhaustive 

and occasionally illustrated. Most of these reports are 

available digitally through ProQuest and date as early 

as 1822. In addition, the National Archives maintains 

Army Corps of Engineers records in Record Group 77. 

Though the finding aids have not been updated in many 

decades, the collection remains an essential resource for 

information on the agency in the nineteenth century. 

Outside of the National Archives, the best of the personal 

paper collections are the Andrew A. Humphreys Papers 

at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, the Henry 

Larcom Abbot Papers at Harvard University, and the 

Thomas Lincoln Casey Papers at the Casey Farm in 

Saunderstown, Rhode Island.

72

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
1 Martin Reuss and Charles Hendricks, “U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers: A Brief History,” Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (CEHO), undated; 

Todd Shallat, Structures in the Stream: Water, Science, and the 

Rise of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Austin, Tex.: University of Texas Press, 1994), 118–20. 

2 Charles Hendricks, “A History of Corps of Engineers 

Civil Works Real Estate Policies,” 1995, unpublished manuscript, CEHO.

3 Shallat, 121; Carter Goodrich, “American Development Policy: The Case of Internal Improvements,” Journal of 

Economic History XVI (1956): 449–60. 

4 Leland Johnson, “The Fourth Pillar of Defense: 

Waterways,” National Waterways Roundtable Papers: Proceedings on the History and Evolution of U.S. Waterways and Ports, 

April 22–24, 1980, Norfolk, Virginia (Ft. Belvoir, Va.: Institute for 

Water Resources, 1980), 24; Martin Reuss and Paul K. Walker, 

Financing Water Resources Development: A Brief History (Alexandria, Va.: Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office 

of History), 19.

5 Ibid.

6 Richard G. Wood, Stephen Harriman Long, 1784–

1864: Army Engineer, Explorer, Inventor (Glendale, Calif.: The 

Arthur H. Clark Company, 1966), 63–64; Leland R. Johnson, 

The Headwater’s District: A History of the Pittsburgh District, 

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Pittsburgh: U.S. Army Engineer 

District, 1979), 59–61; John T. Starr, “Long’s Expedition to the 

West,” Military Engineer LIII (1961): 116–18. 

7 Reconnaissance of the Ohio River above the Falls 

Made in 1819 by Commissioners Appointed by the States

(1819), in Cartographic Division, National Archives; Leland R. 

Johnson, Men, Mountains, and Rivers: An Illustrated History 

of the Huntington District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1754–

1974 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1977), 

22–25.

8 American State Papers, Miscellaneous, II, 533–37. 

9 Leland R. Johnson, The Falls City Engineers: A History 

of the Louisville District, Corps of Engineers, United States 

Army, 1970–1983 (Louisville, Ky., U.S. Army Engineer District, 

1984), 43. 

10 Annals of Congress, 18th Congress, 1st sess., 2578–83. 

11 History of Public Works in the United States, 1776–

1976, ed. Ellis L. Armstrong (Chicago, Ill.: American Public 

Works Association, 1976), 134–35; Niles’ Weekly Register (July 

17, 1824), 327. 

12 Johnson, “The Fourth Pillar of Defense.” 

13 Robert G. Angevine, The Railroad and the State: War, 

Politics, and Technology in Nineteenth-Century America (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2004), xiv. 

14 Carl L. Becker, Beginnings of the American People

(Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1915), 255. 

15 History of Public Works, 25–26. 

16 History of Public Works, 61–62. 

17 W. Turrentine Jackson, Wagon Roads West: A Study 

of Federal Road Surveys and Construction in the Trans-Mississippi West, 1846–1869 (Lincoln, Neb.: University of Nebraska 

Press, 1964), 2–3; Becker, 310. 

18 Shallat, 125–26; Edward L. Pross, “A History of Rivers 

and Harbors Appropriation Bills, 1866–1933” (Ph.D. diss., Ohio 

State University, 1938).

19 Shallat, 144–48; U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, The 

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History (Alexandria, Va.: 

Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office of History, 

2007), 42.

20 John O. Anfinson, The River We Have Wrought: A 

History of the Upper Mississippi (Minneapolis, Minn.: University of Minnesota Press, 2003), 41–45; The U.S. Army Corps of 

Engineers: A History, 47. 

21 John W. Larson, “Ante-bellum Channel and Harbor 

Improvements on the Great Lakes,” National Waterways 

Roundtable Papers: Proceedings on the History and Evolution of 

U.S. Waterways and Ports, April 22–24, 1980, Norfolk, Virginia 

(Ft. Belvoir, Va.: Institute for Water Resources, 1980), 68.

22 John W. Larson, Those Army Engineers: A History of 

the Chicago District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Chicago, Ill.: 

U.S. Army Engineer District, 1979), 25–37; Rufus Putnam, “The 

Port of Chicago,” The Military Engineer (March-April 1932): 

152–54. 

23 Nuala Drescher and James Martin-Diaz, Engineers 

for the Public Good: A History of the Buffalo District, U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers (Buffalo, N.Y.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 

1982).

ENDNOTES

73
24 History of Public Works, 40. 

25 Larson, 76–77. 

26 Martin Reuss, “Andrew A. Humphreys and the Development of Hydraulic Engineering: Politics and Technology 

in the Army Corps of Engineers, 1850–1950,” Technology and 

Culture 26 (January 1985), 5–7. 

27 Charles A. Camillo and Matthew T. Pearcy, Upon 

Their Shoulders: A History of the Mississippi River Commission 

from its inception through the advent of the modern Mississippi 

River and Tributaries Project (Vicksburg, Miss.: Mississippi 

River Commission, 2004), 17–21. 

28 Senate Executive Document No. 49, 32nd Cong., 1st

sess., 1952, 2; Albert E. Cowdrey, Land’s End: A History of the 

New Orleans District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, and Its 

Lifelong Battle with the Lower Mississippi and Other Rivers 

Wending Their Way to the Sea, (New Orleans: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1977), 10; House Committee on Flood Control 

Hearings, 1922, 180. 

29 Arthur D. Frank, The Development of the Federal 

Program for Flood Control on the Mississippi River (New York: 

AMS Press, 1930), 33; Cowdrey, 10. 

30 Reuss, Designing the Bayous: The Control of Water in 

the Atchafalaya Basin: 1800–1995 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1998), 50–52. 

31 Andrew A. Humphreys and Henry L. Abbot, Report 

Upon the Physics and Hydraulics of the Mississippi River (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1861), 153. 

32 Ibid., 181, 183, 185. 

33 Congressional Record, 43rd Cong., 1st sess., 1875, 4654. 

34 Frank, Federal Program for Flood Control, 30; James 

M. McPherson, Ordeal by Fire: The Civil War and Reconstruction (New York: Knopf, 1982), 312; Robert W. Harrison, Levee 

Districts and Levee Building in Mississippi: A Study of State and 

Local Efforts to Control Mississippi River Floods (Stoneville, 

Miss.: Delta Council, 1951), 26–27. 

35 Benjamin G. Humphreys, Floods and Levees of the 

Mississippi River (Memphis, Tenn: Mississippi River Levee 

Association, 1914), 22, 24. 

36 The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History, 21–27; 

Frank N. Schubert, Vanguard of Expansion: Army Engineers 

in the Trans-Mississippi West, 1819–1879 (Alexandria, Va.: 

Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office of History, 

1980), vii–viii. 

37 William H. Goetzmann, Army Exploration in the 

American West, 1803–1863 (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University 

Press, 1959); Garry D. Ryan, War Department Topographical 

Bureau, 1831–1863: An Administrative History (Ph.D. diss., 

American University, 1968). 

38 Goetzmann, 380–393; Schubert, 88–90. 

39 Matthew T. Pearcy, “Science, Politics, and Bureaucracy: Andrew A. Humphreys and the Office of Pacific Railroad 

Explorations and Surveys,” Military History of the West 38 

(2008): 84–114. 

40 Schubert, 123; Pearcy, “Science, Politics, and 

Bureaucracy,” 96–98. 

41 The Daniel Ball, 77 U.S. 557 (1870).

42 Reuss and Walker, 8–10. 

43 Reuss and Walker, 9; Reuss, Designing the Bayous, 

45–46; Camillo and Pearcy, 17–18. 

44 Reuss and Walker, 8–10. 

74

4

Half a century after the founding of the Bureau of the Waterstaat in 1798—an occasion that marked 

the formal centralization of Dutch water management—

the actors involved were still enmeshed in a politically 

sensitive, subtle, and fragile constellation of regulations, 

competencies, and responsibilities. The nation-state, 

provinces, and water boards played their roles within a 

legal framework subject to a variety of interpretations 

and chronic debate. Tensions persisted between the 

water management ambitions of the centralized Dutch 

state and the deeply rooted freedom and expertise of 

local and regional organizations in this domain. The 

specific, if often tacit, knowledge of regional actors was 

vital in an era that lacked profound theoretical insights 

and, accordingly, authoritative central expertise in 

water management.1 So in 1848, the Rijkswaterstaat’s 

regionally-based organization still served primarily to 

offer national resistance or national legitimization (as 

the case might be) to what was still fundamentally a 

regionally dominated water policy. In practice, there 

were tensions between the actors, but these were muted 

inasmuch as the routine business of water management 

gave little reason to change the status quo. The limits of 

the legally ordained order were explored only when individual characters clashed or major external influences, 

such as flooding, intervened.

Yet for the chief engineers of the Rijkswaterstaat—

especially those who had been educated in civil engineering at the Military Academy at Breda—this situation was far from satisfying. They were frustrated in their 

collective ambition by a conservative political establishment and a persistent lack of public funds that inhibited 

the large infrastructural and hydraulic projects that 

might have improved their position.2 In the decades to 

come, things would change in their favor. New kinds 

of knowledge, technology, and materials revolutionized the theory and practice of civil engineering. Public 

finances received a major boost from the intensified 

exploitation of the Dutch colonies. On the horizon 

loomed new international markets that were now 

increasingly accessible thanks to the growing liberalization of trade. Large infrastructure projects were 

undertaken to reconnect the Dutch economy with this 

promise of commercial prosperity, a seductive course 

for a nation that was once the world’s leading trading 

power. All these factors reshuffled water manageLARGE-SCALE PROJECTS IN 

A LIBERAL ERA, 1850–1900

Eric Berkers

77
ment relations in the Netherlands and contributed to 

improving the status of civil engineers in the service of 

the nation-state. A new era in Dutch water management 

was emerging by the third quarter of the nineteenth 

century, an era that started with a political revolution 

and with a new form of public decision making. 

LIBERAL POLITICS, ECONOMICS, AND EDUCATION

In the first half of the nineteenth century it was not 

uncommon for monarchs to interfere directly with 

the hydraulic structure of their kingdoms. That was 

certainly the case with King William I of the Netherlands, whose interventions in the physical shaping of 

his country reflected the enlightened despotism that 

was fashionable at the outset of the nineteenth century. 

Drawing a pencil line on a map of the Netherlands, 

the king showed the engineers of his Waterstaat the 

shortest way from Amsterdam to the North Sea. The 

king viewed the line as a canal cutting straight through 

the dunes, which would revitalize the capital’s flagging 

trade. Only with the greatest difficulty could the experts 

“erase” that line because contemporary hydraulic 

doctrine regarded it as dangerous. 

In 1848, the Dutch Liberal politician Johan Rudolf 

Thorbecke and his sympathizers rearranged matters 

so that a royal pencil line on a map would never again 

have the same impact. The last big hydraulic project 

that had been framed under the old political regime 

was then nearing completion. In 1848 the first of three 

gigantic steam pumping stations started to drain 

the largest lake in the Netherlands. King William I, 

who had impressed his will on the plans to drain the 

Haarlem Lake, would not live to see the outcome of 

this tour de force of nineteenth century hydraulic engineering. He died in 1843. His grandson, William III, 

inspected the drained lands as constitutional monarch 

in 1852. He was joined by Thorbecke, who, as minister 

of internal affairs, was responsible for both the Waterstaat and, as the first premier under the new constitution, for the king.

The coup carried out by Thorbecke and his liberal 

political friends was nonviolent, but nonetheless 

revolutionary. It had appeared possible for a small 

band of liberals, supported by an international revolutionary movement and an economic crisis, to seize 

state power.3 United in their criticism of the rule of King 

William I, they recreated the constitutional framework, 

reorganized public finances, changed fiscal and trade 

politics, deregulated economic life, and increased 

public investments in infrastructure. All this took place 

in the space of three decades between 1840 and 1870, 

with 1848 as the watershed year when ratification of a 

new constitution definitively blocked the way back.4

The new constitution circumscribed the powers 

of the head of state (the monarch) and introduced 

Johan Rudolf Thorbecke (1798–1872), liberal leader 

and main author of the 1848 liberal constitution

Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

78

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
ministerial responsibility. It signified a new reality for 

the Waterstaat as well. Now the minister would have 

to justify his hydraulic policies in Parliament, which 

meant greater influence for civil servants (that is, the 

Waterstaat) in the framing of those policies. A group of 

young, ambitious, and militarily educated engineers, 

led by Leopold van der Kun, seized this opportunity 

to get chronic hydraulic problems and long-cherished 

plans placed high on the political agenda. As one of 

these engineers expressed it in 1849: The “new political 

life,” the “simplified state administration” made it “a 

felicitous moment to mobilize everything that can serve 

to animate the prosperity of the Nation.”5

Suddenly all seemed possible, and much was 

certainly required, because many regarded the Netherlands as having entered a state of serious decline. 

The Belgian secession had been a blow to morale and 

the policies of the “Merchant King” (William I) had all 

but bankrupted the treasury. Moreover, the 1851 World 

Exhibition in London had ranked the nations on a “progress-scale” and the once-so-illustrious Netherlands had 

come out second rate. Plans were needed, along with 

the necessary financing. In the coming decades, neither 

would be in short supply. In the years around 1850 the 

new élan stimulated a flurry of ambitious, utopian, and 

sometimes grandiose ideas, elaborated in brochures, 

discussed at meetings, and debated in Parliament.

A basic legitimation for many of the hydraulic and 

infrastructure plans was the gradual liberalization 

of world trade. Around the middle of the nineteenth 

century, the economic theory and ideology of liberal 

“free trade” was gaining the upper hand over economic 

theories and economies based on protectionism. In 

1849, for example, the English liberalized their shipping 

laws and from 1845 on the Dutch, too, reduced their 

trade tariffs step by step—with as high points the Van 

Bosse shipping law of 1862 and the general tariff revisions of 1877.6

 But the fiscal-economic modernization 

could benefit trade and industry only if that modernization was coupled with the modernization of infrastructure. Engineers, too, would have to make their contribution to Dutch welfare. “All the important sea harbors, 

except those of the Dutch, reach with iron arms into the 

furthest hinterlands.... Our harbors, rivers, canals and 

railways ... their improvement and expansion, is the goal 

for which we should strive.”7

Not only trade, but also the education of the engineers and supervisors of the Waterstaat underwent a 

process of liberalization in the third quarter of the nineteenth century. As discussed in Chapter Two, Dutch 

Waterstaat engineers of the early nineteenth century 

had had a practical background and, later on, a military tradition. This would gradually change. A turning 

point was 1842, when the national program of studies 

in civil engineering was moved from the Royal Military Academy in Breda to the civilian Royal Academy 

in Delft. King William II (who reigned from 1840 until 

his death in 1849) wanted to educate civil engineers 

for broader purposes, including water management, 

industry, and trade. At first, stiff admissions requirements, a strict curriculum, and intensive surveillance 

of students continued to characterize the program 

of studies: “visions of increased freedom had not yet 

emerged; the number of students was still relatively 

small,” as a commentator on the first years of the Royal 

Academy would put it in 1862.8 The former aspect, especially, was soon to change.

When, after a period of relative leniency in the 

1850s, a stricter regime was re-imposed at the Royal 

Academy, a veritable uprising took place among the 

students who had in the meantime organized themselves in a student corporation (in imitation of university 

traditions) with the support of several staff members. 

A large majority of the students, touched by the liberal 

spirit of the times, refused to sign the stricter statutes, 

which prompted the minister to close the academy at 

79

4 Large-Scale Projects In A Liberal Era
the end of 1861. The rebellious engineers-in-training 

won. Not only was the implementation of the new statutes cancelled, but the Law on Secondary Education of 

1863, one of the jewels in the crown of political liberalism, now mandated the founding of a Polytechnical 

School, offering three years of education to would-be 

industrialists and technologists and four years to future 

civil engineers and architects.9 The same law, moreover, 

created the Higher Burgher School. This school type, 

which offered secondary education to a somewhat 

larger portion of the population, granted admission 

to the Polytechnical School. While this enlarged the 

pool from which future Waterstaat engineers could be 

recruited, it also provided a preparatory school for the 

growing number of supervisors and higher Waterstaat 

personnel below the rank of engineer.10 In the subsequent decades the role and status of technology and 

engineers in Dutch society would change to such a 

degree that increasingly vehement arguments were put 

forth, especially by engineers and their associations, to 

grant the Polytechnical School full academic rights, on a 

par with the traditional universities.

For an expanding group of laborers and lower 

Waterstaat personnel, the trade schools, which began to 

multiply after 1860, provided a new option for gaining 

knowledge. In this way, during the third quarter of 

the nineteenth century, the knowledge base in the 

domain of water management was expanded: from top 

to bottom; from engineers, supervisors and clerks to 

laborers. This also had consequences for employment 

requirements and career opportunities. New technologies and materials made demands on the knowledge 

Classroom for technical design classes in the Delft Polytechnical School, 1895

Delft University of Technology

80

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
of “higher” and “lower” personnel. Under the liberal 

regime the acquisition of knowledge was adapted to 

modern times. All who wished to advance in an organization like the Rijkswaterstaat had to make use of 

the expanded educational opportunities. The national 

Waterstaat agency recruited its personnel via competitive examinations for which, to the disappointment of 

some, theoretical knowledge was steadily growing more 

important relative to practical knowledge.11

For the engineers, the developments of the 1850s 

and the Education Law of 1863 meant that they were 

no longer being educated within the hierarchical 

structures and mentalities in which their nineteenth 

century predecessors had been confined. In the ambitious liberal state—which had turned its economic gaze 

outward, taken up the challenge of social revitalization 

and was forming a class of self-conscious citizens—the 

Waterstaat engineer traded in his “gold braids and 

sword tassel” for a more civilian outfit. From then on 

he could only legitimate his authority on the basis of 

the knowledge and skills he had gained through education and experience. His hierarchical position in the 

state apparatus no longer counted for much. In line 

with this shift, the Royal Institute of Engineers, founded 

in 1847, provided a new opportunity for the exchange 

of knowledge. The institute developed into an important forum in which domestic developments in water 

management were discussed, foreign developments 

were followed, and the activities of engineers were legitimized within the profession itself. The Transactions of 

the KIvI (Verhandelingen van het KIvI) and the journal 

De Ingenieur, published since 1886 by the Association 

of Civil Engineers (Vereeniging van Burgerlijke Engineers), became important sources of knowledge for the 

new generations of engineers.12 The two journals were 

merged in 1900. But the crowning glory of “the new 

engineer”—full academic status—would not be attained 

in the nineteenth century.

RAILS, RESOURCES, AND A NATION REBORN

Liberal spirit and ambition were in plentiful supply 

around 1850, but the necessary financial arrangements 

were absent because the treasury was empty. These 

circumstances contributed to the attractiveness of 

leaving the construction of a railway network to private 

initiative. However, despite the success of the country’s 

first railway line, opened in 1839 between Amsterdam 

and Haarlem, the length of track added in the twenty 

years that followed was disappointing. For a long time it 

had appeared likely that private investors could furnish 

the country with a railway network; until 1860, investors 

had filed nearly one hundred requests for concessions to 

build and exploit railway lines. Concessions were actually granted for more than 1,250 kilometers of track, a 

figure that corresponded with the track length that had 

already been realized in Belgium—a country which in 

this respect many regarded with envy. For a number 

of reasons, however, it had proved difficult to actually 

realize the concessions. In many cases, the concessionholders were unable to get their projects financed or 

they felt the government’s demands to be too exacting. 

By the 1850s, the “railroad question” had become a 

major issue in Dutch politics. National and regional politicians as well as Rijkswaterstaat engineers entered the 

fray. The debate reached its peak in 1860 when Parliament scuttled the government’s plans for a new concession system. The liberal cabinet fell and a few months 

later the new conservative government passed a law 

stipulating that the state would take responsibility for the 

construction of a national railway network. The Service 

for State Railways was wrested from the Rijkswaterstaat 

and assigned the task. 

The lengthy political infighting about the degree 

of involvement of the state in railway construction 

had not prevented the Rijkswaterstaat from studying 

a number of technical questions connected with the 

building of a railway network. In particular, the neces81

4 Large-Scale Projects In A Liberal Era
1884 Delfzijl

1885

1881

1888

1888 1886

1885

1886

1876

1887

1887

1887

1878

1881

1883 1878

1884

1885

1887

1878

1884

1879 1885

1883

1879

1881

1881

1882

Groningen

Assen

Leeuwarden

Meppel

Kampen

Zwolle

Almelo

Enschede Hen.

Winterswijk

Zut.

Nijmegen

Arnhem

Amer.

Apeldoorn

Amsterdam

Zaandam

Hoorn

Enkhuizen

Alkmaar

Ijmuiden

Zandvoort

Leiden

‘s-Gravenhage

Ha.

Stavoren

Den Helder

Harlingen

Dev.

Venlo

Maastricht Aken

Hasselt

Antwerpen

Vlissingen

Goes Roosendaal Breda

Waalwijk

Dordrecht

Rotterdam

Utrecht

Tilburg Eindhoven

Boxtel

Her.

Amer. = Amersfoort

Dev. = Deventer

Ha. = Haarlem

Hen. = Hengelo

Her. = ‘s-Hertogenbosch

Zut. = Zutphen

Spoorwegen

voor 1875

1875-1890

Railway Network Development, 1839–1890

Green lines built prior to 1875; red lines built in the period 1875–1890

Walburg Pers, Zutphen

82

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
sary bridging of the large rivers promised to make a 

number of north-south lines into a technically problematic and expensive undertaking. 

Budgets for water management and infrastructure 

skyrocketed. These allocations made up an increasing 

part of the national budget, not only in an absolute 

sense, but also proportionally. While water management and infrastructure accounted for some 4 to 5 

percent of the national budget in 1850, that figure had 

risen to 15 percent by 1860. From then until the mid1880s, almost 20 percent of the annual budget would 

be spent on water management and infrastructure. 

After that the percentage gradually declined to under 

5 percent just before World War I. The large increase 

in the early 1860s was mainly due to railway construction—but not exclusively, because water management 

also demanded more resources.13

In view of the Rijkswaterstaat’s increasing share of 

the budget, it is not surprising that in 1861 a prominent 

liberal member of Parliament pleaded for the creation 

of a separate Ministry of Water Management (Waterstaat). How could it be that a man-made nation that 

had to be maintained artificially, did not have its own 

Minister of Waterstaat, but had subsumed the domain 

under Internal Affairs? In such a situation, Van der Kun, 

a leading official in the ministry with water management as his responsibility, could have more power and 

authority than many of his colleagues. A valued engineer, he was chief inspector with sole authority over the 

Rijkswaterstaat as well as being a member of the important Railway Commission. When he died on January 26, 

1864, some mourned what they considered to have been 

the first modern Dutch Minister of Water Management.

Van der Kun’s fifteen years as a leading Waterstaat engineer and top official mark a turning point in 

Dutch water management. Two formidable challenges 

that had dominated water management policy for 

decades were decisively tackled in this period. EngiThe construction of a railroad bridge near Weesp, 1889

Stichting Historie der Techniek, Eindhoven

83

4 Large-Scale Projects In A Liberal Era
neers planned and built a national railway network 

and steam-powered dredges finally began to make 

headway against the centuries-old problem of the 

rivers. Moreover, in the wake of tedious and difficult 

political debate, a law was passed which, by means of 

the construction of two new seaways, aimed to restore 

the cities of Amsterdam and Rotterdam to their places 

on the world map. Finally, plans were made that would 

undoubtedly amaze the world with Dutch derring-do 

and engineering savvy. The Zuiderzee, which penetrated deep into the country and was responsible for 

some 300 kilometers of coastline, might be closed off 

and partly reclaimed. This was certainly not a poor 

showing for an elite corps of engineers that, just prior to 

Van der Kun’s appointment, had been taken to task for 

its lack of knowledge, skill, and ambition. Apparently in 

the intervening years much had changed. The Netherlands had been born anew, as a prominent Rijkswaterstaat engineer had expressed it in 1849, and this rebirth 

had great implications for water management.

RESHAPING THE RIVER DELTA

The complex hydraulic situation in the river delta was the 

main topic in national water management debates in the 

mid-nineteenth century. The rivers were problematic as 

shipping lanes because of the shifting currents and sand 

banks. This problem had an international component, as 

the Dutch were bound by international treaties meant to 

allow unhampered navigation on the Rhine. Furthermore, 

the large rivers discharge of water, ice and sediment periodically caused severe problems for a large geographic 

area. In January 1850, the leading civil engineers, Van der 

Kun and his colleague J. H. Ferrand, presented a comprehensive river plan whose basic concept was as simple as it 

was ambitious; it also promised to be very costly and have 

a great impact on the organization of the Rijkswaterstaat. 

By subjecting the large rivers to a strict regime that was 

to be dictated by engineers (see Table 1) the navigability 

of the rivers could be improved and periodic floods, a 

scourge that severe winters invariably brought to the 

riparian population, could be minimized. With this plan, 

embraced by Parliament, an era ended in which floodways 

(temporary channels through which excess river water 

could flow in times of high water) were the engineers’ 

main answer to the flooding problem. The idea of normalizing the rivers was championed by the new generation of 

progressive civil engineers. In the words of Van Heezik:

The unpredictable, natural (“abnormal”) had to 

be transformed into a predictable, manipulated 

or—as Van der Kun and Ferrand expressed 

it—“more normal” river. In this way the rivers 

could be made completely subservient to the 

stimulation of general welfare and progress so 

ardently desired by the new generation of Rijkswaterstaat engineers.14

L. J. A. van der Kun (1801–1864)

RKD, The Hague

84

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Although the new river plan—in which flood 

control was replaced by river control—was simple and 

lucid on paper, its technical realization was hindered 

by severe obstacles. Although much research had 

been done in previous decades, the 1850 plan in fact 

contained no new insights on how normalization 

could be carried out in practice. Specific knowledge, 

the necessary technical equipment, and the requisite 

funding, were utterly lacking. 

The normalization of the large rivers was legitimized chiefly by the increasing significance of the main 

Dutch rivers as transport arteries for expanding German 

industries. Since the 1820s some German states and the 

German tariff union (Zollverein) had insisted on unhampered and tariff-free access to the sea. The accession of 

liberals to power in the Netherlands meant a change of 

policy in this respect and the chance to negotiate a new 

trade and shipping treaty with their eastern neighbors. 

The German desire for increased liberalization of navigation was largely satisfied. In addition to eliminating tariffs 

on through-commodities, the Dutch also committed 

themselves to improving the navigability of the rivers.15

Projects to improve the rivers were commenced 

as early as 1850, albeit on a modest scale. An important element in the overall strategy was the creation of 

a new mouth for the Merwede River. This necessitated 

narrowing the existing Merwede, and by connecting 

and deepening a number of tidal creeks laying end to 

end, thereby created a new Merwede. The idea was that 

the desired depth would be attained largely through 

natural scouring by the new river’s current. However, 

this assumption proved to be mistaken. The river bottom 

containing clay and peat layers turned out to be too 

hard for nature to accomplish the task. Steam-powered 

dredges might have been able to solve the problem, but 

the engineers were divided in their opinions. The dredges 

were extremely expensive, and some of the engineers 

refused to abandon their faith in natural scouring.

The proponents of dredging received unexpected 

support in 1861. At the outset of that year it became 

painfully clear that the works had to be undertaken with 

more dispatch and that halfway measures—for example 

Table 1. Normal Widths of the Dutch Main Rivers at MidSummer Levels, according to Inspectors Ferrand and Van 

der Kun (1850).

River Section Width in meters

Undivided Upper-Rhine 400 to 450 

River Waal

-Upper part

-Lower part

360

600

Undivided Merwede up to de Oude 

Wiel 600

Old Merwede 300

New Merwede (eventually) later to decide

Hollandse Maas from Rotterdam up 

to the Old Maas 280

Hollandse Maas from the Old Maas

up to the Voornse Kanaal 320

Undivided Nether-Rhine 170

Nether-Rhine down the IJsselmond

as well as the river Lek up to Wijk 

bij Duurstede

150

River Lek from Wijk bij Duurstede 

up to Vianen 170

River Lek up to Krimpen 200

Upper-IJssel 100

Lower-IJssel 170

Upper-Meuse up to Maastricht 100

Meuse from Maastricht up to Mook 100 to 120

Meuse from Mook up to Grave 120 to 200

Meuse from Grave up to 

Loevestein 200

Source: A. van Heezik, Strijd om de Rivieren, 93.

85

4 Large-Scale Projects In A Liberal Era
in separating the rivers Waal and Meuse in the second 

half of the 1850s—were inadequate. At the beginning 

of September 1861, thirty-seven people died as a result 

of dike breaches along the Waal. The Rijkswaterstaat 

leadership seized upon the catastrophe to convince the 

government to pursue the river improvements more 

forcefully. As Van der Kun and his colleagues H. F. Fijnje 

and F. W. Conrad wrote the minister: “Might the financial 

condition of the state in 1850 have compelled working on 

the river improvements with great restraint, this reason 

currently exists in lesser measure, now the sources of the 

treasury flow so much more copiously than before.”16

While the Rijkswaterstaat leadership agitated for the 

intensification of river improvement works, there were 

others, especially the officers of local water boards, who 

held the opinion that the flood catastrophe had been 

caused precisely by all the man-made modifications to 

the rivers.17 It was characteristic of the cultural transformation that had taken place over the past decade that Van 

der Kun and his associates carried the day in this debate. 

The river improvements were set forth with renewed 

vigor, and it was decided to purchase steam dredges. 

This represented a significant break with the tradition: 

for ages contractors carried out the public works under 

the supervision of the public authorities. Until 1878 there 

were six state-owned steam dredges operating on the New 

Merwede. After this, the permanent dredging operations 

were taken over by private contractors.

In the meantime, Prussia kept a sharp eye on Dutch 

progress in improving the Rhine and its tributaries. In 

1861 an international committee of inspection, organized 

by the Central Rhine Commission, concluded that to that 

point the Dutch normalization works had resulted in few 

improvements in the navigability of the main rivers. In 

that year it was agreed that from Cologne to the sea the 

Rhine shipping channel should be maintained at a draft 

of three meters at average low water. The consensus was 

that to achieve this the Waal, in particular, would have to 

be improved. Even after the signing of a new treaty among 

the Rhine riparian states, the Act of Mannheim (1868), 

Prior to the 1861 flood, an 1855 river flood caused much damage. King William III 

visits victims of a Waal dike breach near Brakel

Atlas van Stolk

86

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Ewijk Beuningen

Slijk Ewijk

Ewijk Beuningen

Slijk Ewijk

Ewijk

1830

1872

1888

1890

Beuningen

Slijk Ewijk

Ewijk Beuningen

Slijk Ewijk

land with dike 1.0-2.0m deep

0-1.0m deep deeper than 2.0m

Waal River Channel 

Images of normalization 

works in the Waal, 1830-

1890. The creation of a 

single channel is aided 

by building groynes Matrijs, Utrecht

87

4 Large-Scale Projects In A Liberal Era
Prussia continued to put pressure on the Netherlands to 

pursue the improvement works more vigorously. In 1874 

a new international inspection committee was again far 

from positive about the now partly normalized Waal. 

Shoaling in part of the navigational channel near Rossum 

in the spring of 1876 drew sharp Prussian criticism. The 

sandbank was removed. A year later disaster struck again, 

this time near Brakel and Heerewaarden, with an enormous traffic jam on the river as a consequence. More 

forceful measures were demanded and forthcoming.

When in 1885 a fourth international inspection 

committee steamed down the Rhine to ascertain its navigability, it mixed its praise over what had been accomplished with the usual criticisms. The Waal had to be made 

deeper to sufficiently meet Prussian demands in earlier 

“agreements” and treaties. After new investigations and 

negotiations, it was legally stipulated that the Waal would 

be maintained at a depth of 2.70 meters along its entire 

length, a figure that could later be increased to 3 meters 

if possible. Finally, in 1898, the committee of inspection 

seemed satisfied. Along the entire river they were able to 

measure a channel depth of at least 3 meters.18

While the principle of the normalization of the rivers 

was not fundamentally challenged in the second half of 

the nineteenth century, there were serious debates about 

how it should be done. Between 1850 and 1870 more 

than one-fourth of all the articles in the Verhandeling van 

het KIvI (Transactions of the Royal Society of Engineers), 

the most important engineering journal in the Netherlands, were about rivers. By comparison, railways only 

accounted for about 10 percent in the same period. Dutch 

engineers invested much energy in acquiring knowledge 

about river improvement. French and German sources 

were studied and much trial and error experimentation 

took place, the results of which were duly reported. One 

of the main issues in the field was the question of natural 

scouring versus dredging. It was an issue with the New 

Merwede, and it was even more of an issue in the river 

improvement project, Rotterdam’s “New Waterway” to 

the sea, which will be discussed further. Oddly enough 

the most prestigious part of the reconstruction of the river 

delta in the second half of the nineteenth century was not 

related to the Rhine and its tributaries but to the second 

large international river that emptied into the North Sea 

via the Netherlands—the Meuse.

MOVING THE MOUTH OF THE MEUSE RIVER

At the end of the nineteenth century—after the New 

Merwede and the Rotterdam New Waterway, the Dutch 

delta stood to gain another new component. In 1883 

it was ordained by law that the Meuse River would be 

given a new mouth. Like most costly and radical water 

management projects, this decision had a long history. 

As early as 1823 the eminent hydraulic engineer Kraijenhoff had argued for separating the Meuse from the 

Waal.19 The two rivers were connected by the Canal of 

St. Andries and at Woudrichem, while at other points 

they approached each other very closely, which caused 

severe problems at times of high water or ice drift, especially when floodways were active. Management of the 

water flows to abet safety and navigability in both rivers 

would become much easier if a strict separation could 

be achieved. Because of a shortage of funds, Van der 

Kun and Ferrand had limited their 1848 plan to closing 

the Canal of St. Andries, which was accomplished in 

1856. Furthermore, the Heerewaardense Dike was built 

between 1856 and 1859. As a result, the summertime 

stages of the Meuse decreased. The floods of 1860–61, 

however, demonstrated that the safety of riparian populations could not be guaranteed by these actions. This 

occasioned proposals for more rigorous measures, 

including steam-powered dredging. The Rijkswaterstaat advised reopening the Old Meuse. The terrain 

was surveyed anew and new cost estimates were made. 

These efforts led to a new plan by Rijkswaterstaat engineer Leemans that greatly resembled Kraijenhoff’s plan 

88

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
of 1823, except that now the New Meuse was projected 

north of the town of Heusden. It was also kept narrow so 

that tidal influences would be as weak as possible above 

Keizersveer. Two drainage canals were planned on either 

side of the river.20 The plan was not approved. The wariness was understandable considering the costs, the large 

projects already under construction, and the fact that the 

new river mouth had serious hydraulic and infrastructural implications for a considerable portion of the wellpopulated lands through which the new river would flow. 

But the riparian populations were still burdened 

with the threat presented by the rivers. Catastrophes 

continued to act as catalysts for action. In March 1876, 

the Meuse dikes were breached at nineteen places. The 

entire region east of Den Bosch and south of the road 

between Grave and Den Bosch (with the exception of 

Berlicum) was flooded. The Rijkswaterstaat was asked 

to take another look at Leemans’ plans. Later, one of the 

engineers involved would complain: “Those were days 

in which the Rijkswaterstaat was put to work everywhere 

making plans, somewhat in the manner of giving children tasks in order to keep them busy....”21

In the summer of 1878, Hendrik Rose, head of the 

River Department (established in 1875 as part of the 

Rijkswaterstaat to bring more coherence to Dutch river 

management), was able to submit the new design to the 

minister. Contrary to Leemans’ plan, it now proposed 

to promote tidal effects as high up the river as possible. 

The proposal called for a wide and deep, funnel-shaped 

mouth. In effect, the proposal was not to bring the Meuse 

down to the Amer, but to lengthen the Amer upstream 

to connect it with the Meuse. This plan also entailed the 

normalization of the Amer. The costs were estimated at 

14.5 million guilders.22 This proposal followed the other 

plans into the drawer, being considered too expensive.

By the end of the 1870s, the hydraulic situation in 

northeast Brabant was worse than ever. Although the 

population was used to floods in winter, now it seemed 

Lek

Waal

Maas

’s-Hertogenbosch

Tiel

Heerewaarden

Geertruidenberg

Dordrecht

Gorinchem

Kanaal van

St. Andries

Loevestein

Boven-Merwede

Nieuwe

Merwede

Bergse Maas

Beneden-Merwede

BOMMELERWAARD

NOORD-BRABANT

HOLLAND Linge

Kanaal van

Steenenhoek

Zaltbommel

0 5 km

Hollands Diep

Two New River Mouths

The New Merwede (constructed 1850–1885) and the Bergse Meuse (1885–1904)

Matrijs, Utrecht

89

4 Large-Scale Projects In A Liberal Era
they would have to fear problems in the summer as well. 

Drainage water from reclamations in the Belgian Kempen 

and in southeast North Brabant now flowed unimpeded 

via the Dommel, the Aa, the Dieze, and the SouthWilliams Canal into the Meuse. This meant that now in 

late spring high river stages on the Meuse could lead to 

flooding. In May 1878, 26,000 hectares of land were under 

water. This situation led parliamentarian Van der Schrieck 

to conclude that “there is certainly no situation in The 

Netherlands that is so in need of immediate measures as 

that of the northeastern part of North Brabant.”23

In “immediate need” or not, a new catastrophe was 

necessary to galvanize decision making. In January 1880 

the dike at Driehuizen was breached, and as a result 

most of northeast North Brabant was flooded. Within 

the month the minister informed the Estates of North 

Brabant that he intended to take on the separation of the 

Meuse and Waal rivers, along with the ancillary works. 

He asked the province for the necessary cooperation 

and financial support. A new water board was founded 

and the Rijkswaterstaat set about making a plan. The 

width of the new river at Keizersveer was set at 250 

meters at a minimum. Partly in response to this report, 

the provincial estates of North Brabant, in their summer 

meeting of July 15, 1880, voted to subsidize the project 

to the tune of 1 million guilders.24 But while the project 

now seemed to have gained momentum, the sufferings 

of the riparian communities in the region continued 

unabated. In December 1880, the dike near Nieuwkuijk 

gave way, causing the submergence of the Land of 

Heusden en Altena. In addition, the right mainline levee 

also succumbed to a big ice-dam, as a result of which the 

Bommelerwaard flooded.25

In April 1881, the new water board promised to 

furnish two million guilders. The financial commitments of the province and the water board enabled 

the minister to submit a bill to Parliament in May of 

that year. Parliamentary deliberations took place the 

following November. Just at that moment the Upper 

Rhine in the Netherlands reached the highest stage yet 

recorded in the nineteenth century.26

The decision-making process regarding the 

new mouth for the Meuse reveals the complexity 

surrounding interventions in the hydraulic situation 

in a specific region. In the first place, it was essential to 

determine whether this was a national problem (part 

of a national plan to improve the rivers) or a regional 

problem (improving a provincial hydraulic structure). 

The answer was consequential for the financing of and 

the responsibility for the project. By asking for significant financial contributions from the provincial government and the water boards, the national government 

was making it clear that it regarded the relocation of 

the mouth of the Meuse as serving important regional 

Table 2. Several 19th Century Plans for a New Mouth for the River Meuse

Year Designer Width (in meters) of the new 

river at the location: Costs

Heleind Keizersveer

1823 Kraijenhoff 145 165 unknown

1861 Van der Kun/ Conrad/ Fijnje 145 165 4 million guilders

1865 Leemans 100 150 6.5 million guilders

1878 Rose 167 300 14.5 million guilders

1879 Van der Toorn 150 170 11.7 million guilders

Source: Bongaerts, Scheiding van Maas en Waal, passim; Handelingen der S.-G. (1881/82), T.K., 1137.

90

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
interests. Catholic members of Parliament did not fail 

to point out the disadvantaged position of their fellow 

believers (largely resident in the southern provinces, like 

North Brabant) in comparison with Protestant Holland. 

They argued that the government reserved large sums 

of money for the hydraulic improvement of the western 

and northern Netherlands, while leaving the Catholic 

south to its own devices.27 Hence, the Rijkswaterstaat, 

too, experienced the consequences of the emancipation of the Dutch Catholics. But in fact the contradiction between the northwest, low-lying and Protestant 

Netherlands versus the southeast, higher, and Catholic 

Netherlands had eaten away at the foundations of the 

national Waterstaat agency since its founding. As a 

minister in 1799 complained, speaking of the Waterstaat: 

“I would wish that for one time there would be a large 

project on the side of Gelderland or another department than the center; that would let the gentlemen from 

those quarters see that we do not want to do everything 

for Holland as they wrongly perceive, but in fact have 

nothing but the general welfare at heart.”28 More than 

eighty years later an important part of the Catholic Netherlands still expressed skepticism about the Rijkswaterstaat’s conception of the “general welfare.”

Aside from this national contradiction, which was 

by no means limited to the sphere of water management, it was also prudent with respect to large water 

management projects to take different regional interests 

into account. For example, landowners in northeast 

Brabant made demands related to the relocation of the 

mouth of the Meuse other than those of their fellows in 

the northwestern part of the province. The separation 

of the Meuse and Waal implied higher average stages 

in the Amer, which could lead to drainage problems in 

Constructing the new Meuse mouth involved many additional works, like a culvert for a drainage canal, 1898

Rijkswaterstaat

91

4 Large-Scale Projects In A Liberal Era
its catchment. Drainage was the responsibility of water 

boards which, understandably, demanded compensatory measures from the government. Interventions in 

one place invariably demanded adjustments elsewhere.

In addition to these conflicts of interest, complex 

technical-logistical questions caused the engineers 

involved and those bearing the political responsibility 

serious headaches. Knowledge did not suffice to settle 

disputes about optimal widths and the influence of tides 

and meanders on riverine behavior.29 The largely regionally organized Rijkswaterstaat set up a separate project 

bureau for the new Meuse-mouth, as it had done for 

the New Waterway. The final large river improvement 

project of the nineteenth century could profit from the 

rapid growth in fixed capital and expertise of the Dutch 

hydraulic contractors. Thanks to the many large projects, 

the contractors had been able to invest in new machines 

and material. Consequently, more than 90 percent of 

the digging of the almost twenty-five kilometer-long 

Bergse Meuse between 1887 and 1894 was done by excavating machines. Heavy machinery was also employed 

for transporting earth, including small-gauge railway 

dump-cars and pipelines with sand pumps.30

After the excavation of the Bergse Meuse, the Amer 

had to be normalized and various hydraulic and infrastructure adaptations in Brabant had to be realized. 

Finally in 1904, the Meuse was closed off near Andel and 

the new river mouth near Heusden could be opened. Not 

only did the Meuse thus gain a new mouth, but the overall 

project of improving the Dutch rivers had come to an end.

MAKE WAY FOR THE HARBORS OF ROTTERDAM 

AND AMSTERDAM

While Rotterdam was the most important Rhine and 

sea harbor in the Netherlands in the mid-nineteenth 

century—a status largely resulting from the decline of 

Amsterdam’s harbor—her international position was 

shaky at best.31

Bucket dredges were used during the construction of the new Meuse mouth, 1904

Stichting Historie der Techniek, Eindhoven

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Rotterdam’s most important seaway, the Voornsche 

Canal, was undersized for the rapidly growing ocean 

ships. Moreover, shoaling before the entrance to the 

canal was eroding Rotterdam’s position in the emergent 

transatlantic steamship trade. Various plans had been 

advanced since the 1830s to improve the situation. One 

idea was to improve the New Maas. In order to assess 

this plan’s merits, Van der Kun decided to send the 

young Rijkswaterstaat engineer Pieter Caland to England 

and France in the summer of 1856 to study projects to 

improve the estuaries of the Clyde, the Seine, and the 

Rhone. These foreign projects made Caland enthusiastic 

about building jetties into the sea that would concentrate the river’s current and induce natural scouring.32

After Caland’s first plan for an improved entrance to the 

harbor of Rotterdam had been criticized by a specially 

appointed Council for Water Management, he submitted 

a second plan in January 1858. He proposed digging 

through Hoek van Holland so that the Scheur would no 

longer flow into the estuary of the Maas, but straight into 

the North Sea. The new river mouth with jetties reaching 

into the sea would keep itself at the required draft by 

means of tidal currents, that is, via natural scouring. Later 

this would be referred to as a “homeopathic” solution.33

The Council for Waterstaat responded positively to this 

plan and recommended it with minor modifications to 

the minister on August 21, 1858.34

Around the same time another decision had to be 

made. Private interests had put forth plans for a canal 

from Amsterdam through “Holland at its narrowest” to 

the North Sea, along the lines of the pencil stroke once 

drawn on the map by King William I. More and more sea 

ships were having trouble entering not only Rotterdam’s 

harbor, but Amsterdam’s as well. The Great North Holland 

Canal, dating from 1824, not only entailed a detour to 

Amsterdam of several tens of kilometers, but was also 

becoming obsolete because of its limited width. After 

1848, successive governments were bombarded with 

plans to put a halt to the economic decline of the capital 

by constructing a shorter and wider waterway to the 

North Sea. The most utopian of these—in its way characteristic of the new élan that had infused the Netherlands 

in 1848—was a plan of that same year by mechanical 

engineer and inventor P. Faddegon and soap manufacturer J. Kloppenburg. They proposed reclaiming both the 

Zuiderzee and the IJssel and digging new canals from the 

IJssel near Arnhem past Amsterdam to the North Sea. This 

was all to the greater glory of Dutch trade, shipping, and 

agriculture.35 This plan got little attention, but the government was getting pressure from Amsterdam’s municipal 

government and Chamber of Commerce. It also had to 

take account of other interests, such as the industries in 

the Zaan region and the Ministry of Defense. Therefore, it 

had to consider new ideas and determine the conditions 

under which a concession might be granted. 

In the summer of 1858, the cabinet asked the 

Council for Waterstaat for advice on a plan put forth by 

private parties for the construction of a canal through 

“Holland at its narrowest.” The council, composed exclusively of Rijkswaterstaat engineers, was of the opinion 

that it would be more prudent with such large and risky 

projects—in this case the natural coastal defenses in the 

form of the dunes would be violated—to have the state 

carry out the projects, rather than a private company.36

The council also offered its advice on a number of technical questions relating to the design and the execution of such a canal. Using this modified plan as a point 

of departure, the government decided not to grant a 

concession to private parties but to submit a bill to 

Parliament (at the end of 1859) whereby the state would 

take responsibility for digging a canal “through Holland 

at its narrowest.” Not long after, though, the government 

collapsed in connection with the railway dispute and the 

bill for the North Sea Canal was put on hold. The new 

government finally decided to withdraw it because of the 

high costs and risks it entailed.

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In the meantime, Rotterdam entrepreneurs had 

expressed their concern to the government about its 

failure to decide on a scheme for the improvement of 

access to their harbor. In the harbor city itself, Caland’s 

proposal to cut through the Hoek of Holland had met with 

a very favorable reception. In 1861, when state execution 

of the plan seemed unlikely, a number of city councilors 

requested permission to realize Caland’s plan themselves. 

The project could be profitable inasmuch as the councilors were planning to levy tolls on passing ships. 

In the summer of 1862, Thorbecke, who had once 

again become minister, submitted a bill whereby the 

digging of a canal through Holland at its narrowest 

(Amsterdam) would be accomplished by a concession 

to private investors and the New Waterway by agency of 

the state. Political decision making on the proposal was 

difficult and tedious. Minister of Finance Gerardus Henri 

Betz, who had roots in Rotterdam and was co-signer of the 

bill, vigorously defended it by pointing out that the Dutch 

railway network, then energetically being constructed by 

the state, needed the harbors. He compared the Netherlands to “a funnel, through which world trade can be 

joined with half of Europe, with all the countries that lie 

behind and next to us.... The wider one makes the opening 

of this funnel, the more will pass through it.”37

In December 1862, the bill was finally ratified into 

law by a large majority. Unlike Amsterdam, Rotterdam 

was not obliged to contribute to the costs; nor was 

shipping in Rotterdam subject to canal duties or 

hindered by locks. Rotterdam celebrated the new law 

with a festive display of lights on the occasion of the 

birthday of William III on February 19, 1863.38 Caland 

was assigned direct responsibility for the works the 

following May. Supervision of the works was delegated 

to J. A. Beijerinck, then chief engineer of the Rijkswaterstaat in the district of South Holland. Problems 

with land acquisition would delay the actual start of 

the project until the end of 1866.

Everything seemed to proceed smoothly. By 

December 1868, the 4.5 kilometer-long canal between 

the Scheur and the low-tide line had been completed. It 

had a depth of two meters below average low water and 

a width at the bottom of ten meters. The idea was that 

the channel through the beach would be scoured out 

by the natural current. Only occasionally would a steam 

dredge, such as used earlier on the New Merwede, have 

to remove sand deposited by the river. However, by 1871, 

it had become apparent that bothersome sandbanks 

had formed before the harbor entrance. Rijkswaterstaat 

engineers opted for lengthening the jetties, but admitted 

that knowledge and experience were lacking to find the 

optimal solution. The failure to achieve a deep entry to 

the harbor, the rising costs of the work, and the stubbornness of the responsible engineer, Pieter Caland, who 

The New Waterway, connecting Rotterdam with the North Sea, 1874

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
refused to employ dredges or other artifices suggested by 

interested parties, drove many among Rotterdam’s business elite to hovering between despair and outrage.39

By 1877 the situation had deteriorated to such an 

extent that not only transatlantic shipping, but even 

navigation between Rotterdam and England, was 

threatened. Reluctantly, Caland now had to accede 

to dredging to resolve the most pressing problems. 

But Parliament demanded more energetic measures. 

First, a law was passed enjoining the state to undertake 

“extremely forceful measures for artificial enlargement” 

of the New Waterway. After a change of cabinets, a state 

commission was appointed to investigate the matter 

in great depth. Consequently, Caland was dismissed 

from his post and a plan was adopted that involved 

great amounts of digging and dredging. The knowledge, 

experience, and equipment developed and used during 

the construction of Amsterdam’s North Sea Canal could 

now be put to good use. By the mid-1880s the channel 

had acquired the requisite depth and Rotterdam 

could breathe a sigh of relief. By then, Amsterdam had 

already been reaping profits from its improved access 

to the sea for an entire decade.40

The canal through Holland at its narrowest—called 

by Thorbecke, at the end of 1862, “an old love, still 

young as on the first day”—was dug under concession 

from the state by the Amsterdam Canal Company.41

This decision was partly motivated by the fact that 

at the time the government was overwhelmed with 

public works projects and the participation of private 

capital and labor was welcome.42 The Canal Company 

appointed the Rijkswaterstaat engineer Justus Dirks to 

lead the project. Because of the complexity of the works 

and the dearth of sufficiently competent engineers in 

this era of hydraulic exertions, the company also hired 

the British contractor McCormick & Son and later also 

Henry Lee & Son. 

Construction commenced in the early spring of 

1865, initially along old-fashioned lines, employing 

hundreds of laborers armed with spades and wheelbarrows. At some locations modern mechanical equipment was also in evidence. Steam dredges were used 

to dig the channel through the Wijker Lake and the 

western part of the IJ. These vessels were equipped 

with novel centrifugal pumps and self-acting dumping 

arrangements. Innovations such as Freeman’s suctionpressure system and Hutton’s sand pump were also 

used. These innovations enabled the dredges to pump 

the excavated sand into long floating tubes with great 

force and subsequently, mixed with water, to dump 

the fluid material behind the dikes. By the time of the 

completion of the canal and harbor works in 1878, as 

many as twenty-five steam dredges had been simultaneously employed.43

Joost J. Bakker, IJmuiden

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The construction of the North Sea Canal facilitated 

a transfer of knowledge and equipment from British 

contractors to the Dutch. During the course of the 

project, Dutch contractors had taken over from their 

British counterparts, acquiring some of their equipment in the process. In future projects it would no 

longer be necessary for the Rijkswaterstaat and other 

parties to employ foreign contractors. Thereafter, the 

Dutch “wet” contracting sector developed rapidly and, 

thanks to the numerous contracts, exhibited considerable innovative ability. For example, the contractors 

responsible for digging through the dunes at Hoek 

of Holland, as part of the New Waterway, decided 

to experiment with different kinds of excavators. 

These experiments marked the transition in dry earth 

removal from manual digging to mechanized excavation.44 Innovations in steam dredging that had reached 

the Dutch wet contracting sector from England via 

the excavation of the North Sea Canal were further 

developed here and applied in other projects. The 

1870s were surely the Gründerzeit of what would later 

become the renowned Dutch wet contracting industry. 

One of the first large hydraulic projects able to 

profit from the experimentation with mechanized earth 

moving was the Merwede Canal. Between 1886 and 

1892 excavators were used for much of the necessary 

earth moving. The decision to build this canal, which 

would provide Amsterdam with an improved waterway 

to the Lek River and the Upper Merwede and thence to 

the German hinterland (via the Rhine) and Rotterdam 

harbor, had been taken five years earlier. The amount 

of time it took before the work could actually begin was 

due to the structure of Dutch water management, in 

which water boards were responsible for regional water 

management. In the case of the Merwede Canal, this 

meant that the national state had to negotiate with no 

Crane constructing pier blocks at the IJmuiden harbor, the entrance of the North Sea Canal, ca.1865

Stadsarchief, Amsterdam

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fewer than forty-three water boards regarding modifications in the form of solid dikes, siphons, extra drainage 

systems, and various measures (such as ferries and overhauling for small vessels) to compensate for disruptions 

in the transportation network.

Amsterdam could only profit fully from its new North 

Sea Canal if the city was also provided with an improved 

waterway to the large rivers. The capital city itself had 

favored a route through the so-called Gelderse Valley to 

the Waal near Tiel, but this option was scrapped because 

of its high cost. Ultimately, it was decided to improve and 

normalize the Keulse Vaart (Cologne Waterway) up to 

the Lek at Vreeswijk and subsequently to dig a new canal 

from Vianen to the Merwede at Gorinchem. This Merwede 

Canal was an impressive hydraulic feat, which did not 

prevent its shortcomings from becoming apparent almost 

immediately. Amsterdam complained about the “detour” 

via Gorinchem and agitated for “a second waterway from 

Amsterdam to the (Dutch) Upper Rhine.”45 Moreover, the 

locks in the normalized Keulse Vaart soon proved to be too 

small, a chronic evil in a time when ships were growing 

at an alarming rate. The same problems occurred in the 

case of the North Sea Canal and its locks, where engineers 

were continually designing after the fact. In 1885, a mere 

seven years after the opening of the canal, the depth of the 

lock and the canal had already been increased from 5.5 to 

7 meters. Only four years after that, it appeared necessary 

to build a newer and bigger North Sea lock. By the time 

IJmuiden harbor mouth, ca. 1886

Stadsarchief, Amsterdam

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this was completed in 1896, allowing ships with a draft of 

9 meters to dock at Amsterdam, the bridges spanning the 

canal had become a new bottleneck, as a consequence of 

which they had to be rebuilt, and so on.46 Even so, the new 

twentieth century would see a slackening of the pace of 

water resources development work. 

DEFINING AND CONNECTING THE PERIPHERY

At the beginning of the 1890s, many large hydraulic projects had been finished or were nearing their completion. The rivers flowed, more or less, in pre-ordained 

channels and had the requisite depth, the seaways to 

the harbors of Amsterdam and Rotterdam had been 

improved, and other (dry) infrastructure like the railways and the telegraph were finished. These completed 

projects convinced many parliamentarians that “now 

that a permanent decline in the budget for large 

hydraulic projects is coming into view, it would be desirable for the state to expend more effort on constructing 

roads, canals, regional railways and tramways in remote 

regions, which due to their isolation from the main 

arteries of traffic, could not without the support of 

the state achieve that flowering and prosperity which 

could be their due if they were incorporated into that 

general traffic.”47 It was not that nothing had been 

done—in the 1870s and 1880s, many existing waterways 

had been improved and new canals constructed with 

state support, primarily in the provinces of Groningen, 

Bucket dredge at work on the Merwede Canal, 1886

Wageningen University

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Friesland, Drenthe, and Overijssel. Thanks to such 

initiatives, these provinces had become connected to 

the main Dutch waterway network, and thereby also 

to the German waterways.48 The northern harbors of 

Harlingen and Delfzijl had also been improved, but not 

enough to compete with Amsterdam and Rotterdam. 

These northern harbors also lacked the large-scale 

connections to the German hinterland via the Dutch 

and German Rhine that had been provided for the larger 

harbor cities. These connections gave Rotterdam and 

Amsterdam an additional logistical advantage over all 

the other peripheral harbors like Harlingen and Delfzijl 

which lacked this direct route to a dawning industrial 

empire. As Auke van der Woud puts it, the North Sea 

Canal and the New Waterway “defined future economic 

relations in the Netherlands.”49 The center and the 

periphery were in part explicitly, in part tacitly, redefined in the third quarter of the nineteenth century. 

Once the economic and hydraulic interests of the heart 

of the country had been secured, the focus could shift 

somewhat more to the periphery.

One of the hydraulic features that received more 

attention after 1875 were the so-called “navigable 

and floatable (small) rivers.” In addition to the large 

international rivers, the Netherlands also contained 

numerous small streams that were nonetheless of great 

significance for local and regional economies. Discussions about the improvement and management of these 

streams had been carried on for decades. The main 

point of debate was who actually bore the responsibility. Earlier agreements stipulated that if the rivers 

were indeed navigable and “floatable,” the national 

Lock construction near Amsterdam for the Merwede Canal, 1890

Stichting Historie der Techniek, Eindhoven

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state would be responsible. But what if a river was navigable only part of the year? Or if only a part of the river 

was navigable? Because the national government was 

not particularly enthusiastic about assuming responsibility for a plethora of small rivers, a number of specific 

riverine water boards were set up in the early 1880s: 

the water boards of the Linge drainage (1880), of the 

Dortherbeek and the Schipbeek (1881), of the Berkel 

(1881), of the Old-IJssel (1882), and of the Regge (1884). 

Of the so-called “small rivers,” only the Zwarte Water 

near Zwolle was managed by the central state.50 The 

establishment of these water boards was not only the 

consequence of a cautious state, but also of increased 

concern about agriculture during the economic crisis of 

the 1880s. In addition, paved roads and railways were 

increasingly competitive with shipping on the small 

rivers, and improved drainage in Germany was causing 

higher stages and increased flooding. 

Water boards were entitled to state subsidies only if 

the improvement of the river served the general interest. 

The idea of direct state management and supervision 

was thus abandoned. But through subsidies, the state 

could still maintain an interest. Even though subsidies had been promised in the early 1880s, the system 

hardly functioned well. The first subsidy, to the water 

board of the Old IJssel, was not granted until after 1890. 

The delaying factor was the condition that the river be 

maintained as a navigable waterway. The constituency 

Cargo handling in the Rotterdam harbor, 1925

Foto Aviodrome, Lelystad

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of the water board, mostly local farmers, rejected this 

condition. They reasoned that in the case of a navigable 

waterway the state itself should shoulder the financial 

burden. The same thing happened with the Berkel River. 

Here it was also pointed out that the state levied fishing 

duties on the river, and those duties disappeared into 

the national treasury, rather than into the coffers of the 

water boards or provinces.51

This opposition of the agrarian constituencies to 

the new water boards, the completion of some of the 

large national projects, and the relative lack of attention paid to the countryside compared to “the west,” as 

was argued by several parliamentarians, compelled the 

government around 1890 to concern itself more intensively with the small rivers. The floods of 1891 also added 

urgency. Finally, the existing awkwardness in using 

subsidies as an instrument of central water management 

forced the minister to take action. An investigation was 

launched with the aim of creating more uniformity in 

subsidy policy. Ultimately the new criteria for extending 

subsidies were: the river had to be navigable and “floatable” (vlotbaar); the river had to serve a general interest 

(e.g., agrarian or shipping interests); and the river had to 

process large amounts of transborder runoff.

On the basis of these criteria it was now possible to 

extend subsidies to the water boards of the Schipbeek, 

the Berkel, and the Regge. An exception was made for 

the Overijsselse Vecht. This river served a more universal 

interest inasmuch as it received the waters of a number 

of tributaries. Because establishing an equitable division of costs for improving this river would be far from 

simple, it was decided in 1896 that the national state 

would assume the burden.52

Aside from the navigable and floatable rivers, the 

local railways and the intraregional tramways were 

important modes of transport in the countryside. 

Especially during and after the 1880s, concessions 

were granted for laying many hundreds of kilometers 

of track. The state bore responsibility for the legal and 

regulatory framework and granted the concessions. 

State subsidies were forthcoming after 1894, in the 

wake of pressure from Parliament. 

By the end of the century, subsidies had become 

an instrument whereby the state could impress its will 

on water management and infrastructure in regions 

that had a “more specific interest.” This was in contrast 

to water management and infrastructure that had a 

“general interest” for which the state had assumed 

financial responsibility.53 A member of Parliament 

expressed it thusly in 1894: “What may be done for the 

large agglomerations of population, cannot be accomplished for every single autonomous village or isolated 

person, without far overreaching the powers of the 

state.”54 By means of subsidies, the state could invest its 

bounty proportionally. The periphery belonged, but it 

was obliged to know its place.

Panoramic view of the Rotterdam harbors, 1904

Atlas van Stolk

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REDEFINING POLITICAL AND JUDICIAL WATER 

MANAGEMENT

Despite the fact that some had been arguing for 

its establishment for years, for many the creation 

of a Ministry of Public Works, Trade and Industry 

(Waterstaat, Handel en Nijverheid) in 1877 came as a 

complete surprise. It seemed logical to grant sole political responsibility to a domain that was so essential for 

the preservation of the country and that was, moreover, closely associated with core liberal themes such 

as trade and industry. But the opponents of a more 

specialized ministry also possessed good arguments. 

Would not the costs of water management skyrocket 

even beyond the present exorbitant levels with specialized ministers who wanted to flex their muscles? Also, 

would a minister with a limited scope of responsibility 

have enough clout to offer serious resistance to the 

king? Thorbecke feared this would indeed be the case 

and therefore opposed a ministry of public works. 

Finally, some were doubtful of Parliament’s competence to monitor a specialist minister. 

 These fears must have been considerably exacerbated when, only two years after the creation of a 

separate ministry, a civil engineer was appointed as 

its helmsman, not for the first time. For a period of six 

months—from July 1856 to January 1857—the engineer Gerrit Simons, as minister of internal affairs, bore 

responsibility for public works. Simons was not a civil 

engineer in the strict sense but a mathematician and 

physicist. However, he was closely related to or even part 

of the Waterstaat elite of his time because of his involvement in reclaiming the Haarlemmermeer. He joined 

several commissions at several stages of these projects. 

His appointment as director of the Royal Academy in 

1846 made him even more a representative of Delft 

engineers. Furthermore, together with L. van der Kun 

and F. W. Conrad, he founded in 1847 the Royal Society 

of Engineers. However, his ministry was anything but 

Overijsselse Vecht normalization was carried out around 1910. A fascine mattress is being prepared.

Rijkswaterstaat

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a success. He lacked political intuition, was stubborn, 

and belittled Parliament. In delicate matters, such as the 

railway question, he had acted unconvincingly. When 

his budget was rejected he at last tendered his resignation.55 Would the country witness a similar debacle 

when, twenty years later, another—or better—real engineer became minister? 

Fortunately, this was not the case. As minister, 

the military engineer Willem Klerck proved himself 

capable of dealing with a number of knotty issues, 

not the least of which was the construction of the 

Merwede Canal and the administrative separation 

between the national and the provincial public works 

agencies. It is an expression of the increased status 

of civil engineers that in the last quarter of the nineteenth century they succeeded in dominating the 

Ministry of Public Works, Trade, and Industry. As 

ministers they left their mark on the ongoing modernization of the Netherlands. They set about with a will, 

not only with respect to the physical existence of the 

country, but also in societal respects. Minister Cornelis 

Lely, for example, who would claim a prominent role 

in the domain of public works at the outset of the 

twentieth century, twice held sway over this ministry 

at the end of the nineteenth century and impressed 

friend and foe alike with the progressive social laws he 

husbanded through Parliament.

SEPARATING NATIONAL FROM PROVINCIAL WATER 

MANAGEMENT 

At the beginning of this chapter the structure and organization of Dutch water management around 1850 

was characterized as a “sensitive, subtle, and fragile 

constellation.” That certainly applied to the division of 

labor between the state and the provinces. Although the 

Constitution of 1848 certainly defined the relationships 

among the different levels of government, it proved very 

difficult in the customary practice of water management 

to redefine and strictly separate responsibilities. This 

is why the constitution stipulated that the general and 

particular governance arrangements for water management would be organized through additional legislation. 

Parliament had had little taste for this thorny issue and it 

would take decades before more clarity was forthcoming.

And clarity was certainly needed—for example, 

with respect to the position of state engineers vis-à-vis 

the provinces. The latter had long been able to recruit 

the assistance of Rijkswaterstaat engineers for tasks 

delegated to them by the state, which did not contribute 

to strict separation of responsibilities. In the position 

of state engineer they were charged with surveillance 

over the water management activities of the local and 

provincial governments. Hence, when performing 

provincial tasks they were de facto supervising themselves. A large number of Rijkswaterstaat engineers, 

who in any case regarded the low-prestige provincial 

tasks as an unappealing chore, certainly favored a 

stricter separation.56 But liberal politicians, with Thorbecke in the lead, were also proponents. 

The provinces were entitled to create their own 

public works agency—that is, a Provincial Waterstaat. 

However, doing so had certain consequences. More 

autonomy in water management cost money. A Provincial Waterstaat was more of a budgetary burden than 

incidental payments for Rijkswaterstaat engineers. Moreover, it would still have to be demonstrated in practice if 

it was really possible to separate supervision (the state) of 

regional public works from their execution and management (provinces and water boards). A general law on 

water management describing in detail which tasks were 

whose responsibility did not exist. Many feared that the 

creation of Provincial Waterstaat agencies would lead 

to interminable conflicts between governments and 

engineers in the service of those governments. Provinces which, after 1849, indicated a desire to create their 

own waterstaat service were refused permission by The 

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Hague. The usual argument was that first a general water 

management law would have to be enacted. 

In 1862 Thorbecke, who as minister of internal 

affairs (for the second time) also bore responsibility 

for water management, informed the provinces that 

he was considering “separating the central and provincial services to such an extent that the functionaries of 

the Rijkswaterstaat would be restricted to the required 

supervision.” He continued, “I feel it necessary to be 

timely in informing you of my opinion, in order to 

give you the opportunity, in view of my standpoint, 

to consider the creation of a provincial waterstaat 

agency.”57 For a few provinces this was a signal to set 

up their own waterstaat agency, but the majority would 

wait until 1875 to take this step, when Heemskerk, who 

was the responsible minister at the time, as opposed to 

Thorbecke a decade earlier, was willing to compensate 

the provinces financially. The state reclaimed responsibility for a number of infrastructure works that had been 

transferred to the provinces in 1819, thus eliminating 

an important part of the task that the state engineers 

had to perform for the provinces. There remained the 

possibility for provinces “where no separate waterstaat 

agency exists or will be established” to make use of the 

services of the chief engineers of the Rijkswaterstaat. 

A complete separation between the Rijkswaterstaat 

and the provinces was achieved in 1882 when this right 

was revoked and the rest of the provinces opted for the 

establishment of their own waterstaat agencies. 

THE LONG-AWAITED WATER ADMINISTRATION ACT

The intricate negotiations with a large number of water 

boards about compensatory measures in relation to 

the building of the Merwede Canal made it abundantly 

clear that large water management projects of national 

scope had to be carried out in a scrupulous fashion and 

would therefore involve cumbersome procedures. No 

one contested the need to be scrupulous, but if this was 

merely used as a cover for local or regional political or 

even financial gain then it was undesirable for a national 

government which (in cooperation with lower governments) was impelled by a mission to let state and society 

grow.58 It was apparent that without adequate water 

management legislation, cooperation and confrontation 

lay close together. In the 1880s, producing such legislation 

therefore became a priority. The important point was that 

the idea of defining all the political responsibilities within 

the framework of a single law had been abandoned. Some 

had argued that this unified approach was implicit in 

the constitution of 1848. To remove this obstacle, which 

had paralyzed legislation in this domain for decades, the 

modified constitution of 1887 explicitly stated that the 

administration of water management could be regulated 

by more than one law. A few years later Minister Lely 

appointed a state commission “to prepare the implementation of the instructions of the Constitution in regard 

to water management.”59 The work of the committee 

provided the point of departure for a number of important laws which, at the end of the nineteenth century, 

provided a new legal basis for water management in the 

Netherlands. The Keurenwet (Ordinance Law) of 1895 

gave the water boards the right to pass and enforce their 

own ordinances, and the Bevoegdhedenwet (Entitlement 

Law) of 1902 gave them, among other things, the right to 

levy taxes. The Belemmeringenwet Verordeningen (Law 

on Legal Obstacles) of 1899 was intended to override 

legal obstacles rooted in water board charters in connection with the execution of works of national interest. But 

the legal apotheosis was the General Water Administration Act of 1900. In sixty-seven articles the law regulated 

the various entitlements of the state, the provinces, and 

the water boards in relation to supervision, acquisition, 

and management of water management works. That the 

commission had worked in a useful and fruitful manner 

can be deduced from the ease with which the legislation 

passed through both houses of Parliament. The law’s great 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
significance was duly touted, not only in Parliament but at 

great length in the newspapers as well.60

The practice of state supervision over the totality of 

Dutch water management acquired a legal basis around 

1900. The provinces supervised the water boards under the 

minister’s “high” supervision. This was no longer based on 

arbitrary ad hoc interpretations, but had been provided 

with a legal framework and central steering. The result 

was the regulation and normalization of the water boards. 

Reorganizations led to a reduction in the number of water 

boards. Between 1850 and 1900, their number dropped 

from about 3,500 to about 3,000. This was by no means an 

indication that they had become marginal actors in the 

overall system of water management. On the contrary, 

the Keurenwet and the Bevoegdhedenwet provided them 

in many instances with more, rather than fewer, powers.61

Their numbers were reduced and their role changed, a 

process that would continue in the twentieth century.

1900: A COUNTRY IN TRANSITION

Despite the completion of the project to improve the 

rivers, despite the construction and modernization 

of the core wet and dry infrastructures, despite the 

connecting of the peripheries to this core, despite the 

implementation of the General Law on Water Management, at the turn of the twentieth century the Netherlands was not “done” with respect to either infrastructure or water management. It was discovered painfully 

soon with the experience of the North Sea Canal and 

the Merwede Canal that the ships desirous of visiting 

Dutch harbors were continually growing larger. The 

automobile had appeared, and a visionary like Cornelis 

Lely already suspected the enormous consequences 

this would have. New technologies, such as electricity, 

and materials, such as reinforced concrete, had already 

been applied in the domain of water management, 

but it was obvious that more extensive use would be a 

matter of course. Less visible to the general public was 

the emergence of a new, more theoretical approach in 

water management. In the early 1890s the engineer H. 

Doijer wrote the following about river management in 

the authoritative Verhandelingen van het Koninklijk 

Instituut van Ingenieurs:

A river can be considered as the path of a 

moving body, the water. Is that path curved, 

then in addition to a force impinging along the 

tangent and having its origin in the slope of the 

river bed, hence in gravity, there is also a second 

force operative, in the direction of the normal 

to the tangent... the centrifugal force.... The goal 

can be approached by making specifications 

for the shores to which the path of each drop of 

water should actually conform.62

The first hydrodynamic laboratory experiments—

performed at a modest scale in the 1870s and 1880s in 

France, Germany, and England and known to Dutch 

engineers—foreshadowed new design practices in water 

management.63 One of the first hydraulic model experiments in the Netherlands was performed in the early 1890s 

by Cornelis Lely and the Delft civil engineering professor 

Jean Marie Telders. They were interested in demonstrating 

the desalination of an enclosed Zuiderzee.64

What an attentive nineteenth century observer 

must also have seen were the omnipresent functionaries and clerks of the Rijkswaterstaat. The large 

number of projects under construction had led to an 

extensive bureaucratic apparatus composed of functionaries responsible for the management and maintenance of the works. State beacon-masters kept their 

eyes on the sails (and in increasing measure, the smokestacks) on the rivers; lock and bridge keepers operated 

their facilities on the canals; and road supervisors did 

their best to get their stretch of road in good condition 

or keep it that way and, in passing, also served as traffic 

105

4 Large-Scale Projects In A Liberal Era
police and emergency service providers. The number 

of less-visible Rijkswaterstaat office workers had also 

grown considerably, partly due to the increasing 

number of water management laws and regulations. A 

country that was born of art and maintained by art had 

not only acquired a minister of Waterstaat (and trade 

and industry) between 1850 and 1900, but also a water 

management bureaucracy.65

The second half of the nineteenth century had also 

brought something whose significance could not be 

underestimated, namely an immense improvement 

in geographical knowledge of the Netherlands. All 

the water management and infrastructure plans and 

projects rested on a firm basis of geographical data 

and detailed maps. In 1885 a precise national vertical 

reference network based on the Normaal Amsterdams 

Peil (Normal Amsterdam Level) was the outcome of 

the First Precision Water Level Survey, started ten years 

earlier and carried out since 1879 under supervision of 

the then-established State Commission for Triangulation and Leveling. For man-made lowlands, a vertical 

reference network was, obviously, of immense importance. For centuries, the main water boards in the low 

parts of the Netherlands—Rijnland, Delfland, and 

Schieland—used the Amsterdam datum as a reference 

to obtain an assessment of the flood risks posed by the 

Nether-Rhine and Lek. Starting daily tide observations 

in 1674, Amsterdam has been producing the longest 

observation series of sea level measurements in the 

world. The Amsterdam Ordnance Datum has been 

spread over the world. The precision leveling works of 

1879–1885 with “Amsterdam” as a benchmark provided 

the Netherlands with a highly detailed vertical reference network to build on. In addition, the abovementioned commission was also charged with supervising the triangulation survey, necessary for a horizontal level reference framework, ultimately published 

as the National Triangulation Network. 

Precise data on levels and triangulation were 

essential for precise maps. The Waterstaatskaart van 

Nederland (1865–1891) drawn on the foundation of the 

Topographical and Military Map of the Netherlands 

(1850–1864) was not only of great importance for the 

Rijkswaterstaat, it was also unique in the world. That 

was also the case for the River Map, whose first pages 

had already appeared in the 1830s and which was 

completed in 1864. Measuring and drawing the Netherlands involved a large number of organizations. The 

Rijkswaterstaat had established its General Service, for, 

among other things, cartographic work. A Topographic 

Service had been attached to the Ministry of War since 

1815, and in 1874 the Ministry of the Navy acquired a 

Hydrographic Service. The Land Registry Office, a division of the Ministry of Finances, carried out large-scale 

terrain mapping and throughout the nineteenth century 

played an important role in legal questions and state 

dispossessions, thanks to its maps and property registers.66 The development of a geodetic and cartographic 

infrastructure went hand-in-hand with the development of the physical infrastructure in the country. Here, 

too, it was the case that while important strides had 

been made by the end of the nineteenth century, the 

end was hardly in sight.

Of the new élan and strong dynamic in water 

management that had existed in the mid-nineteenth 

century, little remained fifty years later. Around 1848 

political developments had created new opportunities. 

The ministerial responsibility that had been instituted 

and the increased significance of Parliament had led to 

a new kind of decision making that encouraged hope. 

This was supported by colonial profits, the liberalization of world trade, the application and further development of steam and other technologies, and (partly 

in consequence) the explosive growth of the hydraulic 

engineering sector. The engineers of the Rijkswaterstaat, whose self-esteem had been low towards the 

106

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
mid-nineteenth century, longed for, and eventually 

attained “renewal” and higher status.

But the new political relationships also had a dark 

side: decision making simply took longer. Where projects in the first half of the nineteenth century had an 

average “process time” of about six years, during the 

second half of the century decision making was taking 

more than twice as long.67 Regional conflicts of interest, 

often fought out in a Parliament that was chosen by 

district, sometimes had a complicating or paralyzing 

effect. A hefty increase in laws and regulations sought 

to maintain a balance between partisan and general 

interests and responsibilities. Meanwhile, the Rijkswaterstaat had grown rapidly, especially at the bottom of 

its organization. It had gained many tasks in control, 

supervision, operating, and maintenance of waterworks 

and infrastructure. Its engineers not only had to manage 

this growing bureaucratic part of the work, they also had 

to face the new political reality, leading to a increasing 

indecisiveness towards new, appealing projects.

As water management and infrastructure projects had become subject to parliamentary democracy 

during the third quarter of the nineteenth century, 

gradually these topics also became part of the broader 

public domain. Traditionally notables, property owners, 

merchants, and manufacturers had submitted petitions 

to the king, the minister, or their member of Parliament 

in order to have some particular water management issue 

resolved according to their specific interest. They enjoyed 

few rights or legal protection. But things had changed: 

the constitution of 1848 had guaranteed freedom of association and assembly, Parliament had a greater role, a 

Detail of a Waal section on an 1870 river map (second edition). Normalization is in progress, showing groyne 

construction and partial removal of the middle island.

Nationaal Archief, The Hague

107

4 Large-Scale Projects In A Liberal Era
new middle-class was emerging, the Catholic part of the 

population no less than the civil engineers were emancipating themselves and acquiring social stature. All these 

changes facilitated the growth of extra-parliamentary 

interest groups in the domains of water management and 

infrastructure. An example is the Zuiderzee Association 

(1886) and its predecessor, the Zuiderzee Committee. 

Civil engineers were associated as members or advisors. 

The association’s influence was extensive and it forced 

parliamentarians and ministers to act. This did not mean 

that the members’ wishes were always satisfied, but they 

could certainly impose their will on the water management agenda and they forced policy makers to legitimize 

their choices. In the twentieth century their number and 

significance for social water management debates would 

acquire new dimensions.

Those whose role was just about played out around 

1900 were the traditional “hands” of the engineers, the 

enormous number of so-called “polder boys.” During the 

working season they trekked in groups from one water 

management project to another to offer their services as 

diggers, bricklayers, weavers of fascine mattresses, and so 

on. At the big project sites, temporary villages composed 

of improvised huts and associated facilities sprung up. 

The “polder boys” had their own customs, and their presence implied a certain disruption in the normal leisurely 

pace of life in a given region. With increasing mechanization of labor at the worksite, many of the functions of 

the polder boys became redundant. However, the large 

number of projects in the second half of the nineteenth 

century guaranteed sufficient work for them. But when 

the big projects ended, it became increasingly difficult for 

the polder boys to maintain their traditional existence. 

An additional problem was the increasing dissonance between an ever more regulated and ordered 

country and their vagabond, nomadic lifestyle. A survey 

in 1910 revealed that some municipalities resisted the 

employment of large groups of workers “from outside” 

within their town limits. 

A few of the polder boys were able to adapt to the 

changed working methods and materials and stayed on 

in hydraulic construction. For example, a large group 

of mattress-weavers, who saw their work in Rotterdam’s 

harbor disappear before the onslaught of reinforced 

concrete, quickly appropriated the skills of steel bender 

for reinforced concrete constructions. Others sought 

work in foreign countries. And some of the “hands” of 

the Dutch engineers accompanied the export of the 

knowledge and experience of Dutch engineers across 

the border.68 The disappearance of the polder boys at 

the beginning of the twentieth century is symbolic of the 

transition from a traditional craft-based water management sector and society to its modern industrial incarnation. At the end of the nineteenth century, the taillights of the one were fading, soon to be blotted out by 

the dazzling headlights of the other. 

108

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
BIBLIOGRAPHIC ESSAY 

ENGLISH SOURCES

For an informative general overview on the era 1880–

1910 covering major political, economic, and sociocultural issues, see Jan Bank and Maarten van Buuren, 

1900: the Age of Bourgeois Culture (Assen, 2004). 

For a long-term view on the politics of Dutch water 

management, see C. Disco and E. van der Vleuten, “The 

Politics of Wet System Building: Balancing Interests in 

Dutch Water Management from the Middle Ages to the 

Present,” Knowledge, Technology & Policy 14, no. 4 (2002), 

pp. 21–40, and H. W. Lintsen, “Two Centuries of Central 

Water Management in the Netherlands,” Technology 

and Culture 43, no. 3 (2002), pp. 549–68. C. Disco, Made 

in Delft: Professional Engineering in the Netherlands 

1880–1940 (Amsterdam, 1990) describes the professionalization of civil engineering between 1880 and 1940 in a 

societal context. By doing so, Disco extends the study of 

H. W. Lintsen, Ingenieurs in Nederland in de negentiende 

eeuw. Een streven naar erkenning en macht (‘s-Gravenhage, 1980), that is only available in Dutch. A comparative 

analysis of Dutch river management and coastal management is offered in B. Toussaint, “Training the rivers and 

exploring the coasts. Knowledge evolution in the Netherlands in two engineering fields between 1800 and 1940,” in 

Physics and Chemistry of the Earth 34/3 (2009), pp. 132–41.

DUTCH SOURCES

Jan Bank and Maarten van Buuren, 1900: hoogtij van 

burgerlijke cultuur (The Hague, 2000) is the Dutch edition 

of 1900: the Age of Bourgeois Culture. Chapters five to 

eight of Jan Luiten van Zanden and Arthur van Riel, 

Nederland 1780–1914. Staat, instituties en economische 

ontwikkeling (Amsterdam, 2000) comprise a broad overview of the socio-political and economic developments 

in the Netherlands between 1840 and 1913. A sweeping 

international perspective on the impact of systematic 

scientific and engineering knowledge development on 

Dutch infrastructure and river management unfolds in 

A. van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld. Het ontstaan van 

het moderne Nederland (Amsterdam, 2007). On spatial 

planning and infrastructure in the second half of the nineteenth century, see also volume II in the series Techniek 

in Nederland. De wording van een moderne samenleving

(Zutphen, 1993), edited by H. W. Lintsen (see also the 

bibliographic essay in chapter 2).

For a long-term overview of river management, see 

Alex van Heezik, Strijd om de rivieren. 200 jaar rivierenbeleid in Nederland of de opkomst en ondergang van het 

streven naar de normale rivier (Haarlem, 2008) (see also 

the bibliographic essay in chapter 2). On one of the major 

river projects, the Bergse Maas project, see Frans Jansen 

(ed.), Honderd jaar Bergsche Maas: de scheiding van 

Maas en Waal (Wijk en Aalburg, 2004). Older literature 

on this topic is still valuable, notably E. van Konijnenburg, Scheiding van Maas en Waal, beschrijving van den 

vroegeren waterstaatkundigen toestand in Noordbrabant, 

alsmede van de werken uitgevoerd voor de verlegging van 

den Maasmond (The Hague, 1905), and M. C. E. Bongaerts, 

De scheiding van Maas en Waal onder verlegging van de 

uitmonding der Maas naar den Amer (z.p., 1909).

On the New Waterway project, see G. van den Burg, 

De nieuwe Waterweg: poort van Europa (Amsterdam, 

1989) and A. T. de Groot, De waterweg langs Rotterdam 

naar zee 1866–1916 (The Hague, 1916). On the North 

Sea canal project, see J. Moes (ed.), Noordzeekanaal: 

1876–2001 (Amsterdam, 2001), and H. Wortman and 

G. J. van den Broek, Geschiedenis en beschrijving van het 

Noordzeekanaal (Amsterdam, 1909).

On the Rijkswaterstaat organization in this period, 

see Eric Berkers, Technocraten en bureaucraten: ontwikkeling van organisatie en personeel van de Rijkswaterstaat, 

1848–1930 (Zaltbommel, 2002), a Ph.D. thesis about the 

Rijkswaterstaat, struggling between its inherent bureaucratic and technocratic features, from 1848 to 1930.

109

4 Large-Scale Projects In A Liberal Era
1 A. van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld. Het ontstaan 

van het moderne Nederland (Amsterdam: Bert Bakker, 2006), 

173.

2 H. W. Lintsen, Ingenieurs in Nederland in de 

negentiende eeuw. Een streven naar erkenning en macht (‘sGravenhage: Nijhoff, 1980), m.n. 124–36; A. Bosch, W. van der 

Ham, Twee eeuwen Rijkswaterstaat, 1798–1998 (Zaltbommel: 

Europese Bibliotheek, 1998), 68–73.

3 S. Stuurman, Wacht op onze daden. Het liberalisme 

en de vernieuwing van de Nederlandse staat (Amsterdam: 

Bert Bakker, 1992), m.n. 161–70; T. J. Boschloo, De productiemaatschappij. Liberalisme, economische wetenschap en het 

vraagstuk der armoede in Nederland 1800–1875 (Hilversum: 

Verloren, 1989), m.n. 179.

4 J. L. van Zanden en A. van Riel, Nederland 

1780–1914. Staat, instituties en economische ontwikkeling

(Amsterdam: Balans, 2000), 209.

5 B. P. G. van Diggelen, De Zuiderzee, de Friesche 

Wadden en de Lauwerzee, hare bedijking en droogmaking

(Zwolle: W. E. J. Tjeenk Willink, 1849), vol. 2, 401. 

6 J. A. de Jonge, De industrialisatie in Nederland tussen 

1850 en 1914 (Nijmegen: SUN, 1976), 320–24.

7 L. J. A. van der Kun, ‘Proeve ter beantwoording der 

vraag: “Wat kan Nederland op het gebied der openbare werken 

in het belang van den groothandel doen?”’ (nota d.d. 24-4-

1856 to the Minister of Internal Affairs), in: National Archives 

(NA), ministerie van Binnenlandse Zaken, inv. no. 256; Cited 

in: E. Berkers, Technocraten en bureaucraten. Ontwikkeling 

van organisatie en personeel van de Rijkswaterstaat, 1848–1930

(Zaltbommel: Europese Bibliotheek, 2002), 43.

8 Cited in: Lintsen, Ingenieurs in Nederland, 155.

9 Lintsen, Ingenieurs in Nederland,164–72; G. P. J. 

Verbong, “Ingenieurs en het technisch onderwijs 1863-1890”, 

in: H. W. Lintsen et al. (eds.), Geschiedenis van de techniek in 

Nederland. De wording van een moderne samenleving 1800-

1890, vol. 5 (Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 1994), 117–55.

10 C. Disco, Made in Delft. Professional engineering 

in the Netherlands, 1880–1940 (Amsterdam: University of 

Amsterdam, 1990), 59–62.

11 Berkers, Technocraten en bureaucraten, 62–63.

12 Disco, Made in Delft, 206–14.

13 Alex van Heezik, Strijd om de rivieren. 200 jaar rivierenbeleid in Nederland of de opkomst en ondergang van het 

streven naar de normale rivier (Haarlem: Van Heezik Beleidsresearch, 2006), 102.

14 A. van Heezik, Strijd, 87.

15 A. van Heezik, Strijd, 89.

16 Cited in: M. C. E. Bongaerts, De scheiding van Maas 

en Waal onder verlegging van de uitmonding der Maas naar 

den Amer (‘s Gravenhage: Ministerie van Waterstaat, 1909), 15. 

17 Van Heezik, Strijd, 96.

18 Van Heezik, Strijd, 103–04.

19 C. R. T. Krayenhoff, Proeve van een ontwerp tot 

scheiding der rivieren de Whaal en de Boven-Maas en het doen 

afloopen dezer laatste, over hare bedding, op het Bergsche-veld

(Nijmegen: Vieweg, 1823).

20 E. van Konijnenburg, Scheiding van Maas en Waal (‘s 

Gravenhage: Mouton en Co, 1905), 28; Bongaerts, De scheiding 

van Maas en Waal, 25.

21 R. P. J. Tutein Nolthenius, “De drie Maasmondontwerpen”, in: De Ingenieur 19 (1904): 618–19.

22 Bongaerts, Scheiding van Maas en Waal, 27 en 30.

23 Handelingen der S.-G. (1878/79), T.K., 481.

24 Announced in the Provinciaal Blad van NoordBrabant (1880), no. 17.

25 J. Kasteel, Geschiedenis van de Maas en de nieuwe 

Maasmond (z.p.:V.V.V., 1964), 18–19; Van Konijnenburg, 

Scheiding van Maas en Waal, 22–24. (Here also are a map of 

the flooded areas and photographs of the flood of 1876).

26 J. C. Ramaer, J. P. Wijtenhorst en E. van Konijnenburg, 

“De verlegging van de uitmonding der Maas van Woudrichem 

naar den Amer”, in: De Ingenieur 19 (1904): 601–04.

27 See for example: Handelingen der S.-G. (1882/83), 

T.K., 405.

28 See ‘Blanken to Brunings, d.d. 9-3-1799’, in: NA, 

Inspecteurs en commissies van de Waterstaat vóór 1850, inv. no. 

139. Cited in: Berkers, Technocraten en bureaucraten, 23.

29 Bosch en Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen, 120.

30 Ibidem.

31 H. P. H. Nusteling, De Rijnvaart in het tijdperk van 

stoom en steenkool, 1831–1914 (Amsterdam: Holland Universiteits Pers, 1974),181 en 201–17.

ENDNOTES

110
32 Dirk Maarten Ligtermoet en Harry de Visch 

Eybergen, Uitvoering en uitbesteding. Ontwikkelingen in de 

organisatie van waterbouwkundige werken bij de Rijkswaterstaat (Den Haag: Rijkswaterstaat, 1990), 13.

33 So called in C. te Lintum, Een eeuw van vooruitgang 

1813–1913 (Zutphen: Thieme, 1912), 219.

34 Cited in: A. T. de Groot en A.B. Marinkelle, De 

Waterweg langs Rotterdam naar zee, 1866–1916 (‘s Gravenhage: Ministerie van Waterstaat, 1916), 15–16.

35 See: M. G. de Boer, De haven van Amsterdam en 

haar verbinding met de zee (Amsterdam: Gem. Amsterdam, 

1926), 38–39.

36 Handelingen der S.-G. (1859/60), Bijlage XL (M.v.T.), 

157.

37 Handelingen der S.-G. (1862/63), E.K., 1746.

38 W. C. Mees, Man van de daad: Mr. Marten Mees en 

de opkomst van Rotterdam (Rotterdam: Nijgh en Van Ditmar, 

1946), 151–52.

39 M. L. ten Horn-Van Nispen, “De Nieuwe Waterweg 

van Rotterdam naar zee”, in: Nederlandse ingenieurs en hun 

kunstwerken. Tweehonderd jaar civiele techniek (Zutphen: 

Walburg Pers, 1994), 63.

40 Ten Horn-Van Nispen, “De Nieuwe Waterweg van 

Rotterdam naar zee”, 64–67.

41 Handelingen der S.-G. (1862/63), T.K., 5066.

42 Ibidem.

43 Bosch en Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen,107–09.

44 Bosch en Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen, 109.

45 Cited in Van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld, 268.

46 Van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld, 259.

47 Handelingen der S.-G. (1892/93), Bijlage A, hfdst. IX, 

no. 10 (v.v. with the budget for 1893), 1.

48 Van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld, 274.

49 Van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld, 281–82; see also 

Bosch en Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen, 132–33.

50 Handelingen der S.-G. (1891/92), Bijlage 159 (M.v.T.), 2.

51 J. de Koning, “Over waterschappen en kleine rivieren”, 

in: Vragen des tijds (1892), vol.1, 383–84.

52 Wet, d.d. 15-7-1896 (Stbl. no. 131); R. H. van der 

Voort, Overheidsbeleid en overheidsfinanciën in Nederland 

1850–1913 (Amsterdam: NEHA, 2006),168–69.

53 Van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld, 280.

54 Handelingen der S.-G. (1894/95), T.K., 654.

55 N.N.B.W., dl. 5, 742–46.

56 Lintsen, Ingenieurs in Nederland, 260–61.

57 Cited in: M. P. de Bruin, Waken en bewaren. 100 

jaar provinciale waterstaat Zeeland 1881–1981 (Middelburg: 

Provincie Zeeland, 1981), 37.

58 Van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld, 177.

59 K.B. d.d. 21-4-1892 (no.4); H. van der Linden, “Een 

eeuw Staatscommissie voor de Waterstaatswetgeving”, in S.B. 

Boelens e.a. (eds.), Waterstaatswetgeving: verleden, heden en 

toekomst (Zwolle: W. E. J. Tjeenk Willink, 1992), 10–12.

60 Van der Linden, “Een eeuw Staatscommissie”, 26–27, 

40; Van der Linden mentions the Haarlemsche Courant, de 

Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, het Algemeen Handelsblad en 

het Vaderland.

61 Van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld, 182.

62 H. Doijer in Verhandelingen van het KIvI (1891–

1892), cited in: Van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld, 213.

63 Bosch en Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen, 119 en 133; 

Eric Berkers, “Modern ontwerpen”, in: J.W. Schot e.a. (eds.), 

Techniek in Nederland in de twintigste eeuw, vol. 1 (Zutphen: 

Walburg Pers, 1998), 156.

64 Berkers, “Modern ontwerpen”, 156.

65 Berkers, Technocraten en Bureaucraten, passim.

66 E. Berkers, Geodesie: de aarde verdeeld en verbeeld, 

berekend en getekend (Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 2004), passim ; 

Van der Woud, Een nieuwe wereld, 135–56.

67 H. W. Lintsen, Made in Holland: een techniekgeschiedenis van Nederland (1800–2000) (Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 

2005), 87; “process time” is measured from the moment that 

the responsible agency places the project on the agenda up to 

the moment that construction is actually started. 

68 E. Berkers, ‘De handen van “het genie”. Polderwerkers in de 19e eeuw’, in: Tijdschrift voor Waterstaatsgeschiedenis 7 (1998): 97–105.

111

5

The Gilded Age, sandwiched between the Civil War and the Progressive era of American history, was 

a formative epoch: the Reconstruction of the South, the 

Industrial Revolution, and the settlement of the West 

were its hallmarks. Composed of thirty peaceful and 

prosperous years, marred by short depressions and 

skirmishes with American Indians, the Gilded Age saw 

a boom in transportation, the rise of great cities, and a 

revolution in communications—the telegraph and the 

telephone. Americans of the era became so obsessed 

with invention, engineering, and industrialization that 

in 1876 novelist William Dean Howells admonished that 

engineering, rather than art, had become the “national 

genius.” It was an age of weak presidents, powerful 

congresses, and ubiquitous public corruption, mocked 

by Mark Twain when he dubbed it the Gilded Age.1

The period after the American Civil War marked 

the pinnacle of faith that unbridled competition would 

best regulate the economy and society. It was the age 

of Darwinism, unfettered hostile corporate takeovers 

by “robber barons,” contention for world markets, and 

rivalry between railroads and waterways. Politically, the 

era witnessed disputes between political parties, between 

presidents and congresses, and among the northeastern, 

western, and southern states for shares of national budget 

surpluses generated by high tariffs on burgeoning foreign 

trade. This competitive tension forced the Corps of Engineers to adapt in an increasingly fluid environment.2

Because ships cannot achieve the economies of 

larger size and capacities without deep rivers and ports, 

improving waterways seemed key to economic prosperity and to developing foreign trade and the federal 

taxes it generated. This concept, along with a dramatic 

change in American politics, brought the Corps to a 

central position in the national political economy. Along 

with states’ rights, the idea that waterways could best 

be deepened by state and local governments withered 

with the Confederacy’s defeat in 1865. Americans next 

turned to the federal government for central direction 

of national waterways, placing the Corps of Engineers 

squarely in the midst of the new competitive vortex—

economic and political, national and sectional, foreign 

and domestic, presidential and congressional.3

The Corps of Engineers emerged from the Civil War 

as a leader of American engineering. Civil engineers 

were just then attaining professional status, reestabU.S. ARMY ENGINEERS IN THE ERA 

OF SINGLE-PURPOSE WATERWAY 

IMPROVEMENTS, 1865–1900

Leland R. Johnson

113
lishing the American Society of Civil Engineers in 1867. 

From combat officers of the Union army, the Corps 

inherited abundant talent. Wartime leader Brig. Gen. 

Andrew Humphreys became the Corps’ postwar chief. 

Although Humphreys and the Corps were disappointed 

by postwar military construction retrenchments, their 

expanding civil works mission afforded ample opportunities for national leadership of innovative engineering.4

FEDERAL COMMITMENT TO WATERWAY 

IMPROVEMENTS

The election of Abraham Lincoln and departure of 

Southern Democrats from Congress had effectively ended 

the prewar political hostility to federal transportation 

projects based on constitutional scruples. During the war, 

the Republican Party encouraged railroad construction 

with vast land grants and guaranteed loans, and President 

Lincoln signed waterways bills for building seawalls at 

Boston and Buffalo, strengthening the Delaware breakwater in the approach to Philadelphia, and repairing 

timber crib and stone piers at Great Lakes and Northern 

coastal harbors.5

Because combat engineering occupied most officers during the war, the Corps had only two officers 

available for civil works. One managed Great Lakes 

projects; the other was responsible for seacoast harbors. 

The Corps contracted for repairing the prewar projects 

but saw little progress in further deepening the channels because all Corps dredges had been commandeered for military service. Although in 1866 Congress 

offered surplus Navy ships to the Corps for rivers and 

harbors work, the conversion of warships into dredges 

and snagboats proved uneconomical, and the Corps 

found it necessary to start anew.6

Although once a Democrat and opposed to federal 

waterways projects, President Andrew Johnson made no 

effort to suppress postwar federal aid to transportation 

because he was fighting a losing battle against Congress 

on other issues. Johnson signed the 1866 rivers and 

harbors bill, appropriating $3.7 million for forty-nine 

projects on the Great Lakes and the northern seacoast. 

The measure also revived the prewar snag-removal 

program on the Mississippi River system, and mandated 

special attention to opening the shoal-obstructed 

mouths of the Mississippi. Southern rivers and harbors 

in 1866 were clogged with wrecked ships, Confederate 

obstructions, and snags and sandbars that had accumulated during a decade of neglect, but Congress ignored 

those obstructions to commercial renewal until political 

reconstruction was well underway.7

POSTWAR CORPS: ORGANIZATION AND MISSION

To cope with the expanding postwar mission, Humphreys 

reorganized his Washington office into five divisions—

fortifications, engineer battalion and depot, rivers and 

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, H. Abbot Collection

Capt. Andrew A. Humphreys (1810–1883), ca. 1859, 

who became Chief of Engineers in 1866

114

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
harbors, property and accounts, and maps and surveys—

assigning officers to manage each. He made Col. John 

Parke responsible for the third division, rivers and 

harbors—receiving and acting on reports and correspondence from Corps field offices then opening throughout 

the nation. Parke’s prewar experience was mostly limited 

to boundary and railroad surveys, but Humphreys had 

conducted a landmark study of the Mississippi River and 

had significant field experience with the engineering and 

construction of waterways. Together, Humphreys and 

Parke administered the Corps construction program for 

thirteen years.8

In 1867 Humphreys had an authorized roster of 109 

men. He assigned eighteen to field offices managing 

waterways projects, twenty-one to offices conducting both 

fortifications and waterways construction, six to the Great 

Lakes survey, and the remainder to military mapping, 

fortification, and department posts. Initially known as U.S. 

duluth /

superior

green bay

milwaukee

chicago

detroit

windsor

toledo

cleveland

buffalo

toronto

montreal

Thunder Bay

1

5

6

7

9

8

2

3

4

Lake Superior

Lake Michigan

Lake Ontario

Atlantic Ocean

St. Lawrence

Lake Erie

Lake Huron

Legend

Ports

United States Locks

Canadian Locks

Locks

1. St. Lambert

2. Cote Ste. Catherine

3. Lower Beauharnois

4. Upper Beauharnois

5. Snell

6. Eisenhower

7. Iroquois

8. Welland Canal (8 locks)

9. Soo Locks 50

50 100 Kilometers

100 Miles

The Great Lakes 

Located along the U.S.– Canadian border, Lakes Superior, Michigan, Huron, Erie, and Ontario link to the 

Atlantic Ocean through the Saint Lawrence Seaway. They form the largest group of freshwater lakes on 

Earth and contain 21% of the world’s surface fresh water. The Corps of Engineers maintains a continuous 

27-foot-deep draft waterway that extends from the western end of Lake Superior at Duluth, Minnesota, to 

the Gulf of St. Lawrence on the Atlantic Ocean, a distance of over 2,400 miles.

115

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
Engineer Offices, the field offices, which were responsible for several projects by 1884, were eventually called 

district offices, and their military leaders became known 

as district engineers. Because Congress mandated that the 

Corps issue contracts for construction to the maximum 

extent possible, and the contractors furnished most of 

the labor, district offices initially consisted simply of the 

commander, a civilian assistant engineer or two, a chief 

clerk, and perhaps also a draftsman and a messenger. This 

typical field office organization, however, did not apply to 

the much larger offices of Western River Improvement or 

the Great Lakes survey.9

Reestablished at Cincinnati after the war and moved 

to St. Louis in 1871, the Office of Western River Improvement designed and operated the great snagboats built 

to clear the Ohio, Missouri, Arkansas, and Mississippi 

rivers of snags. Typically these were submerged trees 

held fast to the bottom of the river and posing a threat 

to wooden-hulled steamboats. To clear these hazards, 

the Western Rivers office improved on Henry Shreve’s 

prewar design by building much larger dual-hulled 

snagboats equipped with six steam engines for propulsion and snag removal, compared to Shreve’s twoengine snags. When contractors completed the new 

designs, the Western Rivers office employed crews and 

sent them into the field each spring, steaming up and 

down the waterways, pulling nests of snags.10

The Great Lakes survey office at Detroit mapped the 

lakes to guide and improve shipping safety. Begun in 

1841, the lakes survey had continued its work through 

the war with a single officer and twenty-four civilian 

engineers supplying maps to foster lakes commerce. 

Of all Corps offices, the Great Lakes survey office was 

the most scientific, applying advanced surveying technology, experimental hydrographic measurements, 

and astronomical studies to its mission. Indeed, near 

U.S. snagboat Wateree, ca. 1896

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

116

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
the end of the war the office applied telegraphy to its 

surveys, constructing telegraph lines linking harbors 

and using synchronous azimuth observations to determine comparative longitudes. The office also used the 

telegraph to warn mariners of storms blowing east from 

Lake Superior, an initiative that encouraged the 1871 

formation of the National Weather Service within the 

Army Signal Corps. These scientific studies and mapping 

exercises offered excellent training, and brief assignments with the Lakes Survey launched the careers of 

many Corps officers.11

Humphreys paid special attention to the renewed 

project at the mouths of the Mississippi, where his 

prewar survey had made his reputation. In 1867, the 

Corps resumed its earlier efforts to dredge a deeper 

channel through one of the passes, building the experimental dredge Essayons to stir the bottom. Towboat 

pilots guiding ships through the passes blocked and 

delayed the work, storms refilled the dredged channels, 

and the experimental vessel needed constant repairs, 

stymieing Corps efforts to attain a deeper channel for 

years, exasperating Congress, and blockading a principal 

outlet for inland river commerce. Some leaders began 

to question whether the Corps’ experimental dredging 

would ever open a deepwater channel to New Orleans.12

CONGRESSIONAL ACTION: RIVERS, HARBORS, 

AND CANALS

As project work resumed after the Civil War, Congress 

enacted expansive rivers and harbors bills drafted by 

the House Committee on Commerce. Created in 1865 

to handle waterways project authorization and funding 

for the House Committee on Appropriations, the fifteenmember Commerce Committee initiated postwar rivers 

and harbors bills, relying on survey reports by the Corps. 

They reviewed project reports submitted by the field 

engineers as well as funding estimates. When aggregate 

cost estimates grew too large, the committee slashed 

the estimates by a selected percentage. As a result, the 

field offices seldom received as much as half the amount 

they requested, with unfortunate consequences. This 

tendency to grossly underfund projects resulted in 

delays and higher costs and, in time, earned derision as 

the “driblet” appropriation system.13

Before the war, Congress had fostered state and 

private canal and navigation lock projects with supplemental funding and land grants, but it had never 

approved a federal canal project. Hence, the proposal 

in 1867 to build a canal and navigation locks bypassing 

Des Moines Rapids on the Upper Mississippi River was 

novel. The following year Congress initiated efforts 

to take control of two important older canals: the St. 

Marys Canal built by Michigan at Sault Ste. Marie, and 

the Louisville and Portland Canal built by a corporation to bypass the Falls of the Ohio. By the end of the 

decade, the Corps had not only resumed work at its 

prewar rivers and harbors projects, but it had also 

begun efforts to master the technology of navigation 

locks, dams, and canals.14

NEW HARBOR PROJECTS SPUR TECHNICAL 

INNOVATIONS

President Ulysses S. Grant generally approved federal 

transportation projects, and during his two terms 

Congress enacted annual rivers and harbors appropriations, gradually expanding the number of projects 

and increasing yearly funding to $6.5 million. The bulk 

of this funding went to northern seacoast and Great 

Lakes harbors, but rapid settlement of the West brought 

the first funding for Pacific harbors, while projects 

to remove sunken warships and obstructions from 

southern harbors began to restore commerce there, 

supplementing political reconstruction. Throughout 

this expansion, President Grant maintained relatively 

tight rein over rivers and harbors funding, sending his 

adjutant, Maj. Orville Babcock of the Corps to Congress 

117

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
with messages conveying the president’s goal of holding 

annual appropriations within specific limits.15

Great Lakes commerce had suffered little wartime 

disruption. Merchandise flowed west from the Erie Canal 

terminal at Buffalo to railroad terminals at Cleveland, 

Chicago, and other lakes ports, while lumber, grain, and 

ores were shipped east. By 1870, a third of all iron ore and 

three-quarters of all copper mined in the nation moved 

from harbors on the western lakes to two hundred blast 

furnaces, rolling mills, and ironworks at harbors on the 

eastern lakes. Lake harbors generally were located where 

rivers flowed into the lakes, and the Corps had improved 

them before the war by building parallel piers or jetties 

confining river flows to a straight channel, thereby 

accelerating river velocity to scour away shoals blocking 

harbor entrances. The Corps usually built these jetties of 

timber cribs, rectangular pens, or cribs set side-by-side 

and filled with stone. After the war, the Corps replaced 

the deteriorated timber in the prewar cribs, and then 

lengthened the jetties to extend them farther into the 

lakes. Where hydraulic action of the rivers proved inadequate, the Corps also contracted for dredging to maintain 

deeper channels and to open anchorage basins.16

To facilitate thriving lakes commerce, shipbuilders 

constructed larger vessels, and by 1870 the draft of typical 

lake vessels had increased from the prewar ten feet to 

fourteen feet or more, making the crowded inner harbors 

in the river mouths obsolete. The Corps, therefore, initiated projects to construct “outer” harbors at the busiest 

ports—the cities mushrooming around docks where lake 

shipping transferred cargo to or from railroads.17

During the 1870s, the Corps built stone breakwaters extending around the inner harbors into the 

lakes, offering protected anchorage for ships waiting to 

discharge or take on cargo at such major railroad terminals as Buffalo, Cleveland, and Chicago. The Corps also 

dredged the inner harbors to depths suited to increasing 

ship draft, thereby fostering a burgeoning rail-to-shipand-back-to-rail traffic. Indeed, Chicago’s commerce 

grew to the extent that a second harbor became necessary on the city’s south side at Calumet River.18

The situation was different at Duluth, Minnesota, and 

Superior, Wisconsin, at the western tip of Lake Superior. 

These ports lacked a natural inner harbor and were not 

heavily used before the war. Here, the Northern Pacific 

Railroad first developed the harbor, building a pier for 

ships taking on grain, lumber, and commodities brought 

to the harbor by rail. When Congress, in 1870, funded 

improvements here, the Corps extended the crib work 

pier begun by the railroad and dredged a deeper approach 

to the railroad docks. Located in different states, Duluth 

and Superior initially competed for harbor improvement 

funding, but the Corps resolved this by combining the 

adjacent harbors into a single comprehensive project. And 

when oil magnate John D. Rockefeller developed Mesabi 

Range iron ore later in the century, shipping immense 

tonnages in deep-draft vessels to eastern furnaces and 

mills, the Corps dredged the Duluth-Superior harbor to 

sixteen feet, then twenty, and eventually deeper.19

IMPROVEMENTS TO GREAT LAKES CHANNELS

Along with expanding the lake harbors, the Corps paid 

special attention to the channels linking the Great Lakes. 

Although the lakes afforded ample width and depth for 

the largest ships, the narrow, shallow, and rocky straits 

leading from one lake to the next limited ship dimensions. Through projects at the St. Marys River, a 65-milelong strait between Lakes Superior and Huron, and the 

80-mile-long St. Clair and Detroit River strait between 

Lakes Huron and Erie, the Corps sought to open a 

deeper channel for commerce moving from DuluthSuperior at the head of Lake Superior to Buffalo at the 

foot of Lake Erie, a 985-mile sailing distance.20

Detroit’s docks on the strait between Lakes Huron 

and Erie had natural protection from storms, not 

requiring the jetties and breakwaters built at ports 

118

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
along the lakeshores. The Corps’ postwar project there 

involved deepening the connecting channel through 

the St. Clair River, Lake St. Clair, and the Detroit River, 

where the initial limiting depth was six feet. To define 

the dredged channel leading from the St. Clair River 

into Lake St. Clair and prevent storms from refilling the 

excavation, the Corps drove double walls of sheet-piling 

on both sides of the channel, filling spaces between the 

piling to form straight dikes. The result was the St. Clair 

Flats Canal. Continual dredging was required to maintain an eighteen-foot depth through the canal, and its 

walls also required regular maintenance.21

At the outlet from Lake Superior into Lake Huron, 

the Sault Ste. Marie Canal had begun as a state project 

in 1855 when Michigan completed a canal with navigation locks passing ships around rapids in the strait. 

The 350-foot-long tandem locks, designed with assistance from Capt. August Canfield of the Corps, could 

handle three lake ships in a single lockage when they 

opened in 1855; by 1869 they could pass only one of 

the larger ships designed to carry Lake Superior’s bulky 

commerce. When Congress accepted the canal locks 

as a gift from Michigan, the Corps began building a 

515-foot-long lock adjacent to the older locks. Yet by 

the time this new lock was completed in 1881, the everincreasing size of Great Lakes ships had already made 

it obsolete, and the Corps started the 800-foot-long 

Poe Lock, then the largest lock in the world, and also 

dredged Hay Lake channel to a 20-foot depth through 

the strait to the lock.22

Scraper for a dredge boat at Davis Island Dam near Pittsburgh, December 1881

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

119

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
RAILROADS AND COMMERCE

The key to commercial prosperity on the Great Lakes 

was the railroad connections that hauled western grain 

and products to Duluth and Chicago, from which ships 

transported the commodities to ports on the eastern 

lakes where they transshipped again to railroads for 

transport to domestic manufacturers or seacoast 

harbors for export. Lake harbors with railroad terminals 

prospered, receiving the majority of federal funding for 

harbor improvements; lake ports lacking rail connections seldom received major harbor improvements 

unless they offered convenient refuge for storm-tossed 

shipping. Railway and waterway transportation interests 

mutually benefited from Great Lakes shipping.23

Railroad connections with the interior also proved 

important for postwar seacoast harbor development. 

Only at New York, where the Erie Canal and Hudson 

River afforded a waterway connection to western 

trade, was competition between railways and waterways a significant consideration in harbor improvements. There, New Yorkers often observed that railroad rates increased during the winter when the canal 

and waterways froze.24

With both canal and railroad connections to the 

West, New York led the competition with Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and other northern Atlantic ports 

for shares of foreign trade. The nation’s busiest seaport, 

New York had a better natural harbor than other Atlantic 

ports, yet the approach to its East River docks was 

obstructed at Hell Gate by irregular rocky shores threatening safe passage. Here, Col. John Newton of the Corps 

initiated a project in the 1860s to remove the rocks, first 

with contractors who manually drilled holes and filled 

them with gunpowder to demolish the obstructions. This 

approach progressed so slowly that Newton converted 

the job into a test site for experiments with explosives, 

electrical detonating systems, rock-drilling machines, 

and rock-removal equipment.25

Acquiring steam-powered drills, Newton doubled 

the rock-drilling speed and began sinking vertical shafts 

into the rocks. As drilling progressed, Newton tested 

various machine drills, different steels for drill rods, and 

even diamond-drills, finding the latter especially effective. Once the vertical shaft into Hell Gate rock reached 

thirty-six feet, Newton had horizontal headings drilled 

out from the shaft, forming galleries to be filled with 

explosives to remove the rock with a single blast.26

While drilling continued, Newton and his staff 

experimented with various patented explosives—rendrock powder, vulcan powder, nitroglycerin, nitrate of 

soda, and the explosive dynamite, invented in 1867 by 

Alfred Nobel. Because buildings lined the banks near the 

excavation, an explosive system that would demolish the 

rock without damaging nearby property was vital. After 

determining the properties of the explosives, Newton 

selected the best for use at various points, ordering them 

packed in tin cartridges to protect against moisture.27

To test electrical firing systems, Newton obtained 

assistance from Humphreys’ longtime protégé, Maj. 

Henry L. Abbot, who commanded the nearby Willets 

Point Engineer School. After Congress approved submarine mines for harbor defenses, Abbot inspected European harbor defenses, returning with electrical cables, 

firing sets, and batteries for tests at the Engineer School. 

Prior to Abbot’s studies, the Corps had used magnetofriction batteries, turning cranks to generate the electric 

sparks needed for detonating explosives, but when Abbot 

recommended the dry cell battery—invented in 1868 by 

Frenchman Georges Leclanché—Newton adopted it for 

use at Hell Gate. Also advising Newton on the electrical 

wiring needed to link the batteries with explosives, Abbot 

served as the project’s chief electrician.28

With the new batteries wired into cable circuits 

leading to the tons of explosives, Newton, in a final 

innovation, wired a Morse telegraph key into the 

firing circuit, providing a more positive contact than 

120

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
touching a wire to a battery post. In September 1876, 

when the key was pressed it closed the circuit, causing 

an enormous underwater blast and sending a geyser 

skyward. The explosion generated a ground shock 

felt in New York and Brooklyn, but not a window was 

broken. To remove the rock rubble from the channel, 

Newton contracted with a firm that was using a new 

type of dredge, called a clamshell, invented by Morris 

& Cumings Dredging Company. The channel was soon 

open. In his post-blast report, Newton declared that his 

experiments proved that an unlimited tonnage of explosives might be safely fired without causing structural 

damage and that multiple mines for harbor defense 

could be fired simultaneously. These experiments made 

Newton famous, and together with his other distinctions saw him elevated to chief of engineers in 1884.29

By the time the Corps had opened the East River 

to vessels drawing twenty-one feet of water, marine 

engineers had designed still larger ships with drafts of 

thirty feet. To support a burgeoning American trade, the 

Corps began dredging Gedney Channel thirty feet deep 

and one thousand feet wide from deep water into the 

East River channel. This deeper channel kept New York 

ranked as the nation’s top seaport, but its foreign trade 

suffered inroads from the competing ports at Boston, 

Philadelphia, and Baltimore.30

Much of the Corps’ work in New England involved 

harbor preservation. At Boston, the Corps built granite 

seawalls along islands and headlands to hold on to 

the old landmarks protecting the anchorage. They also 

cleared the harbor of obstructive rocks and dredged 

a 23-foot ship channel through the rocky hardpan. At 

nearby Plymouth, the small historic harbor’s existence 

depended on saving a three-mile-long sandy spit that 

sheltered ships from easterly gales. When winds washed 

gaps through this beach, the Corps first closed the gaps 

with timber frames filled with stone and brush. After 

an 1867 storm carried away this beach protection, 

Capt. Thomas Lincoln Casey of the Corps proposed 

using beton-coignet. He had learned in France of this 

concrete-like building material of hydraulic lime mixed 

with sand and water and packed in cribs to harden. 

This material, together with planted beach grass, could 

hold the sands protecting Plymouth’s local commerce 

and its storm-driven merchantmen seeking safe harbor. 

Casey’s study presaged the first applications of concrete 

to waterways projects.31

Linked to interior commerce by a state canal system 

and the Pennsylvania Railroad, Philadelphia hoped to 

compete with New York in foreign trade, and Congress 

approved several projects to foster this ambition. The 

Corps dredged the Delaware River and completed 

the immense Cape Henlopen breakwater, which was 

designed before the war to protect shipping from ice 

and storms, while also allowing the passage of tidal 

currents to scour shoals in the harbor. Some 900,000 

tons of huge stones went into this breakwater to shelter 

thousands of ships that awaited high tides to ascend the 

river to Philadelphia.32

Topographical Engineer Henry Larcom Abbot 

(1831–1927), ca. 1863

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers, H. Abbot Collection

121

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
When a railroad line was completed to Lewes at the 

Cape Henlopen breakwater, Congress, in 1870, approved 

the construction of a pier there to transfer coal from 

the railroad to fuel waiting steamships. Here, the Corps 

experimented with a pier founded on the wrought-iron 

screw piles invented by Irishman Alexander Mitchell 

in 1847 and used earlier in lighthouse construction. Lt. 

Micah Brown managed the Lewes pier job, auguring the 

first iron screw pile down in April 1872. When he saw 

the shafts break after penetrating only eight feet of hard 

sand, Brown redesigned the screw piles to strengthen 

them and experimented with new methods of turning 

them down. Finding that men were not strong enough, 

he tried steam engines and found them so jerky that 

they snapped the piling. Thereupon he purchased 

seven heavy mules and hitched them with six-inch 

ropes around a drum to nineteen-foot white oak levers 

attached to the piling. Although the seven-mule hitch 

sometimes broke the six-inch ropes, they slowly turned 

the screw piles down into the sand. When completed, the 

pier served merchantmen and warships awaiting tides in 

the breakwater’s lee, and a telegraph station was built on 

it to notify Philadelphia of ship arrivals and departures.33

Baltimore, at the head of Chesapeake Bay, had a 

channel excavated before the war in the fifteen-mile 

approach to its docks, and with matching funding from 

Henry Bosse photo of the U.S. engineer dredge Phoenix in 1885. The now famous photographer was 

an engineer and draughtsman for the Corps and took hundreds of photos of the efforts to reshape the 

Mississippi River for modern transportation.

St. Paul District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

122

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
the city and Congress after the war, Col. William P. 

Craighill of the Corps laid out a new channel that was 

five miles shorter and began dredging it to a 24-foot 

depth. Finding that clamshell dredges, with two jaws 

that opened and shut, could excavate three times faster 

than the older dipper dredges with scoops, Craighill 

adopted the relatively new technology, putting as many 

as thirteen to work at once on the channel. Completed 

in 1874 and named Craighill Channel in his honor, the 

channel, together with the wharves, elevators, and warehouses built by the railroads, transformed Baltimore into 

the second busiest port on the Atlantic coast.34

Except for a minor project at San Diego, the Corps had 

made no prewar improvements at West Coast harbors. 

Congress turned its attention to opening the Pacific coast 

harbors in 1869, the year the transcontinental railroad 

was completed to California. Among the Corps’ first West 

Coast projects were efforts to improve access to Portland, 

Oregon, by dredging an eighteen-foot channel through the 

bars blocking the Columbia River, and efforts to remove 

obstructive rocks from San Francisco Bay. During the 

1890s, the Corps struggled to increase the lower Columbia 

River ship channel to twenty-five feet.35 

San Francisco had an excellent natural harbor 

through the Golden Gate except for the 190-foot-long 

Blossom Rock lurking between Alcatraz and Yerba 

Buena Island. When Congress funded the removal of 

this rock in 1869, Capt. William Heuer of the Corps 

tested the use of explosives by placing watertight casks 

packed with gunpowder on the rock’s surface, running 

wires from the casks to batteries aboard a scow, and 

detonating the charges. When soundings revealed the 

Cutterhead dredge at work in Oakland Harbor, 1884

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

123

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
charges accomplished little, Heuer reported it would be 

necessary to drill deeply into the rock and fill the holes 

with more powerful explosives, perhaps nitroglycerin—a 

costly procedure that ultimately proved successful.36

A contractor for the Corps also designed a revolutionary dredge used to open Oakland’s harbor across San 

Francisco Bay. The Gilded Age was the heyday of dredge 

design when engineers invented many new dredge types: 

clamshell, orange peel, double dippers, and improved 

hopper dredges that used giant steam-powered pumps 

to jet or pump sand shoals from harbors. The Corps 

successfully applied the newly designed cutterhead 

suction dredge to the improvement of Oakland harbor.37

Southern California harbors at Los Angeles and San 

Diego were also obstructed by shallow shoals. Noting 

in 1869 that Los Angeles, with eight thousand residents, 

afforded an outlet for California wine, and that troops 

bound for the Arizona Indian wars landed there, the 

Corps surveyor thought Los Angeles had potential, 

although its harbor entrance was only two-feet-deep 

at low tide, and ships stopped at San Pedro outside the 

harbor, hiring lighters to discharge or take on cargo. 

With meager funding available, the Corps planned a 

cheap jetty of driven piling filled with brush and stone, 

thereby confining ebb tides to scour away sand shoals 

blocking the entrance. The Corps awarded contracts for 

building it in 1871. Contractor failures, storm damage, 

and driblet funding delayed completion until 1881, but 

the jetty opened a ten-foot-deep channel.38

However, when the Corps planned a second jetty to 

further deepen the harbor entrance, its plans became 

enmeshed in the competition between the Southern 

Pacific and Union Pacific railroads for the Los Angeles 

market. When the Union Pacific gained control of the 

railroad to the harbor, the Southern Pacific built its own 

pier at Santa Monica and named it Port Los Angeles. 

Both railroads then lobbied Congress to build breakwaters protecting their respective docks. Congress 

appointed a series of engineer boards to study the sites, 

and these investigations continued into the 1890s before 

the San Pedro site was at last selected. Here, unlike the 

situation at the Great Lakes, railroad competition had 

stymied waterways progress.39

Farther down the coast, in 1869, San Diego harbor 

was blocked by shoals and sediment deposited by the 

San Diego River. The harbor handled only 40,000 tons of 

commerce annually. An 1854 Corps effort to divert the San 

Diego River to reduce sediment in the harbor had failed, 

but in 1875 Congress funded renewal of the diversion dam 

project and subsequently approved a 7,500-foot-long jetty 

built of brush mattresses weighted with stone to confine 

tidal action. The successful works opened a 24-foot-deep 

harbor entrance, and by the 1890s San Diego’s commerce 

had climbed to 150,000 tons a year.40

CHALLENGES TO THE CORPS

In 1867, the Corps had begun experimental dredging to 

remove shoals that were blocking passes at the Mississippi’s mouth, but this program suffered so many 

delays and disasters that by 1873 Congress had become 

impatient. Reviewing other means of opening a reliable 

approach to the Crescent City and providing an outlet 

for the surplus grain and produce of the Midwest, the 

Corps recommended the construction of a ship canal 

with a navigation lock to circumvent the passes.41

As a result of the Homestead Act, which granted 

low-cost federal land in the West to farmers, and also 

because of the application of mechanized equipment 

to agriculture, Midwestern grain production had so 

increased by the 1870s that an immense surplus had 

developed. Farmers exported their grain surpluses to 

foreign markets, and by 1872 nearly half of Great Britain’s wheat and flour came from American farms—much 

of it shipped via the Erie Canal and by railroads to New 

York harbor. Claiming that railroads charged exorbitant 

rates for carrying produce to markets, farmers organized 

124

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
the Grange and formed political alliances to lobby for 

lower rates, contending that improved waterways could 

offer competition for the railroads.42

 A congressional committee prepared an elaborate 

report arguing that improved waterways might regulate 

railroad rates in two ways: waterways could offer a cheap 

transportation alternative to railroads, and improved 

waterways might force railroads to reduce their charges 

to meet the competition. The committee reported favorably on building three west-to-east waterways from the 

Midwest to the Atlantic: a Northern Route consisting of a 

canal from the Mississippi to Lake Michigan and improvements in Great Lakes channels to the Erie Canal; a 

Southern Route extending up the Tennessee river and via 

a canal over the mountains to the rivers of Georgia; and a 

Central Route including improved navigation on the Ohio 

and Kanawha rivers and a canal across the Appalachians 

to the James River. All these plans revived old concepts 

that had been studied before the Civil War.43 

These three proposed routes to the seaboard 

garnered additional political support for several waterways projects. In 1875, for example, Congress approved 

the construction of locks and dams on the Kanawha 

and Ohio rivers—sections of a Central Route that would 

be useful even if the canal to the seaboard were never 

built, which turned out to be the case. Congress also 

authorized building Muscle Shoals Canal, an integral 

section of the proposed Southern Route, because this 

canal could be used immediately by steamboats plying 

the Tennessee River. For the Northern Route, which 

linked the upper Mississippi River with the Great Lakes, 

Congress approved two canals: the Wisconsin and Fox 

River route to Green Bay on Lake Michigan, and the 

Hennepin Canal from Rock Island to the Illinois River 

and Chicago. Except for the Ohio and Kanawha River 

locks and dams, however, the Corps designed these 

projects for use by steamboats, but it completed none 

of them in time to save the dying steamboat trade. 

Only the Ohio and Kanawha locks and dams, designed 

for towboat-barge commerce, developed benefits 

commensurate with their costs.44 

The congressional committee also maintained that 

the Mississippi River offered an attractive alternate 

waterway outlet for Midwestern farm produce, and 

it supported efforts to deepen the passes below New 

Orleans. After studies of shoals blocking the Mississippi’s 

entrance, the committee was about to recommend the 

Corps’ plan to construct a ship canal to New Orleans at a 

cost of millions when James Eads, renowned for bridging 

the Mississippi at St. Louis, offered to deepen the 

entrance to the Mississippi by building parallel jetties 

through a pass, thereby increasing flow velocity to scour 

away the obstructive shoals. He proposed to accomplish 

it at his own risk: no results, no pay. 45

The congressional committee withdrew its support 

from the Corps’ ship canal and urged consideration of 

Eads’ jetties. A board of civilian and military engineers 

went to Europe to inspect jetty systems used there, and 

when they returned, most supported Eads’ plan. They 

were impressed by British engineer Charles Hartley’s 

jetties that improved a mouth of the Danube River, 

and by the Dutch jetties built at the Maas mouth of the 

Rhine. The board recommended that Eads’ jetties be 

constructed of brush mattresses and stone, like those 

at the Maas, in one of the Mississippi River passes. 

Humphreys and other Corps officers vehemently 

disagreed, arguing that the hydraulics of the Danube and 

Maas, flowing into the nearly tideless Black and North 

seas, did not correlate with conditions on the Mississippi 

and that the Mississippi’s outlets more closely resembled 

those of the Rhone River where French jetties had failed. 

An alluvial river like the Mississippi, they contended, 

offered challenges far greater than those overcome with 

jetties by European engineers or by the Corps’ own 

jetties at Great Lake harbors; moreover, a prewar Corps 

effort to build jetties at a Mississippi pass had failed.46

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5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
 Humphreys and fellow officers strenuously urged 

that Congress approve building a ship canal to New 

Orleans, while Eads, supported by Col. John Gross 

Barnard, a Corps officer and rival of his chief, Andrew 

Humphreys, campaigned for the jetties. Some senators 

framed a contract with Eads, offering him $5.25 million 

for constructing jetties at a Mississippi pass, provided 

the jetties deepened the channel to specific depths. 

Eads’ offer of contracting on a “no results, no pay” basis 

earned him sufficient congressional support in 1875 to 

secure approval of his scheme.47

Eads and his company built the South Pass jetties 

of willow rafts floated into place along lines of driven 

piling and then compressed by placing heavy stones atop 

them. By 1877, the two parallel jetties formed a walled 

shipping channel more than two miles long through 

the pass and, as Eads predicted, when the jetties were 

completed, the river’s flow washed the obstructive shoals 

into deep water, increasing channel depth to twenty-six 

feet and eventually thirty feet. Eads, already renowned 

for his St. Louis bridge, became famous as a waterways 

expert because of his success at the South Pass. His fame 

stimulated national demand for his services, especially at 

Galveston, Jacksonville, and Sacramento.48

Interest in Eads’ jetties at Galveston harbor was 

also inspired by a Corps failure to achieve an adequate 

channel across shoals that limited ship draft there to 

nine feet. Opening a channel at Galveston was especially 

important because no deepwater harbors then existed on 

the Texas Gulf coast, and the railroad built to Galveston 

served as a main outlet for Texas and southwestern products. The Corps had begun efforts to attain an eighteenfoot channel in 1870, first trying to remove the obstructions with dredges. When dredging proved unsatisfactory, 

the local officer in 1873 proposed building parallel jetties 

to concentrate tidal flow over the shoals, but because 

stone was too expensive, he recommended building them 

of experimental “cement pots” called gabions. These sixfoot diameter cylinders, made of woven trees coated with 

cement, set in place in the jetties and filled with sand, 

were to serve as an economical substitute for stone. This 

experiment began in 1874, but hurricanes demolished 

the working plant, drowned workers, and destroyed 

the gabion jetties. The Corps then aborted this experiment and began reconstructing the jetties with wooden 

mattresses and stone like those built by Dutch engineers 

at the mouth of the Maas. This system also faltered when 

shipworms devoured the wooden mattresses.49

Losing patience with the Corps, Galveston 

recruited Eads, who agreed to build jetties similar 

to those on the Mississippi and promised to attain 

a thirty-foot depth, but only if he could design and 

construct the project without interference from the 

Corps. Declaring that the Corps had frittered away 

James B. Eads (1820–1887), ca. 1875

Library of Congress, LC-DIG-cwpbh-05219

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
funding for Galveston harbor, Texans introduced a bill 

offering Eads terms like those he enjoyed on the Mississippi. When Congress instead offered to make Eads 

a consulting engineer at the Galveston project, Eads 

declined, and the Corps resumed building its jetties. 

Constructed of massive stones capped with concrete 

like those built by British engineers on the Danube, the 

Corps jetties eventually succeeded, making Galveston a 

thriving deepwater port by the 1890s.50

At Jacksonville in 1870, the Corps built a hopper 

dredge to deepen the nine-foot channel of the St. Johns 

River to the city wharf. Like the first hopper dredge used 

at Charleston in 1855, this dredge had a steam-powered 

pump that sucked up sand from the bottom through 

pipes into timber bins on deck. When the bins filled with 

sand, the dredge steamed to a disposal area and used the 

pump to wash the sand overboard. Storms soon refilled 

the dredged channel, however, and in 1878 Jacksonville 

paid James Eads to plan jetties for deepening the entrance 

of the St. Johns River. He recommended building two 

converging jetties into the sea, estimating they could 

provide a twenty-foot channel for $1.7 million. Floridians 

pressed Congress to fund the Eads proposal, and Col. 

Quincy Gillmore of the Corps felt the pressure, preparing 

his own plans for jetties built of brush mattresses covered 

with stone. Congress approved Gillmore’s jetties in 

1879, and when completed, they deepened the St. Johns 

entrance to fifteen feet. Jacksonville itself then funded 

dredging to attain an eighteen-foot depth.51

California requested Eads’ assistance with a 

different sort of problem. Sacramento River navigation 

from San Francisco to the state capital and above was 

threatened by debris washing down from gold mines in 

the Sierras. Using high-pressure water, hydraulic miners 

excavated the hills to find precious gold, and, borne 

downstream into the rivers, mining debris filled their 

channels, interfering with navigation, spilling floods 

onto farmlands, and spawning an epic competitive 

struggle between California’s farmers and miners. Both 

sought federal action. Farmers pressed the Corps to stop 

Section of Eads Jetties at South Pass on the Mississippi, 1876

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, ARCE 1876

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5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
the mining. Miners urged the construction of retaining 

dams to hold the debris, thereby allowing the miners to 

continue their prospecting. To encourage federal action, 

in 1881 California employed Eads as a consulting engineer on the Sacramento.52

When Eads reported that mining debris would soon 

destroy river navigation and begin filling San Francisco 

Bay, the Corps recommended building stone barrier 

dams across streams in the Sierras to retain the debris. 

This enraged farmers who declared the Corps to be 

a pawn of the miners. Although Congress approved 

barrier dam construction in 1882, California farmers 

obtained court injunctions against further hydraulic 

mining. After more studies by boards of engineers, in 

1893 Congress created a California Debris Commission, 

partly funded by taxes on mining, which built barrier 

dams and regulated hydraulic mining until the industry 

faded in the twentieth century.53

Although Eads never obtained another contract like 

that for his South Pass jetties, his studies at Galveston, 

Jacksonville, and Sacramento focused congressional and 

Corps attention on jetty and harbor projects nationally. At 

Great Lakes and West Coast harbors, the Corps relied principally on jetties to deepen the entrances. Many of these 

jetties, however, predated Eads and resembled his design 

only in principle. At northern and mid-Atlantic harbors, 

the Corps used dredges rather than jetties to deepen 

the channels. It applied a combination of jetties with 

dredging at most southern harbors, including the South 

Pass. Although jetties were never entirely supplanted by 

dredging, the development of powerful seaworthy hopper 

dredges late in the Gilded Age provided tools that made 

jetties less significant to harbor engineering.54

WATERWAYS FUNDING

Many harbor improvement projects, especially in 

the West and South, had their origins during President Ulysses S. Grant’s administration. While Grant 

generally approved of harbor projects, he also sought 

control of waterways funding. In some years, Congress 

accepted Grant’s requests and provided lump-sum 

waterways appropriations to be allocated to projects 

by the secretary of war. This arrangement collapsed, 

however, during Grant’s second term, when the House 

and Senate began earmarking rivers and harbors 

funding for specific projects, rather than permitting 

allocations by the secretary of war.55

This competition between the executive and legislative branches for management of waterways appropriations climaxed in 1876, Grant’s last full year in 

office. When Congress enacted the annual rivers and 

harbors bill totaling $5 million, Grant signed the bill 

but returned it to Congress with a critical message. He 

asserted that it earmarked far too much for private or 

local projects lacking national importance, declared that 

he would have vetoed it if the executive had to spend 

all the money the act provided, and proclaimed that he 

would see to it that no funds were spent on projects with 

merely local benefits.56 

The chairman of the House Commerce Committee 

retorted that Grant’s funding impoundment was unconstitutional, and if Grant disapproved of the bill he should 

have vetoed it—the law directed the secretary of war to 

expend the funds; where they were expended was not 

discretionary. When Grant ordered his secretary of war 

to spend no more than $2 million of the $5 million and 

that only on works of national importance, the angry 

commerce committee chairman responded by introducing a resolution requiring President Grant to furnish 

Congress with copies of his orders to the secretary of 

war limiting expenditures and to clearly state what law 

had justified his actions. This resolution died as Grant 

left office in early 1877 amid national uproar over the 

disputed presidential election of 1876.57

Like his predecessor, President Rutherford Hayes 

sought to limit waterways appropriations, invariably 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
recommending an annual appropriation of exactly 

$5,015,000. But Congress insisted it was a better judge 

of what the nation needed than the secretary of the treasury. Congress nearly doubled the annual appropriations in Hayes’ four years, earmarking funds for many 

new projects, large and small.58

During this period, Congress mandated that the 

Corps of Engineers turn increasingly to outside contractors rather than hired labor, but not everyone agreed 

with the practice. Humphreys had once proclaimed 

“the system of contracts prescribed in the appropriation acts to be the worst possible mode of carrying on 

the improvement of rivers and harbors.” The officers 

had ample reason for their concerns—many contractors 

failed, a few fled the country leaving their labor and creditors at a loss, and others colluded to rig bids and defraud 

the government. Yet by the 1880s the Corps had worked 

with Congress to stem these abuses, requiring penal 

bonds for contract performance and obtaining authority 

to reject unreasonable bids that grossly exceeded project 

estimates. By late in the century, nine-tenths of all 

waterways construction was done by contractors, and 

no officer could perform construction with hired labor 

without specific authority from the chief of engineers.59

Congratulating contractor James Eads on his success 

at the Mississippi’s mouth, President Hayes called for 

major projects to improve navigation on “the two great 

rivers of the North American continent”—the Mississippi and the Columbia. Touring the Northwest, he urged 

improvement of the Columbia’s mouth to provide at least 

a twenty-foot entrance to the river. Here the Corps paid 

Eads the compliment of emulation by building a jetty 

system based largely on Eads’ jetties design. Between 

1885 and 1895, the Corps constructed the south jetty at 

the mouth of the Columbia River, attaining a channel 

that was thirty feet deep across the treacherous bar, at a 

cost of almost $2 million. The Corps also began canal and 

locks projects on the Columbia to bypass the falls that 

obstructed steamboats at the Cascades and The Dalles. 

These projects opened river navigation as far as Lewiston, 

Idaho, to compete with a railroad monopoly dominating 

trade in the Columbia Basin.60

President Hayes’ reconciliatory policy toward 

the South abetted efforts there to obtain increased 

federal waterways funding. By 1877, the South strove 

to encourage industrial development of a “New South” 

to compete with northern manufacturing. Recognizing 

better waterways transport as key to commercial prosperity, Southern congressmen sought federal projects 

for their rivers and harbors.61

To secure their share of the “pork,” as opponents 

in the 1870s labeled waterways appropriations, even 

Kentucky’s Bourbon Democrats welcomed the Republican President Hayes to the Bluegrass State in 1878, 

urging him to approve a federal project on the Kentucky 

River. Flowing entirely within Kentucky through the state 

capital, the Kentucky River had been improved with 

locks and dams as a state project before the war, but 

these lay in ruins after the conflict. By adroit lobbying, 

Kentucky congressmen, in 1878, secured funding to 

restore the state’s locks and dams and to build more. 

With limited appropriations and difficult construction conditions, it took the Corps thirty-seven years 

to complete the Kentucky River’s fourteen locks and 

dams.62After accepting control of the Kentucky River, 

Congress could hardly refuse to accept similar state and 

private projects—even though they flowed entirely within 

a single state—and the Corps soon became responsible 

for Kentucky’s Green River, Ohio’s Muskingum River, West 

Virginia’s Little Kanawha River, and other old lock and 

dam river projects. These, like canals, required permanent 

personnel to operate locks and maintain the structures; 

hence, the district offices responsible for operations as 

well as engineering and construction assumed an aura of 

permanence. Operations and maintenance also required 

regular funding for payrolls and costs, which Congress 

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5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
initially provided for the St. Clair, Louisville, and Soo 

canals in the annual rivers and harbors bills. When the 

1883 rivers and harbors bill failed, however, Congress 

recognized that resulting funding shortages might force 

curtailment of services to commercial traffic. In 1884, 

therefore, Congress decided that operations and maintenance costs for canal and river locks would be funded 

directly by the Treasury, drawing on the annual sundry 

civil appropriations for the expenses of government, not 

the rivers and harbors appropriations.63

In the late 1870s, Congress initiated several projects to build locks and dams on streams that previously 

flowed unfettered to the sea. On the Ohio and Kanawha 

rivers, Congress approved lock and dam projects that 

involved challenging engineering that could be solved 

through technology transfer. Towboats and barges then Mississippi River

Ouachita River

Arkansas River

White River

Atchafalaya River

Yazoo River

Tombigbee River

Pearl River

Red River

ALABAMA

New Orleans

Baton Rouge

Natchez

Vicksburg

MISSISSIPPI

Gulf of Mexico

LOUISIANA

TEXAS

ARKANSAS

50

50 100 Kilometers

100 Miles

Lower Mississippi River and Tributaries

The most heavily-travelled portion of the system, the lower Mississippi River has no locks or dams like 

its upper segments and northern tributaries. However, the lower Mississippi is constrained by levees 

and dikes to control flooding and to secure navigation channels.

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
were supplanting steamboats on the Ohio and Kanawha 

rivers, and the small locks and fixed timber crib dams 

used on smaller streams were not suited to towboatbarge commerce. The Corps reviewed European river 

engineering for useful technology and translated German 

and French engineering studies. The chief of engineers, 

Brig. Gen. Horatio G. Wright, subsequently published and 

distributed these translations to the Corps, explaining: “It 

is important, in order to avoid costly experiments, that we 

should avail ourselves of the knowledge and experience 

of other countries where it has become possible, at great 

expense, to reach definite conclusions as to the ultimate 

results of certain methods.”64

Responsible for completing the largest navigation lock in the world at the Louisville Canal on the 

Ohio, Col. Godfrey Weitzel translated German reports 

on lock construction for study by Corps officers. For 

the Ohio and Kanawha rivers, Colonels Craighill and 

William Merrill wanted movable dams that could hold 

deep pools for boating at low-flow stages, yet could be 

collapsed against the bottom at high flows, allowing 

towboats and barges to pass the dams without entering 

the locks. In France, Merrill and Craighill found movable 

dams designed by Jacques Chanoine and Auguste Boule 

operating on the Seine near Paris. They translated the 

French engineering studies and adopted Chanoine’s 

design for dams on the Kanawha and Ohio, while 

Weitzel used both the Chanoine and Boule designs in a 

movable dam built at the Falls of the Ohio.65 

When planning the first lock and movable dam 

at Davis Island on the Ohio at Pittsburgh, Merrill met 

with complaints from the marine industry that even 

the widest existing locks were too narrow to handle 

the towboat-barge fleets that transported coal as far as 

New Orleans. After a worldwide review of lock designs, 

Merrill found in British drydock engineering a lock gate 

design that allowed him to design and build the widest 

lock in the world. At 110-feet wide, Merrill’s design for 

the Davis Island lock (Ohio River Lock No. 1), completed 

at Pittsburgh in 1885, set a standard used at all of the 

Ohio River’s fifty-one original locks and which still 

prevailed on many rivers more than a century later.66

One of the most challenging waterways projects 

of the late nineteenth century remained the Mississippi River. While Eads’ jetties had alleviated problems 

at the river’s mouth, improving navigation above New 

Orleans required far more than the Corps’ snag-removal 

project could deliver. Continuing its studies of the river’s 

regimen throughout the 1870s, the Corps implemented 

several advances. To secure reliable data on river stages 

and flows Colonel Merrill installed the first federal 

stream-discharge gauges along the Mississippi and its 

tributaries. Through the telegraph, daily stage reports 

went to river ports for publication. These reports warned 

pilots and shippers of hazards or shoals hampering 

passage along the rivers to New Orleans. At Merrill’s 

recommendation also, Congress, in 1875, approved 

placing buoys and markers on inland rivers to guide 

pilots and contribute to navigation safety.67

In addition to the shoals blocking the Mississippi’s low-water navigation, disastrous flooding in 

the valley often caused great public distress. Floods 

overwhelmed local and state levees time and again, 

and following yet another disastrous flood in 1874, 

Congress established several boards of engineers 

to study various levee improvement plans. Increasingly sensitive to river engineering controversies and 

no longer willing to rely solely on Army engineers, 

Congress—over strong objection from Humphreys—

established the Mississippi River Commission (MRC) 

in 1879. Composed of three Corps officers, three civilians, and a Coast and Geodetic Survey officer, this 

mixed commission would manage the Mississippi’s 

navigation and flood control project.68

With James Eads as a charter member, the MRC 

made its plans for improving navigation below St. 

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5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
Louis. To deepen the channel at shoals blocking 

low-water navigation, the commission planned to 

confine the river’s channel within a 3,000-foot width, 

thereby augmenting flow velocity and eroding away 

the obstructive shoals through hydraulic action. To 

reduce the channel to that width, the commission 

would construct permeable dikes of piling with waling 

and interwoven willows stretching from the existing 

river bank toward the channel. Where the dikes 

slowed the river’s current, the river would drop its 

sediment around the dikes, eventually forming a new 

bank to narrow the river. Where river erosion cut into 

the banks, tending to expand the channel width, the 

commission expected to revet the banks with willow 

mattresses weighted with stone, thereby covering the 

banks and stopping the erosion.69

The origins of these permeable dike and willow 

mattress techniques lay chiefly in Europe where engineers 

had used them as early as the seventeenth century to 

contract channels, protect banks, and improve river navigation. British engineers had also used these techniques 

on streams in India. Well-read engineer officers such as 

Maj. James Simpson and Maj. Charles Suter were familiar 

with these European applications, and they tested the 

A wicket dam, part of Lock and Dam No. 8 on the Ouachita River in Arkansas, 1983

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
technology during the 1870s—Simpson at Sawyer Bend 

near St. Louis and Suter on the Missouri River. In 1878, 

Suter recommended these methods be used on the Mississippi, fabricating the revetment mattresses of willows, a 

widely available and economical material that would take 

root in river banks to help anchor the mattresses.70

Supplementing its plans to confine low-water flows 

to a 3,000-foot width, the Mississippi River Commission 

also expected to confine the river’s high-water flows by 

repairing and strengthening the levees built by state and 

local governments for flood protection. By confining both 

the low and high flows, the commission expected to gradually establish a channel within a channel, applying the 

hydraulic principles made famous by Eads to the entire 

river below St. Louis. It promised to be an extremely costly 

project, and debate soon arose over whether the levee 

work could improve navigation at all. Eads said it would; 

others disagreed, describing the levee project as merely 

an excuse for improving flood protection.71 

To expedite the project, the commission voted in 

1882 to turn field construction over to the Corps and 

to organize the work in four MRC district offices, each 

headed by a Corps officer. The commission thereafter 

provided executive management and planning, and 

the districts conducted field operations. Because these 

districts reported to the commission, the chief of engineers could veto the projects but not initiate them. The 

construction of permeable dikes to decrease channel 

width and train the river’s low flow began on the river 

section between St. Louis and Cairo, demonstrating 

promising results within a few years. As a result, the 

commission expanded its experiments with low-water 

confinement to reaches of the lower Mississippi.72

The commission’s plans for confining high-water 

flows with levees met powerful opposition in Congress, 

however, especially from New York, which recognized 

the improved Mississippi navigation as competition 

for the Midwestern commerce transported east via the 

Erie Canal and the railroads. To remain competitive in 

Midwestern markets, New York freed its Erie Canal of 

tolls, while its congressmen, led by Samuel Cox, bitterly 

denounced federal funding for Mississippi levees and 

for waterways projects generally. Through ridicule of 

projects on streams with odd names such as Cheesequake Creek, French Broad, or Kiskiminetas River, Cox 

and his allies derided rivers and harbors bills as wrong, 

wasteful, and wicked. Cox’s eloquent, annual tirades 

against waterways bills became a highlight of every 

session. Spectators filled the galleries, greeting his attacks 

on rivers and harbors bills with gales of laughter. His 

remarks received full publicity in the influential New York 

newspapers, which waterways proponents contended 

were the pawns of New York’s railroad interests.73

James Garfield, who succeeded Hayes as president in 

1881, was cut down by an assassin just five months after 

his inauguration. Although troubled by congressional 

funding for projects on smaller waterways, his successor, 

President Chester Arthur, supported the MRC’s plans 

generally and saw a chance to implement them when a 

record flood drowned the Mississippi valley in 1882.74

The 1882 flood overwhelmed local levees, causing 

284 breaks aggregating fifty-six miles in length and 

leaving thousands of refugees stranded on hills. For 

subsistence of these hungry refugees, Congress made 

an emergency $100,000 appropriation to supply them 

with Army quartermaster rations. Learning that hiring 

steamboats for deliveries might entirely consume the 

funding, Senator George Vest of Missouri met with the 

secretary of war and with Wright personally to ask if 

Corps workboats on the Mississippi might supply the 

refugees. Once an agreement was reached, the Senator 

sponsored a joint congressional resolution to reimburse 

Corps expenses in the emergency, and Corps snagboats 

and workboats then plied the river, distributing rations 

until the flood subsided. This first official disaster assistance mission assigned to the Corps set a precedent, and 

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5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
Congress subsequently relied on Corps floating plant 

and on-site expertise to conduct emergency operations 

during flooding and other major disasters.75

As the 1882 flood peaked, President Arthur sent 

a special message to Congress asking for a $1 million 

appropriation for the MRC to close the breaks in the 

levees. Moreover, he urged congressional support for 

the commission’s plans to permanently improve navigation and increase the security of the valley, even if it 

cost as much as $30 million. The valley’s cotton crop not 

only brought in $70 million in taxes, Arthur reported, 

but it was also vital to the nation’s international markets 

and its favorable balance of trade. Congress approved 

the levee repairs in 1882 but specifically for navigation 

improvement and not for flood protection.76

With this initial funding, the commission directed 

its four Corps districts to contract for repairing the 

broken levees and for bridging between the uncompleted levees with new levees of compacted earth. This 

first federal levee work was accomplished manually, 

using wheelbarrows and mule-drawn slip scrapers, but 

soon the construction methods improved. Wheeled 

scrapers replaced slip scrapers and experiments began 

with various types of elevating graders, dump wagons, 

and engine-powered earth-moving equipment. By 1889, 

the commission had completed a continuous line of 

levees along the river’s main stem, although with low 

grades and weak sections inadequate to withstand 

another record flood in 1890. In each of its appropriations for this work, Congress directed that none of 

Refugees and livestock on the levee near Hickman, Kentucky, during the flood of 1912

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
the funding should be used to build levees to prevent 

overflows or for any other purpose except as a means of 

deepening and improving the navigation channel.77

Although the Mississippi River Commission had 

investigated the prospect of building storage reservoirs 

on the upper Mississippi River and concluded they were 

too costly as a flood control method, construction of the 

Corps’ first storage dams and reservoirs began upstream 

of the Falls of St. Anthony at Minneapolis. The Corps had 

saved the Falls of St. Anthony during the 1870s by stopping destructive erosion—a preservation effort that had 

aroused opposition on grounds that it chiefly benefited 

the water-powered lumber and flour mills at the Falls. 

When opponents argued that building storage reservoirs 

on tributaries upstream of Minneapolis would again 

chiefly benefit the lumber and flour milling industry, 

advocates of the storage reservoirs countered that by 

containing spring rains for release during summer 

droughts the reservoirs could supply increased depths 

for river navigation to Minneapolis, and what harm was 

there if millers also benefited from augmented flows?78

To increase the upper Mississippi’s low-water flow, 

Congress, in 1880, appropriated $75,000 to build the 

first storage dam at Lake Winnibigoshish, and in 1882 it 

funded dams at Pokegama Falls and Leech Lake. These 

timber crib dams began operating in 1883 and two more 

were added in 1885. Together, they increased drought 

flows of the river at Minneapolis by 50 percent, aiding 

navigation and also water-power production at the 

Falls of St. Anthony, where the nation’s first commercial 

hydroelectric plant began operation in 1882. At these 

pioneering storage reservoirs, the Corps first encountered 

the challenges of real estate acquisition for inundated 

lands, a legal battle that continued into the twentieth 

century. Some of the lands lay on reservations of the 

Chippewa, whose fierce resistance to the reservoirs ended 

in a disastrous 1898 battle described as the “last Indian 

uprising in the United States.” At these storage dams also, 

the Corps employed its first “dam tenders” and began to 

learn the intricacies of reservoir management. Like the 

Corps’ lockmasters, the dam tenders were paid by requisitions to the Treasury and from annual sundry civil bills 

rather than from rivers and harbors appropriations.79

Both the Mississippi River levees and the storage 

reservoirs received major funding in the rivers and 

harbors bill of 1882, which totaled $18.7 million, double 

the annual appropriations of 1880 and 1881. The 1882 

bill, moreover, shocked northeasterners because it 

funded $10 million worth of projects on the Mississippi River system while providing only $8 million for 

northeastern harbors. President Arthur vetoed this bill 

in August 1882, claiming that it funded local projects 

contributing little to national defense, general welfare, or 

commerce. He urged Congress to enact a substitute bill 

that would provide only half the $18.7 million total for 

the coming fiscal year and requested that the funds not 

be earmarked but rather allocated to projects selected by 

the secretary of war with the president’s concurrence.80

When Congress ignored Arthur’s protests and 

enacted the bill over his veto, newspapers throughout 

the nation raised a hue and cry against the act and the 

congressmen who had voted to enact it. Three months 

later, in the November congressional election, the 

Republican Party lost its majority in the House, and as 

one congressman vividly phrased it, “The destroying 

angel came. He struck down the first-born of the river 

and harbor statesmen throughout the country.”81

When Congress convened its lame duck session in 

December 1882, President Arthur requested that it not 

enact another waterways bill in 1883 and rely instead 

on the 1882 act’s abundance to carry projects into 1884. 

In addition, he suggested a means of permitting the 

president to reject some projects while keeping others, 

equivalent to a line-item veto. Ignoring this, Congress 

directed the secretary of war to prepare and submit to it 

a list of the projects funded in the 1882 bill that he and 

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5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
the president thought lacked national importance.82

Conferring with the president, the secretary learned 

that Arthur, in his veto message, had referred to projects with little or no foreign or interstate commerce as 

lacking national significance. The secretary, therefore, 

compiled a list of the projects so defined. Arthur’s “hit 

list” included ninety-two small projects with appropriations aggregating $1 million, about 5 percent of the $18.7 

million in the 1882 act. Congress proved unwilling to 

surrender its appropriations that were earmarked for 

small projects, and, when pressed by Congress, the chief 

of engineers admitted that the improvements that were 

authorized for small harbors and streams often generated significant commercial benefits.83

While denying Arthur’s policy, the House reacted 

by reorganizing its oversight of water projects, transferring river and harbor appropriations from its commerce 

committee to a newly formed Committee on Rivers 

and Harbors. Pending formation of the new committee, 

however, the commerce committee drafted an $8 million 

waterways appropriation for 1883, sparking its opponents to an extended debate. The opposition to the bill 

succeeded in delaying a House vote until too late in 

the session for enactment. This defeat set a precedent 

that eventually converted rivers and harbors bills from 

annual into biennial appropriations.84 

Grover Cleveland’s presidential veto of the annual 

rivers and harbors bill in 1887 was a major setback for 

the Corps, not only in lost funding but also in statutory 

authority because the bill had contained a vital section 

on real estate policy. Because the Corps had acquired 

the lands needed to build a growing number of navigation projects, Congress first addressed individually 

the property-acquisition issues raised at each project, 

Construction of the original timber dam on the Deer River at Lake Winnibigoshish in Minnesota, 1884

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
mandating that the Corps use state courts for condemnation proceedings. Field experience in the postwar 

years demonstrated that purchasing project lands 

and condemning them in state courts often delayed 

project construction while high real estate prices and 

court awards drove up costs. The bill Cleveland vetoed 

in 1887 included general authority for the Corps to 

purchase project lands without seeking specific individual authority from Congress and, if need be, to 

condemn the property in federal courts. When Congress 

convened again in 1888, however, the chief of engineers 

attended committee meetings with a draft of the general 

real estate policy in hand. Congress then enacted the 

revised real estate legislation desired by the Corps but 

specifically exempted the Mississippi River levee project 

from this authority. For that project, Congress directed 

that federal funds be applied only to construction after 

the local levee districts had supplied the rights-of way.85

CASEY REORGANIZES AND REGROUPS THE CORPS

Eads’ successful battle with the Corps and the formation 

of the Mississippi River Commission including civilian 

engineers in 1879 encouraged the idea that rivers and 

harbors projects might be better managed by civilian 

engineers than by the Corps alone. In 1884 Congress 

established the Missouri River Commission in emulation of the Mississippi River Commission. Composed 

of three Corps officers and two civilians to plan systematic improvements, the Missouri River Commission 

sought to focus on turning the truculent river into a 

viable transportation route rather than expending funds 

piecemeal on local improvements, chiefly projects that 

protected riverside property from erosion. Congress 

even considered forming a Southwestern River 

Commission to manage projects on the Red, Arkansas, 

and other western streams, further eroding Corps dominance of national waterways management, but this 

proposal was not enacted.86

At the same time, Congress reviewed bills that 

proposed the creation of civilian Departments of Rivers 

and Harbors or a U.S. Civil Engineer Corps to supplant 

military management of civil works. The proposed organization of these civilian agencies typically included 

plans to assign department or division engineers permanently to regional offices throughout the U.S. for local 

supervision of federal projects. In addition, the Army, as 

part of the old struggle between line and technical officers, expressed its support for divisional management of 

military construction. Gen. John Schofield argued that 

Army division commanders in the field should provide 

immediate supervision of fortification construction 

where the chief of engineers could not. This was especially true at Pacific coast forts, which were “under the 

immediate eye of the division commander, but which the 

chief of engineers may never see.” The chief of engineers 

retorted by asking who was more competent to manage 

fortification construction: the commander of an Army 

division or the chief of engineers. Competence aside, the 

Corps, in the 1880s, waded in deep water, threatening to 

drown both its civil and military missions.87

With these challenges in mind, the chief of engineers, Brig. Gen. John Newton, decided in 1884 to experiment with regional management of projects along the 

Middle Atlantic coast near Washington, where, because 

so many junior officers were trained in engineer district 

management, the area had become known as the 

“kindergarten.” Newton appointed Colonel Craighill as 

the supervising engineer for the district offices, which 

were “contiguous and convenient to these Headquarters” at Washington. Craighill had great experience, 

having successfully completed projects ranging from 

the Susquehanna River to Cape Fear and from the 

Craighill Channel at Baltimore to locks and dams on 

West Virginia’s Kanawha River. Receiving instruction on 

his duties as supervising engineer in June 1884, Craighill 

replied that he had taken due notice and would govern 

137

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
himself accordingly. He then notified district engineers at 

Philadelphia, Norfolk, and Washington that they should 

submit their monthly reports through him to the chief 

and forward their funding requests to him for review.88

Newton found Craighill’s service as supervising 

engineer so useful that in 1885 he made Col. George 

Mendell at San Francisco the supervising engineer for 

the Pacific coast, and in 1887 he named Col. Walter 

McFarland supervising engineer for the Gulf coast. Brig. 

Gen. Thomas Lincoln Casey, chief of engineers in 1888, 

determined that the experiment with supervisory engineers was so beneficial to public service that he drafted a 

revision of Army regulations and with approval from the 

secretary of war published it in December of that year. It 

established division engineers as the senior officers who 

would regularly inspect projects within their region and 

through whom the district engineers would submit their 

plans, progress reports, and funding estimates. Each division engineer was allowed an office, a clerk, and reimbursement for travel to the projects they supervised.89

Casey divided the nation into five parts, placing the 

region west of the Rockies in the Pacific Division and 

quartering the remainder into four divisions listed by 

the compass points they occupied. Col. George Mendell 

at San Francisco, Col. William P. Craighill at Baltimore, 

Col. Henry Abbot at New York, Col. Cyrus Comstock 

at Galveston, and Col. Orlando Poe at Detroit became 

respectively the Pacific, Southeast, Northeast, Southwest, and Northwest division engineers. These were the 

most experienced senior officers of the Corps, and they 

performed such yeoman service that their responsibilities were gradually increased. These five served until 

1895, when Craighill became chief and the rest retired.90

Casey’s second major contribution to the Corps 

program came in response to the biennial appropriations policy instituted during the 1880s by the president 

and Congress. When the Rivers and Harbors Committee 

drafted a $22 million waterways appropriation in 1888, 

President Cleveland had threatened to veto it until Casey 

reassured him that the bill contained few worthless 

projects. The president then let it become law without 

his signature. The Rivers and Harbors Committee 

again tried to pass an annual bill in 1889, drafting a $10 

million appropriation that was debated in the House but 

not enacted, once more forcing the Corps to suspend 

construction on many projects late in the fiscal year. 

Complaining that this “driblet” appropriations policy was 

poor business, leaving projects exposed to the weather 

and substantially increasing their costs, members of the 

House committee asked Casey what should be done.91

Casey had managed construction of the elaborate 

Library of Congress building started during the 1880s. 

For this project the supervising architect of the treasury 

had secured congressional approval for a continuing 

contract, that is, a contract for the entire estimated cost 

of the building, with an understanding that Congress 

would guarantee funding for the work in the annual 

sundry civil appropriations for the expenses of governJohn Newton (1822–1895), who became 

Chief of Engineers in 1884

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, H. Abbot Collection

138

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
ment. This arrangement had produced savings, and 

Congress approved a similar continuing contract for 

building the huge District of Columbia post office. Casey 

suggested applying this continuing-contract system to 

a few large waterways projects as an experiment. With 

specific authority from Congress, the Corps would 

contract for the entire construction cost of a project, and 

then produce yearly estimates of work the contractor 

could accomplish in a fiscal year. The work would be 

funded in the annual sundry civil bills. By assuring 

bidders that construction would not be suspended 

for lack of funding, Casey insisted the system would 

result in reduced bid prices and significant savings to 

government; moreover, projects could be completed on 

schedule, making them available for service at earlier 

dates than under the “driblet” system of irregular rivers 

and harbors appropriations.92

The House Rivers and Harbors Committee presented 

Casey’s proposal during consideration of the 1890 rivers 

and harbors bill, and Congress authorized five projects 

in that bill as concept tests. These were the Baltimore, 

Galveston, and Philadelphia harbors, and the Sault Ste. 

Marie and Hay Lake channel projects on the Great Lakes. 

When Casey reported savings in contract bid prices on 

these five, averaging 33 percent and totaling $4 million, 

Congress added thirteen additional projects to the test 

group in 1892. With regular funding provided in annual 

sundry civil acts, rather than in biennial rivers and harbors 

acts, firm construction schedules fostered on-time 

completion of these projects at reduced costs. Hailing 

continuing contracts as “the true solution of river and 

harbor improvement,” the Rivers and Harbors Committee 

for the first time in 1891 did not draft an annual waterways 

bill. Thereafter the committee submitted only biennial 

appropriations. In Congress during the 1890s, the political 

battles over rivers and harbors bills shifted emphasis from 

obtaining new project authorizations to adding existing 

projects to the continuing-contract system.93

President Benjamin Harrison, personally familiar 

with Corps capabilities from his earlier service in 

Congress and his brief tenure on the Mississippi River 

Commission, turned to Army Engineers for help in 1889 

when a flood breached a private dam and destroyed 

Johnstown, Pennsylvania, drowning more than two 

thousand residents. The flood wave destroyed all 

bridges in Johnstown except a stone bridge below town 

that debris made impassable. The president ordered 

the Corps to dispatch engineer troops with temporary 

bridges to Johnstown forthwith.94 

The Corps had ponton bridges at Willets Point Engineer School and at West Point where they were used for 

cadet training. Col. John Parke, West Point’s superintendent, sent the academy’s detachment with its bridge, 

while Casey dispatched troops from the Engineer School 

with bridge equipage. Capt. Clinton Sears at Johnstown 

directed the installation of the ponton bridges, and, at 

the governor’s request, he also planned and managed 

the removal of flood debris blocking the stone bridge. 

The Corps’ swift action at Johnstown earned resolutions 

of thanks from the city and a personal commendation 

from President Harrison.95

Years before, while still serving on the Mississippi 

River Commission, Harrison had voted with Cyrus 

Comstock of the Corps in the minority that had opposed 

repairing and strengthening the levees confining highwater flows to deepen the navigation channel. During 

his presidency, the commission came to a decision on its 

original plan for a channel within a channel. Rather than 

abandoning its levees for high-water confinement as 

Harrison had recommended, however, the commission 

ended its campaign to confine the low-water channel to 

a 3,000-foot width through contraction works.96

The commission’s experimental confinement work 

on the 200-mile Mississippi section between St. Louis 

and Cairo, which used bank revetment to stop erosion 

and permeable spur dikes to slow the current and cause 

139

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
siltation, had successfully narrowed and trained the 

channel to greater depths. On this upper river stretch, 

however, the low-water channel was less than half the 

width prevailing below Cairo; moreover, the muddy 

Missouri pouring in at St. Louis supplied abundant sediment, which soon filled spaces between the permeable 

spur dikes to form new banks thereby narrowing the 

channel. The commission’s experiments with confining 

the low-water channel at Plum Point and other reaches 

of the lower Mississippi were less successful. Mattress 

revetments often failed, and the supply of silt was so 

uncertain and its deposition so slow that permeable 

spur dikes made of wood often decayed before new 

banks had formed around them. It became evident that 

deepening the low-water channel through contraction 

would be very costly, perhaps more than $30 per lineal 

foot the entire length of the river. In 1890, the commission took heed of advancing dredging technology to test 

another method for deepening the low-water channel.97

In 1891, the Mississippi River Commission 

contracted for building its first cutterhead pipeline 

dredge as an experiment. Designed by Henry Flad, 

formerly assistant engineer to Eads on the St. Louis 

bridge, the Alpha was completed in 1893. Tests showed 

it could excavate hundreds of cubic yards of material 

per hour from the river bottom to deepen the low-water 

channel. The commission soon built a small fleet of 

dredges, and by 1896 it had concluded that dredging 

could provide a nine-foot depth below Cairo at far 

less cost than attempting to deepen the channel with 

contraction works. Thereafter, the commission continued 

building levees to contain high-water flows within the 

channel while also offering flood protection, but it relied 

chiefly on dredging to deepen and maintain the lowAccumulated debris at the Pennsylvania Railroad Bridge, Johnstown Flood, June 1889

Library of Congress, LC-USZ62-79363

140

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
water channel and on bank revetment to prevent cutoffs 

and to protect harbors and levees against erosion.98

Pipeline dredges, so useful on inland waterways, 

were unsuited for work at sea to deepen ship channel 

entrances to harbors. For this task, the Corps turned to 

vastly improved and more powerful hopper dredges. 

These also used pumps and suction lines to excavate 

channels, sucking up materials into hoppers for storage, 

and then pumping it overboard after steaming to a 

disposal area. After the war, the Corps built hopper 

dredges to work at the Charleston, Savannah, and 

Jacksonville harbors. At New York in 1885, after efforts 

with dipper and clamshell dredges failed to achieve the 

required channel depth, the Corps awarded a contract 

to build and operate hopper dredges to Joseph Edwards, 

who made many design improvements and successfully completed New York’s thirty-foot Gedney Channel 

in 1891. Learning from Edwards’ designs, the Corps 

contracted for its own hopper dredges, employing crews 

and dispatching them to Gulf and West Coast harbors 

where they excavated channels even deeper than were 

achieved through jetty construction.99 

Opening deeper waterways was the Corps’ primary 

mission, but keeping them open proved just as challenging. For decades, state governments and Congress 

had authorized railroads to build bridges over navigable waters, often without considering how bridges 

might obstruct commercial navigation. For decades, 

neither state nor federal government had regulated the 

dumping of refuse into waterways although its removal 

drove up the costs of waterways project construction 

and maintenance. And for decades, steady encroachments by bank filling and pier construction had 

narrowed navigation channels. The Corps, as the principal federal waterways agency, complained bitterly of 

these practices without results.100

Expanding railroads bridged many waterways after 

the Civil War. Approval was obtained from state governments or from Congress, if at all. For rivers flowing 

within single states, state legislatures approved bridge 

construction with little consideration of the effects on 

waterborne commerce. As a result, improperly designed 

bridges ruined commercial navigation on such streams 

as the Wabash and Wisconsin rivers. On larger waterways, Congress exercised its authority and granted 

bridge permits individually, sometimes asking for Corps 

review of the bridge plans, sometimes not.101

By the 1870s, Corps field offices warned that the 

growing number of poorly designed bridges presented 

obstacles that might destroy river commerce. They 

recommended a national policy to extend congressional authority over all navigable streams and mandate 

Corps review of bridge plans and construction to 

assure unimpaired navigation. The chief of engineers 

presented these recommendations to Congress, and 

during the 1880s Congress steadily refined its control 

over bridge construction. Railroads sometimes ignored 

the bridge laws, however, and Casey advised the Rivers 

and Harbors Committee that stronger laws, enforced by 

imprisonment for violators, appeared necessary. The 

1890 Rivers and Harbors Act included an anti-obstructionist package of legislation that reflected Casey’s 

recommendations, providing for Corps review and 

inspection of all bridges over navigable waterways and 

stiff penalties for its enforcement.102 

The 1890 act also addressed the obstruction of navigation by encroaching structures and the dumping of 

refuse into channels. It was a nationwide problem, but 

public attention was focused on New York, where for 

decades state and federal authorities had sought to stop 

dumping and encroachments into the harbor. There, a 

multi-agency board chaired by a Navy officer was authorized to draw harbor lines beyond which encroachments 

and dumping were forbidden. Similar harbor lines were 

to be delineated by the Corps at other ports. The 1890 act 

also imposed penalties for dumping refuse into water141

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
ways that caused obstruction, but the wording of the act 

proved unenforceable. In response, Congress revised 

the act in 1894 and in 1896 further authorized the 

Corps to draft a compilation of regulations forbidding 

the obstruction of waterways by any means. This effort 

resulted in the creation of a nationwide permit program 

and provided for the arrest of violators. For the first time, 

the Corps had the tools it needed to prevent the impairment of national waterways, and with few modifications 

these tools served into the modern era.103

TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCES OF THE 1890S

Before 1890, the Corps principally used stone and wood 

in waterways structures—locks and dams, piers, and 

jetties. These easily available, economical materials 

had been used by builders since ancient times. Stone 

structures served for centuries if carefully constructed; 

wooden structures might last for decades when the wood 

remained submerged. About 1890, however, the Corps 

began its transition to twentieth century technology, 

building with concrete instead of stone, and steel instead 

of wood. While this change increased construction costs, 

the longer design life of concrete and steel offered longterm savings in maintenance costs that could not be 

ignored; moreover, concrete could be shaped in forms 

hardly possible with stone, and steel’s great strength 

provided far more design flexibility than wood.104

In the period after the Civil War, the Corps built 

piers, breakwaters, or jetties in two basic forms. One 

form involved driving parallel lines of wooden piling 

and then filling the space between with layers of rubble 

stone atop brush or willows, perhaps with a wooden 

superstructure. Another form consisted of building 

wooden pens, floating them into line side by side, filling 

the pens with rubble stone, and again constructing a 

wooden superstructure, perhaps with stone paving. 

Where storms threatened structural integrity, huge 

stone blocks weighing many tons could be placed 

Bank revetment work using fascine willow mats along the Arkansas River near Pine Bluff, Arkansas, 1881

National Archives, 77-HQ-456-1

142

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
alongside piers and jetties to break storm waves and 

erosive action. However, the wooden superstructures, 

especially where exposed to weathering, deteriorated 

and needed constant maintenance. In addition, it 

sometimes proved difficult to obtain satisfactory stone 

except by costly transport from distant quarries. At some 

harbors during the 1890s, notably Galveston, the Corps 

began substituting concrete blocks for more expensive 

quarried stone, a technique developed by French and 

British engineers. The Corps began replacing wooden 

superstructures by building forms atop piers or jetties 

and filling the forms with concrete, another advance 

pioneered in Europe.105

English manufacturers had developed improved 

Portland cement before the Civil War, but transportation costs prohibited its use for construction in the 

United States until commercial production began late 

in the century. American engineers began using the 

cement in the 1890s. They placed the first concrete 

paved road at Bellefontaine, Ohio, in 1893, and the 

first steel reinforced-concrete bridge at Philadelphia in 

1895. The Corps recognized this new building material’s 

potential, first using it in fortification and dam foundations. Maj. William Marshall, who directed the Illinois 

and Mississippi Canal construction in 1891, obtained 

permission to experiment with Portland cement in 

waterways structures. Marshall became the Corps 

expert on concrete design and placement, building 

concrete locks and dams for the canal. Marshall also 

adopted the steel sector gates, invented by civil engineer Jeremiah Tainter. These gates eventually became 

the standard for spillway control. The Corps also used 

high-quality, foreign Portland cement in constructing 

the lock walls for the Cascades Canal and Locks on 

the Columbia River in the early 1890s. On river projects during the 1890s, the Corps capped its old timber 

An excavator pulled by a tractor along the Illinois and Mississippi Canal, August 1904

National Archives, 77-H-10581-206F

143

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
crib dams with concrete. In 1895, it completed its first 

concrete river navigation lock on Kentucky’s Rough 

River. Soon the Corps used concrete for harbor pier and 

jetty superstructures, began experiments with concreteslab bank revetment, and devised the national standards for concrete quality testing.106

By the 1890s, conversion of the American iron 

industry to steel production offered opportunities to 

substitute structural steel for wood and iron in lock gates, 

dam crests, and other movable components of waterways projects. After studying the metal lock gates used 

in Europe, Capt. Harry Hodges of the Corps published 

the pioneering study of mitering lock gates fabricated of 

steel in 1892. Because steel offered much greater structural strength than wood and also promised reduced 

maintenance costs, the Corps quickly switched to steel 

for lock gates. This technological advance permitted the 

design and fabrication of much larger lock gates like the 

five sets of lock gates fabricated of 2.5 million pounds of 

steel for the great Poe Lock, which was completed 1896 

at Sault Ste. Marie. To maintain navigation between the 

Mississippi and the Atchafalaya rivers, in the 1890s the 

Corps also designed the Plaquemine Lock with a 55-foot 

lock lift, then the highest in the world. When completed 

in 1896, the upper guard gates of the Cascades Canal 

and Locks were the largest pair of steel lock gates built to 

that time. They stood 55 feet tall and reached 52.6 feet in 

length, with each leaf weighing 325,000 pounds.107

Technological innovations extended even into the 

chief of engineers’ office in Washington under Craighill. 

When he received the chief’s appointment in 1895, the 

other senior officers retired. Maj. Henry Adams, who 

had managed the third division for rivers and harbors 

since 1885, also transferred from the chief’s office in 

1895. Thus the Corps acquired fresh leadership that was 

open to change and technological advances—a transition apparent even in handling paperwork. In Craighill’s 

headquarters office, telephones replaced telegraph for 

quick communications, typewriters replaced penmanship, and the Corps purchased its first copier—a 

mimeograph machine.108 

While Craighill and the Corps moved to the forefront of technology, funding for waterways projects 

remained a challenge. Responding to the 1893 economic 

depression, Congress slashed waterways funding from 

its $25 million apex of 1892 to only $11.6 million in 1894, 

but President Cleveland still disapproved and let the 

bill become law without his signature. Two years later, 

he vetoed the $14.5 million rivers and harbors bill of 

1896. In his veto message, Cleveland contended the bill 

included far too many projects of questionable merit, 

and that the thirty additional continuing contracts 

authorized by the bill created a mortgage on future 

appropriations totaling $60 million. The bill was not only 

extravagant; it was, he insisted, insidious.109

New support for reviving waterways competition 

was developing by 1896, however, including powerful 

business and industrial leaders who supported a 

waterborne transport renaissance and also urged the 

management of water resources for multiple purposes. 

Cleveland’s 1896 veto, therefore, did not receive the 

thunderous applause from the press that had seconded 

his earlier vetoes. Congress responded by declaring the 

number of local projects in the 1896 bill insignificant, 

thereby expressing its support for the continuingcontract system, and promptly overriding Cleveland’s 

veto, with only five senators voting to sustain the president. At the end of the nineteenth century, the historic 

competition between the executive and legislative 

branches for control of waterways appropriations thus 

ended with congressional victory.110

CONCLUSION

In the years after the Civil War, the United States was 

transformed by engineering and commerce from the 

agrarian republic of Jefferson and Lincoln into the 

144

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
industrial world power of McKinley and Roosevelt. 

The Corps of Engineers played a significant role in this 

metamorphosis, applying engineering advances from 

every source to waterways technology—opening, deepening, and developing rivers and harbors, and fostering 

American economic prosperity and success in competitive world markets. 

During this period, American presidents substantially affected the Corps’ waterways programs. Presidents Grant, Arthur, and Cleveland enjoyed some 

success in their efforts to limit and direct waterways 

appropriations. Presidential opposition to exorbitant 

bills converted Congress from annual to biennial appropriations and from driblet funding to the continuingcontract system. Congress used this continuing-contract 

system until the formation of the Budget Bureau and a 

return to annual waterways appropriations in 1921.

The shady politics of the era tainted rivers and 

harbors bills, which were often pictured as pork barrel—

an unfortunate result of political log-rolling—and 

as wasteful expenditures. Missing the impact of the 

congressional shift in 1883 from annual to biennial 

appropriations, some historians have emphasized the 

growth of appropriations from $3.7 million in 1866 for 49 

projects to $14 million in 1896 for 433 projects. The 1896 

bill intended to cover construction costs for two years, 

however, allowing $7 million per year, an annual amount 

just double that of 1866. In the same years, from 1866 

Library of Congress, LC-D4-11310

A “whaleback” transport ship—commonly used in the late 19th century on the Great Lakes and notable for carrying 

grain or ore—on its way through the Poe Locks, the largest in the world when completed in 1896

145

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
to 1896, the population of the U.S. also doubled from 

36.5 million to 70.8 million citizens. Moreover, the 1896 

appropriation funded construction of nearly ten times as 

many projects as in 1866. The continuing-contract system 

pioneered in 1890 did shift some costs to the sundry civil 

acts, but these constituted obligations for major rivers 

and harbors that few congressmen or citizens opposed.111

The Gilded Age has been portrayed as the pinnacle 

of the free market economy and widespread corporate 

abuse—the “robber baron” era. Federal waterways 

projects often were justified as competition for railroad conglomerates, and in specific local situations, 

improved waterways did encourage reduced railroad 

charges, but nationally declining rail rates resulted 

largely from increased railroad efficiency rather than 

competitive waterways. Indeed, the Corps’ most notable 

missteps came when constructing canals that link 

the Mississippi River with the Great Lakes and on the 

Columbia River, chiefly as competition for railroads. 

These canals saw little traffic after their completion, and 

as regulators of railroad charges, the improved waterways had little success. On the contrary, the Corps’ most 

successful projects were those that complemented railroad services—deeper harbors on the Great Lakes and 

seacoasts where railroads served as feeders, or on rivers 

where rail terminals loaded commodities into barges for 

continued movement to export markets. 

The end of the nineteenth century marked the 

heyday of the Corps’ commitment to single-purpose 

water resources projects. In the early twentieth century, 

the Corps would have to make a difficult transition 

to multiple-purpose water projects. In one respect, 

however, the Corps’ development of regulatory legislation, adopted by Congress beginning in the 1880s, 

presaged its role as part of Progressive-Era government 

committed to making dispassionate use of professional 

expertise for the benefit of the national community 

as a whole. This effort sought to protect waterways by 

regulating the construction of bridges, by establishing 

restrictive harbor lines, and by preventing corporate 

dumping into waterways, recognizing that the community had overriding interests in waterways.

146

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
BIBLIOGRAPHIC ESSAY

There are a number of excellent sources on the Reconstruction period. Among the best are books by James 

McPherson, Ordeal by Fire: The Civil War and Reconstruction (1982), and Heather Cox Richardson, West from 

Appomattox: The Reconstruction of America after the 

Civil War (2007). For the period after Reconstruction, 

Robert Wiebe, The Search for Order, 1877–1920, provides 

an excellent overview of American political, economic, 

and social history of the period and details the struggle 

of American society to shake off the anxious uncertainty 

of the years immediately after Reconstruction and move 

toward the “bureaucratic thought” that would prevail 

after the First World War.

For the story of the Army Corps of Engineers during 

this period, researchers may find helpful an unpublished history by Janet McDonnell, “An Administrative 

and Organizational History of the U.S. Army Corps of 

Engineers, 1865–1902.” District and division histories are 

again a very useful resource for this period, and virtually 

all of these are now available digitally and online. These 

published histories exist for all of the modern civil works 

districts except the Norfolk District.

There are a number of good dissertations related 

to the Corps of Engineers. The most recent, “Science, 

military style: Fortifications, science, and the United 

States Army Corps of Engineers, 1802–1861” (dissertation, University of Minnesota, 2003), was authored 

by Mary Margaret Thomas and deals primarily with 

the careers of army engineers Jonathan Williams and 

Joseph Gilbert Totten and the development of defense 

works along the eastern seaboard of the United States. 

Two are primarily biographical. These are Thomas 

E. Griess, “Dennis Hart Mahan: West Point Professor 

and Advocate of Military Professionalism, 1830–1871” 

(Ph.D. dissertation, Duke University, 1968) and James 

W. Kershner, “Sylvanus Thayer, A Biography” (Ph.D. 

dissertation, West Virginia University, 1976). Another 

valuable resource detailing the legislative history of the 

rivers and harbors bills that funded most of the Army’s 

civil works program is Edward L. Pross, “A History of 

Rivers and Harbors Appropriation Bills” (Ph.D. dissertation, Ohio State University, 1968). Also useful is John 

P. Wall, “The Civil Works of the United States Army 

Corps of Engineers: Program Modernization” (Ph.D. 

dissertation, Cornell University, 1973).

The Corps of Engineers also produced Professional 

Papers, Occasional Papers, and Professional Memoirs

during this period, and these are excellent resources 

for biographies of key Army engineers and for original 

scientific research conducted by the agency. Related 

biographies are hard to find and are mostly unsatisfactory, at least for key engineers in the era before the Civil 

War. The best are probably David W. Miller’s Second 

Only to Grant: Quartermaster General Montgomery C. 

Meigs, A Biography (2000); Richard G. Wood’s Stephen 

Harriman Long, 1784–1864 (1966); and Gene D. Lewis’s 

Charles Ellet, Jr.: The Engineer as Individualist, 1810–

1862 (1968). Available biographies of George Meade 

and Gouverneur Warren focus overwhelmingly on their 

Civil War experiences at the expense of long careers in 

civil works. Those engineers missing biographies altogether are Andrew A. Humphreys, Joseph G. Totten, 

and John J. Abert.

147

5 U.S. Army Engineers in the Era of Single-Purpose Waterway Improvements
1 Sean D. Cashman, America in the Gilded Age, 2nd

ed. (New York: New York University Press, 1988), 1–15; John 

A. Garraty, ed., The Transformation of American Society, 

1870–1890 (Columbia, S.C.: University of South Carolina Press, 

1968), 1–12; Edward C. Kirkland, Business in the Gilded Age

(Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1952), 3–7; Carl N. 

Degler, The Age of the Economic Revolution, 1876–1900 (New 

York: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1975), 1–15.

2 Cashman, America in the Gilded Age, 44–51; John 

F. Stover, The Life and Decline of the American Railroad (New 

York: Oxford University Press, 1970), 79.

3 Wayne Cutler, “Jackson, Polk, and Johnson: 

Defenders of the Moral Economy,” in Carroll Van West, ed., 

Tennessee History: The Land, the People, and the Culture (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1998), 113–27; Robert 

Kelley, “Ideology and Political Culture from Jefferson to Nixon,” 

American Historical Review 82 (June 1977): 547–48.

4 Martin Reuss, “Andrew A. Humphreys and the Development of Hydraulic Engineering: Politics and Technology 

in the Army Corps of Engineers, 1850–1950,” Technology and 

Culture 26 (January 1985): 1–33; Robert S. Browning III, Two If 

By Sea: The Development of American Coastal Defense Policy

(Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1893), chap. 5.

5 U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Laws of the United 

States Relating to the Improvement of Rivers and Harbors, 3 

vols. (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1913 

and 1940), 1:144–49.

6 Annual Report of the Chief of Engineers, U.S. Army, 

for 1864 (Serial 1230), 30; Annual Report of the Chief of Engineers, U.S. Army, for 1865 (Serial 1250), 919–23. (This serial set 

cited hereafter as ARCE, followed by year of the report.)

7 Laws of the United States Relating to the Improvement of Rivers and Harbors, 1:151–76; Congressional Globe, 39th

Cong., 1st Sess., 1866, 2287–93, quotes Thomas Eliot of Massachusetts who said at the war’s end “from every loyal section 

of the land petitions have come up demanding the action of 

Congress in behalf of works where the highest industrial interests of the country are involved.”

8 John G. Parke biographical file, Research Collection, 

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 

Alexandria, Va. (cited hereafter as CEHO); Reuss, “Andrew A. 

Humphreys and the Development of Hydraulic Engineering,” 

1–33; ARCE, 1867, 16; ARCE, 1869, 69; Janet A. McDonnell, “An 

Administrative and Organizational History of the U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers, 1865–1902,” (1989) draft manuscript, 

CEHO, 3–5. Humphreys reduced his office divisions to four by 

1870. John Barnard of the Corps opposed Humphreys’ appointment as chief because Humphreys lacked experience in fortifications construction; see Reuss, “Andrew A. Humphreys and 

the Development of Hydraulic Engineering,” 17.

9 McDonnell, “An Administrative and Organizational 

History of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers,” 11; ARCE, 1869, 

3–4.

10 Leland R. Johnson, The Falls City Engineers: A History 

of the Louisville District, Corps of Engineers, United States Army

(Louisville: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1975), 115–18; ARCE, 

1870, 395–98.

11 Frank S. Blust, “The U.S. Lake Survey, 1841–1974,” 

Inland Seas 32 (Summer 1976): 91–104; ARCE, 1870, 537–38; 

Arthur M. Woodford, Charting the Inland Seas: A History of the 

U.S. Lake Survey (Detroit, Mich.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 

1991).

12 ARCE, 1870, 324–47. Walter M. Lowrey, “Navigational 

Problems at the Mouth of the Mississippi River, 1698–1880,” 

(Ph.D. diss., Vanderbilt University, 1956) details developments 

at the passes.

13 Albert B. Hart, “Biography of a River and Harbor Bill,” 

Papers of the American Historical Association 3 (1887): 180–97; 

Congressional Record, 49th Cong., 2d Sess., 1887, 1992–2002; 

ARCE, 1871, 377.

14 Congressional Record, 39th Cong., 2d Sess., 1867, 

1822–27; Johnson, The Falls City Engineers, 121–31; Brian S. 

Osborne and Donald Swainson, The Sault Ste. Marie Canal, 

A Chapter in the History of Great Lakes Transport (Ontario, 

Canada: Parks Canada, 1986), 25–28; John W. Larson, History 

of Great Lakes Navigation (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Institute for 

Water Resources, 1983), 19–23. James Wilson was one of the 

five U.S. Civil Engineers whose employment Congress authorized in 1867.

ENDNOTES

148
15 Carlton Jackson, Presidential Vetos, 1792–1945

(Athens, Ga.: University of Georgia Press, 1967), 128–48; Orville 

F. Babcock biographical file, CEHO; Congressional Record, 

44th Cong., 1st Sess., 1876, 5631; Edward L. Pross, “A History 

of Rivers and Harbors Appropriation Bills, 1866–1033” (Ph.D. 

diss., Ohio State University, 1938), 61–63.

16 Alexander Mackenzie, Notes on Harbors of the Great 

Lakes (Willets Point, N.Y.: Battalion Press, 1869), 1–8; John W. 

Larson, “Ante-bellum Channel and Harbor Improvements 

on the Great Lakes,” National Waterways Roundtable Papers: 

Proceedings on the History and Evolution of U.S. Waterways 

and Ports, April 22–24, 1980, Norfolk, Virginia (Ft. Belvoir, Va.: 

Institute for Water Resources, 1980), 41–59.

17 Raymond H. Merritt, Creativity, Conflict & Controversy: A History of the St. Paul District, U.S. Army Corps of 

Engineers (St. Paul, Minn.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1979), 

302–35; Larson, History of Great Lakes Navigation, 29–50.

18 ARCE, 1876, 433–38; ARCE, 1896, 324–25, 363–64, 

371–72.

19 ARCE, 1896, 301–02; Merritt, Creativity, Conflict and 

Controversy, 302–05; Congressional Globe, 41st Cong., 3d Sess., 

1871, 1881–83.

20 Larson, History of Great Lakes Navigation, 17–23; 

ARCE, 1870, 163–68.

21 John W. Larson, Essayons: A History of the Detroit 

District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Detroit, Mich.: U.S. 

Army Engineer District, 1981), 75–78; ARCE, 1896, 35–57.

22 ARCE, 1871, 168–70; Merritt, Creativity, Conflict and 

Controversy, 298–300; ARCE, 1896, 351–52.

23 ARCE, 1871, 168–70; Merritt, Creativity, Conflict and 

Controversy, 298–300; Larson, History of Great Lakes Navigation, 50–56.

24 ARCE, 1871, 280; Congressional Record, 47th Cong., 

2d Sess., 1883, 3359–62.

25 John W. Chambers II, The North Atlantic Engineers: A 

History of the North Atlantic Division and its Predecessors in the 

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1775–1975 (New York: U.S. Army 

Engineer Division, 1980), 23; ARCE, 1870, 433–40.

26 ARCE, 1871, 724–25.

27 ARCE, 1876, 238–39.

28 ARCE, 1877, 227–42. 

29 Ibid.

30 ARCE, 1896, 106–09; Chambers, North Atlantic Engineers, 29; Marion J. Klawonn, Cradle of the Corps: A History of 

the New York District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1775–1975

(New York: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1977), 107–09.

31 ARCE, 1870, 455–56; ARCE, 1871, 886–94; Aubrey 

Parkman, Engineers in New England: The Military and Civil 

Works of the Corps of Engineers in New England, 1775–1975

(Waltham, Mass.: U.S. Army Engineer Division, 1978), 26; 

ARCE, 1896, 603–11.

32 Chambers, North Atlantic Engineers, 32; ARCE, 1896, 

10–11; Todd Shallat, Structures in the Stream: Water, Science, 

and the Rise of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Austin, Tex.: 

University of Texas Press, 1994), 163–66.

33 ARCE, 1871, 665–86; ARCE, 1872, 758–72; ARCE, 

1896, 115.

34 ARCE, 1870, 416–18; ARCE, 1896, 137–38; Harold K. 

Kanarek, The Mid-Atlantic Engineers: A History of the Baltimore 

District of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1794–1974 (Baltimore: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1974), 41–56.

35 Anthony F. Turhollow, Benjamin F. Gilbert, and K. 

Jack Bauer, History of Navigation and Navigation Improvements on the Pacific Coast (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Institute for 

Water Resources, 1983), 32–34; William F. Willingham, Army 

Engineers and the Development of Oregon: A History of the 

Portland District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Portland, Ore.: 

U.S. Army Engineer District, 1983), 10–26, 70–71; ARCE, 1870, 

515–16.

36 ARCE, 1869, 471–93.

37 ARCE, 1869, 460–61, prints a dredge study by Lt. Col. 

George Thom.

38 ARCE, 1869, 479–84; ARCE, 1871, 939–45.

39 Anthony F. Turhollow, A History of the Los Angeles 

District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1898–1965 (Los Angeles, 

Calif.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1975), 24–37.

40 Ibid. 66–68; ARCE, 1870, 511–15; ARCE, 1896, 387–88.

149
41 Charles A. Camillo and Matthew T. Pearcy, Upon 

Their Shoulders: A History of the Mississippi River Commission 

from its inception through the advent of the modern Mississippi 

River and Tributaries Project (Vicksburg, Miss.: Mississippi 

River Commission, 2004), 26–27; Albert Cowdrey, Land’s End: 

A History of the New Orleans District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, and its Lifelong Battle with the Lower Mississippi and 

Other Rivers Wending their Way to the Sea (New Orleans: U.S. 

Army Engineer District, 1977), 12; Shallat, Structures in the 

Stream, 195–99.

42 Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 1st Sess., 1884, 

4929. Howard B. Schonberger, Transportation to the Seaboard: 

The “Communication Revolution” and American Foreign Policy, 

1860–1900 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1971) analyzes 

the Senate committee’s activities.

43 U.S. Congress, Senate, Report of the Select Committee 

on Transportation Routes to the Seaboard, Sen. Rept. 307, 43rd

Cong., 1st Sess., 1874; Congressional Record, 43rd Cong., 2nd

Sess., 1875, 2156–77. 

44 Congressional Record, 43rd Cong., 2nd Sess., 1875, 

2156–77; Leland R. Johnson, The Headwaters District: A History 

of the Pittsburgh District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Pittsburgh: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1979), 136–37; Leland R. 

Johnson, Men, Mountains and Rivers: An Illustrated History 

of the Huntington District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 

1754–1974 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 

1977), 78–79; Leland R. Johnson, Engineers on the Twin Rivers: 

A History of the Nashville District, Corps of Engineers, United 

States Army, 1769–1978 (Nashville: U.S. Army Engineer District, 

1978), 121–25.

45 Congressional Record, 45th Cong., 3rd Sess., 1879, 

207–11.

46 Reuss, “Andrew A. Humphreys and the Development of Hydraulic Engineering,” 19–20; ARCE, 1875, 35–36, 

952–65. The board members were Horatio Wright, Cyrus 

Comstock, and Barton Alexander of the Corps, Henry Mitchel 

of the Coast Survey, and civil engineers T. E. Sickles, Milnor 

Roberts, and H. D. Whitcomb.

47 Reuss, “Andrew A. Humphreys and the Development 

of Hydraulic Engineering,” 19–20.

48 Shallat, Structures in the Stream, 195–99; Martin 

Reuss, Designing the Bayous: The Control of Water in the Atchafalaya Basin, 1800–1995 (Alexandria, Va.: Headquarters, U.S. 

Army Corps of Engineers, Office of History, 1998), 63; see also 

John M. Barry, Rising Tide: The Great Mississippi River Flood 

of 1927 and How It Changed America (New York: Simon & 

Schuster, 1997).

49 Lynn M. Alperin, Custodians of the Coast: History of 

the United States Army Engineers at Galveston (Galveston, Tex.: 

U.S. Army Engineer District, 1977), 23–91.

50 Ibid.; Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 1st Sess., 1884, 

4962; Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 2nd Sess., 1885, 1068; 

Congressional Record, 50th Cong., 1st Sess., 1888, 487, 3256–57.

51 ARCE, 1872, 65–66; ARCE, 1896, 186–88; George 

E. Buker, Sun, Sand and Water: A History of the Jacksonville 

District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1821–1975 (Jacksonville, 

Fla.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1980), 76–87.

52 Joseph J. Hagwood, The California Debris Commission: A History (Sacramento: U.S. Army Engineer District, 

1981), 1–30.

53 Congressional Record, 46th Cong., 3rd Sess., 1881, 

1678–79; ARCE, 1896, 421; Robert Kelley, Battling the Inland 

Sea: American Political Culture, Public Policy, and the Sacramento Valley, 1850–1986 (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1989).

54 Shallat, Structures in the Stream, 195–99; “Discussion on the South Pass Jetties-Ten Years of Practical Teachings 

in River and Harbor Hydraulics,” Transactions of the American 

Society of Civil Engineers 15 (April 1886): 223–256; Frederick 

C. Scheffauer, ed., The Hopper Dredge: Its History, Development, and Operations (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing 

Office, 1954).

55 Congressional Record, 44th Cong., 1st Sess., 1876, 5631; 

Orville F. Babcock biographical file, CEHO; Cashman, America 

in the Gilded Age, 178–79; Trial of W. W. Belknap, Congressional Record, 44th Cong, 2nd Sess., 1877, 268.

56 Congressional Record, 44th Cong., 1st Sess., 1876, 

5628–33.

57 Congressional Record, 44th Cong., 2nd Sess., 1877, 23, 

374, 2120–21.

58 Congressional Record, 46th Cong., 2nd Sess., 1880, 

4059–65.

150
59 ARCE, 1868, 24; ARCE, 1886, 1531; McDonnell, “An 

Administrative and Organizational History of the U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers,” 30–31.

60 Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 1st Sess., 1884, 5829; 

Willingham, Army Engineers and the Development of Oregon, 

10–36, 60–63.

61 Pross, “A History of Rivers and Harbors Appropriation 

Bills,” 53, 76. Congressional Record, 46th Cong., 2nd Sess., 1880, 

4016, quotes Sen. Joseph Brown of Georgia: “We are going to 

put our money into factories and other improvements, and we 

intend to become rivals with you after a while in that business.”

62 Leland R. Johnson and Charles E. Parrish, Engineering the Kentucky River: The Commonwealth’s Waterway

(Louisville, Ky.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1999).

63 Laws of the United States Relating to the Improvement 

of Rivers and Harbors, 1:415; Johnson, The Falls City Engineers, 

143–44; Johnson, Men, Mountains and Rivers, 99–105. Congress 

accepted Kentucky River in 1878, Muskingum in 1886, Green in 

1888, and Little Kanawha in 1905; in 1897 Congress seized the 

privately owned Monongahela locks and dams through court 

condemnation, over objections from the owners.

64 William E. Merrill, “Movable Dams,” Engineering 

News 5 (28 March 1878): 100–01; Johnson, Men, Mountains 

and Rivers, 82–84; Brig. Gen. Horatio G. Wright to Secretary of 

War Alexander Ramsey, 28 Jan. 1881, Entry 66, Letters Sent, 

1871–1886, Records of the Chief of Engineers, Record Group 

77, National Archives, Washington, D.C.

65 Johnson, The Falls City Engineers, 123–25; Godfrey 

Weitzel, Lock-Gates. Translation of Notes Accompanying 

Drawings Concerning Construction of Iron Lock-Gates for 

Harbor of Weser River, Germany (Washington, D.C.: Engineer 

Department General Publication, 1873).

66 Leland R. Johnson, The Davis Island Lock and Dam, 

1870–1922 (Pittsburgh: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1985), 

20–57.

67 ARCE, 1870, 415; ARCE, 1872, 404, 426–39.

68 Mary B. McBride and Ann M. McLaurin, “The Origins 

of the Mississippi River Commission,” Louisiana History 36 

(Fall 1995): 389–411; Reuss, Designing the Bayous, 63–64.

69 Camillo and Pearcy, Upon Their Shoulders, 26–27; 

Reuss, Designing the Bayous, 65–66; Cowdrey, Land’s End: A 

History of the New Orleans District, 29.

70 ARCE, 1872, 426–39; Floyd M. Clay, A Century on the 

Mississippi: A History of the Memphis District, U.S. Army Corps 

of Engineers, 1876–1976 (Memphis, Tenn.: U.S. Army Engineer 

District, 1976), 24–25; Michael C. Robinson, “History of Bank 

Protection through the Use of Revetments,” in Centenaire de 

l’Association Internationale Permanente des Congres de Navigation, 1885–1985 (Paris: Permanent International Association of 

Navigation Congresses, 1985).

71 Congressional Record, 47th Cong., 2nd Sess., 1883, 

3525; Congressional Record, 51st Cong., 1st Sess., 1890, 5148–49; 

Cowdrey, Land’s End: A History of the New Orleans District, 29.

72 Shallat, Structures in the Stream, 193; Reuss, 

Designing the Bayous, 65–66; Cowdrey, Land’s End: A History of 

the New Orleans District, 24–26.

73 Congressional Record, 47th Cong., 2nd Sess., 1883, 

3359–62, 3443; Pross, “A History of Rivers and Harbors Appropriation Bills,” 58.

74 Congressional Globe, 42nd Cong., 2nd Sess., 1872, 2443, 

4317; Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 1st Sess., 1884, 4921; 

Pross, “A History of Rivers and Harbors Appropriation Bills,” 64.

75 Leland R. Johnson, Situation Desperate: U.S. Army 

Engineer Disaster Relief Operations, Origins to 1950 (Alexandria, Va.: Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office of 

History, 2011), 22–25; Clay, A Century on the Mississippi, 28–31; 

Roald Tweet, A History of the Rock Island District, U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers, 1866–1983 (Rock Island, Ill.: U.S. Army 

Engineer District, 1984), 289–90; Laws of the United States 

Relating to the Improvement of Rivers and Harbors, 1:541.

76 Johnson, Situation Desperate, 22–25; James D. Richardson, A Compilation of the Messages and Papers of the Presidents, 9 vols. (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 

1898), 6:4682–83.

77 Reuss, Designing the Bayous, 65–66; Clay, A Century 

on the Mississippi, 28–29; U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Lower 

Mississippi Valley Division, Activities of the Army Engineers 

in Arkansas (Vicksburg, Miss.: U.S. Army Engineer Division, 

1935), 36–41.

78 Congressional Globe, 41st Cong., 3rd Sess., 1871, 

1545–46; Jane Lamm Carroll, Engineering the Falls: The Corps of 

Engineers’ Role at St. Anthony Falls (St. Paul, Minn.: U.S. Army 

Engineer District, n.d.).

151
79 John O. Anfinson, The River We Have Wrought: A 

History of the Upper Mississippi (Minneapolis, Minn.: University of Minnesota Press, 2003), 81–82; Merritt, Creativity, 

Conflict and Controversy, 69–112.

80 Richardson, A Compilation of Messages, 6:4619, 

4707–09, 4724–25; Hart, “Biography of a River and Harbor Bill,” 

182; Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 1st Sess., 1884, 5851.

81 Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 1st Sess., 1884, 5851; 

Congressional Record, 51st Cong., 1st Sess., 1889, 366, 404; Hart, 

“Biography of a River and Harbor Bill,” 182.

82 Congressional Record, 47th Cong., 2nd Sess., 1883, 

3353–65, 3409–53; Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 1st Sess., 

1884, 5851.

83 Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 1st Sess., 1884, 5851.

84 Congressional Record, 47th Cong., 2nd Sess., 1882, 

702; Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 1st Sess., 1883, 192–96; 

William E. Nelson, The Roots of American Bureaucracy, 1830–

1900 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1982), 115; 

Congressional Record, 47th Cong., 2nd Sess., 1883, 3540–46.

85 Charles Hendricks, “A History of Corps of Engineers 

Civil Works Real Estate Policies,” 1995, unpublished manuscript, CEHO, 66–80.

86 Emory R. Johnson, “River and Harbor Bills,” Annals 

of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, vol. 

2 (May 1892): 805–06; Congressional Record, 48th Cong., 1st

Sess., 1884, 4917; Lawrence Allin, et al., The Federal Engineer, 

Damsites to Missile Sites: A History of the Omaha District, U.S. 

Army Corps of Engineers (Omaha, Neb.: U.S. Army Engineer 

District, 1985), 1–13.

87 Reuss, “Andrew A. Humphreys and the Development 

of Hydraulic Engineering,” 25; U.S. Congress, Senate, Bureau 

of Harbors and Waterways: Hearing before the Committee on 

Commerce of the United States Senate, Sen. Rept. No. 1848, 

50th Cong., 1st Sess., 1888.

88 ARCE, 1885, 4 and 917; Leland R. Johnson, The Ohio 

River Division, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: The History of a 

Central Command (Cincinnati: U.S. Army Engineer Division, 

1992), 32–37.

89 General File 31-7, CEHO.

90 Johnson, The Ohio River Division, 37–39.

91 Pross, “A History of Rivers and Harbors Appropriation Bills,” 100–01; Congressional Record, 51st Cong., 1st Sess., 

1890, 365, 9559; Congressional Record, 52nd Cong., 1st Sess., 

1892, 3940.

92 Congressional Record, 52nd Cong., 1st Sess., 1892, 

3937, 3972, 3980–89; Congressional Record, 53nd Cong., 2nd

Sess., 1894, 4377; Thomas Lincoln Casey biographical file, 

CEHO.

93 Congressional Record, 52nd Cong., 1st Sess., 1892, 

3937, 3972, 3980–89; Pross, “A History of Rivers and Harbors 

Appropriation Bills,” 101–02. Congress used continuingcontracts until the Budget Bureau’s formation in 1921.

94 Johnson, Situation Desperate, 37–40; Leland R. 

Johnson, “The Johnstown Flood Disaster,” Military Engineer 66 

(Jan. 1974): 42–45.

95 ARCE, 1889, 475–76; Johnson, Situation Desperate, 

37–40.

96 Congressional Record, 46th Cong., 3rd Sess., 1881, 

1438; Congressional Record, 54th Cong. 1st Sess., 1896, 3640.

97 Frederick J. Dobney, River Engineers on the Middle 

Mississippi: A History of the St. Louis District, U.S. Army Corps 

of Engineers (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 

1978), 52–60; ARCE, 1896, 418–20.

98 Activities of the Army Engineers in Arkansas, 29–30; 

Reuss, Designing the Bayous, 86; Herbert S. Gladfelter, FiftyFive Years of Dredges and Dredging on the Mississippi River

(Memphis, Tenn.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1952).

99 Scheffauer, ed., The Hopper Dredge, 4–7; Ronald B. 

Hartzer, To Great and Useful Purpose: A History of the Wilmington District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, (Wilmington, 

N.C.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1984), 95–96; Buker, Sun, 

Sand, and Water, 73–75.

100 Albert E. Cowdrey, “Pioneering Environmental 

Law: The Army Corps of Engineers and the Refuse Act,” Pacific 

Historical Review 44 (August 1975): 331–49.

101 Ibid.; ARCE, 1872, 303.

102 ARCE, 1872, 303; Congressional Record, 51st Cong., 1st

Sess., 1890, 8602.

103 Klawonn, Cradle of the Corps, 129–33; Cowdrey, 

“Pioneering Environmental Law,” 331–49.

104 Johnson and Parrish, Kentucky River Navigation, 

119–30; Benjamin Thomas and D. A. Watt, The Improvement of 

Rivers (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1913), 489–96.

152
105 Smith S. Leach, “Inland Navigation in the United 

States,” Minutes of Proceedings of the Institution of Civil Engineers 129 (London, 1897), 247–77; C. W. S. Hartley, A Biography 

of Sir Charles Hartley, Civil Engineer: The Father of the Danube, 

2 vols. (Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellon Press, 1989), 1:262.

106 Hartley, A Biography of Sir Charles Hartley, 1:262; 

Johnson, The Falls City Engineers: A History of the Louisville 

District, 144–45; Tweet, A History of the Rock Island District, 

143, 149–53, 158–59; Quincy A. Gillmore, Practical Treatise 

on Limes, Hydraulic Cements and Mortars (New York: D. 

Van Nostrand Publisher, 1872); William L. Marshall, Smith S. 

Leach, Spencer Cosby, Report of Board of Engineer Officers on 

Testing Hydraulic Cements (Washington, D.C.: Government 

Printing Office, 1902); Samuel B. Settle, “William McLaurine 

Hall,” Transactions of the American Society of Civil Engineers

117 (1952): 1301–02; William Willingham, “Engineering the 

Cascades Canal and Locks, 1876–1896,” Oregon Historical 

Quarterly (Fall 1987): 229–57.

107 John G. Barnard and Horatio G. Wright, Report on the 

Fabrication of Iron for Defensive Purposes (Washington, D.C.: 

Government Printing Office, 1871); Harry F. Hodges, Notes on 

Mitering Lock Gates (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing 

Office, 1892); Larson, Essayons: A History of the Detroit District, 

97; Reuss, Designing the Bayous, 89; Willingham, “Engineering 

the Cascades Canal and locks,” 243–44.

108 ARCE, 1896, 3–6, 444; Johnson, Ohio River Division, 

39–45.

109 Jackson, Presidential Vetoes, 162–64; Richardson, A 

Compilation of Messages, 9:677–79.

110 Jackson, Presidential Vetoes, 162–64; Pross, “A History 

of Rivers and Harbors Appropriation Bills,” 115–17.

111 Hart, “Biography of a River and Harbor Bill,” 180–197; 

Johnson, “River and Harbor Bills,” 782–812; U.S. Department 

of Commerce, Historical Statistics of the United States, 2 vols. 

(Washington, D.C.: Bureau of the Census, 1975), 1:8.

153

6

Between 1900 and 1970 Dutch water management became a “hydraulic technocracy.” This does not 

mean that civil engineers literally exercised political 

power as leaders, ministers, or parliamentarians—

though they did all of these. “Technocracy” in this case 

was a situation in which engineers tackled problems in 

the sphere of water management and road transport—

according to their own perspective. This “technocracy” 

rested on a power to identify problems and imagine solutions without really having to take into account the opinions of non-experts. It rested in part on the ascendance of 

what Monte Calvert famously called “school culture” over 

traditional “shop culture”: the replacement of empirical 

knowledge by authoritative “engineering science.” 

The laws on the two largest coastal engineering projects of the twentieth century—the closing and reclamation of the Zuiderzee (passed in 1918) and the so-called 

Delta Works to dam off the estuaries in the southwest 

part of the country (passed in 1957)—were symptomatic 

of this technocratic spirit. They were inspired by exhaustive studies and recommendations by leading civil engineers who themselves had defined the problem and the 

therapy. Moreover, the texts of the laws themselves were 

extremely succinct—taking no more than a few pages in 

the parliamentary record to sketch the basic features of 

the project. All the details regarding the kinds of infrastructure, the timing, the method of construction, and so 

on were not dictated and were regarded as the prerogative of the engineers. Hence, within a flexible mandate 

and an elastic budget, civil engineers, and the Rijkswaterstaat in particular, came to enjoy enormous latitude 

in defining and solving their own problems. During 

this period large parts of the Netherlands became their 

hydraulic playground and the organizations they led and 

staffed became among the most powerful in the country.

This new hydraulic technocracy was not only a shift 

in power from lawyers and bureaucrats to engineers, 

it also involved a new scale of planning and building. 

Although the idea of “hydraulic systems” was by no 

means novel—as in the river management in the nineteenth century—after the turn of the century it gradually became a cornerstone of Dutch hydraulic engineering. Whereas “projects” had been the basic unit of 

engineering imagination in the nineteenth century, now 

regional and even national “systems” became the dominant mode. This approach was coupled to new kinds of 

FROM PROJECTS TO SYSTEMS:

THE EMERGENCE OF A NATIONAL 

HYDRAULIC TECHNOCRACY, 1900–1970

Nil Disco and Bert Toussaint

155
systematic knowledge and, eventually, more centralized 

hydraulic administrations. Both were fostered in turn 

by the promotion of engineering education from the 

sphere of secondary education to that of higher education in 1905. In that year, the Delft Engineering School, 

which had a monopoly on the education of state engineers, became the Delft Technical High School, equivalent to the classical universities in everything but the 

name. Its professors were granted the Ius Promovendi, 

which not only increased the prestige of the engineering 

sciences but proved to be an important stimulus for 

fundamental applied science research—including 

research in civil engineering.

There had been few indications during the last quarter 

of the nineteenth century that this kind of technocratic 

future was in the offing. On the contrary, many signs 

pointed to the dawning of a new populist era in Dutch 

politics and, by the same token, water management. This 

had to do with the gradual erosion of liberal hegemony by 

new political movements. Although the liberal revolution 

of 1848 had given an immense impetus to the consolidation of national water management and to the implementation of a great number of water management and 

infrastructural projects, by the 1880s the liberal engine had 

begun sputtering. By then the liberal example had created 

space, institutions, and resources for new social movements that were challenging the old liberal monopoly 

and making politics more complex and contentious. After 

1870, Catholics and socialists also began an assault on 

state power, and by the end of that decade a progressive 

liberal movement was taking shape that challenged both 

the old liberals’ unconcern with the social injustice generated by unbridled industrialization as well as their horror 

of a state that intervened in the free market system.

It may have seemed that in this new era everything—including water management—would be utterly 

politicized. The ideological mobilization of the public, 

especially in new “populist” Catholic and socialist 

political movements, promised an active, alert citizenry 

that would impress its will on the state and make its 

own demands in the fields of infrastructure and water 

management. As the poet Albert Verwey, co-founder of 

the influential literary and political journal De Nieuwe 

Gids (1885), put it: “This is a time of passion, rather than 

of introspection.” People “have things to say that brook 

no delay and their movements are the movements of 

people that suddenly take action.”1 This cultural climate 

stood in sharp contrast to the era of classical liberalism 

in which the spokesmen of commerce, industry, and 

liberal ideology were the moving forces, using the state 

as a tool to ease the way of economic progress and to 

secure the physical integrity of the land. 

Water management became embedded in this 

politicized and “pillarized” world. It was now potentially 

a bone of contention among the political pillars. The 

rise of religious pillars with strong constituencies in the 

countryside or a specific regional focus on the Catholic 

south, threatened to make water management once 

again a contentious business. Protestant agrarian interests pursued improved drainage and water management 

of small rivers and the reclamation of “wild lands” in the 

eastern part of the country. The Catholic pillar clamored 

for similar measures in the Catholic provinces of North 

Brabant and Limburg, with the Limburg bourgeoisie 

also advocating the canalization of the Dutch Meuse. 

Nonetheless, there were many regional projects 

that represented a generic (that is, non-pillarized) 

interest in safety, economic progress, and competitiveness. This applied to reclamations, flood control, and 

especially to waterways. In the second half of the nineteenth century the classical liberals had enlarged and 

upgraded the waterways in the core western provinces; 

there was now an ever-increasing clamor to extend 

this core network into the peripheries. The Zuiderzee 

closure, the Meuse canalization, and a project for a 

canal system between the Twente textile cities and the 

156

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Rhine were all examples of this new regionalism, as 

well as the improvement of the peripheral harbors of 

Vlissingen, Delfzijl, and Harlingen. Because until 1918 

parliamentarians were elected on a regional basis, 

water management was handled in Parliament on the 

basis of local and regional interests. Successive governments had to maintain at least the appearance of 

equitable distribution of resources among the regions. 

While this did not absolutely paralyze progress, it did 

demand long and tedious negotiations that considerably slowed the pace of water management projects 

during the first two or three decades of the twentieth 

century. This phenomenon might be viewed as a Dutch 

version of American “pork barrel” politics.

The new pillarized and regionalized politics of 

water management also had negative effects on the 

Rijkswaterstaat during this period. While the organization had flourished under the liberal “project,” 

it seemed to flounder in the new and much more 

complex world of political water management. This 

may have been due in part to its own basically regional 

organization—with the provincial directorates identifying first and foremost with their own provincial water 

management interests. Up to and through World War 

I (in which the Netherlands remained neutral) the 

Rijkswaterstaat proved incapable of exercising leadership in the domain of water management. Matters were 

not helped by the fact that the organization was also 

Weir at Grave, one of the weir construction projects in the Meuse canalization program, 

aimed at facilitating navigation for bulk transport, completed in 1929

Articapress

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

157
struggling to master a number of new civil engineering 

technologies, including electrical power, reinforced 

concrete, and steel construction. 

However, in the 1920s a new spirit seized hold of 

the Rijkswaterstaat and the new Dienst der Zuiderzeewerken (Zuiderzee Service). Hydraulic imagination 

began to transcend local and regional projects and to 

conceive of national systems of flood control, navigation, 

and fresh water supply. New technologies were applied 

and their impact carefully studied. The new élan was 

confirmed by the reorganization of the Rijkswaterstaat 

in 1930, which shifted power from the provincial peripheries to a national command center and provided new 

organizational niches for specialization and research. 

Although the Zuiderzee Works were carried out by a 

formally independent organization, several of its leading 

engineers were former Rijkswaterstaat employees, and 

the new style of planning and construction was rapidly 

adopted by the Rijkswaterstaat as well. During the 1930s, 

for example, the theoretical groundwork was laid for 

the Delta Works that were carried out in the wake of the 

massive 1953 flood.

The long period of reconstruction after World War 

II provided ideal conditions for reinforcing the new 

interventionist state and developing a strong central 

planning dynamic. Doing so was mainly a reaction to 

the economic recession of the 1930s and the chaos and 

devastation of the war. But the example of the German 

Normalization of the Meuse River, ca. 1935

Aviodrome Luchtfotografie, Lelystad

158

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
occupation had ironically fostered a new appreciation of a strong central administration’s planning role, 

symbolized by the appointment of Rijkswaterstaat 

boss Johannes Ringers to the post of commissioner for 

reconstruction during the occupation. The experiences 

of the period 1930–1945 left their mark on the postwar 

social and political climate. There was a widespread 

call for more government coordination. There were also 

inspiring foreign examples: Roosevelt’s New Deal was 

admired by many; and the 1942 report, Social Insurance 

and Allied Services, by the British economist and politician W. H. Beveridge, containing proposals to set up 

a social security system and a national health system, 

was also influential in the Netherlands. In the 1950s and 

1960s, consecutive Dutch governments increased state 

intervention in many fields. Until 1960, the government 

determined wage levels in every economic branch; 

it designed ambitious industrial development plans; 

it planned huge housing production schemes; and it 

invested heavily in the national infrastructure. In this 

period of frenzied modernization, nature was sacrificed 

to industrial zones and traditional landscapes were 

transformed into large-scale agricultural plots in the 

interest of improving agricultural productivity. 

After 1960 the Dutch welfare state came into 

being and with it a variety of new allocations and 

benefits. Though there was a basic consensus among 

the political parties about these kinds of government 

re-allocation, they disagreed about the extent and the 

scope. The Social-Democrats were strongly committed 

to the planned economy; the Christian-Democrats, on 

the other hand, were rather reluctant to support big 

government. Instead, they set out to create tripartite 

consultative institutions, where government, business representatives, and labor unions held discussions and gave advice about social-economic issues. 

These institutions, the Social-Economic Council 

(Sociaal-Economische Raad) and the Labor Foundation (Stichting van de Arbeid), were successful instruments for reaching compromises on a wide range of 

issues. Between 1948 and 1958 the Christian-Democrats 

and Social-Democrats formed government coalitions. 

After that, the Liberals replaced the Social-Democrats. 

Nonetheless, by international standards, government 

intervention remained strong. In 1946 the Liberal leader, 

Pieter Oud, made a cautious, but revealing remark: he 

was not against government planning, he said, provided 

its scope did not exceed certain limits. Oud’s flexibility 

mirrored not only contemporary liberalism’s underdog 

role, but also its conceptual pallor.2

The era between 1940 and 1970 was also shaped by 

great confidence in technology and its problem-solving 

capacities, an attitude that was already discernible in the 

Johannes Aleidis Ringers (1885–1965), director-general 

of the Rijkswaterstaat (1930–1935) and Commissioner 

for Reconstruction (1940–1943)

Rijkswaterstaat

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

159
1920s and 1930s. Engineers had an exalted professional 

status and their unchallenged social position certainly 

helped to legitimize government policies, to a considerable extent shaped by top-down planning, research and, 

in general, expert opinion. Technical education was 

expanded further with the establishment of two new 

technical universities, at Eindhoven (1956) and Twente 

(1961). Technical vocational training also attracted more 

students as more special technical schools were created. 

A rational, confident, forward-looking orientation was widespread in Dutch society, fostered by the 

economic boom, full employment, and rising prosperity.3

Besides, until the late sixties, the leaders of the main 

ideological pillars—Social-Democrats, Protestants, and 

Catholics—cooperated on critical social issues, while 

simultaneously keeping their adherents under control. In this climate 

of political stability, respect for 

authority, general confidence in technical solutions, and a growing government budget, the Rijkswaterstaat’s 

power grew to unprecedented heights. 

Repairing the immense war 

damage (under the Rijkswaterstaat’s 

supervision) had been the first item 

on the agenda in 1945. Numerous 

bridges were rebuilt and waterways 

were swept clear of wrecks and mines. 

Once this emergency work was done, 

a huge infrastructure construction 

program shifted into gear. A freeway 

network, outlined in national schemes 

published from 1927 onwards, was 

built; new canals were constructed 

and existing ones enlarged; sluices, 

bridges, and tunnels were built. In 

1952 the Amsterdam-Rhine Canal 

was finished: upon completion, the 

huge locks at Tiel were the largest in Europe. In 1953 

the Twente Canal was opened for shipping. It also 

served regional drainage. Canals in Noord-Brabant and 

Friesland followed. In 1957, after much delay, the Rijkswaterstaat completed its first tunnel at Velsen, under 

the North Sea canal.4 The opening attracted so many car 

drivers that a traffic jam ensued—still a rare phenomenon for that time. A spectacular project, carried out in a 

partnership with the city of Rotterdam, was the seaward 

expansion of the Rotterdam Harbor. The Rijkswaterstaat 

built a new harbor entrance on the coast and created a 

huge harbor development zone (Europoort), where not 

only shipping quays but also petrochemical plants were 

set up. In response to a request by American shipping 

companies, the quays and industrial parks were designed 

Beatrix Lock in the Amsterdam-Rhine Canal; see map in chapter 1

Rijkswaterstaat

160

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
at a height of 5 meters (16.4 feet) above mean sea level. 

These projects were supported by the Rijkswaterstaat’s 

new research departments, built up since the late 1920s, 

and epitomizing the Rijkswaterstaat’s dominance vis-àvis the provinces and the water boards. The provinces, 

swept along with the current, likewise expanded and 

improved their provincial canal and road networks. 

OLD IMPULSES, NEW CONCERNS, AND NEW TOOLS

During this long period between the turn of the century 

and the turn of the political tide in 1970, the two traditional pillars of Dutch national water management—

floods and waterways—were joined by a third, water 

quality. The threats of floods, from swollen rivers and 

storm-swept seas, continued to be the main prod to 

national activity in the field of water management. Three 

floods in particular had a big impact: the Zuiderzee 

flood of 1916, the Meuse River floods in Gelderland, 

Brabant, and Limburg in 1926, and finally the disaster 

of February 1953, which inundated a good part of the 

southwestern delta. As in the past, these disasters were 

powerful catalysts for initiating costly engineering plans. 

The record flooding on the Meuse in 1926 was a 

call to arms. The responsible engineer, Cornelis Willem 

Lely, immediately drew up a plan to improve the river’s 

discharge capacity so that it could handle high river 

stages without flooding and without the infamous Beers 

floodway as a relief valve. Lely was the son of Cornelis 

Lely, the spiritual father of the Zuiderzee works, as 

discussed below.5 Lely’s plan was basically to normalize 

the river between Blauwe Kamer and Grave (the site 

of the most downstream weir complex of the existing 

Shell’s oil refinery at the huge petrochemical complex in Europoort, symbolizing 

the expansion of the Rotterdam harbor after 1945

Bart Hofmeester

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

161
canalization project completed between 1919 and 1929). 

The plan proposed rectification—that is, elimination 

of meanders—and normalization—that is, achieving 

uniform channel breadth and depth. In order to ensure 

sufficient draught for navigation in the streamlined river 

at low stages, Lely also proposed extending the existing 

canalization downstream by building a final weir at Lith. 

The ten-year project was started in 1932, at the height of 

the Great Depression, and was financed in part under 

a public works scheme that enabled Rijkswaterstaat to 

conscript unemployed laborers.6 Both of the other major 

hydraulic projects of this period—the enclosure of the 

Zuiderzee and the Delta Works—were also initiated in 

response to extensive floods. These tragedies converged 

with the emergence of the more proactive engineering 

culture, at least among Rijkswaterstaat engineers. Plans 

to prevent catastrophes were now being made ahead of 

their actual occurrence, even though it often still took 

the disaster itself to get the plans through Parliament. 

The second traditional driver in the field of water 

management was nautical transport, extending as far 

back as the reign of King William I, the “canal-king.” This 

driver did not apply only to the “core” waterways system 

centered on the harbors of Rotterdam and Amsterdam, 

with their artificial seaways and the large-scale rivers 

and canals connecting them to distant hinterlands. After 

the turn of the century, industrial and mining centers 

in the peripheries also demanded competitive modern 

connections to the core waterways system. These pressures kept Rijkswaterstaat at work. Not only the Twente 

canal was built in this period, but in the 1920s several 

Meuse sections were canalized and in the 1930s the 

Meuse section bordering on Belgium was bypassed by 

constructing the Juliana Canal.

Canalization of the Meuse in Dutch Limburg had 

been contemplated since the 1860s, inspired partly by 

the example of Belgium, where large sections of the 

Meuse were being canalized at that time. A joint DutchBelgian Commission (1906–1912) presented an ambitious canalization report, including the canalization of 

the common “Border Meuse,” but World War I intervened. After the war the Dutch developed these plans 

into their own canalization scheme for the Dutch Meuse 

downstream of the Border Meuse, spurred by a pressing 

demand for cheap coal transport from the highly 

productive Limburg coal mines. To enable navigation at 

different river stages, Rijkswaterstaat designed five huge 

movable weir complexes between the towns of Linne and 

Grave, adapting British, Swiss, and German technology 

to the situation of the Meuse. The canalization scheme, 

carried out between 1919 and 1929, thus became an 

open-air school for Rijkswaterstaat engineers in which 

they learned how to integrate technologies of reinforced 

concrete, steel construction, and electrical power into 

complex weir and lock designs.7

However, in contrast to the previous period, the 

rivers and waterways were no longer the main act, 

although major river management and navigation projects continued to be executed. The most spectacular 

projects were the two “flood-management” systems 

mentioned above, involving a drastic reduction of the 

length of coastline that could be exposed to the ravages 

of storms and storm surges at sea.

As early as the 1930s, the old impulses of navigation improvement and flood management were 

joined by concerns about the very quality of fresh 

water. “Pure” water—or at least water that could be 

used for macro-hydraulic, agricultural, and domestic 

purposes—gradually became scarce. This shortage was 

due in part to increased demand, as a result of population increase, the growth of greenhouse farming, 

and industrialization; in part to increasingly stringent 

quality demands made possible by improved analytic 

techniques; and in part to the increasing pollution 

of fresh water by both urban and industrial polluters 

and by saline intrusions from the sea. Surface water 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
salinity was considerably increased by the large new 

seaways connecting Rotterdam and Amsterdam to 

the sea. These were not only highways for world trade, 

but also conduits for salt water from the sea. Another 

source of salinity was the Rhine, which was burdened 

by increasing amounts of salt waste from German 

coal mines and industries and later from the Alsatian potash mines. This situation was a double-bind 

because it was only thanks to the Rhine’s copious 

supplies of fresh water that Dutch water managers were 

able to keep the maritime salt intrusions at bay and 

to flush the polders—at least in times of moderate to 

high river stages. This new set of issues began to shape 

the water management agenda on its own, ultimately 

to become integrated into the more traditional flood 

control projects and transportation infrastructure.

The scope and scale of the new water management agenda had its counterpart in a new range of 

basic technologies that had emerged by the turn of 

the century. New tools, theories, methods, materials, 

and energy sources held the promise of a revolution 

in civil engineering practice. Reinforced concrete and 

steel construction made it possible to build large and 

strong monolithic structures at previously unimagined 

scales. Electricity was a flexible conveyor of energy and 

a subtle medium of control. Sheet-piling and deep-well 

pumping created a way of realizing ever deeper foundation pits. New hydrodynamic theories and experimental methods provided safe guides to increasingly 

daring and cost-effective designs. All these innovations 

promised dramatic increases in both the scale and 

subtlety of civil engineering projects. The major challenge for the Dutch civil engineering community in 

general, and Rijkswaterstaat in particular, was how to 

appropriate these new technological promises into an 

effective and efficient management structure. There 

was a thin line between caution and conservatism that 

was not always appreciated by outsiders and politicians, and on several occasions—especially in the first 

three decades of the twentieth century—it proved difficult for the Rijkswaterstaat to justify its claim to being 

the most competent and technologically advanced actor 

in Dutch water management. 

 Lack of trust influenced the 1918 decision not to 

charge the Rijkswaterstaat with the enclosure and reclamation of the Zuiderzee. The government’s decision to 

entrust this mammoth project to a new agency directly 

responsible to the minister was a serious blow to the 

Rijkswaterstaat’s self-esteem. The general dissatisfaction with the performance of the Rijkswaterstaat since 

the 1890s in fact prompted the minister to appoint a 

commission (the so-called Rosenwald Commission) 

to prepare plans for a thorough reorganization. The 

decision to exclude Rijkswaterstaat from the Zuiderzee 

Cornelis Lely (1854–1929)

Rijkswaterstaat

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

163
works was taken by a minister of waterstaat, commerce, 

and industry who was himself a civil engineer, Cornelis 

Lely. As a young engineer in the service of the Zuiderzee 

Association, a private lobby group promoting closure 

and reclamation of the Zuiderzee, Lely had in 1891 

himself proposed the scheme that would ultimately be 

carried out. The lethargy, conservatism, and outright 

skepticism of the Rijkswaterstaat at the time had apparently made such an impression that, years later, Lely 

still had a very negative image of the agency and judged 

it unfit to undertake the project.8 Lely’s immediate 

successor as minister, the Catholic electrical engineer 

and former professor at Delft, G. J. Van Swaay, had 

similar problems with the Rijkswaterstaat in connection with the canalization of the Meuse. In response to 

a dispute about an appropriate design for the weir at 

Grave, he lectured his two inspectors-general as follows: 

It has given me very little satisfaction to be 

forced to conclude that the study of the requested 

information has been carried out with such 

a lack of initiative, that so little independent 

judgement has been manifested and that, out 

of the conflict of opinions among those whom I 

have asked for advice, no clearly circumscribed 

proposals have been forthcoming.9

All this changed for the better after 1930 when, 

partly in response to the 1926 report of the Rosenwald 

Commission, the Rijkswaterstaat was reorganized. 

Although the outmoded regionally based structure was 

not abolished, it was encapsulated in a much more 

hierarchically organized command structure which 

considerably shortened the interminable internal 

debates that had previously paralyzed action. The organization was now headed by a single director-general 

who not only had very strong powers within the agency 

but who also was directly responsible to the minister, 

thus shortening the chain of command by bypassing a 

separate hydraulic bureaucracy in the ministry itself. 

The first incumbent of this post—perhaps fortunately 

for the Rijkswaterstaat—was the brilliant civil engineer 

Johannes Aleidis Ringers.10

Ringers had been a student of the prolific Jacob 

Kraus who, as professor of civil engineering and rector 

at Delft in the first decade of the new century—and later 

as minister of waterstaat—had propagated the modernization of Dutch civil engineering as a scientifically 

innovative and economically oriented discipline.11 As a 

Rijkswaterstaat engineer, Ringers carried this concept of 

civil engineering to new heights. As early as 1912 he had 

designed and supervised the highly innovative construction of a large lock at Hansweert in the canal through 

South Beveland on the waterway between Rotterdam 

and Antwerp. At Hansweert, Ringers created what was 

arguably the Netherlands’ first economically rational 

construction site, utilizing a number of innovative technologies. He applied electrically powered deep-well 

pumping to keep the deep construction pit dry; he used 

reinforced concrete for the piling, floors, sills, and walls 

of the lock; and he employed the first of many floatable 

riveted-steel horizontal rolling lock-doors to be used in 

Dutch locks.12 In the mid-1920s he applied these early 

lessons to the world-class North Lock at IJmuiden at 

the entrance to the North Sea Canal. This lock, which 

for many years after its completion in 1930 remained 

the largest in the world, also pushed the envelope on 

numerous points of design and construction. Among 

other things, the innovative use of scale-model experiments (at Prof. H. Krey’s Preussische Versuchsanstalt 

für Wasser- und Schiffsbau in Berlin) enabled Ringers 

to save a million guilders—a huge sum in 1921—by 

replacing the cumbersome longitudinal filling manifolds in the lock walls with short tunnels circumventing 

the doors.13 Doing so made it possible to construct the 

walls much thinner, lighter, and higher, and hence more 

164

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
cheaply. Upon the completion of the lock, he served 

as president-director of the contractors’ conglomerate charged with building the dam to close off the 

Zuiderzee. Two years later he was appointed the first 

chief of the new Directorate of the Waterstaat, with the 

title of director-general and directly responsible to the 

minister. The new directorate included both the Rijkswaterstaat and the Zuiderzee Service.

Ringers applied his considerable technical and organizational experience to restoring a sense of purpose and 

dignity to the Rijkswaterstaat. He set about his task with 

patience, taking two years to produce his master plan 

for reorganization. Meanwhile he recruited a number 

of like-minded engineers to fill vacancies in leadership 

positions and he created several new specialist agencies 

that could begin to function as the innovative “brains” 

of the organization. Contrary to what some expected, 

Ringers’ plan left the old regional organizational structure more or less intact. Though there were good reasons 

to do so, this aspect of the plan has also been interpreted 

as a smokescreen serving to quash potential dissent by 

hiding Ringer’s real objective of relocating the Rijkswaterstaat’s dynamism to specialist departments partly 

outside the regional structure.14 He himself set the precedent by arranging for the construction of the North Lock 

at IJmuiden to be organized as an independent project 

directly under the minister’s supervision and independent of the Rijkswaterstaat’s regional structure.

Ringers also made crucial decisions that finally put 

the plans for a national hydraulic experimental station on 

a firm footing. In view of the Rijkswaterstaat’s increasing 

use of hydraulic scale models, it would have been conveThe IJmuiden North Lock construction site, ca. 1925

Rijkswaterstaat

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

165
nient for it to have had its own in-house hydraulic laboratory, but Ringers recognized the value of an independent 

academic standing in cases where scale-model experiments were necessary to resolve disputes about hydraulic 

projects.15 The new laboratory was therefore organized as 

a foundation in which the Rijkswaterstaat participated, 

but it was organizationally integrated into and physically located at the Technical High School at Delft and 

used partly as a teaching laboratory by Delft’s Civil Engineering Department. 

The creation, in 1930, of the Research Service for 

the Tidal Rivers within a Directorate for Tidal Rivers 

was particularly consequential. This agency, headed by 

the extremely bright, ambitious, and headstrong engineer Dr. Johan van Veen, was charged with mapping, 

measuring, and producing plans for what Ringers 

described as the “general improvement” of the tidal 

rivers and estuaries in the southwest part of the country. 

Over the course of the 1930s, Van Veen and his staff 

would transform this mandate into a research project to 

calculate the propagation of marine storm surges into 

the Dutch estuaries and further upstream, including the 

construction of a huge electromechanical analog tidal 

computer. They also advanced a number of schemes for 

radical reconstruction of the estuary system which, after 

World War II, would provide the basis for the Delta Plan. 

Its backdrop was the Delta Plan’s predecessor: the first 

major coastal reconstruction and reclamation project of 

the twentieth century, the Zuiderzee Works. 

THE IJSSELMEER AND THE DELTA: A 

NATIONAL SYSTEM FOR FLOOD PROTECTION, 

FARMLAND AND FRESH WATER

THE ZUIDERZEE WORKS

The Zuiderzee project, the largest twentieth-century 

Dutch reclamation project and an icon of modernist 

planning and engineering, has a long history. The first 

nineteenth century plans for this huge undertaking 

had a dual motivation. They focused on an agricultural 

enterprise economically justified by prospects of being 

able to sell the reclaimed land to farmers for a profit. 

However, like many of its predecessors, the Zuiderzee 

project proposals were equally motivated by concerns 

over flooding, as storm surges in the Zuiderzee repeatedly caused havoc along its coasts. Nearly every generation witnessed a major flood disaster. There were particularly heavy storm surges in the years 1717, 1775, 1776, 

1808, and 1825.16

Subsequent to the Haarlemmermeer’s successful 

drainage, a great number of more-or-less visionary 

plans were put forth for reclaiming what many seemed 

to think was only its somewhat bigger brother, the 

Zuiderzee. However, the fact that the Zuiderzee was a 

maritime bay filled with salt water, subject to tides and 

currents, made the purported “family resemblance” 

rather specious. In fact, the Zuiderzee was in another 

league entirely. 

The first plans that were developed in 1848–49 were 

chiefly advanced by Frisian agricultural interests and 

were designed to drain and reclaim almost the entire 

Zuiderzee (and part of what is now the Waddenzee) by 

extending the reclamation not only along the east coast 

of North Holland but also to the coast of Friesland and 

even a part of the Groningen coast. In 1875, however, 

the Rijkswaterstaat engineer Leemans proposed a more 

modest plan to enclose and reclaim only the southern 

part of the Zuiderzee. This would leave the sea dikes in 

Friesland, North Holland, and Groningen still facing 

open tidal salt water, which would be difficult for 

drainage and virtually useless for irrigation. Worse yet, 

common sense suggested that the enclosing dam would 

raise water levels on its seaward side and place these 

sea-dikes in even greater jeopardy from storm surges. 

In any event, the government fell and the bill pending 

in Parliament was withdrawn. But it was clear, at least to 

166

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Van Diggelen 1849 Leemans 1877

Kooy and Opperdoes Alewijn

1870 - 1873

Lely 1891

0 30 km

Four Zuiderzee Reclamation Plans, 1849–1891

Top left: Van Diggelen’s 1849 plan; top right: Leemans’ 1877 plan; bottom left: Kooy’s and Opperdoes 

Alewijn’s 1870–1873 plan; bottom right: Lely’s 1891 plan. Lely’s plan encompassed the basics of 

the later Zuiderzee Works. Lely designated four polders: (clockwise) Noordoostpolder, Flevoland, 

Markerwaard, and Wieringermeer.

Matrijs, Utrecht

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

167
some, that the interests of the northern provinces would 

be served only by a plan in which the enclosing dam was 

positioned well to the north—hence, the founding of the 

Zuiderzee Association in 1886. 

Initiators of the Zuiderzee Association were Age 

Buma (agricultural consultant, member of the Frisian 

Agricultural Society, member of Parliament) and P. J. G. 

van Diggelen (lawyer in Zwolle and son of civil engineer 

B. P. G. van Diggelen, author of another very ambitious 

1849 plan to enclose the entire Zuiderzee).17 Membership 

in the association was open to provinces, municipalities, 

water boards, and private citizens. It was financed by 

membership dues and donations. Formally, the association aimed at the publication of a well-wrought plan, 

based on its own research, for the enclosure and reclamation of what they called the “entire” Zuiderzee. 

Neither the civil engineering establishment 

enthroned in the Royal Institute of Engineers nor the 

Rijkswaterstaat were convinced; official opinion held 

that such an ambitious reclamation would be foolhardy. The technical feasibility was doubtful and, even 

if it could be done, there would hardly be profit in it. 

So around 1890 the curious situation arose of a private 

association framing an assault on the civil engineering 

establishment (and the Rijkswaterstaat in particular) 

with the aim of advancing a regionally-inspired plan for 

a Zuiderzee reclamation. The assault was facilitated by 

a Parliament based on regional representation, and the 

weapons were hydrological science, meticulous data 

gathering, and economic reasoning—all larded with 

visionary utopianism.

The founding of the Zuiderzee Association and its 

dedication to science and data was basically a response 

to Parliament’s rejection of a plan put forth by Buma in 

1882—using his right of initiative as parliamentarian. 

Buma’s plan was a minor reworking of the already 

discredited “total” approach favored during the early 

years of the liberal revolution, with as its major virtue 

the inclusion of the Frisian and Groningen coast in the 

enclosure scheme. Frustrated by the rejection of the 

plan and the refusal of Parliament and the government 

to subject the question to a proper scientific investigation, Buma and Van Diggelen considered it time to take 

matters into their own hands by founding the Zuiderzee 

Association and hiring a young Delft-trained engineer 

to undertake the necessary research to produce a robust 

plan based on their particular view of the matter.

By 1891 the young engineer, Cornelis Lely, had 

produced a new plan for the closure and partial reclamation of the Zuiderzee, based on four years of intensive research, both in the literature and on board a 

survey vessel in the Zuiderzee itself.18 Thanks to this 

work, Lely had been able to produce a detailed map 

of the sea bottom and he could therefore situate his 

reclamations where the seabed promised to be most 

fertile. The reclamation of the four, later five, individual polders was to be preceded (with the exception 

of the first, the Wieringermeer) by construction of the 

main closure dam. The dam would eliminate tides in 

the now-enclosed sea and, because of the influx of 

fresh water from the IJssel river coupled with drainage 

through sluices in the dam at low tide, rapidly turn 

the sea into a freshwater lake. Once this had been 

accomplished, the four remaining ring-dikes could be 

constructed, the water pumped out to form polders, 

and the land prepared for occupation. Lely’s inclusion 

of the mouth of the IJssel River behind the closure dam 

required not only large tidal sluices in the dam but 

also a large buffer lake to store the river’s discharge 

in the event of protracted high river stages or storm 

surges at sea. The large lake was not only hydraulically 

advantageous, it also promised to be an important 

resource for water management (drainage, irrigation, and flood control) in the provinces surrounding 

the proposed reclamation. It was, in short, a system

for water management—with multipurpose manage168

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
ment features—but also a plan that still had too few 

supporters to be taken up in Parliament or to be of 

interest to the Rijkswaterstaat or the ruling government. However, inasmuch as Lely had been asked in 

the summer of 1891 to assume the post of minister 

of waterstaat, trade, and industry in the left-liberal 

cabinet headed by Gijsbert van Tienhoven, this state of 

affairs was about to change. His new position enabled 

him to further the Zuiderzee reclamation as a national 

project. Although as minister Lely had many irons 

in the fire (for example, he devoted much energy to 

progressive labor legislation), he did not lose sight of 

his Zuiderzee plans and in 1892 appointed a broadbased government commission to make recommendations on how to proceed. The commission’s report of 

April 1894 was overwhelmingly in favor of reclamation 

along the lines of Lely’s 1891 plan; but before matters 

could be put to a vote the government collapsed, and 

the project was shelved. Nonetheless, it was clear there 

was now consensus on a practical plan for partial 

reclamation of the Zuiderzee, though numerous questions remained about the economic justification and 

the technical feasibility.

By the turn of the century, the plan was firmly fixed 

in the national consciousness and had acquired an 

importance far beyond the regional northern interests 

initially pursued by Buma and the Zuiderzee Association. In addition to the “agrarian” improvement of the 

surrounding territories—improved drainage, flood 

protection, and fresh water for irrigation—it had also 

acquired significance as a new framework for safer 

inland navigation as well as providing a route for a much 

shorter railway link to the north via the enclosure dam. 

In 1901, Lely, during a second term as minister, again 

submitted a Zuiderzee bill to Parliament, but again the 

collapse of the government halted progress.

A third attempt was made in 1907 by a new minister 

of waterstaat, trade, and industry, the dynamic Delft 

civil engineering professor Jacob Kraus. Though this 

government was also short-lived, the bill stayed on the 

books until 1913. Meanwhile, details of the project, such 

as the proposed method of building the enclosing dam 

using traditional materials like sand and basalt-ballasted 

willow mattresses came under attack in the popular 

and the engineering press. A number of commentators—several from outside the engineering establishment—proposed revolutionary new designs using reinforced concrete caissons, claiming that construction on 

the basis of the existing plans was hopelessly outdated 

and would be needlessly risky and expensive. However, 

reinforced concrete was far from a proven technology 

for hydraulic works, and in order to settle the matter and 

save the project from public deconstruction of its technical feasibility, the Zuiderzee Association appointed 

a Reinforced Concrete Commission in 1909. Two years 

later, this commission returned a split decision, with 

the majority underscoring the advantages of using reinforced concrete caissons to effect the closure, but an 

important minority stressing the great risks involved. It 

seemed that parliamentary ratification of the pending 

bill was farther away than ever.

Half a decade later, however, events had conspired 

to change the odds again. In 1913 Lely had accepted 

a third term as minister on condition that he be given 

free rein to see a new Zuiderzee bill through Parliament. 

He started his campaign by retracting the pending bill 

and appointing a commission to reassess the economic 

underpinnings of the project—assuming that Parliament would want to see a profit before it consented to 

invest the money. However, this time nature intervened. 

In January 1916 a severe storm surge caused dikes to be 

breached at several places around the Zuiderzee. The 

entire countryside north of Amsterdam flooded and, 

standing on the city quays along the southern shore of 

the IJ, the inhabitants of the capital were able to see with 

their own eyes the danger of an open Zuiderzee. Lely 

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

169
took advantage of the flood to underscore the importance of the Zuiderzee project for flood control and 

submitted a new bill to Parliament. 

But the 1891 plan on which the bill was based had 

situated the closure dam such that the northern coasts 

of Friesland and Groningen remained unprotected. 

There were concerns in the north that the new dam 

would, in fact, increase the average height of tides 

along these coasts, and in that way also raise the height 

of storm surges—thus actually increasing the threat of 

flooding. Opinions differed regarding this claim and 

there was no consensus about an appropriate method 

for determining the new dam’s effects on water levels. 

To alleviate the uncertainty and the associated resistance in Parliament, Lely appointed a commission 

in 1918, headed by the Leiden University physicist 

and Nobel Laureate Hendrik Lorentz, to solve the 

controversy on the basis of a mathematical analysis. 

In the course of the next eight years Lorentz and his 

associates took many measurements and devised an 

entirely new method of calculating the propagation of 

tides through systems of estuarial tidal channels, an 

approach that would prove extremely fruitful in years 

to come.19 The commission’s report appeared in 1926 

and predicted a rise of nearly a meter near the point 

where the dam joined the Frisian coast. This prediction corresponded within just a few centimeters to 

actual measurements after the dam was built—an 

outcome that did much to bolster trust in mathematical 

modeling.20 The Lorentz report also indicated that 

the closure dam alignment had to be modified. The 

seafloor in the vicinity of the Frisian coast offered no 

solid foundation for the two complexes of five drainage 

sluices that were projected there, complementing the 

three complexes of five drainage sluices that had been 

designed at the southern tip of the dam. A bend in the 

alignment near the Frisian coast solved this problem. 

This bend also reduced high water levels at this spot. 

Fortunately, Lely did not have to wait for Lorentz’s 

results to proceed with his project. By 1918 critical 

food shortages during the closing months of World 

War I convinced many parliamentarians that food selfsufficiency was an important national goal and that the 

200,000 hectares of agricultural land promised by the 

Zuiderzee project would go a long way toward meeting 

the country’s needs in this regard. Hence in June 1918, 

even before the end of the war, a concise three-page law 

was passed committing the government to constructing a 

dam across the Zuiderzee between Den Oever and Piaam 

and to reclaiming five polders according to the outlines 

of the plan of 1891. In June 1920 the construction of the 

first section of the dam between the mainland of North 

Holland and the island of Wieringen was undertaken.

As noted above, Lely’s doubts about the flexibility 

and zeal of the Rijkswaterstaat led to his creation of a 

new dedicated organization—the Zuiderzee Service—to 

carry out the works. At the time, the Rijkswaterstaat, as 

Tessel Pollmann puts it, was “bureaucratic, hesitant, 

lethargic, a closed structure of civil-servants, with sluggish promotions on the basis of years of service—all this 

made the Rijkswaterstaat unsuited to lead a large, new 

project.”21 Only a few senior Rijkswaterstaat engineers 

made the switch to the Zuiderzee Service; for the rest, 

the Zuiderzee Service had to make do with new recruits. 

It would take until the mid-1930s before the Rijkswaterstaat, under Ringer’s inspired leadership, began to 

recover from this blow to its prestige. 

Meanwhile, the fledgling Zuiderzee Service, headed 

by the former Rijkswaterstaat chief engineer Hendrik 

Wortman, shouldered the heavy burden with its distant 

promise of glory. The work of the Zuiderzee Service was 

embedded in a broad-based cross-pillar coalition organized in the so-called Zuiderzee Council. Lely acted as 

chairman; co-chairmen were Gerard Vissering, president of the Dutch State Bank, and the prominent politician Hendrik Colijn, active in the Zuiderzee Association 

170

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
and later to become minister of finance and finally 

prime minister. The council also included high-placed 

civil servants from agriculture, fisheries, public health, 

water management, defense, economics, and finance. 

The council’s formal task was to review the work of the 

Zuiderzee Service and to offer advice where necessary. 

It also served to anchor the project in the various policy 

domains on which it touched. The Zuiderzee Works had 

become a truly national project.

No sooner had construction started than the postwar 

recession occasioned renewed doubts about the project’s economic viability. Fearing vast cost overruns and 

doubtful of the profit to be had, the minister of finance 

appointed a state commission in 1921 to assess the 

economic feasibility of the proposed works. Though the 

project was never completely halted, it was considerably 

delayed before the commission finally gave the go-ahead 

again in 1924, citing in particular the value of new land 

for the “healthy development” of agriculture and the 

importance of a new supply of fresh water.22 It is curious 

that flood defense was no longer the major issue, or at 

least not one that could be evaluated in economic terms. 

In 1925, during his first tour of duty as prime 

minister, Hendrik Colijn submitted a bill to Parliament 

stipulating that the Zuiderzee Works should thenceforth be carried out with all possible speed. It was 

passed by acclamation. The Zuiderzee Service could 

now proceed rapidly with the difficult task of building 

the main dam. It was materially aided in this endeavor 

by a new form of cooperation among several large 

hydraulic contractors united in the so-called Company 

for the Execution of the Zuiderzee Works. Under the 

effective leadership of Johannes Ringers (who in 1928 

had just completed the North Lock at IJmuiden and 

would return to the Rijkswaterstaat as its directorgeneral only two years later), this well-equipped engineering conglomerate devised new procedures and 

specialized equipment for depositing what is estimated 

Closure dam works: fascine mattresses made of willow branches were used extensively in the 

Zuiderzee closure dam to resist bottom erosion caused by fierce currents, 1929

Rijkswaterstaat

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

171
to be some 36.5 million cubic meters of sand and till 

(boulder clay) to create the massive body of the dam.23

The fortuitous discovery of deposits of boulder clay 

in the Zuiderzee itself proved crucial in closing the 

final gaps. Doing so was a race against time, because 

with every change of the tide the fierce currents in 

the breach threatened to wash away what the workers 

and the cranes had just as feverishly deposited in the 

preceding hours. But the boulder clay proved sufficiently resistant and the cranes sufficiently fast to make 

even this part of the task almost routine in the end. The 

great fear was that a sudden storm would wash away 

months of tedious work. Though there were some close 

calls, the project proceeded apace and, on May 28, 

1932, in an impressive ceremony, the final buckets of 

till closed the dam. While dividing the new IJsselmeer 

from the North Sea, at the same time the dam provided 

a means for connecting the provinces of North Holland 

and Friesland via a 32-kilometer-long highway. 

While the dam was still under construction, work 

was also started on the first of five planned polders, the 

so-called Wieringermeerpolder. Because the main closure 

dam was not yet completed, the polder dikes themselves 

had to be built in what was effectively open sea, and the 

builders consequently faced the same issues as on the 

main dam. This was not the case with subsequent polders, 

because their enclosing dikes could be built in tideless 

fresh water already cut off from the open sea by the main 

enclosure dam. With its 207 square kilometers of new 

land, the Wieringermeerpolder was in itself a serious 

agrarian enterprise, but it was also seen as a laboratory 

in which to develop techniques and protocols for making 

and populating the much bigger subsequent polders. To 

start with, the Wieringmeer was drained by two pumping 

The Closure Dam nears completion, 1932

Rijkswaterstaat

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
stations, one powered by diesel engines and the other 

by electric motors, as a purposeful experiment to allow 

a comparison of reliability and operating costs of the 

different techniques under similar conditions. Moreover, 

it was insurance in case one or the other sources of energy 

became scarce or suddenly unavailable. 

In the summer of 1930 the Wieringermeer had 

been pumped out and the land fell dry. Desalinating 

the old seabed and preparing the endless expanse of 

raw clay for human occupation and farming was the 

first order of business, to be accomplished by a separate Wieringermeer Directorate that was established 

alongside the Zuiderzee Service in 1930.24 This powerful 

and highly technocratic agency was responsible not 

only for preparing the land in a material sense—planning and constructing villages and towns, creating 

micro-drainage systems, deep-plowing the soil, and 

building roads, canals, bridges, and locks—but also for 

parceling the land out and distributing it to farmers. 

In an effort to avoid repeating the dismal history of the 

haphazard settling of the Haarlemmermeerpolder in 

the mid-nineteenth century, the new population of the 

Wieringermeerpolder was meticulously selected, not 

only in an effort to achieve a religious balance and to 

ward off potential troublemakers, but also to maximize 

the chances of success by selecting only ambitious and 

vigorous colonists who had already proved themselves 

on the old land. To screen and select the candidates 

according to what could at least be argued were professional scientific standards, the Wieringermeer Directorate, very much in the spirit of the times, employed 

sociologists and psychologists. In all respects, the WierThe final gap in the Closure Dam is being closed, May 28, 1932

Rijkswaterstaat

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

173
Map of the Noordoostpolder

Rijkswaterstaat

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
ingermeer set the tone for the reclamation and population of the subsequent IJsselmeerpolders.

These polders followed after the closure of the 

Zuiderzee in 1932 and by 1936 its transformation into 

the freshwater IJsselmeer. In 1937 work was started on 

the so-called Noordoostpolder (Northeast Polder). The 

ring of dikes was closed by December 1940. In the meantime, German forces had invaded the Netherlands and 

established a Nazi regime. However, initially at least, 

the invaders supported the improvement of their new 

province and no attempt was made to interfere with 

the completion of the polder, for example, by rationing 

fuel supplies or building materials. At the beginning 

of 1941 the three pumping stations began their work, 

and by September 1942 the 480 square kilometers (185 

square miles) of polder were pronounced dry, though 

far from habitable or tillable. By this time rationing of 

fuel and material made progress extremely difficult, but 

the construction of micro-drainage and transportation 

infrastructure continued throughout the war. By 1947 

the Wieringermeer Directorate, following the same strict 

selection process as in the Wieringermeerpolder, was 

able to start the process of allocating land to farmers. 

Requirements were relaxed somewhat when priority 

was given to farmers dispossessed as a result of the catastrophic 1953 floods in Zeeland.

The Noordoostpolder was a unique enterprise. 

Unlike the Wieringermeerpolder, which was, in some 

sense, a large-scale proof of principle and a laboratory 

for testing out different approaches, the Noordoostpolder was the real thing, a feeling that was expressed by 

designing it as a kind of celebration of a modernist idea 

of new land. The pattern of settlements was inspired by 

the “central places” approach developed in the 1930s by 

the German geographer Walter Christaller. The original 

plan was to build a central city, Emmeloord, surrounded 

by a ring of smaller towns at distances of one hour by 

bicycle from Emmeloord. After the war the plan was 

modified due to the increased use of automobiles. 

Modernity was also evident in the fact that Emmeloord’s 

several churches, built to serve the various denominations selected into the polder’s new population, were 

utterly dominated by a single huge tower at the city’s 

center whose secular carillon sounded far and wide over 

the polder. One of the small towns, Nagele, was itself an 

experiment in modern town planning, being designed 

by a collective of modernist architects and town planners, including famous names like Aldo van Eyck, Gerrit 

Rietveld, and Mien Ruys. Another odd feature of the new 

polder was the partial inclusion of two former islands, 

Urk and Schokland. The former, which housed a thriving 

fishing village of the same name, remained so aloof from 

its new agrarian setting that in a cultural and economic 

sense it long continued to be an island even though 

firmly connected to the new mainland.

One other feature of the Noordoostpolder that 

deserves mention is its hydraulic relationship to the 

contiguous “old land.” Like the Wieringermeer, the 

Noordoostpolder was directly “tacked on” to the old 

land, effectively using the old sea-dikes as part of the 

ring-dike around the new polder. The surface of the new 

polders was some three to four meters below the level 

of the contiguous old land and, as a result, groundwater 

percolated from the old land into the drainage ditches 

of the new polder. In the case of the Noordoostpolder, 

this phenomenon resulted in progressive desiccation 

and subsidence of the old land between the towns of 

Lemmer and Blokzijl—and a lot of extra pumping in the 

new polder. This design flaw was avoided in subsequent 

polders, all of which were separated from the contiguous 

old land by narrow “peripheral lakes” that conserved 

existing water levels—and hydraulic counterpressure—

on the outer flanks of the old sea-dikes. To this day, 

proposals are regularly put forth to repair the past and 

construct a similar peripheral lake at the boundary of 

the Noordoostpolder and the old land. 

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

175
Stone-pitching in the dike surrounding Eastern Flevoland

Persfotodienst

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
While the Noordoostpolder was still being finished 

and populated, in 1950, work had already started on 

the next polder, Eastern Flevoland. By 1957 it was 

pronounced dry and ready for further development. 

Slightly larger than the Noordoostpolder, its design 

was, in many ways, the product of a new age. It was 

dominated by a new city, Lelystad, on its westernmost 

corner. Lelystad’s placement near the geographical 

center of the new IJsselmeer polders clinched its 

destiny as both economic hub and capital city. 

However, because the last of the planned polders has 

not (yet) been built, the economic promise of Lelystad 

has not been fully realized. Lelystad was the first Dutch 

city to be designed in full consciousness of the impact 

of automobiles on urban space, following the principles of the famous Buchanan report (Traffic in Towns) 

published in 1963. The basic message was that in order 

to maintain a livable urban environment, car traffic 

should be isolated as much as possible from other 

transport systems and urban functions in general. In 

Lelystad this was realized by designing the city at two 

levels, one for automobiles and one for other functions. 

Opinion is divided whether this has in fact produced a 

more “livable” city. The advent of the automobile also 

legitimized reducing the number of peripheral towns. It 

also subtly redefined Eastern Flevoland as a road transport hub, inasmuch as it lay at the crossroads of new 

east-west and north-south road links—the latter across 

the dike built from Lelystad to Enkhuizen in anticipation of the fifth unbuilt polder, the Markerwaard. 

However, besides its usefulness as roadbed, this dike 

also had an important hydraulic function, connected 

with the appropriation of the new IJsselmeer into a 

national fresh water system.

TOWARD A NATIONAL FRESHWATER SYSTEM

In addition to creating new land, the closure of the 

Zuiderzee also created an enormous new freshwater 

basin in the heart of the country. The Zuiderzee was, 

strictly speaking, an estuary of the IJssel river, itself a 

distributary of the Rhine. Hence, the Zuiderzee had 

always been the recipient of generous amounts of fresh 

Rhine water. Precipitation, runoff, and a number of 

smaller rivers also contributed to the inflow of fresh 

water and reduced the Zuiderzee’s intrinsic salinity. After 

closure, the huge sluices in the new dam released excess 

water at every low tide and hence the IJssel Lake’s salinity 

was progressively reduced. It was only a matter of time 

before it would be fresh enough to be incorporated into 

the hydraulic systems of the surrounding countryside 

(as drainage buffer and source of water for irrigation and 

flushing) and even possibly as a source of potable water.

By 1936 the IJsselmeer was declared nominally 

fresh. The declaration occurred at a moment in time 

when issues of water quality, and particularly the 

increasing scarcity of non-polluted (and non-saline) 

sources for public water supplies, were being hotly 

debated. Basically there were two issues: first, increasing 

salinity and, second, increasing pollution due to municipal sewerage and industrial wastes. Both were byproducts of population increase and industrialization. 

Salt intrusions occurred via groundwater as 

deeper layers of salt water replaced the potable fresh 

water pumped up from aquifers, especially the coastal 

dunes. This effect had been known since the turn of 

the century.25 Increasing salinity of surface water was 

mostly due to the continual enlargement of seaways, 

particularly the New Waterway in Rotterdam. Every 

high tide conveyed tons of marine salts up the rivers; 

every increase in waterway dimensions exacerbated this 

problem. The increasing salinity was most critical for 

the greenhouse industry along the northern shore of the 

New Waterway, inasmuch as these farmers were dependent on its waters for irrigation of their greenhouse crops 

(which, of course, did not get rinsed from time to time 

by natural precipitation). Predictions indicated that it 

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

177
would only be a matter of time before the so-called “salt 

tongue” would also threaten the intakes of public water 

supplies farther upstream. These were, in fact, already 

threatened by a second front in the “salt war”—the 

increasing salinity of Rhine water caused by effluents 

primarily from Alsatian potash mines and coal mines 

and steel plants in the Ruhr.26

Pollution of ground and surface water by sewage 

and industrial effluents was also an issue that had been 

around since the turn of the century. But whereas at 

the outset water pollution had been a local and incidental affair, by the 1930s it was taking on systemic 

proportions. Sewage from the larger cities was increasingly compromising the water supplies of neighboring 

Eastern Flevoland

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
municipalities. Rotterdam and other cities on tidal 

rivers were even threatening their riverine water intakes 

with their own pollution. Add to this the increasing 

burden of a wide range of industrial pollutants, both 

of Dutch origin and imported by the Rhine and Meuse 

rivers from industries in the Ruhr and the Liège basin, 

and it becomes clear why a mood of crisis and gloom 

dominated Dutch discussions on fresh water in the 

1930s and why the creation of the IJsselmeer was 

greeted with such enthusiasm.

In 1933, even before the lake had formally been 

pronounced fresh, Johan M. K. Pennink, eminent 

hydrologist and the first director of Amsterdam’s waterworks after it became a public utility, warned: “Let us 

now finally and unreservedly acknowledge that we 

have gotten ourselves into a difficult pass, from which 

we can escape only by creating a preferably large and 

truly freshwater lake. That is not as easy as many may 

think.”27 Pennink’s “difficult pass” was the dire prospect 

of insufficient fresh water for Dutch public waterworks, 

particularly in the highly urbanized west.28 Though the 

large freshwater lake might solve the problem, making it 

fresh and, especially, keeping it so depended on holding 

the lake’s salinity to extremely low levels. A major source 

of salts, as Pennink argued in his article, would certainly 

be the new polders. The soil was still saturated with chlorides which would slowly leach out and be pumped into 

the lake in the process of routine drainage. 

Pennink’s polemic against further land reclamation 

put the Zuiderzee Service in a tight spot, the more so as 

it not only pursued reclamation but also subscribed to 

the idea of an IJsselmeer as a source of potable water. 

As soon as the dam was closed in 1932, the Zuiderzee 

Service began to study the behavior of its new charge, 

paying attention not only to the inflow and outflow of 

water, but also keeping track of various contributors 

to the lake’s salt burden. It soon became clear that, 

although great quantities of salt were leached from the 

new polders (and indeed the entire salt-impregnated 

former sea bottom), the inflow of fresh water from the 

IJssel (along with the expulsion of water through the 

sluices in the dam) would just suffice to reduce salinity 

to tolerable levels within a span of several years—even 

though the IJssel itself was burdened with Rhine salt. In 

other words, the most favorable outcome depended on 

maximizing IJssel River input into the IJsselmeer.

At this juncture the Rijkswaterstaat, in pursuit of its 

responsibility to maintain and improve the nation’s navigable waterways, came up with a plan that threatened to 

wreck the delicate win-win solution that the Zuiderzee 

Service had in mind. The crux was ensuring the nautical 

accessibility of the new Twente Canal system. The 

original plan prescribed a direct link from Twente to the 

Waal (the main Dutch Rhine branch), but the canal as 

built connected to the Rhine only via the upper reaches 

of the IJssel, between Zutphen and Arnhem. The upper 

IJssel was, however, poorly navigable, and in order to 

realize the full potential of the new Twente Canals, the 

Rijkswaterstaat proposed to canalize this stretch of the 

river. This plan, though it would hardly affect the IJssel’s 

flow at high river stages, would certainly cause stagnation at low summer stages—precisely when maximum 

inflow to the IJsselmeer was most needed to combat 

salinity. Rijkswaterstaat also favored the IJssel canalization because it could contribute to the desalinization 

of the western part of the country. Canalizing the IJssel 

would produce higher average river stages at Arnhem, 

which would force more fresh water through the NetherRhine-Lek-New Waterway system and help to keep the 

New Waterway’s encroaching salt-tongue at bay.

It was obvious at this stage (the late 1930s) that the 

broad coalition of interests in keeping the IJsselmeer as 

fresh as possible was on a direct collision course with 

the equally valid interest in keeping salt water out of the 

urbanized west. This might well have led to much acrimony and fatal delay had it not been for a rejuvenated 

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

179
Rijkswaterstaat that was prepared to assume the role 

of national system builder by effectively integrating the 

IJsselmeer into a national system for distributing the 

Rhine’s supply of fresh water throughout the nation.

The key to this national hydraulic system were the 

plans that Johan van Veen and his colleagues at the 

Research Service for the Tidal Rivers had been framing 

since 1936 in response to complaints about salinization. Based on new insights into the propagation of 

tidal flows, Van Veen had devised a scheme to conjoin a 

number of large islands and close off the seaward ends 

of a major estuary (the Brielse Maas) just south of the 

New Waterway. This scheme, which after World War II 

was developed into the “Five Island Plan” and ultimately 

the Delta Works, would reduce the amount of salt water 

entering the river system at each high tide—and especially at storm surges. Not only was high water deflected 

at the seaward entrance to the Brielse Maas, it was also 

kept at bay via the “back door” thanks to a reduction 

in the surface area of the basin that had to be “filled.” A 

second advantage was that more fresh river water from 

the Lek would be forced northward through the New 

Waterway, precisely where it was most needed.

But it took the keen vision of the new directorgeneral of the Rijkswaterstaat, Ludolf Reinier Wentholt, 

to fuse these disparate projects—the IJsselmeer and 

Van Veen’s “island plan”—into the backbone of what 

he was soon calling the “national water household.”29

In November 1940 Wentholt wrote a memo describing 

twenty different features of this “water household,” 

which in its emphasis on the interlocked nature of quantitative and qualitative aspects of water management 

actually foreshadowed what would become “integral 

water management” a half century later. In one breath 

Wentholt named such previously separate aspects as 

“the feeding of canals, the pollution of public waters, the 

salinization of the western and northern Netherlands, 

and the public water supplies of various large cities.”30

During World War II, the German occupiers 

allowed routine water management to go on largely 

undisturbed. It seems there was even an opportunity 

to plan for the future, because in the course of 1940–41 

Wentholt succeeded in forging a new consensus 

between the freshwater demands of the west and those 

of the north (the IJsselmeer). Consultations with key 

advisors like Jo Thijsse, director of the Hydraulic Lab 

at Delft, chief engineer Victor Jean Pierre de Blocq 

van Kuffeler of the Zuiderzee Service, and (of course) 

Johan van Veen revealed that the latter’s “island plan” 

would be so effective in resisting the salt-intrusions 

in the estuaries that it would be possible to canalize 

the Nether-Rhine rather than the IJssel. Canalizing the 

Nether-Rhine would have the effect of driving more 

water up the IJssel even at low Rhine stages, because 

the first weir in the Nether-Rhine (at Driel) could be set 

to raise water levels at the upstream junction of the two 

rivers. This would provide enough draught in the IJssel 

for navigation as well as keeping fresh water flowing 

into the IJsselmeer. Although the Nether-Rhine would 

convey almost no water at low Rhine stages, it would 

remain navigable thanks to the closed weirs and locks. 

Thus, in addition to the weir complex at Driel, similar 

complexes along the Nether-Rhine were designed at 

Amerongen and Hagestein. The designs were developed by L. van Bendegom, who created a so-called 

visor weir, named after the visor of a medieval helmet. 

The purely tensile water forces on the two semi-circular 

visors were transferred to hinges in the land abutment 

and the central pier. The construction elements were 

deemed indispensable in order to resist wind forces 

when the visor was opened. The circular shape induces 

the underflowing water to spread over a larger width 

than the navigation opening, thus reducing the necessary amount of bottom protection. In addition, the 

visor shape produces a variable underflow opening, 

damping vibrations produced by the undercurrents.

180

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Nether-Rhine canalization system: at low Rhine stages, the Driel weir is closed to 

ensure fresh water flow to the IJsselmeer through the IJssel (upward arrow)

Rijkswaterstaat

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

181
The Nether-Rhine canalization was carried out 

between 1954 and 1970. With the completion of the 

Haringvliet Sluices in 1971 as part of the Delta Plan, 

Wentholt’s vision of a national water household was 

finally realized. However, while concerns about salinization were incorporated into the design of the Delta 

Plan, the broader issues of pollution and ecological 

sustainability that Wentholt had started to address were 

drowned out by the call for secure flood defenses in the 

aftermath of the catastrophic flood of February 1953. It 

would take many years—until the cultural revolution of 

the 1960s and 1970s—before water quality in the broad 

sense would become a prominent issue again. 

THE HIGH TIDE OF COASTAL ENGINEERING

COASTAL ZONE MANAGEMENT

In the 1930s and 1940s, the Research Service for the 

Tidal Rivers, under the energetic leadership of Johan van 

Veen, made pioneering contributions to the rather unexplored field of coastal engineering. The main topics were 

tidal modeling—inspired by the Lorentz Committee—

wave research, morphology, sediment transport, and 

estuary research. Van Veen himself did extensive 

research into tidal currents, the coastal morphology, 

and sediment transport in the English Channel and 

the North Sea. The Research Service thus gave a major 

impetus to the emergence of science-based coastal 

Weir at Hagestein, regulating the water level in the Nether Rhine during 

low stages to facilitate navigation, completed in 1958

Spaarnestad Photo

182

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
engineering, a multidisciplinary field integrating fluid 

mechanics, hydrodynamics, tidal and wave research, 

morphology, and meteorology. It was the Dutch version 

of similar American, British, German, and Norwegian 

research programs. In 1939 the first international coastal 

engineering congress took place.31

Between 1938 and 1953 Van Veen proposed bold 

projects to close off several estuaries in order to address 

both the vulnerability of flood-prone Zeeland and the 

problem of salt intrusion. A closed and therefore shortened coastline would decrease the chance of dike failure 

and create new freshwater reservoirs. He also set up a dike 

monitoring program in southwestern Holland, because 

he was worried about rising sea levels in the future. The 

results were alarming, showing that the dikes were grossly 

inadequate to provide a sufficient level of safety. 

The government responded by appointing a Storm 

Surge Committee in 1939, which expanded the monitoring program, made predictions about future storm 

surge levels and developed new sea dike design standards.32 Van Veen’s colleague, Pieter Wemelsfelder, 

proposed a new flood management philosophy in 1939 

based on a probabilistic rather than experiential assessment of storm surge heights and frequencies. Prior to 

this, the design heights for dikes were based on the 

highest recorded water level, plus some margin of safety. 

Wemelsfelder refused to take experience for granted, 

in particular the notion that the highest recorded water 

level was also the highest possible water level. On the 

basis of a very long time frame, spanning 10,000 years, 

he was able to estimate the statistical probability of 

various extreme high water levels. He concluded that 

there was a reasonable chance that the highest recorded 

water level would be surpassed within a century. 

Wemelsfelder’s storm surge frequency distribution 

method was adopted by the Storm Surge Committee 

to predict future storm surge heights as a baseline for 

design standards for coastal and estuarial dikes.

WALCHEREN

In the immediate postwar years, the exciting advances in 

coastal knowledge, the emerging flood risk philosophy, 

and the development of new coastal strategies and 

designs, went hand in hand with the mastery of new 

technical skills. These skills were first honed during the 

recovery of the Island of Walcheren in the province of 

Zeeland in 1945, the final year of the war. Walcheren had 

been intentionally flooded by Allied Forces the previous 

year in order to drive out the German garrison guarding 

access to the strategically important harbor of Antwerp. 

The flooding had been accomplished by bombing the 

dikes at three widely separated locations. After initial 

hesitation whether it would actually be possible—or 

worth it—to reclaim the island, Queen Wilhelmina’s 

insistence that no territory must be lost to the sea forced 

the issue. The Rijkswaterstaat, in cooperation with the 

MUZ (the contractors’ combination for the Zuiderzee 

Works) rose to the challenge by executing a spectacular 

closure and drainage scheme. The main obstacles were 

the immense depth that the dike breaches had attained 

due to the year-long scouring of tidal currents through the 

gaps—the continuing twice-daily filling and emptying of 

the island through the gaps as a result of the five-meter 

tidal range. The Rijkswaterstaat took a gamble by opting 

to close the breaches with caissons left over from the 

Allied landing operation in Normandy. It turned out that 

sinking caissons in the deep breaches was a very effective 

closing technique, which was perfected in the following 

years. Between 1950 and 1952 two complex closure projects were performed, the Brielse Maas and the Braakman 

Inlet on the Westerschelde. In planning these operations, the critical timing and positioning of the caissons 

was crucial, and on this point the assistance of the Delft 

Hydraulics Laboratory proved invaluable, as it had earlier 

in connection with the Walcheren closures. A fruitful and 

long-lasting relationship was built up between hydraulic 

experts and the Rijkswaterstaat engineers.33

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

183
THE 1953 FLOOD DISASTER AND ITS AFTERMATH

In hindsight, these complicated closure projects, 

executed between 1945 and 1952, proved to be 

rehearsals for the reconstruction work after the 1953 

flood and ultimately for the Delta Works. On February 

1, 1953, a mammoth storm surge proved too much 

for the weak dikes in the southwestern delta region, 

breaching them at hundreds of places. A total of 1,836 

people lost their lives; countless cattle drowned in the 

icy water; 500 kilometers of dikes were destroyed; 47,000 

houses, schools, churches, farms, and other buildings 

were damaged. The physical damage was enormous, 

amounting to 1.5 billion guilders (1953 value). And the 

number of casualties could have been much larger: 

On the night of the storm surge, near the village of 

Nieuwerkerk aan de IJssel, a bargeman maneuvered his 

ship in front of an impending dike breach in the Hoge 

Schielandse Zeedijk, a levee protecting Holland’s heartland—including the cities of Rotterdam, The Hague, 

and Amsterdam. This action may well have prevented 

the inundation of central Holland, and thus saved thousands of lives, as well as the huge economic assets of the 

nation’s economic core region.

A detailed analysis demonstrated that the catastrophe 

was attributable to a complex of factors. The southwestern 

region had a long coastline, lacking the natural protection 

of dunes, except at the western coast of Goeree, Schouwen-Duiveland, and Walcheren. As noted above, poor 

A caisson is being placed to close the last major gap on Walcheren, 1945

Rijkswaterstaat

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
maintenance had seriously weakened the sea dikes. The 

storm surge had struck with exceptional power, because 

of a combination of high winds (11 Beaufort, or 56–63 

knots), blowing across a 1,000-kilometer-long wind-field 

from a north-northwestern direction, stretching from 

Scotland to the Dutch coast. To make matters worse, 

this all coincided with a spring tide. The water level rose 

to three meters above average high tide, a level that 

according to Wemelsfelder’s probabilistic method would 

be expected only once in 300 years. In fact, three consecutive storm surges occurred, and the third one, on the 

afternoon of February 1, dealt the fatal blow. Wind speeds 

were actually not that exceptional, but the gale lasted, at 

least in Zeeland, an extraordinarily long time.34

As the scope of the disaster became clearer, one overriding conclusion was drawn: the existing flood defense 

strategy was bankrupt. Investments in sea dike maintenance by the small and poorly funded water boards had 

been utterly inadequate. The storm surge warning system, 

built up since 1921 and managed by the Dutch weather 

institute, the Koninklijk Nederlands Meteorologisch Instituut (KNMI), and the Rijkswaterstaat, had failed, as had 

lines of communication (telephone lines, telegrams) and 

local government. The failure of communications was 

especially serious, inasmuch as the mobilization of emergency dike monitoring teams depended on functioning 

communications. Weather forecasts had been broadcast 

by radio, but they had underestimated the gravity of the 

The flooded village of Nieuwerkerk, Zeeland, February 1953 

Aviodrome Luchtfotografie, Lelystad

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

185
approaching storm surge. Thus, the Rijkswaterstaat and 

other authorities in the region were caught utterly by 

surprise as the dikes broke and the water flowed in. 

A long and heated discussion ensued between the 

Rijkswaterstaat and the KNMI about these communication failures and the measures to be taken in the future. 

In 1954 the dialogue resulted in a new set of rules. Storm 

surge warning messages were to be issued by the responsible Rijkswaterstaat manager instead of the KNMI top 

executive manager. The Rijkswaterstaat issued warning 

messages if a high-water level was expected that occurred 

on average one or two times a year. This was the signal for 

restricted dike monitoring. Once the water had risen to a 

level with a statistical probability of once in ten years, then 

the regional Rijkswaterstaat managers were instructed 

to call up teams for dike monitoring, covering complete 

dike stretches. Moreover, hospitals and other emergency 

services were called into standby mode. Provincial 

authorities retained their own authority in regard to activating their staff. This storm surge warning system was 

soon extended to cover nearly the entire Dutch coast.35

In hindsight, it seems amazing that there was almost 

no discussion about the question of whether the disaster 

could have been prevented. Dutch Parliament exhibited 

little interest in initiating official investigations into this 

painful question. The lack of political will to reflect critically on the multiple failures involved in the flood illustrates the widespread tendency to absolve and protect 

the responsible authorities. This was also discernible in 

the weeks after the flood within the provincial administrations of Zuid-Holland and Zeeland and at meetings 

of the managers of local water boards. A parliamentary 

investigation would raise too much criticism, encroach 

on the authority of the water management actors and, 

by implication, the government, and thus hamper the 

reconstruction of Dutch society—which had top priority.

There are rational arguments against the view 

that the 1953 catastrophe could have been prevented. 

Clearly, postwar dike strengthening schemes had been 

hampered by inadequate funding. Though some projects, like a major dike through Rotterdam (the Maasboulevard) had been completed, the overwhelming 

majority of the dikes remained much too weak. Van 

Veen’s and Wemelsfelder’s new analyses clearly pointed 

out the very serious safety gap in the southwestern parts 

of the country. But although this diagnosis seemed 

convincing to the innovative vanguard, and had an 

unambiguous impact on the Storm Surge Committee’s 

recommendations, the latter—which eventually proved 

to be correct—were also viewed with skepticism, even 

suspicion, by mainstream engineers both in the Rijkswaterstaat and on the water boards. A second objection 

related to the time scale: planning and implementing 

the huge Delta Works would have required a time span 

of at least twenty years (actually, the Delta Works took 

more than thirty years). Finally, the war would have 

made implementation of such ambitious projects 

impossible, and during the post-war reconstruction, as 

already noted, flood management had to compete in the 

political arena with numerous other urgent matters.36

RECOVERY OPERATIONS

The recovery operations in the wake of the flood 

disaster, beginning with closing the breaches and 

draining the land, were conducted entirely in the spirit 

of the postwar era. It was a time of doing and alertness, 

rather than reflecting—phrases like “can do,” forwardlooking, hands-on typified the mood. This was manifest, first, in the immediate recovery operations. The 

Rijkswaterstaat erected an emergency service (Dienst 

Dijkherstel Zeeland, DDZ) to coordinate the workflow. 

The water boards were completely outmaneuvered—an 

unambiguous indication of their weakened position. 

Until then, their prerogatives and obligations had 

been carefully respected. No fewer than four hundred 

breaches had to be closed, and the pace of work was 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
feverish. The experience gained in the Walcheren 

drainage was invaluable in closing the numerous dike 

breaches, each of which presented a unique challenge. 

Helped by the Hydraulic Laboratory to achieve the 

optimal positioning for sinking, workers sunk numerous 

caissons to close the major breaches. Around midnight 

on November 6 and 7, 1953, at the turn of the tide, the 

last gap, at Ouwerkerk, was closed. The entire operation 

had taken less than a year.

DELTA COMMITTEE

Meanwhile, the government had assembled a Delta 

Committee to develop a strategic vision aimed at 

preventing future floods. The committee was headed by 

the Rijkswaterstaat’s top manager, A. G. Maris, and was 

filled with experts from Rijkswaterstaat, The Delft Polytechnical University, the Delft Hydraulics Laboratory, 

the Rotterdam Economic University, provinces, water 

boards, consultants, and contractors. Van Veen functioned as secretary. The Delta Committee developed a 

Delta Works scheme, publishing five draft reports and a 

final report in six volumes.37

In the second report, the committee provided a 

detailed analysis of the situation along the Hollandse 

IJssel, which had narrowly escaped disaster. A Rijkswaterstaat report emphasized the imminent danger: if 

levees broke here, the lives of 1.5 million citizens were 

jeopardized. In the same vein, the committee was very 

concerned about the low safety level in this region. 

However, instead of a levee-strengthening scheme, it 

proposed to build a storm surge barrier in the Hollandse 

IJssel. The latter option would be less expensive, require 

a shorter construction schedule, occasion less damage 

to the landscape, and simultaneously provide a new 

river bridge. To minimize obstacles to navigation, the 

barrier would be movable.38

The Delta Committee, meanwhile, issued its 

third draft report on February 27, 1954, outlining the 

key elements of the proposed Delta plan. Its main 

components were a seaward closure of the estuaries 

Haringvliet, Brouwershavense Gat, Eastern Scheldt, and 

Veerse Gat, with secondary closure dams behind these 

primary closure dams further inland in the Volkerak, 

Grevelingen, and Zandkreek. The purpose of the 

secondary dams, which would be built first in relatively 

sheltered waters, was to attenuate the tidal currents in 

the estuaries, thus easing the construction of the primary 

seaward dams. They also created new lakes between the 

dams, which were intended as freshwater reservoirs. 

The committee argued that the alternative, a 

comprehensive coastal dike strengthening scheme 

aiming at dike crests at least 1.5 to 2 meters higher, 

would meet with insurmountable problems. Closure 

dams, by contrast, would reduce the length of the coastal 

dikes from 700 kilometers to only 20 to 30 kilometers. 

The current dikes would lose their primary protective 

function, but they would still have a useful function as 

secondary flood protection lines. Coastal maintenance 

management would be much less fragmented, because 

this task was to be transferred from the water boards to 

the Rijkswaterstaat. Obviously, this meant that the water 

boards in the region would suffer a loss of responsibilities, but they would remain in charge of the interior 

dikes as well as polder level (and much later, water 

quality) management. This was not a situation without 

precedent. The closure of the Zuiderzee had effected 

much the same transfer of power and responsibilities 

from water boards to the Rijkswaterstaat.

The committee estimated that the Delta Works 

scheme would cost between 1.5 to 2 billion guilders 

and take some twenty-five years to complete. It further 

devoted much attention to the economic position 

of fisheries and the shellfish industry in the Eastern 

Scheldt. Closure of this estuary meant an annihilation of 

the oyster cultivation, and the mussel cultivation would 

be reduced considerably; consequently, 900 jobs were 

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

187
Schouwen

Duiveland

Goeree

Overflakkee

Willemstad

Hoekse Waard

Tholen

Moerdijk

Walcheren

Zuid-Beveland

oorne Putten

Roosendaal

Bergen op Zoom

erneuzen

Middelburg

Goes

Rotterdam

Dordrecht

Vlissingen

T

1

2

3

7

8

9

10 11

12

13

A

B

C

D

E

V

4

5

6

14

A Hollands Diep

B Haringvliet

C Grevelingenmeer

D Oosterschelde

E Westerschelde

saline (tidal)

saline (non-tidal)

fresh

saline (reduced tide)

bridge

storm surge barrier Hollandse IJssel (1958)

Haringvlietdam with discharge sluices and ship locks (1971)

Brouwersdam with discharge sluice (1978)

Grevelingendam with ship locks (1965) and culvert (1983)

Philipsdam with ship lock (1987)

Volkerakdam with ship locks and inlet locks (1970)

Oosterscheldedam with storm surge barrier and ship locks (1986)

eerse-Gatdam (1961)

Zandkreekdam with ship lock (1960)

Oesterdam with ship lock (1987)

Markiezaat with Markiezaatsdam (1983)

discharge facility Zoommeer (1987)

Kreekraksluizen (1975)

Zoommeer (1987)

V

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

The Delta Works Program

Matrijs, Utrecht

188

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
at stake. Rescue or compensation plans, the committee 

concluded, would certainly be appropriate. 

On January 5, 1955, the fourth draft report was 

made public. It contained more detailed proposals to 

close off the Zandkreek and the Veerse Gat, the so-called 

Three Islands Plan, thus linking Noord-Beveland with 

Walcheren and Zuid-Beveland. To facilitate navigation, the inland Zandkreekdam was to be provided with 

a lock. The fifth and last draft report developed a new 

flood-safety strategy. The design of sea dikes would have 

to be based on Wemelsfelder’s probabilistic approach. 

The committee proposed three safety levels. CentralHolland’s sea defense should be able to withstand a storm 

surge level associated with a probability of once in 10,000 

years, the southwestern flood defense structures had to 

meet a safety level of 1:4,000 and most Wadden Island 

dunes and dikes had to maintain a safety level of 1:2,000. 

The corresponding water levels are called “basic levels,” 

from which “design levels” are derived, resulting in a set 

of differentiated safety standards, dependent on differences in values to be protected, differences in evacuation 

opportunities, and so on. For central Holland, the design 

levels are equal to the basic level (annual exceedance 

frequency of 1:10,000). These safety levels were the result 

of an econometric cost-benefit analysis, balancing the 

investments in flood projects and the flood damage costs. 

The econometric optimal safety level for central Holland 

was determined at 8 x 106 or 1/125,000 per year; a major 

flood in this core economic region would cause unprecedented damage. However, this cost-benefit analysis had a 

number of uncertainties, and the committee decided that 

designing for a maximum sea level at Hoek van Holland 

(at the entrance of the New Waterway) of 5 meters above 

mean sea level would give sufficient protection against 

flooding. This was 1.5 meters higher than the highest 

water level during the extreme conditions in 1953. Finally, 

the committee indicated an execution sequence: first the 

moveable storm surge barrier in the Hollandse IJssel, then 

the execution of the Three Islands Plan, followed by the 

closure of the Grevelingen, Volkerak, Haringvliet, Brouwerhavense Gat, and Eastern Scheldt.39

The committee’s high productivity and the speed 

with which it finished its job was remarkable given the 

complexity of its task. Dutch historians have explained 

this amazing efficiency and effectiveness by reference 

to the prior pioneering designs made by Van Veen 

between 1938 and 1953 and to his fundamental tidal, 

geomorphologic, and dike monitoring research. There 

is little doubt that Van Veen’s investigations and plans 

were indeed an important contribution to the final Delta 

Works scheme. However, credit is also due to a later 

generation that made a number of modifications to his 

proposals and added important new elements. Only 

Van Veen’s Hollandse IJssel barrier plan and his Three 

Islands plan were adopted without major adaptations. 

In the end, the Delta Committee’s alacrity seems to have 

owed as much to its own sense of urgency and dedication to preventing a recurrence of the terrible events of 

1953 as it did to Van Veen’s rich legacy.

The government agreed to the proposals and codified them in a Delta Act to submit to Parliament. The 

safety standards enshrined in the Delta Act not only 

implied heavy and long-term national investments in 

dike strengthening, they also had a clear impact on the 

balance of power among actors in the field of water 

management, as these norms were also imposed on the 

water boards, thus encroaching on their autonomy. 

After the 1953 flood, the new safety standards 

1:10,000 for the sea dikes in central Holland and 

1:4,000 at the Zeeland coast required massive dike 

strengthening schemes in which the water boards were 

compelled to play their part. A total dike length of thousands of kilometers thus had to be made much more 

robust. Sea dike strengthening projects took several 

decades but made steady progress. It was not long 

before similar probabilistic demands were being applied 

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

189
to the levees along the large rivers. In 1956 Minister of 

Waterstaat Jacob Algera advised the Provincial Estates 

of Gelderland to specify the maximum river discharge 

of the Rhine at Lobith at 18,000 cubic meters per second 

with a probability of 1:3,000 years. This decision was 

taken.40 The water levels along these related rivers were 

defined as the “design high water levels” (maatgevende 

hoogwaterstanden or MHW).

EXECUTION OF THE DELTA WORKS SCHEME

The Rijkswaterstaat set up a new department, the Delta 

Service (Deltadienst), to oversee the realization of the 

Delta Works, beginning with the building of the storm 

surge barrier in the Hollandse IJssel between 1954 and 

1958. The closure projects in the estuaries were carried 

out in order of increasing complexity. Each project was an 

object lesson for the subsequent projects. To gather experience with the risky and difficult closure technique, the 

smallest seaways were closed first. In accordance with the 

Delta Committee’s recommendations, secondary dams 

were constructed inland of the seaward closure dams 

to attenuate the strong currents invoked by the closure 

operations. A number of closure techniques were applied. 

Caissons, already successfully used to close dike gaps after 

the war and after the 1953 flood, were now further developed. Various caisson types were custom made to suit 

conditions in the different estuaries. The Delft Hydraulics 

Laboratory again assisted with detailed closure schemes. 

Delft Hydraulics Laboratory model of the southwestern delta, 1948–1956. This model has been used to 

simulate and predict tidal effects and water level changes during the construction of the Delta works. 

The Delft model was inspired by the lower Mississippi River model by WES in Vicksburg.

Rijkswaterstaat

190

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
The Delta Service was worried that at several locations, such as the Brouwershavense Gat, the estuary 

bed was too unstable to bear the weight of caissons 

without the risk of uncontrolled settling. As an alternative, the engineers appropriated an alpine technology 

and used a cable-car system spanning the estuary 

equipped with special gondolas that enabled them to 

dump boulders along the entire length of the cable. The 

Rijkswaterstaat had studied this technique in Grenoble 

at the French enterprise Neyrpic, which had ample 

experience with this technology. The Haringvliet, the 

Grevelingen, and the southern part of the Brouwershavense Gat were closed with rock fill, 

dumped by means of such cable lines, 

which were progressively improved.41

Between 1954 and 1971, the Delta 

Works advanced on schedule with no significant delays or interruptions. Sometimes 

consultants and contractors co-designed 

elements of the hydraulic structures. For 

the Haringvliet Dam, the Rijkswaterstaat 

established a public-private project team 

to maximize the number of options and 

carefully select the best one. Two of the 

risk factors that designers had to consider 

were the possible damage to the discharge 

sluices caused by ice jams and the wave 

pressure the dam had to withstand. To deal 

with these issues, a hydraulic contractor, 

an engineering consultancy firm, the Delft 

Hydraulics Laboratory, and three Rijkswaterstaat services were involved in the 

design of the dam construction. After long 

discussions, the Rijkswaterstaat decided 

to construct seventeen discharge sluices 

in the dam, the segment (Tainter) gates of 

which were hinged to a single monolithic 

prestressed concrete beam of triangular 

cross-section. These discharge sluices were big enough 

to discharge Meuse and Rhine river water into the sea, 

even at extraordinarily high river stages. 

In other Delta projects, however, the Delta Service 

had the leading role in design, aided by other technical Rijkswaterstaat services. Despite chronic friction between the Rijkswaterstaat services, the projects 

advanced on schedule and the Rijkswaterstaat’s prestige 

rose to an all-time high. The Delta Works were hailed as 

icons of modern engineering.42 Each successive closure 

drew broad media attention and was an occasion for 

widespread flag-waving. 

Gondola dumps rock-fill to build the Grevelingen dam, 1963

Rijkswaterstaat

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

191
But there was a hidden subplot within this glittering success story. Environmentalism was emerging 

as a popular movement and would soon challenge the 

primacy of flood protection, which was the principle 

focus of the Delta Works. The Rijkswaterstaat itself 

experienced serious harmful environmental effects 

after the Brouwersdam had been completed in 1971. 

The healthy and rich ecosystem in the closed-off Grevelingen was destroyed at an incredible pace. Alarmed by 

this ecological disaster, the minister of water management, Tjerk Westerterp, decided in 1974 to have a 

sluice constructed in the Brouwersdam, which became 

functional in 1978. Since then, the salt-water ecosystem 

of the Grevelingen lake has recovered. 

Meanwhile, environmentalism was having a huge 

impact on the last closure project. In 1967 the Delta 

Service began to pump sand for three work islands in 

preparation for the extremely difficult estuary closure of 

the Eastern Scheldt. This mighty estuary had, by far, the 

largest tidal volumes—ten times that of the Veerse Gat, 

One of the segment gates in the Haringvliet Dam, completed in 1971

Rijkswaterstaat

192

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
one of the earliest closures. Thus, closure of this estuary 

was the final pièce de résistance. To reduce the closure 

risks, the Delta Service again opted for a cable trolley 

with boulder-carrying gondolas. By 1970 the cable 

trolley was in place and the Rijkswaterstaat was poised 

to display its mastery of the estuaries in yet another 

complicated closure operation.

However, the Eastern Scheldt closure ran into 

heavy opposition in Parliament. Critics of the closure 

pointed to the damage that would be done to the estuary’s extremely rich aquatic biodiversity and its unique 

variety of bird species. Excellent conditions for mussels 

and oysters supported a flourishing shellfish industry 

of considerable economic importance, which also was 

threatened by the closure plans. The Delta Committee 

had pointed this out in its third concept report. In Parliament, within the nascent environmentalist movement, 

and among the oystermen, there was growing criticism 

of Rijkswaterstaat’s closure schemes. They proposed an 

alternative approach: massive dike strengthening around 

the estuary.43 The critics were not completely ignored. In 

1969 the Delta Service added an environmental department to investigate the biological richness in the area. 

Its researchers explored the estuary, the shores and 

mudflats of its tidal creeks, and its wetlands, aiming at 

the development of a management scheme for protecting 

threatened bird populations.44 But the closure scheme 

itself did not change one bit, as alternatives put forth 

by critics were ignored. Thus, the seeds of conflict were 

sown, and this conflict escalated in the early seventies 

to an unexpected and massive confrontation that would 

ultimately have a huge impact on the Rijkswaterstaat.

THE TURN OF THE TIDE

GROWING ENVIRONMENTAL CONCERN

In the 1950s and 1960s Dutch water management was 

strongly oriented towards safety and economic interests—fresh water supply, transport, and agriculture. The 

emergence of large-scale agriculture not only destroyed 

idyllic landscapes, but also demanded strict water level 

management. Waterlogged fields were anathema to an 

efficient agricultural enterprise whose only aim was to 

maximize production. To this end, water levels had to be 

stabilized, that is, kept under tight control. This was no 

boon to biodiversity. 

The emphasis on social-economic issues in politics 

and in public opinion seems, for many years, to have 

suppressed widespread environmental criticism. Until 

the mid-sixties, there were few protests against the 

destructive aspects of economic modernization. After all, 

the social benefits were obvious: rapid economic growth, 

full employment, low inflation. The growing environmental side effects thus remained largely unnoticed and 

beyond the political horizon. 

At least until the early 1960s public opinion was 

equally indifferent. Critical reflections on environmental issues were rare. This was due not only to 

the social-economic bias of the media but also to 

ignorance of environmental effects. Little research 

had been done on pollution, biodiversity, or other 

ecological issues. Although after 1957 institutes for 

fundamental environmental research were established, 

applied research remained restricted to analyses of 

toxicological effects of chemicals on human safety and 

health. Conservation organizations retained their traditional focus on preserving natural zones and promoting 

environmental education, but refrained from widening 

their scope of action. 

However, this reticent attitude met with growing 

criticism as environmental awareness grew during the 

1960s. Initially, this mental shift was mainly the result 

of negative publicity about pesticides. One pesticide, 

DDT, became notorious after the publication of Rachel 

Carson’s Silent Spring (1962). DDT, she argued, had very 

detrimental effects on birds. Moreover, she argued, the 

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

193
chemical industry manipulated information about the 

side effects of pesticides. Carson’s bleak picture shocked 

public opinion, not only in the U.S. but internationally. 

In 1965 the Dutch government established an advisory 

committee on pesticides, composed of biologists, toxicologists, civil servants, and representatives from private 

industry. It advised on the side effects of pesticides 

and developed educational programs. Thus, Carson’s 

views, enriched with Dutch contributions, stimulated 

an environmentalist spirit that was congruent with the 

emerging trend of fundamental social critique that characterized the 1960s. 

CULTURAL REVOLUTION OF THE SIXTIES

In the counter-cultural slipstream, new environmentalist groups began to flourish. Two of them criticized 

growing air pollution in the New Waterway area. A 

Waddenzee Association was set up to defend the natural 

values in this shallow sea. Finally, a protest group for 

an open Eastern Scheldt began to knock loudly on the 

Rijkswaterstaat’s door. But a group that agitated against 

the proposed establishment of a carbon disulfide plant 

by the chemical firm Progil in Amsterdam’s harbor had 

the most success. The anti-Progil group had a more 

radical strategy than the other environmentalist pressure groups, which had a preference for engaging in 

dialog with the authorities. This moderate attitude bore 

a strong resemblance to that of the traditional conservationist organizations. But the Progil protestors created 

a media-strategy, broadcast environmental warning 

messages, and collected signatures. At the same time, 

they developed alternative options based on scientific 

research. But gradually, even the Progil group’s pragmatic localism was overshadowed by more fundamental 

alternative views. The British economist E. J. Mishan, 

who took a stand against unbridled economic growth in 

his book The Costs of Economic Growth (1967), inspired 

the new environmentalists. In the 1970s anti-capitalist 

and anti-consumerist perspectives were much more 

vehemently articulated. Concomitantly, a systems 

approach emerged that questioned the dominant 

anthropocentrism inherent in economic growth policy 

and proposed instead a symbiotic relationship between 

humans and nature. This ecological paradigm was to 

have a profound impact on water management.45

ENVIRONMENTALISM AND WATER MANAGEMENT 

Deteriorating water quality was one of the main environmentalist themes. This was hardly surprising, as research 

on this subject was more advanced than on other environmental topics. In the 1930s a comprehensive water 

quality monitoring program had started, and in 1949 the 

environmentalist association Nederlandse Vereniging 

tegen Water-, Bodem-, en Luchtverontreiniging (NVWBL) 

presented the results in a multi-volume report. The 

latter inspired the NVWBL to plead again for adequate 

legislation. The drinking water enterprises started a 

Rhine water quality monitoring program, run by a joint 

committee. The freshwater fishing lobby also became 

committed to the campaign for cleaner water.46

In 1950 the water board of the Dommel (a small 

river in the south of the country) introduced a levy 

on pollutants and set up a purification board, funded 

by the levies, that pioneered riverine water quality 

management in the Netherlands. A few other purification boards (De Donge, De Geul) were also established 

at this time. The government supported these activities 

and drew up a preliminary bill that sought to incorporate the Dommel Board’s polluter-pays principle into 

legislation. But this proposal languished because of 

resistance by the provinces. A revised bill that empowered the provinces was submitted in 1958, but now the 

water boards were disgruntled. The stalemate was a 

thorn in the side of a number of organizations that were 

pursuing improved water quality.47 They successfully 

exerted pressure on the government to create effec194

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
tive legislation. In 1964 the government presented a 

Surface Water Pollution Bill to Parliament. Water had to 

be suitable for the manufacture of drinking water and 

to be useful for industrial and agricultural purposes. 

Two principles were dominant: the polluter pays and 

pollution will be tackled at its source (rather than 

at the point of consumption). Wastewater discharge 

required a permit, and the discharge of specific polluting 

substances would be taxed. The bill created a more or 

less coherent legal framework, but it lacked an implementation strategy. No emissions standards were introduced. No central monitoring coordination was outlined. 

The government was inclined to support bottom-up 

purification processes without clearly defining the role or 

nature of the inspection authorities.48

The snail’s pace of legislation revealed a lack of environmental commitment in political circles and within 

the Rijkswaterstaat. Infrastructure works and water 

quantity management still had a much higher priority. 

Generally speaking, environmental values were subordinated to the dominant technocratic and economic 

orientation. Consequently, water pollution was not high 

on the political agenda. Similarly, most water boards 

were inclined to stick to their core business: water level 

management, irrigation, and drainage.49 This conservative attitude also had a cultural component, as most 

water board managers were farmers and thus inclined to 

give priority to agricultural interests.

Nevertheless, deteriorating water quality had 

become a major practical problem as a result of emissions from petrochemical and chemical industries, the 

use of fertilizers and pesticides in agriculture, and the 

introduction of detergents into households. In 1959 tons 

of dead fish clogged the Hollandse IJssel and Rijnland 

waterways following poisonous waste disposals.50 In 

1961 a leftist weekly, Vrij Nederland, published a story 

about the pollution scandals in many waterways : a 

litany of poisoned fish, repugnant smells, and sulfuric 

acid drifting in a canal.51 Pollution could no longer be 

ignored: car emissions, smelly rivers, oil emissions in 

harbors—one could see, hear, and smell the deteriorating environment. “Environment” had ceased to be 

an abstract scientific formula; it had entered the realm 

of the senses. Sensory data were corroborated by an 

increasing mass of scientific data, as the national wastewater research service Rijksdienst voor Zuivering van 

Afvalwater (RIZA) in 1964 standardized and expanded 

its river water quality measurements. 

This took place against the background of increasing 

international concern over environmental degradation. Water quality in the Rhine and Meuse deteriorated 

further because of chemical emissions and salt emissions from French potash mines, German coal mines, 

and the soda industry. Not only did Dutch greenhouse 

enterprises suffer; the quality of fresh water supplies in 

central Holland deteriorated as well. In 1949 a gulf of 

poisonous effluents had finished off the already-ailing 

salmon population. In 1969 one of Hoechst’s chemical 

plants near Griesheim discharged the very poisonous 

effluent Endosulfan. Numerous Dutch weirs and water 

inlets had to be hastily closed to prevent a disaster. 

Concerned by this catastrophe, an international network 

of Rhine river municipal waterworks was set up, which 

Environmentalists protest against water pollution 

after a chemical plant discharged Endosulfan into 

the Rhine, 1969

Spaarnestad Photo

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

195
lobbied for adequate measures. By 1970 the Rhine had 

become a biological graveyard: oxygen had vanished 

from the water, and aquatic life had all but disappeared.52 In response to the rapidly deteriorating water 

quality, international cooperation among the Rhine 

states intensified. This internationalization process is 

discussed in detail in Chapter 8. 

CONCLUSION

The period between 1900 and 1970 can justly be labeled 

as a technocratic era. Engineers increasingly acquired a 

mandate and were granted budgets to establish a policy 

agenda and to design solutions for a wide range of water 

resource issues. The gradual unfolding of a hydraulic 

technocracy took place against the background of the 

rise of an interventionist state starting in the 1890s and 

coming to full flower after World War I. The Zuiderzee 

project was the first major technocratic project. It was a 

long-term technological and social laboratory, in which 

engineers, agronomists, social scientists, and architects were mandated to create a new polder society on 

the reclaimed Zuiderzee soil. Top down-planning was 

strengthened during the German occupation (1940–

1945), and it is no coincidence that a national freshwater 

system emerged in these years, with the IJsselmeer 

freshwater reservoir and measures against salinization 

in the southwestern estuaries as elements of a comprehensive water resource system approach.

The period 1940–1970 was the heyday of the 

interventionist state. After the economic depression 

of the 1930s and the chaos and misery of World War 

II, a consensus emerged that the market could only 

guarantee economic progress if it was controlled and 

limited by the state. The fusion of Social-Democratic 

planning ideology with the Christian-Democratic 

zeal for social-economic cooperation gave rise to 

an expanding state, more or less counterbalanced 

by ongoing negotiations over wages and prices on 

the basis of consensus and compromise. Rapid and 

sustained economic growth, stimulated by liberalization of international trade, industrialization, and agricultural modernization bolstered an image of the state 

as modern, efficient, and rather successful. Politics and 

technology seemed increasingly intertwined, which 

was clearly demonstrated in a large number of major 

water resource management projects. 

How did the 1953 flood fit into this pattern? Ultimately, the disaster demonstrated the failure of the 

traditional flood management system. Neither the 

water boards in the flooded regions nor the Rijkswaterstaat had been able to establish a sufficient level 

of safety. Strikingly, the 1953 crisis did not shake the 

belief in the government’s problem-solving capabilities. On the contrary, water management authorities 

were granted time and facilities to design new and 

better solutions. Though trust in authority was generally strong until the late 1960s, this is not the only 

explanation. There was, for instance, deep-seated 

discontent about other urgent problems, notably the 

housing shortage due to a rapidly growing population and war damage.53 But the water management 

engineers were able to demonstrate very efficient tools 

that quickly restored confidence in their expertise. In 

the period 1890–1930 they had cultivated their collective knowledge, especially studying practical problems from the viewpoint of scientific and engineering 

theory, resulting in a growing mastery of complex 

water management problems. This new know-how was 

demonstrated not only in technological innovations 

but also in the organization of new complex networks 

among different stakeholders and between the Rijkswaterstaat and its contractors. The Rijkswaterstaat had 

invested in its capability for innovation by setting up 

new research services and by developing its conceptual 

capabilities—a multifunctional water system approach 

(Wentholt), estuary closure concepts (Van Veen), and 

196

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
a new safety risk philosophy (Wemelsfelder). The intellectual and organizational capital accumulated in the 

previous decades now paid off as a large variety of 

technical and organizational solutions could be developed in a rather short time.54 The long-lasting postwar 

economic boom, ending in 1973, enabled rising levels 

of expenditure in water management and so created 

even more favorable circumstances in which engineers 

could demonstrate their skills. 

In the late 1960s the Rijkswaterstaat’s power reached 

its zenith. But then, in a matter of a few short years, its 

image became tarnished almost beyond recognition. 

The cultural revolt of the sixties, with its fundamental 

critique of established institutions—including the 

market system and the state—struck the Rijkswaterstaat 

in the heart. Environmentalism offered an alternative 

to the narrow economic and safety orientation of the 

engineers. The growing concern over the Eastern Scheldt 

closure was another and even more alarming signal 

of the changing attitude towards the Rijkswaterstaat’s 

modernist engineering, its technocratic values, and its 

top-down decision-making procedures. For decades, 

these characteristics had underpinned the Rijkswaterstaat’s shining reputation, but now they were becoming 

the stakes of political struggle and social conflict. Similarly, the water boards had to adjust to environmentalism and growing public participation. A long and 

challenging process of adaptation began.

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

197
BIBLIOGRAPHIC ESSAY 

ENGLISH SOURCES

A lucid panoramic overview of Dutch society in the era 

1945–1970 is provided by Kees Schuyt and Ed Taverne, 

1950: Prosperity and Welfare (Assen, 2004). Jan L. van 

Zanden sketches a picture of the twentieth-century 

Dutch economy in The economic history of the Netherlands, 1914–1995: a small open economy in the “long” 

twentieth century (London, 1998).

For a comprehensive overview of the impact of technology and engineers on the modernization of the Netherlands between 1890 and 1970, see Johan Schot, Arie 

Rip, and Harry Lintsen (eds.), Technology and the making 

of the Netherlands. The age of contested modernization, 

1890–1970 (Zutphen/Cambridge, Mass., 2010). Especially relevant are chapters 2 “Networked Nation: Infrastructure Integration of the Netherlands” by E. van der 

Vleuten and 7 “Technology as Politics: Engineers and the 

Design of Dutch Society” by D. van Lente and J. Schot.

N. C. Kraus (ed.), History and Heritage of coastal 

engineering (New York, 1996) contains a chapter on Dutch 

coastal management: E. W. Bijker, “History and heritage 

in coastal engineering in the Netherlands,” pp. 390–412. 

Also relevant for readers interested in a long-term view 

of Dutch water management is Johan van Veen, Dredge, 

Drain, Reclaim. The Art of a Nation, (The Hague, 1955) 

(see also the bibliographic essay in chapter 2).

DUTCH SOURCES

Kees Schuyt and Ed Taverne, 1950: Welvaart in zwart-wit

(The Hague, 2000) is the Dutch edition of Prosperity and 

Welfare (see above). The first volume of the comprehensive Dutch history of technology of the period 1900–

1970, J. W. Schot (ed.), Techniek in Nederland in de twintigste eeuw: Techniek in ontwikkeling, vol. I, (Zutphen, 

1998) is the Dutch edition of Johan Schot, Arie Rip, 

and Harry Lintsen (eds.), Technology and the making 

of the Netherlands. The age of contested modernization, 

1890–1970. This volume contains a number of chapters 

on Dutch civil engineering development in its international context, water management legal frameworks, and 

mega-projects in water resource management. 

There are numerous books on major water 

management projects in this period. Regarding 

the Zuiderzee works, J. Th. Thijsse, Een halve eeuw 

Zuiderzeewerken (Groningen, 1972) is a rich source 

on applied engineering concepts. A recent overview 

is offered in Willem van der Ham, Verover mij dat 

land. Lely en de Zuiderzeewerken (Amsterdam, 2007). 

Two Ph.D. theses offer detailed descriptions of two 

key Zuiderzee project organizations: A. M. C. van 

Dissel, 59 jaar eigengereide doeners in Flevoland, 

Noordoostpolder en Wieringermeer: Rijksdienst voor de 

IJsselmeerpolders 1930–1989 (Zutphen, 1991) and D. J. 

Wolffram, 70 jaar Ingenieurskunst: Dienst der Zuiderzeewerken 1919–1989 (Lelystad, 1997). The 1953 flood 

is brought to life in K. Slager, De ramp. Een reconstructie (Amsterdam, 2003) and in S. Leydesdorff, Het 

water en de herinnering: de Zeeuwse watersnoodramp 

1953–1993 (Amsterdam, 1993). Both are oral history 

studies based on survivor accounts. 50 jaar na de 

Stormvloed 1953. Terugblik en toekomst (Gouda, 2003) 

is a stimulating collection of essays on the flood. H. de 

Haan and I. Haagsma provide a useful account of the 

Delta Project in their De Deltawerken. Techniek, politiek, achtergronden (Delft, 1984). Also relevant for the 

big picture is H. A. Ferguson, Dialoog met de Noordzee. 

Tweeduizend jaar Deltawerken (Hippolytushoef, 

1991). Technical features of the project are detailed in 

E. Stamhuis, Deltaontwikkeling; de betekenis van de 

weg- en waterbouwkunde voor de ontwikkeling van de 

Deltagebieden (Wageningen, 1987) and in Eize Stamhuis, Afsluitingstechnieken in de Nederlandse Delta

(Zutphen, 2002). On the Amsterdam-Rhine Canal and 

its predecessor, the Merwede Canal, see K. E. Baars, 

198

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Varend vervoeren: van Amsterdam tot de Rijn. 100 jaar 

Merwedekanaal (Utrecht, 1991) and G. M. Greup, De 

Rijnverbinding van Amsterdam en haar geschiedenis

(Amsterdam, 1952). 

Biographies of two outstanding Dutch civil engineers have been published. In Meester van de Zee: 

Johan van Veen (1893–1959), waterstaatsingenieur, 

(Amsterdam, 2003) Willem van der Ham provides a wellwritten portrait of this brilliant pioneer in coastal engineering and designer of early concepts of the Delta Plan. 

Tessel Pollmann, Van Waterstaat tot wederopbouw: het 

leven van dr.ir. J.A. Ringers (1885–1965) (Amsterdam, 

2006) describes in her Ph.D. thesis the life and career of 

J. A. Ringers, the first director-general of the Rijkswaterstaat and Minister for Public Works and Reconstruction 

during and after World War II.

There are a number of valuable books on the 

organization of the Rijkswaterstaat. W. van der Ham’s 

dissertation, Heersen en Beheersen: Rijkswaterstaat in de 

twintigste eeuw (Zaltbommel, 1999), describes in detail 

the complex interrelationship between Dutch society, 

civil engineering, and the role and performance of the 

Rijkswaterstaat. The fate of the Rijkswaterstaat during 

the period of the German occupation is described in a 

dissertation by A. Waalewijn, Achter de bres. De Rijkswaterstaat in oorlogstijd (The Hague, 1990). Roel de Neve, 

Vijfenzeventig jaar deskundig in weg en water 1927–2002

(Delft, 2002) and R. G. de Neve and A. A. S. van Heezik, 

Om het zuivere water. Rijksinstituut voor Integraal Zoetwaterbeheer en Afvalwaterbehandeling (RIZA), 1920–

2005 (Leystad, 2006) are valuable sources of information 

about two of the Rijkswaterstaat’s specialist agencies.

6 The Emergence of a National Hydraulic Technocracy

199
1 Albert Verwey, “Toen de Gids werd opgericht...” De 

Nieuwe Gids I, ii (1886) 190. Cited in Kossman, E. H., De lage 

landen 1780–1980. Twee Eeuwen Nederland en België, vol. 1, 

1780–1914 (Amsterdam : Elsevier, 1987), 260.

2 Ido de Haan, “De maakbaarheid van de samenleving en het einde van de ideologie, 1945–1965,” in: Jan 

Willem Duyvendak, Ido de Haan (eds.) Maakbaarheid: liberale 

wortels en hedendaagse kritiek van de maakbare samenleving

(Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1997), 94.

3 K. Schuyt en E. Taverne, 1950: Welvaart in zwart-wit. 

(Den Haag: SDU, 2000); H. W. Lintsen, Made in Holland, een 

techniekgeschiedenis van Nederland (1800–2000) (Zutphen: 

Walburg Pers, 2005).

4 The first road tunnel in the Netherlands had already 

been completed by the city of Rotterdam in 1942 (started in 

1937).

5 Willem van der Ham, Heersen beheersen. Rijkswaterstaat in de twintgiste eeuw (Zaltbommel: Europese 

Bibliotheek,1999), 110.

6 Ibid.

7 J. W. Schot (ed.), Techniek in Nederland in de twintigste eeuw, vol. 1 (Zutphen: Walburg pers, 1998), 89–109.

8 A. Bosch and W. van der Ham, Twee Eeuwen Rijkswaterstaat, 1798–1998 (Zaltbommel: Europese Bibliotheek, 

1998) 146–51; Van der Ham, Heersen en beheersen, 62–65.

9 Letter of the Minister of Waterstaat to the Inspectors General of the Rijkswaterstaat, May 27, 1925, in Dutch 

National Archives, Archive of the Inspectors of the Waterstaat 

1849–1930, inventory no. 156.

10 For Ringers’ biography see Tessel Pollmann, Van 

Waterstaat tot Wederopbouw. Het leven van dr. ir. J.A. Ringers 

(1885–1965) (Amsterdam: Boom, 2006).

11 Kraus had also pioneered the use of reinforced 

concrete in floatable caissons which he used to build breakwaters in his integral plan for the harbor of Talcahuano in 

Chile. A similar strategy was later adopted by Rotterdam to 

build harbor quays. See Cornelis Disco, Made in Delft. Professional Engineering in the Netherlands 1880–1940 (Amsterdam: 

Universiteit van Amsterdam, 1990).

12 J. A. Ringers, Beschrijving van den bouw van de derde 

schutsluis in het Kanaal door Zuid Beveland te Hansweert (z.p., 

1917).

13 By comparison, the entire Rijkswaterstaat budget 

in 1921 amounted to 37,300,000 guilders. See Van der Ham, 

Heersen en beheersen, table 1, 364.

14 Bosch and van der Ham, Twee Eeuwen, 152.

15 J. M. Dirkzwager, Water - Van natuurgebeuren tot 

dienstbaarheid (‘s-Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1977).

16 W. van der Ham, Verover mij dat land. Lely en de 

Zuiderzeewerken (Amsterdam: Boom, 2007), 212–15.

17 G. L. Cleintuar, Wisselend getij. Geschiedenis van de 

Zuiderzeevereeniging (Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 1982).

18 K. Jansma, Lely, bedwinger der Zuiderzee

(Amsterdam: H. J. Paris, 1954).

19 J. M. Fuchs and W. J. Simons, De Afsluitdijk: recht 

door zee (Haren: Knoop en Nijmeijer, 1972); Eric Berkers, 

“Kustlijnverkorting en afsluittechniek”, in: Techniek in Nederland in de twintigste eeuw, J. W. Schot et al. (ed.), vol. 1 

(Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 1998), 71–88. Secretary of the Lorentz 

Commission was the civil engineer Jo Thijsse, who would later 

become the first director of the Hydraulic Laboratory at Delft.

20 The flood of 1916 also caused unusually high stages 

in the New Waterway between Rotterdam and the sea. Lely 

appointed a commission headed by the Leiden mathematician 

H. G. van de Sande Backhuyzen in 1916 to study the causes. 

This commission, like the Lorentz commission, also proved 

to be a nursery for mathematical modeling approaches (and 

mathematically sophisticated hydraulic engineers) that would 

be integrated into new strategies for hydraulic design in the 

context of Ringers’ and Van Veen’s Study Service for the Tidal 

Rivers. Cornelis Disco and Jan van den Ende, “Strong, Invincible Arguments? Tidal Models as Management Instruments 

in Twentieth-Century Dutch Coastal Engineering,” Technology 

and Culture 44, no. 3 (2003): 502–35.

21 Tessel Pollmann, Van Waterstaat tot Wederopbouw. 

Het leven van dr. ir. J. A. Ringers (1885–1965) (Amsterdam: 

Boom, 2006), 100.

22 Berkers, “Kustlijnverkorting en afsluittechniek,” 77.

ENDNOTES

200
23 This is the equivalent of covering the entire surface of 

the island of Manhattan (approx. 22 square miles) with a twofoot deep layer of sand and till.

24 In 1962 the Wieringermeer Directorate was renamed 

the State Service for the IJsselmeerpolders. 

25 Terje Tvedt and Terje Oestigaard, A History of Water, 

vol. 3: The World of Water (London: I.B. Tauris, 2006), 191–97.

26 After World War II, the contribution of German 

industry to Rhine salinity would pale in comparison with that 

of the French (Alsatian) potash mines. 

27 J. M. K. Pennink, “Over den Noord-Oost-polder en de 

drinkwatertoekomst,” De Ingenieur 48 nr. 9 (1933): A. 87.

28 In 1930 a state commission had been appointed to 

study public water supplies in the western part of the country. 

Although the official report did not appear until 1940, by 

the mid-1930s its somber prognosis and its perception of 

the IJsselmeer as the ultimate solution were widely known. 

See P. J. M. Aalberse, Rapport van de Commissie drinkwatervoorziening westen des lands (Den Haag: Algemeene Landsdrukkerij, 1940). In the same year, the director of Amsterdam’s 

waterworks also published an exhaustive study in which he 

expressed a pessimistic view of the utility of the IJsselmeer as 

a source of potable water—because of its dubious salinity and 

possibly because the city also wanted to continue to use it as a 

sewage sink—and opted for infiltration of the existing municipal dune water supply by water pumped from the Lek River. 

See C. Biemond, Rapport 1940 inzake de watervoorziening van 

Amsterdam (Amsterdam: Gemeentewaterleidingen, 1940).

29 For a fuller account of the national water household 

see Cornelis Disco, “De verdeling van zoetwater over heel 

Nederland 1940–1970,” in: J. W. Schot, H. W. Lintsen, and Arie 

Rip (eds.), Techniek in Nederland in de twintigste eeuw, vol. 1 

(Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 1998), 110–21; Cornelis Disco and 

Erik van der Vleuten, “The Politics of Wet System Building: 

Balancing Interests in Dutch Water Management from the 

Middle Ages to the Present,” Knowledge, Technology and Policy

14, no. 4 (2002): 21–40.

30 Adolf Waalewijn, Achter de bres: De Rijkswaterstaat 

in oorlogstijd (‘s-Gravenhage: SDU, 1990), 81.

31 W. van der Ham, Meester van de zee, Johan van 

Veen Waterstaatsingenieur 1893–1959 (Amsterdam: Balans, 

2003), 71–96; J. van Veen, Onderzoekingen in de Hoofden 

in verband met de gesteldheid der Nederlandsche kust (Den 

Haag:Algemeene Landsdrukkerij, 1936).

32 Van der Ham, Meester, 87–95; H. C. Toussaint, 

Uitgemeten en uitgerekend. De geschiedenis van de Algemene 

Dienst van de Rijkswaterstaat (Den Haag: Rijkswaterstaat, 

1998), 70–72. 

33 H. Ferguson, Delta-visie. (Den Haag: Rijkswaterstaat, 

1988).

34 Toussaint, Uitgemeten, 91.

35 Toussaint, Uitgemeten, 99–100.

36 H. W. Lintsen, “Was de ramp te voorkomen?”, in: 

CUR-Publicatie 212, (Gouda: CUR, 2003), Waterbouwdag 2003. 

50 jaar na de Stormvloed , 7–19.

37 Deltacommissie, Rapport Deltacommissie, 6 vol. 

(Den Haag, Staatsdrukkerij, 1960–1961).

38 Van der Ham, Heersen en beheersen, 229–30.

39 Alex van Heezik, De Kering: over de bouwers van 

de stormvloedkering Oosterschelde (Diemen: Uitgeverij 

Veen Magazines, 2011), 7–9; R. Antonisse, De kroon op het 

Deltaplan. Stormvloedkering Oosterschelde, Het grootste 

waterbouwproject aller tijden (Amsterdam/Brussel: Elsevier, 

1986), 44–49; R. E. Jorissen, “Kan het morgen weer gebeuren?,” 

Waterbouwdag 2003, 127–30.

40 RIVM and MNP, Risico’s in bedijkte termen. Een 

thematische evaluatie van het Nederlandse veiligheidsbeleid 

tegen overstromingen (Bilthoven 2004) 40; Extended English 

Summary: Dutch Dikes, and Risk Hikes. A thematic policy 

evaluation of risks of flooding in the Netherlands (Bilthoven 

2004); Letter of Ministry of Transport, Public Works and Water 

Management to the Province of Gelderland. Hoogte bandijken 

langs de grote rivieren (October 2, 1956; cited in RIVM, Risico’s 

in bedijkte termen).

41 E. Stamhuis, Afsluitingstechnieken in de Nederlandse 

Delta (Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 2002), 63–86.

42 K. Slager, De ramp, een reconstructie van de watersnood (Amsterdam/Antwerpen: Atlas, 2003), passim; Bosch 

en Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen, 176–78; 240–44; Van der Ham, 

Heersen en beheersen, 216–43.

43 P. de Schipper, De slag om de Oosterschelde

(Amsterdam/Antwerpen: Atlas, 2008), 17–22, 69–83, 109–76.

201
44 H. Ferguson, Delta-visie. Een terugblik op 40 jaar 

natte waterbouw in zuidwest-Nederland (Rijkswaterstaat: Den 

Haag 1988), 71–72.

45 J. Cramer, De groene golf. Geschiedenis en toekomst 

van de milieubeweging (Utrecht: Uitgeverij Jan van Arkel, 

1989), 17–36.

46 Alex van Heezik, Strijd om de rivieren: 200 jaar 

rivierenbeleid in Nederland of de opkomst en ondergang van 

het streven naar de normale rivier (Haarlem/Den Haag: Van 

Heezik Beleidsresearch, 2008), 161.

47 The VWBL, RIZA, the Dutch tourist and mobility organization ANWB, a national conservationist committee (ContactCommissie voor Natuur- en Landschapsbescherming) and the 

Dutch angler union.

48 Van der Ham, Heersen en beheersen, 255; Bosch en 

Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen, 187; Van Heezik, Strijd, 156–79.

49 C. Disco and M. L. ten Horn-van Nispen, “Op weg 

naar een integraal waterbeheer,” in: J. W. Schot, H. W. Lintsen 

and Arie Rip (eds.), Techniek in Nederland in de twintigste 

eeuw, vol. 1 (Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 1998), 185.

50 Van der Ham. Heersen en beheersen, 255.

51 Van Heezik, Strijd, 176.

52 P. Huisman, “Waarvan akte. Internationale verdragen 

nopens de Rijn”, in: A. Bosch e.a. (ed.) Zoals ook zee zich terugtrekt en leegte achterlaat. Vriendenbundel Pieter de Wilde (Den 

Haag: HNT Historische producties, 2001), 49–52; Van Heezik, 

Strijd, 179–80.

53 J. Goudsblom, De nieuwe volwassenen. Een enquête 

onder jongeren van 18 tot 30 jaar (Amsterdam: Querido, 1959), 

96–102, 183.

54 C. Disco, F. W. Geels, H. W. Lintsen, “Hoe innovatief 

is Rijkswaterstaat?” Tijdschrift voor Waterstaatsgeschiedenis 13, 

no. 1 (2004): 13–28.

202

7

The first half of the twentieth century witnessed a dynamic period of growth in water resources 

development for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and 

other federal water resources agencies. An expanding 

and modernizing economy placed increasing demands 

on the nation’s system of inland waterways and coastal 

ports to transport goods and services. New technology 

was required to upgrade the navigation channels to 

serve this need. Even economic downturns and world 

wars during this period spurred increased investment in 

the nation’s water transportation system. The congressional response to natural disasters, such as flooding, 

and to the growing energy requirements calling for the 

development of hydroelectricity led to new missions 

for the Corps, which then built dams to address those 

needs. Recognizing the need to conserve water and 

make it available for agricultural purposes in the arid 

American West, Congress created the Bureau of Reclamation in 1902 to plan and construct massive reclamation projects. Throughout the last century, the Corps and 

other federal agencies responded to issues of change 

and continuity in the nation’s water resources needs by 

building, operating, and maintaining appropriate infrastructure. In the process of creating new water control 

projects, the Corps had to develop objective methods to 

determine the economic justification or national interest 

of those undertakings.

MODERNISM REMAKES THE UNITED STATES

By the turn of the twentieth century, the forces of 

industrialism, urbanism, and large-scale immigration—loosely labeled “modernism”—were remaking 

the United States. These changes rapidly transformed 

the lives of ordinary Americans. The growth of cities 

dramatically reflected the transformation underway in 

the American society and economy. Population trends 

mark the transition. In 1880, 72 percent of the nation’s 

population lived in rural areas; by 1900, that number 

had declined to 60 percent. Urban dwellers finally 

outnumbered rural inhabitants for the first time in 1920: 

51 percent urban to 49 percent rural. The pace only 

accelerated over the next 20 years. In 1940, the urbanrural split registered 56 to 44 percent.1

Cities grew dramatically in the first two decades of 

the twentieth century. In 1900, the number of urban 

places with more than one hundred thousand inhabiU.S. ERA OF PROGRESSIVISM AND 

LARGE PUBLIC WORKS, 1900–1970

William F. Willingham

205
tants stood at thirty-eight, whereas by 1920, sixty-eight 

cities had reached that level of population. In fact, 

by the latter year, over one-half the nation’s population lived in cities of one hundred thousand or more. 

Cities faced difficult infrastructure problems as they 

coped with population expansion. The need for a 

clean water supply, sewage systems, public transportation facilities, parks, garbage removal, and public 

safety challenged local government officials. To meet 

these challenges, a new class of professionals arose 

which included engineers, architects, scientists, and 

other experts who proposed solutions to the social 

and economic costs of growth. The attempt at urban 

improvement, known as the “City Beautiful” movement, sought to ameliorate urban crowding, disorder, 

and unsanitary conditions with public green space, 

better streets and public transport, clean water and 

sewer systems, attractive civic centers, and other 

amenities through the application of expert planning 

and the use of modern technology. In short, expert 

reformers and planners sought to bring order out of 

disorder in the urban scene.2

Whether focused on urban or rural issues, the amorphous reform movement in the late nineteenth and early 

twentieth centuries held a strong belief in the power of 

scientific expertise to solve social and political problems. 

Those among the reformers who had a strong conservationist bent embraced the notion that so-called impartial scientific experts could infuse government bureaucracy with the knowledge and skills to ensure the proper 

use and development of the nation’s natural resources 

to benefit all citizens. That promise extended to all 

water, timber, mineral, and land resources in the public 

domain. Teams of experts would create the administrative apparatus to carry out appropriate management of 

those resources. This set of beliefs became the core of 

what has become labeled as the Progressive movement, 

and it defined the period from 1890 to 1920.

At the advent of the 

Progressive Era, about 

forty thousand engineers 

practiced their profession. 

These engineers saw themselves as key exponents 

of the belief in progress 

through scientific or technological improvement 

and the increasing control 

of nature. Increasingly, 

they received their education from colleges or institutes rather than through 

apprenticeship, and they 

answered to standards set 

by professional associations. This growing cadre 

of modern engineers in the 

High-rise buildings in lower New York City along the waterfront, 1908

Library of Congress, LC-USZ62-67323

206

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
private sector of the economy claimed a high degree 

of professionalism and challenged the dominance of 

the Corps of Engineers in carrying out federal public 

works. Civilian engineers asserted that Army engineers 

trained at West Point lacked the skills for public engineering work and the incentive to produce timely and 

cost efficient projects. Internally, the Corps’ changing 

engineering force reflected these larger trends in the 

engineering profession.3

GROWTH OF THE CORPS DURING THE 

PROGRESSIVE ERA

As the Corps’ traditional rivers and harbors work 

expanded during the early twentieth century, its number 

of civilian engineers grew along with the number of military engineers traditionally trained at West Point. The 

Corps’ expanding civil works program was apparent in 

the growth of its congressional appropriations. During 

the 1890s, appropriations totaled $166.7 million; in the 

next ten years, they reached $254.7 million. During the 

1920s, Corps appropriations stood at $674.2 million. The 

growth in the Corps’ budget mirrored the increase in the 

Corps’ projects over time. In 1880, the Corps had thirtyfour authorized projects. In 1896, the number expanded 

to five hundred. By 1910, they had ballooned to 1,208.4

In spite of the Corps’ growing workload during 

the last third of the nineteenth century, the number 

of engineer officers failed to keep pace. During most 

of that time, the Corps had 109 engineer officers, but 

by 1910, Congress had expanded the number to 200. 

In addition, by 1918, the Corps had hired 367 civilian 

engineers to carry out its work; in 1883 it had only 183. 

The Corps also hired thousands of laborers, clerks, 

draftsmen, inspectors, lock operators, and other civilian 

employees, depending on work load. By congressional 

edict, most project work was carried out under contract. 

Contractors, rather than hired labor, executed the 

Corps’ construction work.

The growth in navigation improvement projects 

assigned by Congress led the Corps to change its organizational structure. It became increasingly difficult 

for the chief of engineers and his small headquarters 

staff to properly manage far-flung engineer offices, 

which increased from thirty-four in 1888 to forty-one 

by 1906. In 1888, the Corps established five division 

offices to directly supervise the engineer officers who 

were carrying out project improvements at various river 

and harbor locations. At that time, the engineer offices 

lacked geographic descriptions or boundaries; the projects assigned to an office defined the area of responsibility for the officer in charge. As projects became more 

complex and required years to complete and then had 

to be operated and maintained, the focus shifted away 

from the engineer officer in charge to the geographic 

area encompassing the projects. The term “district” as a 

designation for a group of projects in a given geographic 

area gradually came into informal use to reflect this shift 

in emphasis. Formal recognition of this distinction took 

place in 1908 when the Corps’ annual reports began to 

list civil works projects under district headings. Finally, 

starting with the Annual Report of 1913, the Corps 

described districts in terms of geographic boundaries, 

rather than by just a list of projects.5

The Corps’ mission to enhance streamflow for navigation on the nation’s major rivers expanded steadily 

during the first half of the twentieth century. The drive 

for improved navigation came from local interests 

who thought that it would bring economic growth to 

their river port communities. These interests hoped 

that a better system of inland waterways would bring 

a resurgence of waterborne transportation through 

cheaper bulk freight rates and the ability to better 

compete with the railroads. Having laid a firm foundation for navigation in the nineteenth century on such 

rivers as the Ohio, Illinois, Mississippi, Missouri, and 

Columbia, the Corps concentrated on modernizing the 

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7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
navigation system by deepening the shipping channels and upgrading the in-water structures responsible 

for impounding the navigation pools. On the Ohio, for 

example, the Corps replaced the initial wicket dams 

with rolling crest dams and carried out a project to 

increase the navigation channel to a depth of nine feet 

(1910–29). The Corps used the roller crest dam exclusively for upgrading the navigation system on the upper 

Mississippi (1930–48) and for several installations in 

the Illinois Waterway (1930–39). In 1930, Congress 

authorized the Corps’ nine-foot navigation channel 

on the upper Mississippi River. Advances in hydraulic 

engineering brought improved dredging and better 

placement of river control devices such as revetments, 

pile dikes, and cut-off dams. On the Columbia River, the 

Corps drowned out the single-purpose Cascade Canal 

and Locks (built 1876–96) and The Dalles-Celilo Canal 

and Locks (built 1905–15) that were originally designed 

to pass shallow draft steamboats, and in their place 

installed massive, single-lift locks for modern barge 

tows in the four multiple-purpose dams it built between 

1933 and 1970. In the late 1950s, the Corps constructed 

the St. Lawrence Seaway, completing the deep-water 

transportation system on the Great Lakes.6

Just as river channels needed upgrading to accommodate larger barge tows, the coastal ports of the 

U.S. required improvements to keep up with the everexpanding size of ocean-going ships. On the East Coast, 

the Corps carried out dredging projects to deepen 

and widen ship channels in ports including Boston, 

New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston, and 

Savannah. On the West Coast, the Corps did the same for 

the harbors of Los Angeles and Portland, while building 

massive jetties at the mouth of the Columbia River and 

then dredging a deeper channel so ever-larger ships 

could navigate 110 miles upriver to Portland. Over the 

course of a century, the Corps deepened the Portland 

to the Sea ship channel from seventeen to forty feet. 

At Seattle, the Corps constructed a canal (1911–1916) 

to connect the Puget Sound with Lake Washington to 

add to the city’s port facilities. The Corps also dredged 

harbors and built jetties or breakwaters for numerous 

small ports along the coasts of Oregon and Washington.

As cities grew and port activities increased, the 

uncontrolled dumping of refuse and debris created a 

navigation hazard. Congress responded by giving the 

Corps authority to restrict the dumping of refuse that 

threatened safe navigation, beginning in 1886 in New 

York harbor. In 1888, Congress authorized the Corps to 

establish harbor lines to protect navigation by limiting 

construction and deposition of refuse within the lines. 

Finally, in 1890, the Rivers and Harbors Act authorized 

the Corps to issue permits for dumping or constructing 

any structure in navigable waters. Congress further clarified the law in 1899, strengthening the Corps’ regulatory control over construction, dredging, dumping, or 

discharging activities in navigable waterways. In the first 

half of the twentieth century, however, the Corps interpreted its regulatory authority narrowly—withholding 

permits for in-water undertakings only if the activity 

interfered with navigation.7

Initially, the Corps placed most of its enforcement 

efforts on Section 10 of the Rivers and Harbors Act of 

1899, as it was considered the most important part of 

the law. The Corps quickly established a nationwide 

permit program, which Congress began funding in 1905. 

Anyone wanting to build, dredge, or make any change in 

a navigable waterway had to submit a permit application 

with plans and specifications to the local Corps district. 

After review, the district engineer either issued or denied 

a permit and also had authority to turn over violators to 

the Justice Department for prosecution.

Although Section 13 of the law granted broad 

powers to prohibit dumping of anything into any navigable stream without a permit, the Corps chose to 

interpret the law narrowly. The Corps, backed by court 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
decisions, enforced Section 13 provisions only if the 

dumping of refuse would have an effect on navigation. 

The Corps did not set up a regular permit program to 

enforce Section 13, but instead issued permits on an 

ad hoc basis. The Corps did, on occasion, turn violators 

over for prosecution, but only if the discharge created a 

hazard for navigation.

The growing economy in the early twentieth century 

placed great demands on the waterway transportation 

system of the United States. The response involved both 

local and national governments. Ports built wharfs and 

terminals and dredged some harbors, but the federal 

government responded with a massive program of 

rivers and harbor work to make the local efforts effective. The Corps dredged harbors, improved river channels, built canals and jetties, constructed breakwaters, 

dikes, levees, and revetments to protect shorelines and 

preserve navigation channels. Between 1900 and 1914, 

New York harbor, for example, was expanded from a 

depth of thirty to forty feet. At the same time, the Corps 

increased the depth of Boston’s harbor from twentyseven to thirty-five feet, and both Philadelphia and 

Baltimore had their harbors increased to a depth of 

thirty-five feet. The Corps, at the direction of Congress, 

also made great strides in achieving the long-sought 

goal of an Atlantic Intracoastal Canal, combining and 

upgrading canals previously constructed by private 

companies with naturally sheltered inland passages 

along the Atlantic coast.8

Unfortunately, various obstacles prevented the 

creation of a nationwide, integrated navigation system. 

As the federal commissioner of corporations noted in 

1909, the United States had not enjoyed “that cooperation between central and local authority that appears in 

View of Boston Harbor in 1906

Library of Congress, LC-DIG-det-4a09980

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7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
the best of the European systems.” Localities competed 

with each other in Congress for federal water resources 

projects, and “pork barrel” politics often determined 

which projects got funded rather than rational, coordinated planning. The commissioner of corporations 

argued that the haphazard development of the nation’s 

waterways produced “waste, lack of uniformity, lack of 

comprehensive plan, and especially a lack of any proportionate contribution from localities peculiarly benefited.”9

To impose some coherence on a rapidly growing 

waterborne infrastructure, in 1902 Congress created the 

Board of Engineers for Rivers and Harbors to approve 

or reject river development projects. The measure was 

largely the work of Representative Theodore E. Burton, 

the powerful chair of the House Rivers and Harbors 

Committee, who questioned the quality of the Corps’ 

reports for proposed water improvement projects. The 

legislation, passed over the opposition of the chief of 

engineers, called for five (later seven) engineer officers to 

review the proposals from the Corps’ district engineers 

to determine the accuracy of promised benefits and cost 

estimates and the contribution to the national interest. 

Although the board improved the quality of federal projects over time, it did not prevent continued congressional 

approval of local projects of questionable value.10

The charge that the Corps engaged in building 

water projects that benefited only local interests 

continued to haunt the Corps throughout the first half 

of the twentieth century. In fact, only once during those 

years did the Corps request that Congress take a more 

systematic approach to waterways projects. In 1911, 

the chief of engineers proposed that the Corps prepare 

plans for a national water transportation system, but 

the Congress declined to approve this recommendation. Between 1900 and 1930, the Corps and Congress 

also experimented with requiring local cost-sharing on 

some water projects; but no systematic procedure was 

developed to determine when to apply this requirement. In addition, critics of the Corps complained that 

its planning failed to include considerations other than 

engineering, especially in the case of single-purpose 

projects. After World War II, such criticism of the Corps’ 

lack of comprehensive planning and over-reliance on 

engineering feasibility to establish benefits and costs 

for water resources projects reached a crescendo. The 

Bureau of Reclamation also faced similar criticism that 

it placed too much emphasis on purely engineering 

justifications for its water projects.11

THE RISE OF MULTIPLE-PURPOSE WATER 

RESOURCES PROJECTS

The issue of natural resource depletion received much 

attention during the administration of President 

Theodore Roosevelt. The rising population and 

advancing standard of living produced visions of 

depleted timber and mineral resources and over-grazed 

grasslands. Concern arose that insufficient water 

supplies would limit crop production. In addition, inefficient waterways, demands for hydropower, and calls 

for western irrigation projects highlighted the demands 

being placed on the nation’s water resources. Proponents of the wise use of natural resources for long-term 

public benefit challenged the unfettered private exploitation of such resources. For example, conservationists 

and forestry experts sought to apply scientific forestry 

practices, such as the creation of forest preserves, 

grazing regulations, and selective timber harvesting, to 

publicly owned forest lands. To carry out these policies, 

Congress established the U.S. Forest Service in 1906.12

Because many aspects of forest management 

directly concerned other resources, such as water, a 

focus on watersheds emerged. By 1908, the concept of 

multiple-purpose river development had gained prominence. According to this notion, river basins should be 

efficiently developed and managed to support related 

needs, including irrigation, flood control, hydropower, 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
navigation, and urban water supply. This new approach 

often meant reconciling conflicts in priority as well as 

trade-offs in assigning benefits and costs. Clearly, the 

new multiple-purpose approach represented a move 

away from the traditional single-purpose water development projects of the Corps. But before this idea gained 

traction, other federal natural resources agencies—

besides the Corps and the Forest Service—arrived on the 

national scene. The Corps would now have to work in 

concert with the other federal agencies that had roles to 

play in water resources development.

Just before the Forest Service got underway, 

Congress created the U.S. Reclamation Service (later, the 

Bureau of Reclamation) in 1902 to scientifically develop 

the irrigation potential of western watersheds and bring 

irrigated communities to arid lands. The Corps of Engineers already had charge of navigation development on 

the nation’s rivers. These single-purpose federal water 

activities reinforced the notion that efficient resource 

use required the national government to take the lead 

on multiple-purpose river development. The sheer 

complexity and cost of resource development, coupled 

with the problem of overlapping local and state jurisdictions, made federal multiple-purpose planning attractive 

to those interested in the wise use of natural resources. 

At this early stage of considering multiple-purpose 

resource development, the Corps took a conservative stance on the approach. The Corps interpreted its 

navigation mission narrowly and doubted, for example, 

that the science of hydrology and the technical requirements of building large dams had advanced to the point 

of feasibility. Chief of Engineers Brig. Gen. Alexander 

Mackenzie went so far as to argue that all other river 

purposes should be subordinate to the federal interest 

in navigation. Another senior Corps officer argued, 

“Experience in the practical operation of the Upper 

Mississippi system has unquestionably demonstrated 

that the need of navigation and water-power generation 

are more or less conflicting and that the idea of satisfying 

both by a single system of reservoirs is visionary.” The 

Corps’ opposition to multiple-purpose development put 

it at odds with President Theodore Roosevelt and other 

federal resource agency heads.13

The Corps’ position on multiple-purpose federal 

public works placed it in an awkward position in the 

debate over federal authority under the United States 

Constitution. The multiple-purpose approach relied 

on a broad interpretation of federal powers based on 

the commerce clause of the Constitution; states’ rights 

proponents denied any federal responsibility to control 

the nation’s rivers, even for navigation. The Corps thus 

found itself attacked by both sides. The Corps’ assertion 

of its navigation interest angered states’ rights advocates, 

while its opposition to multiple-purpose development 

received criticism from those seeking a broader federal 

involvement on the nation’s rivers. In spite of their 

resistance to multiple-purpose development, the Corps 

Alexander Mackenzie (1844–1921), who became 

Chief of Engineers in 1904

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, H. Abbot Collection

211

7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
generally retained the respect of Congress and senior 

policy makers during both Republican and Democratic 

administrations. This respect kept the Corps in control of 

traditional federal civil works, despite continuing criticism by private sector engineers.14

To circumvent the Corps and congressional opponents of multiple-purpose development, President 

Roosevelt convened the Inland Waterways Commission 

(IWC) in 1907 to investigate the options for integrated 

river basin development. At the time, Roosevelt stated 

that it was necessary to merge “local projects and uses of 

inland waters in a comprehensive plan designed for the 

benefit of the entire country.” The IWC reported favorably on future plans that called for multiple-purpose 

water resources development, but the Corps continued 

to be highly skeptical of its feasibility. In an era that 

placed great emphasis on progress through the application of scientific expertise to natural resource development, the Corps, with its narrow approach, seemed 

slightly out of step. This conservative stance limited the 

Corps’ influence on broader federal water policy, but it 

did not prevent some engineers within the Corps from 

calling for greater federal involvement in flood control 

and regulation of hydropower development, especially 

on navigable streams. In the short term, questions of 

financing, technological capability, and constitutional 

authority led the Corps to resist the multiple-purpose 

approach. Over time, however, answers to these 

concerns were forthcoming, and the easiest to resolve 

seemed to be the technological ones.15

LARGE DAM DESIGN

The emerging technology of concrete dam design played 

a major role in the debate over multiple-purpose river 

basin development. Only when engineers found it 

possible to design and build large-scale concrete dams 

could multiple-purpose manipulation of major rivers be 

undertaken. At the beginning of the twentieth century, 

two different engineering visions for concrete dam design 

competed: the massive tradition, which relied on a dam’s 

weight to hold it in place, and the structural approach, 

which depended on a dam’s shape to transfer the weight 

of the water to the dam abutments. Massive dams simply 

used the force of gravity acting on the mass of material in 

the structure to resist the horizontal pressure of the stored 

water. A structural dam, on the other hand, employed 

its shape, such as an arch or buttress element, to resist 

hydrostatic pressure. If designed and built properly, either 

design would work. During the first third of the twentieth 

century, American engineers refined the engineering 

theory and practice behind both types of dams. These 

advancements permitted American dam builders to 

base their design decisions on site conditions, available 

construction materials and labor, financial constraints, 

and the professional preference of the designer.16

Another technology essential to the construction of 

water control structures such as dams, locks, canals, and 

jetties involved the use of concrete as a building material. 

Although invented by the Romans for a variety of structural purposes, the modern development and application of concrete occurred in the late nineteenth century. 

Following European experiments in the early 1800s with 

the various ingredients necessary to make concrete, 

American builders carried out further investigations 

and began the systematic application of concrete to 

structures in the last half of the nineteenth century. The 

most important advance involved adding iron or steel 

reinforcement to concrete. Reinforced concrete, unlike 

regular concrete, could resist tension and thus made 

the product useful for columns, beams, and floor slabs, 

as well as for walls and footings. Advances in reinforced 

concrete design continued in the twentieth century and 

provided dam builders with an alternative to earth-fill 

embankment and masonry structures. Roosevelt Dam 

(1906–11), built by the Reclamation Service, was the last 

of the large-scale masonry dams.17

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Innovations in the design of cofferdams by the 

Corps and its civilian contractors in the early twentieth 

century also played an important role in the construction of large-scale dams and other in-water structures. 

Engineers began replacing the traditional timber crib or 

sheet-pile-founded cofferdams used in building navigation projects in the nineteenth century with interlocking 

steel sheet pile cofferdams. The steel structures had an 

important advantage in that they could be built taller 

than wooden ones and thus allowed work at greater 

water depths. Economical steel sheet piles became 

available by 1910, when steel companies developed 

the means to fabricate sheet piling with interlocks 

rolled into the beam during manufacturing, rather than 

having the attachment occur afterwards by riveting. By 

the 1930s, the Corps’ use of steel sheet pile cofferdams 

in river improvements on the Ohio, Kanawha, and 

Allegheny rivers led to further innovations. Instead of 

merely substituting steel sheet piling for wooden sheet 

piling in conventional box cofferdams, the engineers 

started using circular cell and diaphragm cell steel sheet 

pile cofferdams. Other water resources agencies, such 

as the Bureau of Reclamation and the Tennessee Valley 

Authority (TVA), also advanced the design and performance of cofferdams in the construction of their dams.18

The development and use of electricity, the internal 

combustion engine, and giant steam shovels in the late 

nineteenth and early twentieth centuries also enhanced 

the engineers’ ability to economically accomplish 

large-scale, multiple-purpose water projects. Moreover, being able to generate electrical power from water 

stored behind dams provided a means to finance other 

Steel sheet pile cofferdam under construction at the Bonneville Dam site on the Columbia River, ca. 1930s

Library of Congress, HAER ORE,26-BONV,2-F--37

213

7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
water uses and another way to power equipment used 

in constructing the dams themselves. Federal agencies even shared heavy equipment. After the Panama 

Canal Commission completed the Panama Canal, it 

transferred some of the heavy machinery, such as steam 

shovels, to the Bureau of Reclamation for use in its dam 

and irrigation projects.

FLOOD CONTROL

While concern for natural resource depletion stimulated a federal response that led to the creation of 

agencies to better manage the public domain, it took 

natural disasters to bring a stronger federal involvement in flood control. A series of damaging floods in 

the nation’s heartland in 1912, 1913, and again in 1916 

focused attention on the issue. The question of how to 

prevent devastating flooding in the Ohio and Mississippi River basins fed into the existing argument over 

whether single- or multiple-purpose flood prevention 

measures were the best solution. The single-purpose 

approach relied on extending and improving the 

existing system of levees and bank protection, whereas 

the multiple-purpose solutions proposed upstream 

forest reserves and reservoirs, and construction of 

artificial outlets in the lower Mississippi basin to send 

floodwaters to the Gulf.19

Flood victims on a Mississippi River levee at Arkansas City, Arkansas, 1927

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

214

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
In the 1917 Flood Control Act, Congress recognized, for the first time, an obligation to assist floodprone areas of the Mississippi and Sacramento basins, 

and it instituted cost-share requirements on local 

interests: for every two dollars of federal expenditures, 

local interests had to commit one dollar. The localities 

also had to provide rights-of-way for levee construction 

and maintain the structures after construction. Most 

importantly for the future, the act ordered the Corps to 

investigate the relationship of flood control to navigation and hydropower, setting a precedent for multiplepurpose planning. While debate continued over the 

issue of multiple-purpose water resources development, the Corps’ response to repeated flooding on 

the nation’s major rivers directly enhanced the Corps’ 

flood control mission.20

The federal commitment to flood control established 

by the 1917 measure was further strengthened in the wake 

of the catastrophic Mississippi River flood of 1927. The 

large loss of life and devastating economic impact led 

Congress to support federal flood control efforts on the 

entire Mississippi River. The massive flood also pushed 

the Corps away from its single-minded embrace of “levees 

only” as the best way to prevent floods on the river. Based 

on a report authored by Chief of Engineers Maj. Gen. 

Edgar Jadwin, Congress passed the Flood Control Act 

of 1928, firmly committing the federal government to 

flood control on the Mississippi River. General Jadwin’s 

recommendations, although still relying to a large extent 

on levees, also proposed a mix of floodways and spillways, including a controversial plan to send half of the 

Mississippi’s floodwaters down the Atchafalaya River into 

the Gulf of Mexico. The Mississippi River Commission 

(MRC) also presented a competing flood control plan 

to Congress, but its greater expense caused Congress to 

reject it in favor of the Corps’ approach. Neither proposal 

recommended a large-scale use of reservoirs to control 

the Mississippi River floodwaters.21

A costly element of both plans was the expense of 

acquiring land and rights-of-way for enlarged levees and 

flowage easements and damage to lands in the proposed 

floodways. General Jadwin’s plan, which cost $296.4 

million, emphasized that the states and localities should 

be responsible for real estate costs and property damage. 

The MRC’s plan, on the other hand, recommended 

federal assumption of the bulk of the real estate costs of 

the project. After fierce debate, Congress adopted a flood 

control measure that limited the federal government’s 

responsibility for real estate costs to only those lands 

affected by “additional” floodwaters diverted from the 

Mississippi River by new flood control works.22

The actual condemnation process for flowage 

easements or fee-simple rights-of-way and for levee 

construction proved complex and expensive. Questions 

over property rights and compensation for land damage 

in 1929 ultimately led to new concerns about the Corps’ 

floodway plans. It took nearly six years to resolve these 

issues in the courts and Congress. For its part, the Corps, 

under a new chief of engineers, Maj. Gen. Lytle Brown, 

sought to refine its engineering plan for flood control 

on the Mississippi. After much study, General Brown’s 

approach differed little from General Jadwin’s plan. It 

retained most of the engineering aspects and required 

nonfederal interests to provide all rights-of-way and 

flowage rights, except when the federal government 

specifically agreed to pay such costs. Also, the Corps’ 

long-standing resistance to flood control reservoirs as 

not cost-effective finally gave way to economic necessity when growing unemployment during the Great 

Depression made large-scale public works, such as flood 

control dams, an attractive way to create employment.

The Flood Control Act of 1928 was also notable for 

creating the Mississippi River and Tributaries Project 

(MR&T) to be operated under the direction of the MRC. 

The MR&T sought to provide flood protection for a 

36,000 square-mile area in the lower Mississippi River 

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7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
basin stretching from Cape Girardeau, Missouri, south to 

the Head of Passes, which is the point where the Mississippi River divides into three south-flowing branches. 

The project was a massive undertaking that included a 

3,500-mile levee system; floodways to pass excess flows 

in critical reaches of the river; channel improvements 

and bank stabilization to sustain a navigable channel; 

and tributary basin improvements, such as dams and 

reservoirs, pumping stations, and auxiliary channels, to 

better manage flood waters. The MR&T work—which 

continues into the twenty-first century—is overseen by 

the MRC but has been constructed and some sections 

operated and maintained by the Corps of Engineers.

The complete federal acceptance of responsibility 

for flood control on the nation’s rivers occurred in 1936. 

A series of devastating floods in New England and the 

Ohio River valley during economic hard times pushed 

Congress to action. The desire to protect human life 

and provide public-works relief projects led Congress to 

enact the 1936 Flood Control Act. This measure recognized that flood control was a federal responsibility in 

cooperation with the states and local governments and 

directed the Corps of Engineers to carry out the federal 

flood control mission. A key provision of the 1936 Flood 

Control Act mandated that each federal project had to 

have economic benefits that exceeded costs before it 

could go forward. The law also set in place requirements 

for local contributions to the flood control projects. For 

instance, the law stipulated that before construction 

could begin the non-federal interest had to provide land, 

The intersection of Stanwix St. and Fort Duquesne Blvd. in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, 

covered with floodwaters on 18 March 1936

Pittsburgh District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

216

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
easements, and rights-of-way; the non-federal entity 

also had to agree to hold the federal government safe 

from damage claims and to operate and maintain the 

completed flood control works according to regulations 

established by the Corps.

The shared arrangement proved effective in many 

ways but did not stem the tide of rising flood losses. In 

the thirty-four years before the Corps received its flood 

control mission in 1936, flood losses approximated $4.1 

billion, but in the subsequent twenty-two years (1936–58) 

damages amounted to $6.6 billion. The continued human 

encroachment on floodplains for housing, commercial 

applications, and industrial uses contributed significantly to mounting losses. Over time, Congress altered 

the precise requirements imposed on local interests 

benefitting from federal flood control projects.

Many of the approximately four hundred flood 

control reservoirs eventually built by the Corps also 

provided other benefits, such as navigation, hydropower, irrigation, and water storage. The multiplepurpose nature of many flood control projects pushed 

the Corps and the Bureau of Reclamation to develop a 

cooperative approach that led the Corps to construct 

flood control dams on navigable rivers, whereas the 

Bureau of Reclamation built flood control dams in 

combination with irrigation needs.23

To carry out its expanded flood control mission and 

develop new methods for dealing with the Mississippi 

River’s flow—beyond simply building higher levees—the 

Corps needed to develop better scientific knowledge 

of the river and its tributaries. To that end, Congress 

authorized the Corps in 1927 to establish a hydraulics 

A portion of the Mississippi River Flood Control Model, one of the oldest existing models 

at the Waterways Experiment Station, showing the Old River Control Structures

U.S. Army Engineer Waterways Experiment Station

217

7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
laboratory, known as the Waterways Experiment Station 

(WES), at Vicksburg, Mississippi. Over time, the laboratory carried out systematic studies using models of the 

river and sophisticated mathematics. The engineers 

then used this knowledge of the river’s workings to 

design improved flood control structures. What distinguished the WES from other hydraulics laboratories, 

though, was its emphasis on river mechanics rather 

than just tests on structures such as dams, spillways, 

and locks. Research at WES advanced both theory and 

practical application in river control.24

CONTROL OF FEDERAL PUBLIC WORKS

While the Corps began an expanding flood control 

mission in the 1920s and 1930s, two other developments influenced the methods and direction used 

to carry out its expanding water resources role. One 

situation involved the Corps’ position in public works 

construction, while the other determined the scope of 

its mission. The former issue pitted the Corps against 

the private construction industry in a struggle over who 

would direct the building of federal public works, and 

the latter situation involved the impact of multiplepurpose projects on shaping federal public works.25

During the 1920s, the Corps continued to encounter 

a stiff challenge to its dominance of federal public works 

from the private construction industry. Private contractors resented the Corps’ traditional role in river and 

harbors work because they believed that the private 

sector could do such work better and more cheaply than 

the Corps. Although resistance from nongovernmental 

engineers and contractors to the Corps’ civil works 

mission had a history stretching back to the 1870s, it took 

on added intensity in the 1920s as the Corps’ activities 

expanded. The rivers and harbors program during that 

decade included about two hundred harbor and three 

hundred river projects, and up to eighty-five canal projects. Private contractors decried in particular the Corps’ 

increasing use of hired labor and government-owned 

equipment to carry out its navigation and flood control 

projects. In 1900, for example, the Corps conducted 12 

percent of its project work with hired labor, whereas by 

1924 its use of hired labor had reached 75 percent. The 

Corps’ capital investment in equipment increased from 

$2.5 million to $50 million for those same years. During 

the 1920s, the Corps’ civilian workforce also reflected this 

trend. In 1921, the number of civilian employees stood 

at 17,000, but by 1931 it had reached 25,000. Realizing 

that a protracted battle with the politically influential 

private construction industry was not in the Corps’ longterm interest, the agency offered to do as much of its 

rivers and harbors work as possible with private contractors through competitive bidding. This proved to be a 

viable solution over time. In fact, by 1938, the Corps was 

doing 72 percent of its new work by contract and only 28 

percent by hired laborers—almost exactly the reverse of 

the situation in 1926.

THE EMBRACE OF MULTIPLE-PURPOSE WATER 

RESOURCES PLANNING

While the Corps struggled to maintain its control over 

federal public works involving navigation and flood 

control prior to World War II, the agency found it necessary to drop its opposition to multiple-purpose water 

resources projects. The Corps realized that private dam 

building—largely for hydropower purposes—could 

undermine its prerogatives in navigation work. It, moreover, understood that hydropower could finance dams 

that benefited navigation and flood control projects.

The Corps of Engineers gained experience in 

constructing a multiple-purpose dam in the early 1920s. 

To produce nitrates for munitions during World War I, 

Congress directed the Corps to build Wilson Dam on 

the Tennessee River to generate electrical power for the 

nitrate plants, but the dam would also provide flood 

control and navigation benefits. This undertaking, along 

218

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
with an innovative preliminary examination of the water 

resources potential of the Tennessee River and tributaries 

in the early 1920s, provided the Corps with a model for 

future projects of this type. This undertaking also encouraged congressional supporters of multiple-purpose 

development to consider investigating other rivers 

compatible with such an approach.26

The catalyst for pushing the Corps’ acceptance of 

multiple-purpose water resources development arrived 

in 1925 when Congress directed the Corps and the 

Federal Power Commission to prepare cost estimates 

for surveys of those navigable streams and tributaries 

“whereon power development appears feasible and 

practicable.” Congress wanted a plan for improving 

stream navigation “in combination with the most 

efficient development of a potential water power, the 

control of floods, and the needs of irrigation.” The Corps, 

in 1926, submitted a list of over two hundred rivers that 

justified study for such purposes, and the following year 

Congress appropriated the funds to carry out the recommended investigations. The Corps then initiated and 

completed, over a five-year period, an unprecedented 

series of comprehensive river surveys that compiled 

baseline economic, social, scientific, and engineering 

data. The Army Engineers’ final reports to Congress 

analyzed the survey information, developed plans, and 

recommended projects. The finished studies became 

known as the “308 Reports,” named after the number of 

the House of Representatives document that contained 

the Corps’ original survey estimates.27

The process of producing the surveys transformed 

the Corps, giving its officers and civilian engineers 

Installation of power generators at Wilson Dam on the Tennessee River in Alabama, 1926

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

219

7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
the knowledge, skills, and commitment to carry out a 

national program of multiple-purpose water resource 

developments. In 1935, Congress directed the Corps to 

periodically update the 308 Reports to reflect important 

changes in economic factors, additional streamflow data, 

or other pertinent information. With this authority, the 

Corps had broad responsibility to carry out continuing 

river basin planning for navigation, hydropower, and 

flood control. The 308 Reports became the basic planning guides for federal multiple-purpose water resources 

projects undertaken over the next fifty years.

BONNEVILLE AND GRAND COULEE DAMS ON THE 

COLUMBIA RIVER

The water resources projects proposed in the 308 

Reports began appearing in 1932 and quickly found 

a keenly interested audience. Under the economic 

pressure of the Depression, the new administration 

of Franklin Roosevelt was receptive to the notion 

of massive water resource projects providing work 

relief. The plans laid out in the 308 Reports presented 

thoughtful blueprints for combining infrastructure 

creation with unemployment relief. A prime example 

of the unfolding process of multiple-purpose water 

resource development occurred with the Corps’ 308 

Report for the Columbia River in the Pacific Northwest. 

Using recommendations from this study, the Oregon 

and Washington congressional delegations won President Roosevelt’s commitment for two federal dams 

on the Columbia River. In 1933, construction started 

on Grand Coulee Dam on the upper Columbia and 

on Bonneville Dam on the lower Columbia River. The 

Bureau of Reclamation built the former for irrigation and 

hydropower, while the Corps constructed the latter dam 

for navigation and hydropower. These dams—situated 

on a major, swift-flowing river—were massive, multicomponent concrete structures that tested the limits of 

dam technology of the period.28

In building Bonneville Dam in the Columbia River 

Gorge, the Corps had to overcome many unique challenges that required novel design and construction techniques. The spillway dam, for example, was to be located 

in a narrow channel that had wide fluctuations in stream 

flow. In addition, the structure had to rest on comparatively weak foundation rock and be able to pass a large 

flood without causing a major rise in headwater elevations. To help solve these and other design problems, the 

Corps built a hydraulics laboratory in Portland to model 

the river and test different spillway solutions. Ultimately, 

the engineers built a gravity concrete spillway dam 1,450 

feet in length with eighteen steel gates, each fifty feet 

wide. At its base, the dam measured 132 feet in width and 

reached a height of 197 feet above its lowest point. To 

help the spillway pass large stream flows without raising 

flood elevations, the Corps widened the river by excavating almost one million cubic yards of material from 

the riverbanks. As designed, Bonneville Dam’s spillway 

had a capacity of 1.6 million cubic feet per second, significantly larger than any existing dam in the United States.

The design of the reinforced concrete powerhouse 

and its associated equipment also proved challenging. 

Separated from the spillway connecting to Bradford 

Island, the powerhouse had to handle large quantities of water at comparatively low head. The structure 

extended 1,027 feet in length and was 190 feet in both 

width and height (above bedrock). The powerhouse 

design required large intakes, concrete scroll cases, and 

deep-draft tubes. The Corps carried out extensive model 

studies at its hydraulics laboratory in Portland to guide 

this design effort. Although the original plans called 

for two generators, within a few years the engineers 

expanded the powerhouse to accommodate ten units.

Each generator was equipped with the Kaplan 

adjustable-blade, propeller type of turbine. This was 

one of the earliest uses of this type of turbine in the U.S. 

Engineers selected the Kaplan turbine because of space 

220

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
constraints at Bonneville and the wide seasonal variation of head at the powerhouse. The Kaplan turbine 

required less space per horsepower than other types of 

turbines and achieved maximum efficiency under a wide 

range of head pressures. Each turbine unit weighed nine 

hundred tons, had a main shaft diameter of forty inches, 

and possessed a discharge capacity of 13,000 cubic feet 

of water per second. At the dam’s completion in 1937, its 

Kaplan turbines were the largest in the world and represented a major advance for hydroelectric power plants 

because they had never before been tried on such a scale.

The Corps’ electrical engineers worked under difficult 

circumstances, with the design and construction of the 

powerhouse structure occurring before the actual electrical load and means of achieving it had been established. 

To satisfy itself that the power plant design and choice 

of turbines was the best available, the Corps sought the 

advice of top consultants in the field of waterpower works. 

To implement the plans and designs in the required timeframe, contractors built at a frantic pace, with one frustrated electrical engineer exclaiming that “the only objective apparently being the dumping of yards of concrete 

and placing of tons of steel. Structural design in the office 

was but a jump ahead of actual construction in the field.”29

As work got underway on the navigation lock, 

political considerations forced several changes in the 

Bonneville Lock and Dam, whose primary functions are to generate electrical power and to aid river navigation

North Pacific Division, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

221

7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
original plans. The Corps initially proposed a tandem 

lock sufficient for existing barge traffic. Under considerable pressure from Oregon politicians, however, the 

engineers ultimately opted for a single-lift lock seventysix feet wide, five hundred feet long, and twenty-four feet 

over the sill at low water. Such dimensions made the lock 

capable of handling ocean-going ships. With a vertical 

lift of sixty feet, the Bonneville lock was the highest 

single-lift lock built to that time. The navigation lock was 

located between the powerhouse and the Oregon shore.

The actual construction of the spillway dam posed 

severe problems. The depth of the water, current velocity, 

and harsh weather conditions together with the annual 

summer flood presented challenging conditions. The 

construction season only lasted from August to March. 

After extensive hydraulic studies, the engineers adopted 

a plan calling for massive timber cofferdams as the best 

means of diverting the river from the work site. The 

contractors divided the river in half, dewatering each half 

successively. After the south spillway’s partial construction during the 1935–36 low-water work seasons, the 

workers removed the cofferdam and let the river flow 

between the piers over the uncompleted crest sections, 

while another cofferdam was put in place for work on 

the north section. Finally, workers placed a prefabricated 

structural steel cofferdam over the crest section between 

the piers of the uncompleted south portion so that those 

units could be brought to final elevation.

A unique feature of the crib cofferdam method 

of construction required “tailoring” the crib bottoms 

to fit the irregularities of the riverbed. First, though, 

the engineers had to dredge the thin overburden and 

carefully sound and map the river bottom. The job of 

designing, building, and placing these huge wooden 

structures—each as large as a six-story building—in the 

900-foot wide river channel with a depth of 20 to 50 feet 

of water flowing from 6 to 9 feet per second, severely 

tested the capabilities of the engineers and contractors. 

At the time, it was the largest cofferdam job attempted 

on a U.S. river and attracted keen interest from the 

engineering community.

The Bonneville Dam Project required placing about 

one million cubic yards of concrete with special qualities. The concrete needed great tensile strength and low 

ultimate heat of hydration, with much of its total heat of 

hydration generated within the first three days following 

placement. These qualities were needed so the concrete 

would harden early and construction could be pushed 

at maximum speed. The engineers also needed a way to 

avoid the excessive heat generated by the chemical reaction between cement and water, which could produce 

serious cracking as the concrete set. After extensive 

testing of various cements, the Corps chose Portlandpozzolan cement. In addition to its greater tensile and 

compressive strengths and desired heat of hydration 

characteristics, it continued to gain strength over time 

and possessed greater resistance to weathering and rough 

water action. At the time of its selection for Bonneville 

Dam, builders had made little use of Portland-pozzolan 

cement in mass-concrete construction in America. Many 

hydraulic structures in Europe, however, had used it 

with satisfactory results. Because of limited experience 

with Portland-pozzolan cement, the Corps developed 

rigid specifications and implemented a stringent testing 

program to ensure consistently high quality cement.

In large measure, the design and construction of 

Bonneville Dam demonstrated the Corps’ ability to 

combine its accumulated skills in water resources planning, including project design and implementation, with 

careful analysis of the specific engineering problems at 

Bonneville. In meeting the challenges of building Bonneville Dam, the Corps devised innovations in concrete 

mix, spillway design, coffer-damming, and fishways 

(discussed below). They also pioneered in the application of the Kaplan turbine to the special demands of 

water flow on the Columbia. These engineering solu222

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
tions and their implementation demonstrated the Corps’ 

technological and organizational prowess because they 

had to be integrated into the project on a tight construction schedule and within a reasonable budget. Although 

they consulted with outside experts on specific issues, 

the Corps drew on its own considerable technical expertise that had been accumulating for over one hundred 

years through improvements on the nation’s major 

rivers. The Corps’ engineering innovations in the design 

and construction of Bonneville Dam stimulated further 

experiments and testing at its own hydraulics laboratories and other institutions for future Corps’ dams on the 

Columbia River and elsewhere.

When construction started on Grand Coulee Dam, 

the irrigation aspect of the project initially took a backseat to power production. The right powerhouse began 

generating power from eight units in 1942 to meet 

wartime demands for electricity. The Bureau of Reclamation did not begin work on the massive Columbia 

Basin Project for irrigation until after World War II. The 

bureau considered the Columbia Basin Project one of 

the most important irrigation efforts ever undertaken 

to benefit small, family farms. In 1940, the Bureau 

estimated that it would take fifty years before the 1.2 

million acre project, containing 15,000 to 20,000 farms, 

was fully irrigated and in production. Even with power 

from Grand Coulee Dam subsidizing the cost of the 

pumping systems and canals, the project failed to live 

up to its expectations as a refuge for displaced, small 

farmers fleeing marginal lands elsewhere in the West. In 

1968, when the federal government turned the project 

over to the water users, only one-half of the one million 

acres had been watered, and the cost for the project had 

ballooned from an estimated $280 million to more than 

a billion dollars. By 1970, the 40-acre plots authorized in 

the original project planning had increased to 240-acre 

farms. It was also clear that the cost of watering the 

entire one million acres would far exceed the benefits.30

As work progressed on Bonneville and Grand Coulee 

dams, the question arose over who would market the 

power the dams would produce. After much political 

debate, both within the Roosevelt administration and 

Congress, President Roosevelt signed the Bonneville 

Power Act in August 1937. This measure settled the question of marketing federal power in the Pacific Northwest 

by assigning the Corps and the Bureau of Reclamation 

the responsibility for generating power at their respective 

dams but rejecting the proposals simply to sell the power 

at the dam site to those able to come and get it. Instead, 

the legislation created a federal marketing agency, the 

Bonneville Power Administration (BPA), to sell the 

power in accordance with the policy of “widest possible 

use of available electric energy that can be generated 

and marketed.” The law gave preference to publicly and 

cooperatively owned distribution systems, and the new 

agency adopted a policy of a blanket rate along the entire 

transmission system. The rates, however, had to allow the 

government to recover the cost of producing and transmitting the power. In later years, the BPA’s authority to 

market power expanded to include thirty-two additional 

federal projects constructed in the Northwest.31

The authors of the BPA’s charter drew on the experience gained from the creation of the TVA, in 1933, 

but they placed important limits on the BPA’s mission. 

The TVA, unlike the BPA, had the mandate to develop 

comprehensive river basin plans and implement them by 

building dams and marketing the power from them for 

the entire Tennessee valley basin. The TVA relied on the 

Corps’ 308 Report for the Tennessee River as the basis for 

its initial basin planning. The Roosevelt administration 

proposed that the TVA model be adapted for other river 

basins, but Congress never went along with the idea. In 

the Pacific Northwest, strong resistance developed to the 

creation of a TVA-style federal administration that would 

control the development of the region’s water resources. 

The dominant federal agencies such as the Army Corps 

223

7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
U.S.

Canada

portland

seattle

vancouver

boise

walla walla

OR

Pacific Ocean

WA

ID

MT

WY

UT NV CA

Columbia

River

Corps of Engineers Dams

Dams owned by others

willamette river

snake river

canoe river

columbia river

pend oreille river

flathead river

kootenay

river

clark-fork river

salmon river

clearwater

mica

revelstoke

keenleyside

duncan

libby hungry

horse

grand 

coulee

albeni

falls

chief

joseph

rocky

reach

rock

island

priest

rapids

the

dalles

kerr

wells noxon

mcnary

willow 

creek

hells

canyon

oxbow

brownlee

boise

projects

lucky peak

jackson

lake

wanapum

ice

harbor

mill 

creek

dworshak

bonneville

lower

monumental

little

goose

lower

granite

john

day

50

50 100 Kilometers

100 Miles

The Columbia River System 

The largest river in the Pacific Northwest, the Columbia runs more than 1,240 miles (1,996 km) and extends 

into seven U.S. states and one Canadian province while draining an area roughly the size of France. The 

Columbia River system is also one of the most hydroelectrically developed in the world. The Corps of 

Engineers built and still maintains ten locks in the system—eight on the Columbia and Snake rivers, one on 

the Willamette River, and one at Lake Washington in Seattle.

224

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
of Engineers, Bureau of Reclamation, and BPA were also 

cool to the idea of surrendering control of their facilities 

to a new, super federal agency.32

As the New Deal-driven, multiple-purpose projects 

unfolded across the American West, four river systems—

Columbia, Colorado, Missouri, and Central Valley, 

California—provided the locations for most of these 

undertakings. Each river basin had its own unique political, topographical, and hydrological characteristics. As 

seen in the early development of the Columbia River, 

both the Corps of Engineers and Bureau of Reclamation 

contributed to the effect. In the case of the Colorado 

River, politicians and developers prized water from that 

river for irrigation, municipal supply, and hydropower 

purposes. Here, the Bureau of Reclamation seemed the 

logical choice to build the proposed dams, although the 

benefits to be derived from the waters of the Colorado 

River were much contested by the states of Arizona and 

California. While the states jousted over control of the 

water resources benefits, the Bureau of Reclamation 

did its part by building Boulder and Parker dams in the 

1930s. In the Central Valley Project, the Bureau, after 

some competition with the Corps, built two massive, 

concrete gravity dams—Shasta and Friant—to irrigate 

rich agricultural lands fed by the Sacramento and San 

Joaquin rivers in California. The Bureau constructed the 

dams between 1937 and 1945. As with so many other 

federal reclamation projects, the Bureau did not enforce 

the 160-acre limitation on farms receiving water. As a 

result, corporate agriculture became the chief beneficiary of the Central Valley Project.33

FORT PECK DAM ON THE MISSOURI RIVER

During the 1930s, both the Corps of Engineers and the 

Bureau of Reclamation built major multiple-purpose 

projects in the Missouri River basin and jockeyed for 

dominance in carrying out water resources development 

for that region. The massive, earth-filled Fort Peck Dam, 

which was built 1,879 miles upstream from the mouth of 

the Missouri River, owed its existence to the Corps’ 308 

studies. Financing for the project came from New Deal 

relief funds. The Corps promoted the project to provide 

flows to maintain a navigation channel of six feet in the 

Missouri River for 795 miles below Sioux City, Iowa. The 

dam would also create incidental flood control benefits 

and could be adapted for hydropower and irrigation 

benefits in the future. When completed, the dam had the 

capacity to store 19.4 million acre-feet of water.34

Initially, the Corps was ambivalent about the need for 

Fort Peck Dam, and opponents argued that it lacked sufficient economic benefits to justify construction, either for 

navigation or any other purpose. The Roosevelt administration, however, saw the project as a quick means to put 

thousands of unemployed laborers to work in one of the 

most depressed regions of the country. Begun under presidential order in 1933, the dam was formally authorized 

by Congress in 1935.

The Corps designed Fort Peck Dam as an earth-fill 

structure constructed by the hydraulic fill method, using 

materials from the riverbed and surrounding valley. As 

designed, the dam consisted of two porous sand and 

gravel shells, holding a dense, relatively impervious core of 

silt, fine sand, and clay. When completed, the main structure stood 242 feet above the river bed and had a width 

at the base of nearly 3,000 feet and a length of 9,000 feet. 

The left abutment spur added an additional 11,000 feet to 

the dam. The crest of the dam extended 100 feet across. In 

all, the structure required about 100 million cubic yards 

of earth to complete. The Corps’ design also required 

covering the upstream and downstream faces of the dam 

with 5.6 million cubic yards of heavy riprap and placing a 

steel sheet pile cut-off diaphragm, extending from twenty 

feet above the base down to bedrock, to reduce percolation through the alluvium under the base of the dam. 

In addition to the earth-fill dam, the Fort Peck 

Dam project also consisted of several other features. 

225

7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
To release stored water from the dam, the design used 

four concrete tunnels with 26-inch diameters and an 

average length of 6,160 feet. To pass extreme flood flows, 

the plan called for a spillway located in the shale bluffs 

some three miles from the right abutment of the dam. 

The spillway contained sixteen Stoney gates, twenty-five 

to forty feet wide. The spillway channel extended for 

approximately two miles. For one mile of its length, the 

spillway was lined with concrete. Contractors excavated 

thirteen million cubic yards of material to construct the 

spillway. The isolated location of the worksite required 

major work to extend railroad, highway, and utility lines 

to the project. The Corps also had to construct a temporary town with modern facilities and amenities for up to 

eight thousand workers.

Work at Fort Peck Dam came to an abrupt halt on 

September 22, 1938, when a section of the upstream 

face of the dam, containing 5.2 million cubic yards of 

fill, slid into the reservoir. Eight men died and a large 

amount of equipment was temporarily lost. The earth 

movement did not block the tunnel inlets, so normal 

discharge continued without 

endangering the dam. After 

recovering the disabled 

equipment and the bodies of 

the dead workers, the Corps 

conducted tests to determine 

the cause of the failure and 

salvaged the quarry and fieldstone used to face the dam. 

The tests revealed that weak 

foundation rock in the vicinity 

of the slide could not withstand the shearing force to 

which it was subjected. Reconstruction of the damaged 

section of the dam required 

using a different type of core 

material (glacial-till) and placing it by rolled-fill rather 

than hydraulic methods. The dam cross section was 

also increased by flattening the slope. To secure a bond 

between the original core and the reconstructed core, 

the workers drove a steel sheet pile cutoff wall through 

the overlaying material into the undisturbed core material for a distance of at least twenty feet. The Corps 

completed the dam, without further incident, in 1940. 

The Corps built all subsequent earth-fill dams with the 

roller-compacted method and a flatter upstream slope.

INTERAGENCY COORDINATION DURING THE 

NEW DEAL

The Corps’ multiple-purpose undertakings during the 

1930s increasingly brought it into fields nominally the 

responsibility of other federal agencies. The situation 

was fraught with the potential for misunderstandings or turf wars. Although relations between the 

Corps of Engineers and the Bureau of Reclamation 

or the Department of Agriculture sometimes became 

strained, for the most part, the Corps and the other 

President Franklin Roosevelt visiting Ft. Peck Dam during the New Deal Era

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

226

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
federal agencies got along well enough. For example, 

in producing the 308 Reports, the Corps needed assistance and data from a number of federal agencies 

such as the Bureau of Reclamation, the U.S. Geologic 

Survey, the Department of Agriculture, and the Federal 

Power Commission. In the Pacific Northwest, the Corps 

districts involved in drafting the 308 Report on the 

Columbia River and tributaries made every effort to 

assure the Bureau of Reclamation that the Corps was 

not out to take over irrigation responsibilities in the 

region and developed a good working relationship at 

the field level between the two agencies. Still, as the 

Corps built navigation and flood control projects that 

had an irrigation component, the potential for conflict 

existed and occasionally flared up. In the late 1930s, 

for example, the Corps and the Bureau of Reclamation presented differing approaches to water resources 

development in the Missouri River basin.35

powder

belle fourche

little missouri

yellowstone

north platte

south platte

republican

smoky hill

kansas

osage

cheyenne

james

grand

white

niobrara

loup

big sioux

missouri

missouri

platte

tongue

bighorn

musselshell

marias

milk

fort peck lake lake sakakawea

lake of the ozarks

yellowstone lake

lake

oahe

lake

sharpe

Bismarck

Billings

Helena

Great Falls

Denver

Casper

Rapid City

Fort Collins

Omaha

Lincoln

Salina

Topeka Kansas City

Columbia

Saint Louis

Sioux City

50

50 100 Kilometers

100 Miles

Corps of Engineers 

Multipurpose Dams

Fort Peck

Garrison

Oahe Pierre

Big Bend

Gavins Point

Fort Randall

CANADA

north dakota

iowa

minnesota

south dakota

nebraska

kansas

missouri

colorado

wyoming

montana

The Missouri River System 

The Missouri is the longest river in North America. With headwaters in the Rocky Mountains, it flows southeasterly for 

2,341 miles (3,767 km) before joining the Mississippi River north of St. Louis. It drains ten U.S. states and two Canadian 

provinces and, when combined with the lower Mississippi River, forms the world’s fourth-longest river system.

227

7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
When potential conflicts arose, the Roosevelt 

administration tried to ensure coordination among the 

Corps, the Department of Agriculture, and the Bureau of 

Reclamation. This effort ultimately led to a 1939 tripartite 

agreement that obligated the three agencies to exchange 

information and consult with one another in preparing 

reports. Although the agreement did not eliminate the 

major differences among the agencies, it did lead to 

increased cooperation. In 1938, Congress also attempted 

to foster greater coordination in hydropower development by directing the Corps to consult with the Federal 

Power Commission on waterpower facilities in flood 

control dams. Congress, on the other hand, continued 

to support the efforts of the Corps to resist the Roosevelt 

administration’s attempts to dominate water resources 

planning through its New Deal Water Resources 

Committee of the National Resources Planning Board. 

In 1943, Congress eliminated funding for the executive 

branch’s water resources planning bodies. Thereafter, 

Roosevelt relied on the Bureau of Budget in the executive 

office of the White House to coordinate and centralize 

water resources planning. By executive order (1943), all 

federal agencies were required to submit their programs 

to the Bureau of the Budget, which would, in turn, advise 

the agencies on the relationship proposed projects had to 

the program of the president.

After 1940, U.S. preparation for and participation 

in World War II brought most water resources projects 

to a halt. Congress, however, did appropriate sufficient 

funds for the Corps to carry out necessary project operations and maintenance, but wherever possible, men 

and material were diverted to the war effort. The only 

exceptions involved civil works projects that supported 

the war effort, such as completing or adding hydropower facilities on recently built multiple-purpose 

dams and building the highly secret atomic energy 

plants necessary to military success. As the war wound 

down, however, the Corps and other water resource 

agencies began planning for postwar activities by 

preparing to complete projects left undone, updating 

the 308 Reports so that authorized projects could 

quickly get underway, or proposing new undertakings. 

The federal government hoped that proper planning 

would provide public works employment for the demobilized Army and Navy and thereby avoid a postwar 

recession as happened after World War I.

PICK-SLOAN PLAN ON THE MISSOURI RIVER

Planning for the post-World War II development of 

the Missouri River basin surfaced anew the existing 

rivalry between the Corps of Engineers and the Bureau 

of Reclamation. In 1939, Congress gave the Bureau of 

Reclamation the authority to include purposes other 

than irrigation in its projects. These benefits might 

include hydropower, municipal water supply, flood 

control, and even navigation. The Bureau of Reclamation 

directed one of its top engineers and managers, William 

Sloan, to come up with a plan for development of the 

Missouri River basin. In 1943, while Sloan worked on his 

study, Missouri River Division Engineer Col. Lewis Pick 

also came forward with a plan for a series of dams and 

reservoirs on the Missouri between Fort Peck and Sioux 

City. Colonel Pick had been motivated in part by severe 

flooding on the Missouri in the spring of 1943. He identified five dams that would be multiple-purpose projects 

to maximize the use of the basin waters.36

The Bureau of Reclamation would support the 

Corps’ plan only if it could develop the irrigation potential of the upper basin. The Sloan Report proposed only 

three dams on the main river between Fort Peck and 

Sioux City and added storage on the tributaries. After 

much political maneuvering, the Corps and the Bureau 

worked out a compromise, known as the Pick-Sloan 

Plan, which was ultimately enacted by Congress in 1944. 

The compromise plan permitted both agencies to share 

in the postwar development of federal multiple-purpose 

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dams in the Missouri River basin. Basically, the Corps 

kept its five mainstream dams, while the Bureau built 

irrigation reservoirs on the tributaries. Both agencies 

installed hydropower facilities where feasible. Controversy formed over the creation of a Missouri Valley 

Authority to direct river basin development. In addition, 

American Indian tribes who would be dispossessed of 

their lands raised objections. Just when these concerns 

threatened to halt the first Corps project on the Missouri 

(Garrison Dam), a major flood intervened and induced 

Congress to move ahead with the project.

By 1964, the other four Corps dams on the main 

stem Missouri River had been completed, as well as 

a number of Bureau of Reclamation dams on tributaries. Based on its Fort Peck construction experience, 

the Corps built the dams as roller-compacted, earthfill structures. The upper three dams provided major 

flood control benefits on the Missouri, but dramatically 

altered the sedimentation patterns, flora and fauna, 

and water quality of the river. The projects, however, 

fulfilled the desires of those seeking regional development through the use of natural resources and the scientific mastery of nature. Over time, the operation of the 

Missouri River basin system has been complex because 

of the high ratio of storage to runoff. This fact complicated the scheduling of water release or retention from 

the main-stem reservoirs to meet the various needs of 

flood control, power generation, irrigation, recreation, 

and fish and wildlife purposes. Although the Corps was 

responsible for operating the Missouri River system, it 

coordinated closely with the Bureau of Reclamation, 

the states, and American Indian tribes to achieve the 

multiple purposes of the dams.

POSTWAR PLANNING IN THE COLUMBIA 

RIVER BASIN

Just as a major flood had influenced the implementation of the Pick-Sloan plan, a severe flood in 1948 also 

affected the continuing water resources development of 

the Columbia River and its tributaries. The Corps believed 

that, at a minimum, two more hydropower dams—one 

on the upper and one on the lower Columbia—would be 

needed to meet future growth in the region. The postwar 

planning also involved other federal agencies besides the 

Corps. The Bureau of Reclamation proposed irrigation 

and flood control projects on the Columbia’s tributaries 

throughout the Northwest, while the BPA focused on 

expanding its power transmission facilities and marketing 

efforts. The Departments of War, Agriculture, and Interior as well as the Federal Power Commission agreed to 

establish the Federal Inter-Agency River Basins Commission (FIARBC) to encourage cooperation among federal 

water resources agencies. The FIARBC was an outgrowth 

of an earlier tripartite interagency agreement established 

in 1939 to foster cooperation within the federal water 

Lewis A. Pick (1890–1956), who became Chief of 

Engineers in 1949

U.S. Army

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resources bureaucracies. Congress also added its voice to 

those urging greater coordination among water resources 

agencies. In the Flood Control Act of 1944, Congress 

directed the Corps of Engineers and the Department of 

the Interior to consult with each other when planning 

their studies and to share data from their investigations.37

By the mid-1940s, changed conditions in the 

Columbia basin required a thorough reassessment of the 

308 Report and a new look at its tributaries because they 

offered the most realistic possibilities for storing large 

quantities of water for release to generate power. Planning for the tributaries, which had not been well developed in the original 308 Report, was a major consideration in the comprehensive planning for further development of hydropower and for other water concerns 

of the region. Attention to the Canadian portion of the 

Columbia, a delicate issue requiring consultations with 

the authorities north of the border, was also necessary.

While the Corps rushed to complete its review of the 

308 Report by October 1948, the Bureau of Reclamation 

published its own Columbia basin study, which focused 

more on irrigation. The Bureau report was not as comprehensive as the Corps’ document because it was done 

without benefit of new investigations. The Corps’ review 

expanded the multiple-purpose approach of the original 

308 Report to consider such topics as fish conservation, 

pollution, domestic water supply, and recreation, in addition to hydropower, navigation, flood control, and irrigation. Flood control as a factor in water resources development took on an added significance in light of the disastrous floods on the Columbia River system in May 1948. 

When the floods occurred, the comprehensive report was 

in the final review stages. On June 1, 1948, President Harry 

Truman personally ordered the Corps to revise its report 

to take into account the cost and benefits of flood storage 

at future control works on the Columbia River system.

The comprehensive report of 1948, known as the 

main control plan, proposed a few major multiplepurpose reservoirs throughout the Columbia Basin and 

flood control levees on the lower Columbia River. The 

main control plan recommended thirteen dams 

(including two already built and 

three under construction) with 

sufficient storage in seven of 

the reservoirs to hold flows to 

a level that would not overtop 

the downstream levees. The 

report also called for ten million 

kilowatts of generating capacity 

from the dams. The estimated 

cost of the main control plan 

came to $1.7 billion. Although 

the report was submitted 

in February 1950, Congress 

did not publish the Corps’ 

22-volume plan until 1952, as 

House Document Number 531.

The Bonneville Dam inundated by the Columbia River during a flood in 1948

Portland District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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The continued rapid pace of population and 

economic growth in the Pacific Northwest led Corps 

officials to call for a review of the main control plan in 

1955. By 1957, the Corps had completed the McNary, 

Albeni Falls, Chief Joseph, and The Dalles projects, but 

several other undertakings in the main control plan 

had been abandoned or sidetracked. In addition, new 

information on Canadian water resources development 

and its effect on the U.S., growth in river commerce and 

on existing navigation projects, and the possibilities of 

atomic power all called for an update of the 1948 main 

control plan. The new review focused especially on 

the navigation possibilities of the mid-Columbia River 

between the McNary and Chief Joseph dams. The Corps’ 

renewed interest in navigation on the mid-Columbia 

was surprising, because that use of the river had been 

long dormant. In part, the Corps was responding to the 

efforts of local economic interests for port development 

to support agriculture and attract industry.

The report—submitted in June 1958 and known as 

the major water plan—called for accelerated development of the remaining water resources potential of the 

Columbia River system. The plan recommended twelve 

new dams on various tributaries of the Columbia River. 

The entire plan would provide 22.5 

million acre-feet of storage and produce 

3.2 million kilowatts of power. Including 

the proposed navigation improvements, the cost of the major water plan 

amounted to $1.9 billion. The Corps 

recommended implementing the various 

projects over a fifteen-year period, 

beginning in 1960. Unfortunately, delays 

drained the water plan of its vitality, and 

publication of the major water plan, as 

House Document 403, did not occur until 

1963. Before the report was published, it 

underwent several changes—nine of the 

recommended projects were dropped 

or postponed, as well as the navigation 

component of the plan. However, one of 

the most important projects proposed in 

the report, Libby Dam, was built.

After lengthy negotiations over 

Columbia River development, the United 

States and Canada signed a treaty in 

January 1961. By terms of the treaty, 

Canada agreed to build three dams 

with a total of 15.5 million acre-feet of 

storage that would primarily benefit 

Chief Joseph Dam under construction on the Columbia River 

near Bridgeport, Washington, ca. 1955

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7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
flood control and power production in the U.S. In turn, 

Canada was promised $64.4 million for the flood control 

benefits accruing to the U.S. and an entitlement to onehalf of the downstream power benefits. This agreement 

allowed the U.S. to construct Libby Dam, which had 

north-of-the-border storage. The Corps constructed the 

dam between 1966 and 1975.

Two other major tributaries of the Columbia 

River also underwent development between 1938 

and 1970. The 1938 Flood Control Act authorized the 

Corps’ multiple-purpose plan of development for the 

Willamette River basin. The major purposes included 

flood control, hydropower, municipal water supply, 

and recreation. When completed, the thirteen dams 

had a total storage of almost 2.8 million acre-feet, 

with 1.9 million dedicated to flood control. The dams 

produced a total of 408,000 kilowatts of power. The 

Corps also constructed multiple-purpose dams on the 

lower Snake River between 1955 and 1975. The major 

purpose of these dams included navigation and hydropower. The dams generated 3.5 million kilowatts and 

cost $1 billion to construct. By the 1970s, the Pacific 

Northwest had fifty-five major hydroelectric projects, 

including thirty federal dams built by the Corps and 

the Bureau of Reclamation and twenty-five non-federal 

installations. Altogether, these dams made up the 

largest hydroelectric system in the world and were 

interconnected through the Bonneville Power Administration’s transmission grid of 13,600 circuit miles of 

line in service.

Libby Dam under construction on the Kootenai River in Montana, ca. 1975

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
THE ENVIRONMENTAL CONSEQUENCES OF 

MULTIPLE-PURPOSE DEVELOPMENT

The expansion of the Corps’ mission to embrace 

multiple-purpose water resources projects had broad 

environmental consequences. The creation of huge 

reservoirs that covered natural-flowing rivers and valuable wildlife habitat brought objections from conservationists and outdoor enthusiasts who feared the 

loss of unspoiled river valleys. Beginning in the 1930s, 

conservationists accused the Corps of giving too little 

credence to their views and refusing to take into account 

values that went beyond engineering or economic 

considerations. The 1934 Fish and Wildlife Coordination 

Act attempted to address environmental concerns by 

requiring consultation with the U.S. Bureau of Fisheries 

before building federal dams and recommended, where 

not inconsistent with the primary water purposes, the 

use of reservoirs for fish hatcheries and migratory bird 

refuges. The Corps’ efforts to accommodate anadromous 

fish in the design and operation of the multiple-purpose 

dams on the Columbia River illustrated the new environmental considerations the agency faced.38

The Columbia River basin supported annual runs 

of millions of salmon and steelhead trout that spawned 

in fresh water and grew to maturity in salt water. At the 

time the Corps undertook the 308 studies for multiplepurpose dams on the Columbia, it recognized that 

those dams posed a threat to the fish runs. Accordingly, 

the 308 Report included fishways in the design and 

cost estimates for each proposed dam. However, fish 

passage facilities on the scale called for in dams of the 

size proposed had never before been attempted. Local 

fishing interests, both commercial and recreational, 

raised fears that Bonneville Dam would prove devastating. To address such concerns, the Corps assembled 

a team of fisheries experts to devise a plan for passing 

migratory fish upstream and fingerlings downstream. 

After much research and testing, the Corps’ fisheries 

team proposed a design in September 1934—less than 

a year after the Bonneville Dam project started—that 

called for a lifts-and-ladders structure and a novel 

collection and bypass system. The elements of the 

fish passage plan underwent continued refinement as 

they were incorporated into the spillway and powerhouse structures. The fish passage facilities at Bonneville Dam, supplemented by continued studies over 

the ensuing years, served as a model for the passage 

systems installed at subsequent dams that were built on 

the Columbia and Snake rivers. In time, however, the 

Corps found that construction of additional dams on the 

Columbia River and its tributaries created new problems 

for anadromous fish that imperiled their survival.

Prior to World War II, the Corps generally resisted 

the input of conservation in the planning and building 

of its water resources projects. It gave little credence 

to views or values outside traditional engineering, 

hydrologic, and economic considerations. The Corps, 

moreover, generally rejected the environmental implications of its regulatory powers; it interpreted its authority 

under the Refuse Act and the Oil Pollution Act conservatively. The Corps issued permits for dredging, filling, 

or dumping waste in the nation’s waters based on its 

assessment of whether or not the activity would obstruct 

navigation. Rather than control pollution at its source, 

the Corps supported other strategies for assisting fish 

and wildlife, such as establishing refuges. The Corps also 

narrowly interpreted its consultation responsibilities 

under the Wildlife Coordination Act of 1934, asserting 

that it was not obligated to follow the advice it received.

Between 1945 and 1970, the Corps increasingly 

recognized the importance of environmental issues. As 

the two updates to the 308 Report for the Columbia River 

reveal, fish and wildlife concerns drew much attention. 

In 1953, the Corps began a fisheries research program 

for the Columbia River system and by 1970 it had spent 

$4.8 million on the program. By 1956, the Corps had 

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7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
spent $130 million constructing fish passage facilities 

at its Columbia River projects. Over time, many more 

millions would be spent on upgrading fish facilities and 

conducting basic research. Most importantly, in 1958, 

Congress amended the Fish and Wildlife Coordination Act to mandate that fish and wildlife conservation 

receive equal consideration with other project purposes. 

However, full engagement with the environmental 

consequences of federal water resources development 

would not begin until the late 1960s when Congress 

adopted the National Environmental Policy Act and 

other environmental laws.

Although not a multiple-purpose project, the Corps’ 

upper Mississippi River navigation project to establish a 

nine-foot channel had important environmental effects. 

The project, authorized by Congress in 1930, called for 

the Corps to build twenty-three locks and dams between 

Alton, Illinois, and Red Wing, Minnesota. These locks 

and dams would significantly alter the natural regime 

of the river. Many conservationists feared the consequences of the navigation project on fish and wildlife 

and opposed it. Efforts to improve the fishery on the 

upper Mississippi River initially occurred in 1927—six 

years before the Corps began work on the first major 

navigation improvements on the river. In the early 

twentieth century, conservationists sought to create a 

national wildlife and fish refuge on the upper Mississippi River to preserve and enhance the economic and 

recreational value of the fishery. In June 1924, Congress 

responded by establishing a 260-mile-long national fish 

and wildlife refuge between Wabasha, Minnesota, and 

Rock Island, Illinois.39

The Corps’ proposed nine-foot channel project 

threatened to undermine the fish management operations for the upper Mississippi River. The conservationists pressed the Corps to minimize the impact 

of the locks and dams on fish and to develop a new 

fish-propagation program. To accommodate the 

conservationists’ concerns, the Corps worked with 

the federal Bureau of Fisheries to provide fish culture 

stations in areas adjacent to the pools created by the 

new navigation channel dams. The Corps of Engineers 

and Bureau of Fisheries 

also deployed New Deal 

relief funds to expand 

the existing hatchery 

program. Conservation 

and navigation interests 

on the upper Mississippi 

River laid a foundation 

of environmental cooperation in the 1930s, 

which would prove 

useful in the 1980s when 

the Corps developed 

an agreement with the 

U.S. Fish and Wildlife 

Service and the natural 

resources departments 

Fish ladder and bypass flume at Little Goose Lock and Dam on the Snake River in Washington

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
of Iowa and Wisconsin to compensate for the potential 

ecological effects of improvements to Lock and Dam 

No. 26 at Alton, Illinois. Under the agreement known as 

the Environmental Management Program, the federal 

and state agencies cooperated in more than fifty habitat 

restoration and enhancement projects.40

THE CORPS AND THE CIVIL WORKS MISSION IN 

THE POSTWAR ERA

Throughout the first half of the twentieth century, the 

Corps successfully fought off repeated attempts by its 

opponents in the federal government to take over its civil 

works mission and give that responsibility to another 

federal agency, either existing or newly created. The 

Corps’ close relationship with Congress helped insulate it from the attacks of its opponents. This arrangement stemmed from the Corps’ ability to propose water 

projects for congressional districts, while members of 

Congress, in turn, rejected attempts to undermine the 

Corps’ independence. Still, the Corps’ work in river 

basin planning forced it to coordinate with others doing 

water resources projects.41

During the 1930s, the Roosevelt administration tried 

to ensure interagency coordination of federal water projects and to centralize national resources planning under 

executive branch planning boards. Congress, however, 

never fully approved of executive branch efforts to 

centralize planning and, in 1943, refused to appropriate funds for the National Resources Planning Board. 

Likewise, efforts to establish TVA-style basin planning 

in river systems throughout the U.S. failed. In the postWorld War II era, attempts by the two Hoover commissions on federal government reorganization to remove 

the Corps’ civil works mission and give it to another 

federal agency also failed.

The Corps found itself further challenged by water 

resources specialists from non-engineering backgrounds. In the early 1950s, academics and social 

scientists published books and articles accusing the 

Corps of ignoring matters other than engineering in its 

water resources planning and lacking accountability 

to the executive branch. They joined the call for giving 

the Corps’ civil works function to the Department of 

Interior or some other independent water development 

agency. A book by Harvard University political scientist 

Arthur Maass, Muddy Waters: The Army Engineers and 

the Nation’s Rivers, powerfully exemplified this strand 

of criticism. Another academic critic Gilbert White, a 

geographer, took the Corps to task over its flood control 

practices. He asserted that the Corps placed undue reliance on structural approaches to flood damage reduction. White advocated a “floodplain management” 

approach that relied on the relocation of buildings, 

Gilbert White (1911–2006), the father of 

floodplain management

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7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
zoning, and other non-structural measures. Essentially, 

the Corps’ critics wanted water resources planning that 

accounted for a broader range of social and economic 

objectives that were better coordinated with other 

government agencies.

The political climate of the 1950s regarding water 

resources development also affected the Corps’ civil 

works program. Several factors tended to limit the possibilities for new work. First, the military needs of the 

Korean War caused President Truman and Congress 

to cut domestic expenditures and halt new federal civil 

works projects, unless justified by defense requirements. 

Then, President Dwight D. Eisenhower announced a 

so-called partnership policy to reduce federal involvement in water resources development. Under President 

Eisenhower’s approach, the federal government would 

initiate no new starts in river basin development and, 

instead, encourage private interests to undertake investments in new power projects. The federal government 

would fund the non-reimbursable costs, such as flood 

control and navigation of any multiple-purpose initiatives undertaken on a joint public/private basis. This 

policy was never well received, especially in the Pacific 

Northwest, and in practice the federal government 

continued to develop major water resources projects in 

the Columbia River basin during the 1950s.

The executive branch also tried to gain greater 

control over the various programs of its water resources 

agencies. After 1943, the Bureau of Budget sought to 

review federal agency programs to ensure an agency’s 

plans fit within the overall administration program. 

Congress resisted this encroachment and refused appropriations to support the review process. Nevertheless, 

the Bureau of Budget, in December 1952, issued an 

order (Circular A-47) that profoundly impacted water 

resources planning. The circular required that the benefits of each element in a multiple-purpose project had 

to exceed the costs. Previously, it sufficed for the total 

benefits to exceed total costs. The circular also increased 

the requirement for local cost-sharing of flood control 

projects. To better clarify the economic justification of 

water projects, the order set fifty years as the maximum 

time to achieve repayment of a federal investment. This 

order remained in effect for more than a decade. Despite 

the best efforts of the Bureau of Budget to gain authority 

over resources policy, Congress jealously guarded 

its control of the Corps’ and other federal resource 

agencies’ water resources programs. The Bureau of 

Budget might delay a project but seldom could prevent 

Congress from ultimately funding it. Congress was not 

afraid to override a presidential veto of so-called “porkbarrel” water resources projects.

In the early 1960s, the forces for reform of water 

resources planning gained momentum. The administrations of Presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon 

B. Johnson were receptive to multi-objective federal 

water resources development. After a review of current 

practices, President Kennedy rescinded Circular A-47 

and embraced Senate Document 97 (an interdepartmental agreement that was never formally approved by 

Congress). The policy enunciated in the Senate Document sought comprehensive federal water development through multidisciplinary planning that focused 

on national economic development, national resources 

preservation, and the “well-being of all people.” Its 

specific terms increased a project’s useful life standard to 100 years and indexed the project’s discount 

rate to long-term government securities. Congress 

soon followed Senate Document 97 with the Water 

Resources Research Act of 1964, which authorized 

funding for water resources research at land-grant 

universities, and the Water Resources Planning Act of 

1965, which established procedures for comprehensive 

regional water resources planning. The latter act authorized the president to set up river basin commissions to 

develop planning standards and procedures for major 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
national watersheds and charged them with preparing 

comprehensive river basin plans that took into account 

water and related land resources. The commissions 

contained state as well as federal agency members 

involved with water resources.

The interdisciplinary planning of federal water 

projects envisioned by the 1965 act and constant pressure from the Bureau of the Budget pushed the Corps to 

bring social scientists and economists into its planning 

process, especially to better ground the benefit/cost 

analysis for water projects. In pursuit of this goal, the 

head of the Corps’ programs division of the Civil Works 

Directorate worked assiduously throughout the 1960s 

to broaden and deepen the planning capabilities of the 

Corps. As a result, by 1967, the Corps had increased the 

number of economists on its roster to 119 and other 

non-engineering specialists to 516. In addition, the 

Corps established planning divisions in each district to 

support multi-objective planning analysis.

The rise of environmental issues in the 1960s 

(discussed in greater detail in chapter 9) also increased 

pressure for greater interdisciplinary planning in the 

Corps. The upshot of these trends led to the idea of 

creating a long-range planning organization within the 

Corps’ headquarters. After much consideration, the 

Corps established the Institute for Water Resources 

(IWR) in 1969. In formally proposing the IWR, the 

Chief of Engineers Lt. Gen. William Cassidy succinctly 

noted: “In recent years the complexity of the water 

resources management field has been growing at a 

rapid pace, with new concepts and interests appearing 

in a continuing stream. We are facing new problems, as 

Men laying articulated concrete mattress revetment from a barge to stabilize the banks of the Mississippi River, 1940

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7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
well as new opportunities.” He saw the IWR as a means 

for preparing the Corps to meet those future water 

resources development challenges. As he put it, such 

an institute would be “an essential tool in enabling the 

Corps to carry out its public service mission in the field 

of water resources.” Initially, the IWR had four missions: 

planning, training, planning research, and problem 

solving in the planning fields. In the years ahead, it 

would further refine its responsibilities in the field of 

water resources planning within the Corps.42

The Corps’ journey from single-purpose water 

resources projects justified mainly in engineering terms 

to multi-purpose undertakings to achieve diverse goals 

was long and arduous. The Corps responded ambivalently to the postwar emphasis on more rigorous costbenefit analysis of water resources projects. Although 

headquarters officials at the Corps embraced the new 

ideas and procedures for evaluating projects, engineers 

at the agency’s field offices appeared more resistant. 

Many engineers in the field believed that the objectives 

of social scientists would needlessly complicate otherwise technically sound projects and greatly increase 

costs. By the 1960s, however, the process of economic 

evaluation of projects through multi-objective economic 

analysis could not be halted. This approach focused on 

such matters as actual social objectives, for example 

income generation, food or industrial production, 

regional development, and environmental impacts. 

As water resources historian Martin Reuss has noted, 

“Unlike benefit-cost analysis, which always maximizes 

economic efficiency, multi-objective analysis designs 

water systems to address all the objectives sought by 

the planners, including non-economic values such as 

environmental quality or preserving a well-established 

ethnic neighborhood. The method recognizes that, 

after all of the computer simulations have been run 

and mathematical models constructed, the ultimate 

decision must rest in the political sphere.” As an added 

complexity, after 1970, these matters would continue to 

be debated in the context of requiring cost-sharing for 

new water resources projects undertaken by the Corps.43

CONCLUSION

Through efficient dredging and improved channel 

work—involving structures such as locks and dams, 

revetments, wing dams, and pile dikes—the Corps 

maintained a series of reliable inland waterways. Rivers 

used as transportation corridors included the Columbia, 

Mississippi, Missouri, Ohio, Tennessee, and their major 

tributaries, as well as the Intracoastal Waterway along the 

East Coast. In addition, a series of locks connected the 

Great Lakes to its many harbors, while the completion 

of the St. Lawrence Seaway in 1957 realized the dream 

of a deep-water route through the Great Lakes to the 

Atlantic Ocean. By 1970, the Corps had developed 25,000 

miles of navigation channels, requiring annual dredging 

of 350 million cubic yards at a cost of $200 million. 

The inland waterway network moved 16 percent of the 

nation’s intercity ton-miles of cargo. Petroleum and coal 

accounted for over 50 percent of the waterway freight. 

The inland waterway system, moreover, played a crucial 

role in moving raw materials and manufactured goods to 

the nation’s seaports, enabling extensive foreign trade.44

Between 1936 and 1970, the Corps’ flood control 

mission resulted in almost four hundred reservoirs. 

Many of these structures provided multiple-purpose 

benefits, including hydropower, navigation, irrigation, 

municipal water supply, and recreation. By the mid1970s, the Corps’ hydropower facilities accounted for 

27 percent of the total hydroelectric production in the 

United States and 4.4 percent of the electric energy 

output from all sources.

By 1970, the Corps of Engineers and other federal 

water resource agencies had built a massive water 

resources infrastructure in the United States. The 

navigation, flood control and hydropower dams and 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
related facilities, and the navigation system consisting 

of improved rivers and harbors supported an everexpanding national economy. In the process of carrying 

out its water resources mission, the Corps was criticized 

for lacking accountability to the executive branch of 

government, being willing to build projects of only local 

merit, and over-relying on purely structural solutions 

to water resources problems. Over the course of the 

first seventy years of the twentieth century, the Corps 

responded to its critics by slowly revising its process for 

objectively justifying the economic worth of particular 

water resources projects and demonstrating a willingness 

to consider non-structural approaches to water projects. By 1969, the Corps had embraced multi-objective 

criteria evaluation in its project planning and decision 

making. In emphasizing the economic potential of 

water resources development, however, the Corps often 

slighted the cumulative environmental costs of its undertakings. From 1970 forward, the Corps would confront 

the environmental challenges of operating and maintaining the water resources infrastructure it had built in 

the preceding one hundred years.

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7 U.S. Era of Progressivism and Large Public Works
BIBLIOGRAPHIC ESSAY 

The following suggested readings represent readily 

accessible published works that provide more in-depth 

coverage of the various topics in this chapter. For the 

classic account of the rise of Progressivism, with its focus 

on scientific and bureaucratic expertise as a force in 

American society and politics, see Robert Wiebe’s The 

Search for Order, 1877–1920 (New York, 1967). A more 

recent, general work by Maureen Flanagan, America 

Reformed: Progressives and Progressivisms, 1890s–1920s

(New York, 2007) covers the latest scholarship on Progressivism. Numerous published and unpublished Corps 

of Engineers district and division histories, noted in the 

chapter endnotes, provide coverage of the agency’s move 

from single to multiple-purpose water resources projects 

and various organizational changes over time. The beginnings of the conservation movement and its effects on 

water resources development is covered in Samuel Hay’s 

influential study, Conservation and the Gospel of Efficiency: The Progressive Conservation Movement, 1890–1920

(Cambridge, 1959). A broader, deeply informed overview 

of the interplay between environmental policies and the 

patterns of economic, social, and political history can be 

found in Richard Andrews, Managing the Environment, 

Managing Ourselves: A History of American Environmental 

Policy (New Haven, 1999). A careful analysis of Congress’s 

role in modern environmental policy can be found in Paul 

Milazzo’s Unlikely Environmentalists: Congress and Clean 

Water, 1945–1972 (Lawrence, Kansas, 2006).

Background on the design and construction of 

large federal dams during the 1930s can be found in 

David Billington and Donald Jackson, Big Dams of 

the New Deal Era: A Confluence of Engineering and 

Politics (Norman, 2006). See the endnotes for specific 

monographs about individual dams discussed in this 

chapter. Three important books that cover the Corps 

and significant environmental issues are Lisa Mighetto 

and Wesley Ebel, Saving the Salmon: A History of the 

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ Efforts to Protect Anadromous Fish on the Columbia and Snake Rivers (Portland, 

1995); Raymond Merritt, The Corps, the Environment, 

and Upper Mississippi River Basin (Washington, D.C., 

1984); and John Anfinson, The River We Have Wrought: 

A History of the Upper Mississippi (Minneapolis, 2003).

The Corps of Engineers and its evolving flood 

control mission is summarized in Joseph Arnold, The 

Evolution of the 1936 Flood Control Act (Ft. Belvoir, 

1988). The expansion of the Corps of Engineers’ civil 

works mission in the period between 1945 and 1970 

can be followed best in individual district and division 

histories, while the Corps’ The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History (Ft. Belvoir, 2007) and Martin Reuss, 

Reshaping National Water Politics: The Emergence of the 

Water Resources Development Act of 1986 (Ft. Belvoir, 

1991) provide a national perspective. See also Beatrice 

Holmes, A History of Federal Water Resources Programs, 

1800–1960 (Washington, D.C., 1972). 

240

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
1 Herbert S. Klein, A Population History of the United 

States (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 107–75.

2 For background on Progressivism, city planning, 

and the rise of professional bureaucracy, see Robert H. Wiebe, 

The Search for Order, 1877–1920 (New York: Hill and Wang, 

1967); Maureen A. Flanagan, America Reformed: Progressives 

and Progressivisms, 1890s–1920s (New York: Oxford University 

Press, 2007); William H. Wilson, The City Beautiful Movement

(Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989); Jon 

A. Peterson, The Birth of City Planning in the United States, 

1840–1917 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 

2003); Robert Fishman, ed. The American Planning Tradition

(Washington, D.C.: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2000).

3 On the rise of engineering profession, see Edwin T. 

Layton, Jr., The Revolt of the Engineers: Social Responsibility

(Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1971); Terry S. 

Reynolds, ed., The Engineer in America: A Historical Anthology 

from Technology and Culture (Chicago: The University of 

Chicago Press, 1991). For challenges to the Corps dominance 

of public water projects, see Todd Shallat, Structures in the 

Stream: Water, Science, and the Rise of the U.S. Army Corps 

of Engineers (Austin, Tex.: University of Texas Press, 1994), 

189–91; Martin Reuss, “Andrew A. Humphreys and the Development of Hydraulic Engineering: Politics and Technology 

in the Army Corps of Engineers, 1850–1950,” Technology and 

Culture 26 (January 1985): 1–33.

4 This and the following paragraph are based on Janet 

A. McDonnell, “An Administrative and Organizational History 

of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1865–1902,” (1989) draft 

ms., Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (hereafter CEHO), 1–120; Marty Reuss, “The Corps of 

Engineers and Civil Works in the Progressive Era, 1897–1917,” 

unpublished ms., CEHO, 9–16.

5 McDonnell, “An Administrative and Organizational 

History,” 80–86; Raymond Merritt, Creativity, Conflict and 

Controversy: A History of St. Paul District, U.S. Army Corps of 

Engineers (St. Paul, Minn.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 1979), 

56–57; Leland R. Johnson, The Ohio River Division, U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers: The History of a Central Command (Cincinnati: U.S. Army Engineer Division, 1992), 31–46. For changes in 

usage of the term “district,” see the Annual Reports of the Chief 

of Engineers, 1892, 1893, 1907, 1908, 1913, and 1915.

6 This and the following paragraph are based on 

numerous published and unpublished Corps of Engineers 

district, division, and project histories. See, for example, 

Johnson, Central Command; Leland R. Johnson and Charles 

E. Parrish, Engineering the Kentucky River: The Commonwealth’s Waterway (Louisville, Ky.: U. S. Army Engineer 

District, 1999); William F. Willingham, “Army Engineers in 

America’s Heartland: A History of the North Central Division of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers,”(2002) unpublished 

ms., CEHO; William F. Willingham, Army Engineers and the 

Development of Oregon: A History of the Portland District, U.S. 

Army Corps of Engineers (Portland, Ore.: U.S. Army Engineer 

District, 1983); William F. Willingham, Northwest Passages: 

A History of the Seattle District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 

1896–1920, vol. I (Seattle, Wash.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 

Seattle, 1992); William F. Willingham, Northwest Passages: A 

History of the Seattle District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 

1920–1970, vol. II (Seattle, Wash.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 

Seattle, 2006); John Chambers, North Atlantic Engineers: A 

History of the North Atlantic Division, 1775–1975 (New York: 

U.S. Army Engineer Division, North Atlantic, 1976); Merritt, 

Creativity, Conflict and Controversy; John O. Anfinson, The 

River We Have Wrought: A History of the Upper Mississippi

(Minneapolis, Minn.: The University of Minnesota Press, 2003); 

William Becker, From the Atlantic to the Great Lakes: A History 

of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and the St. Lawrence 

Seaway (Washington, D.C.: Historical Division, Office of the 

Chief of Engineers, 1984); and Charles Camillo and Matthew 

Pearcy, Upon Their Shoulders: A History of the Mississippi 

River Commission from its inception through the advent of the 

modern Mississippi River and Tributaries Project (Vicksburg, 

Miss.: Mississippi River Commission, 2006) .

ENDNOTES

241
7 Carroll Pursell and William F. Willingham, 

“Protecting the Nation’s Water: A History of the U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers Regulatory Responsibilities, 1899–1999,” 

unpublished ms., CEHO; Albert E. Cowdrey, “Pioneering Environmental Law: The Army Corps of Engineers and the Refuse 

Act.,” Pacific Historical Review 46 (Aug. 1975): 331–49.

8 Aubrey Parkman, History of the Waterways of the 

Atlantic Coast of the United States, National Waterways Study 

navigation history NWS-83-10 (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Institute for 

Water Resources, 1983).

9 Quote in Reuss, “The Corps of Engineers and Civil 

Works in the Progressive Era,” 27.

10 U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, A History of the Board 

of Engineers for Rivers and Harbors (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Board of 

Engineers of Rivers and Harbors, 1980), 1–8; Samuel P. Hays, 

Conservation and the Gospel of Efficiency: The Progressive 

Conservation Movement, 1890–1920 (Cambridge: Harvard 

University Press, 1959), 93–94, 212–14; U.S. Army Corps of 

Engineers, The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History (Alexandria, Va.: Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office 

of History, 2007), 242.

11 Hays, Conservation and the Gospel of Efficiency, 

93–94, 212–14; Martin Reuss, “Coping with Uncertainty: Social 

Scientists, Engineers and Federal Water Planning, National 

Resources Journal (Winter 1992), 103–06.

12 The literature on this subject is voluminous; see 

for example, Hays, Conservation and the Gospel of Efficiency; 

Richard N. L. Andrews, Managing the Environment, Managing 

Ourselves: A History of American Environmental Policy (New 

Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1999), 136–53; Michael 

Williams, Americans and Their Forests: A Historical Geography (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 331–52, 

393–424.

13 This and the following two paragraphs are based 

on Hays, Conservation and the Gospel of Efficiency, 106–20, 

200–03; The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History, 69; 

William D. Rowley, The Bureau of Reclamation: Origins and 

Growth to 1945 (Denver, Colo.: Bureau of Reclamation, 2006), 

1–232; Donald J. Pirsani, Water and American Government: 

The Reclamation Bureau, National Water Policy, and the West, 

1902–1935 (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 

2002), 1–122; quote in Henry Abbot, “Regulation of Rivers in 

the Interests of Navigation,” Professional Memoirs, vol. II (JulySeptember 1909), 228.

14 On general respect for the quality of the Corps of 

Engineers’ work, see J. M. Dickinson, “The Army Engineer and 

River Improvement,” Professional Memoirs, vol. II (JanuaryMarch 1910), 73–81.

15 Quote in David P. Billington, Donald C. Jackson, and 

Martin V. Melosi, The History of Large Federal Dams: Planning, 

Design, and Construction in the Era of Big Dams (Denver, Colo.: 

Bureau of Reclamation, 2005), 33.

16 Ibid., 49–89; David P. Billington and Donald C. 

Jackson, Big Dams of the New Deal Era: A Confluence of Engineering and Politics (Norman, Okla.: University of Oklahoma 

Press, 2006), 13–14, 28–70.

17 Carl W. Condit, American Building (Chicago: The 

University of Chicago Press, 1982), 168–76, 240–61; Amy 

Slaton, Reinforced Concrete and the Modernization of American 

Building, 1900–1930 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University 

Press, 2001).

18 Patrick O’Bannon, Working in the Dry: Cofferdams, 

In-River Construction, and the United States Army Corps of 

Engineers (Pittsburgh, Pa.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 2009).

19 The discussion of early flood control development is 

based on The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History, 57–67; 

Joseph L. Arnold, The Evolution of the 1936 Flood Control Act

(Alexandria, Va.: Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 

Office of History, 1988), 1–22.

20 Matthew Pearcy, “A History of the Ransdell–

Humphreys Flood Control Act of 1917,” Louisiana History XLI 

(Spring 2000): 133–59. 

242
21 Much of the following discussion is based on Reuss, 

Designing the Bayous, 103–204 and Charles Hendricks, “A 

History of Corps of Engineers Civil Works Real Estate Policies,” 

1995, unpublished ms., CEHO, chap. 4. An Army Engineer 

headed the Mississippi River Commission.

22 Matthew Pearcy, “After the Flood: A History of the 

1928 Flood Control Act,” Journal of the Illinois State Historical 

Society 95 (Summer 2002): 172–201. 

23 Arnold, The Evolution of the 1936 Flood Control Act, 

23–96.

24 The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History, 220; 

Martin Reuss, “The Art of Scientific Precision: River Research 

in the United States Army Corps of Engineers to 1945,” Technology and Culture 40 (April 1999): 292–323.

25 This paragraph and the following one are based on 

Lenore Fine and Jess A. Remington, The Corps of Engineers: 

Construction in the United States (Washington, D.C.: Office of 

the Chief of Military History, Untied States Army, 1972), 56–65; 

Albert Cowdrey, “Civil Works, 1917–1933: From War to Depression,” unpublished ms., CEHO, 7–11; William F. Willingham, 

“Civil Works, 1933–1941: From Depression to War,” unpublished ms., CEHO, 14–15.

26 Cowdrey, “Civil Works, 1917–1933,” 33–38; Willingham, 

“Civil Works, 1933–1941,” 15–16; Billington and Jackson, Big 

Dams, 71–87.

27 Billington and Jackson, Big Dams, 87–88, 99–101. For 

detailed examples of 308 Report planning and preparation by 

the Corps in the Pacific Northwest, see Willingham, Army Engineers and the Development of Oregon, 93–95 and Willingham, 

Northwest Passages, vol. II, 1–16.

28 The following discussion of Bonneville and Grand 

Coulee dams is based on William Willingham, Water Power 

in the “Wilderness”: The History of Bonneville Lock and Dam

(Portland, Ore.: Army Engineer District, 1987) ; Abbie Liel and 

David Billington, “Engineering Innovation at Bonneville Dam,” 

Technology and Culture (July 2008), 727–51; Paul Pitzer, Grand 

Coulee: Harnessing a Dream (Pullman, Wash.: Washington State 

University Press, 1994); William Rowley, The Bureau of Reclamation: Origins and Growth to 1945 (Denver, Colo.: U.S. Department of Reclamation, 2006), 328–39; Billington and Jackson, Big 

Dams, 152–99; O’Bannon, Working in the Dry, 117–22.

29 Willingham, Water Power in the “Wilderness,” 13.

30 Richard Lowitt, The New Deal and the West (Norman, 

Okla.: University of Oklahoma Press, 1984), 168–71; Pitzer, 

Grand Coulee, 280, 286–89, 295, 297–99, 308–10, 313, 327–29, 

364–65; Rowley, The Bureau of Reclamation, 357–58, 368–70, 

390–91; U.S. Bureau of Reclamation, The Story of the Columbia 

Basin Project (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 

1978).

31 Willingham, Water Power in the “Wilderness,” 42–43; 

Gus Norwood, Columbia River Power for the People: A History 

of Policies of the Bonneville Power Administration (Portland, 

Ore.: Bonneville Power Administration, 1981), 47–93; Richard 

Lowitt, The New Deal and the West (Norman, Okla.: University 

of Oklahoma Press, 1984), 160–63; Billington and Jackson, Big 

Dams, 189–92.

32 Willingham, Northwest Passages, vol. II, 50–52; 

Lowitt, The New Deal and the West, 170–71.

33 Billington and Jackson, Big Dams, 102–51, 253–92; 

Rowley, The Bureau of Reclamation, 233–36; 339–46. 

34 The following discussion of Fort Peck Dam is based 

on Willingham, “Civil Works, 1933–41,” 22–26; Billington and 

Jackson, Big Dams, 200–30.

35 The discussion of interagency coordination is based 

on Willingham, Northwest Passages, vol. II, 1–16; U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers: A History, 247; Martin Reuss, “Civil Works 

Developments,” in Barry Fowle, ed., Builders and Fighters: U.S. 

Army Engineers in World War II (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office of History, 1992), 

219–32.

36 The discussion of the Missouri River water resources 

development and the Pick–Sloan plan are based on Billington 

and Jackson, Big Dams, 230–38, 250–52; John Ferrell, Big Dam 

Era: A Legislative and Institutional History of the Pick–Sloan 

Missouri Basin Program (Omaha, Neb.: U.S. Army Engineer 

Division, Missouri River, 1993), 1–100; Martin Reuss, “The Pick–

Sloan Plan,” in Fowle, Builders and Fighters, 233–44; Rowley, 

The Bureau of Reclamation, 392–97.

37 The discussion of postwar water resources development on the Columbia River Basin is based on Willingham, 

Northwest Passages, vol. II, 45–50, 62–82; Willingham, Army 

Engineers and the Development of Oregon, 166–80; Keith 

Petersen, River of Life, Channel of Death: Fish and Dams on 

the Lower Snake (Lewiston, Idaho: Confluence Press, 1995); 

Billington and Jackson, Big Dams, 192–99.

243
38 This and the following paragraphs detailing the 

Corps’ response to fisheries issues in the Columbia Basin are 

based on Willingham, Army Engineers and the Development of 

Oregon, 190–206; Willingham, Water Power in the “Wilderness,” 

47–53; Lisa Mighetto and Wesley J. Ebel, Saving the Salmon: A 

History of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ Efforts to Protect 

Anadromous Fish on the Columbia and Snake Rivers (Portland, 

Ore.: U.S. Army Engineer Division, North Pacific, 1995).

39 This and the following paragraph are based on 

Raymond Merritt, The Corps, the Environment, and Upper 

Mississippi River Basin (Washington, D.C.: Historical Division, Office of the Chief of Engineers, 1984); John Anfinson, 

Commerce and Conservation on the Upper Mississippi River (St. 

Paul, Minn.: U.S. Army Engineer District, n.d.).

40 Efforts to increase the upper Mississippi River 

navigation channel to twelve feet in the 1960s and 1970s 

foundered over both economic and environmental concerns. 

Environmentalists, in particular, were concerned that channel 

dredging would harm the river bottom and require additional 

material disposal sites that would jeopardize fish and wildlife 

habitats and aesthetic values.

41 This section is based in part on the following 

sources: The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History, 245–53; 

Gregory Graves, Pursuing Excellence in Water Planning and 

Policy Analysis: A History of the Institute of Water Resources, 

U. S. Army Corps of Engineers (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Institute 

of Water Resources, 1996), 1–56; Beatrice Hort Holmes, A 

History of Federal Water Resources Programs and Policies, 

1961–1970 (Washington, D.C.: U. S. Department of Agriculture, 

Economics, Statistics, and Cooperatives Service, 1979), 5–11, 

33–43; Martin Reuss, Water Resources, People, and Issues: Interview with Professor Arthur Maass (Alexandria, Va.: Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office of History, 1989), 

4, 6–8; Martin Reuss, Water Resources, People, and Issues: 

Interview with Professor Gilbert R. White (Alexandria, Va.: 

Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office of History, 

1988), passim; Martin Reuss, Reshaping National Water Politics: The Emergence of the Water Resources Development Act of 

1986 (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Institute for Water Resources, 1991), 

1–29; Martin Reuss, “Coping With Uncertainty,” 101–35.

42 Quote in Graves, Pursuing Excellence in Water Planning, 32–33.

43 Quote in Reuss, “Coping With Uncertainty,” 130.

44 For statistics, see for example Maj. Gen. J. W. Morris, 

“Our Troubled Waterways,” Water Spectrum (Winter 1974–75), 2.

244

8

As the title of this chapter suggests, three major developments characterize the contemporary 

history of Dutch water management: the environmental 

wave, the renewed attention for flood safety strategies, 

and the Europeanization of Dutch water policies. The 

first development concerns the lasting influence of both 

the environmental wave and the democratization of 

Dutch society in the 1960s and 1970s on Dutch water 

policies. As the increased environmental awareness 

induced a substantive change of water policies toward 

integrated water resources management based on a 

water systems approach, the democratization process 

in Dutch society would have an impact on the process 

of decision making on new water policies and projects. Top-down, expert-driven decision making was 

replaced, at least in part, by more interactive and deliberative modes of governance.

The second important development was renewed 

attention to flood policies and strategies in the face of 

climate change. Following the floods of the Rhine and 

Meuse rivers in 1993 and 1995, flood safety received a 

high place on the political agenda again. Traditional 

flood policies aimed at reducing flood probability 

by the construction of dikes were reconsidered, and 

new “room for the river” policies were introduced. 

Furthermore, these latest flood policies were no longer 

confined to reducing flood probability, but also aimed 

at reducing flood exposure and flood vulnerability—

strategies that the Dutch seem to have unlearned over 

the past century. To inform the public on these policy 

changes, the Dutch government at century’s end 

launched a large-scale public campaign, informing 

the people that they have to learn “to live with water” 

again.1 These new flood management strategies of 

creating room for the river and raising water awareness, 

however, have not replaced the policies of reducing 

flood probability by the construction of dikes. Rather, 

these policies were placed alongside existing ones and 

by that have broadened the arsenal of flood management strategies the Dutch government is now using. A 

new Delta Commission advised the Dutch government 

on flood protection policy for the longer term (up to 

2200). This commission, which issued its findings in 

2008, emphasized the need for increasing flood safety 

standards in the long term. Its advice is now being elaborated on through the Delta Program.

ENVIRONMENTALISM, RENEWED 

CONCERN FOR FLOOD SAFETY, AND THE 

EUROPEANIZATION OF DUTCH WATER 

POLICIES, 1970–2010

Wim van Leussen and Sander Meijerink

247
The third major trend relevant to understanding 

recent developments in Dutch water resources 

management is the ongoing Europeanization of water 

policies. The European water regime has developed 

over the past decades and almost any aspect of water 

management, whether it is groundwater, surface water, 

water quality, or flood management, is now covered by 

European directives and policies. Very similar to the 

development in many other policy sectors, Europe has 

become a fourth and powerful administrative tier in 

Dutch water management. 

Nineteen ninety-eight represented a milestone in 

the history of the Rijkswaterstaat as it celebrated its 

200th anniversary in presence of Queen Beatrix.2 Accompanying the celebration was the publication of Two 

Centuries Rijkswaterstaat, (Twee eeuwen Rijkswaterstaat

in Dutch), an overview of 200 years of technological 

expertise and societal dynamics.3 It shows the strong 

interrelationship of the Rijkswaterstaat with society, 

which continues to present. The Delft University of 

Technology (TU Delft) organized a symposium and 

presented to the Rijkswaterstaat the book Water Magicians, Delfts’ Ideas for Another 200 years Rijkswaterstaat 

(Water tovenaars, Delftse ideeën voor nog 200 jaar Rijkswaterstaat).4

 As all faculties of the TU Delft have relations with the Rijkswaterstaat, every faculty contributed 

one or more chapters. The director-general of the Rijkswaterstaat, Gerrit Blom, received an honorary degree 

from TU Delft in recognition of his activities in the field 

of pollution reduction and the large-scale reorganization of the Rijkswaterstaat. To underscore its international ties, the Rijkswaterstaat organized the international conference “Sustainable development of deltas” 

in Amsterdam in November 1998.5

In the 1970s and 1980s a cultural change occurred 

within the Rijkswaterstaat—increasingly, it could be 

characterized as a multi-disciplinary organization. These 

changes were particularly a result of the explosive rise of 

societal demands for solving environmental issues as well 

as the democratization within society with more attention 

for societal demands, openness, and transparency. In the 

1980s and 1990s the neoliberal ideology and politics also 

influenced the organizational culture of the Rijkswaterstaat.6

 In addition to engineering practice, more attention 

was given to output steering, performance measurement, 

and public-private partnerships (as discussed below in 

the section titled “The Environmental Era”). 

Concerning the national water policy, a fundamental change occurred in 2002. Up to that date, the 

national policy on water affairs, and particularly flood 

defense, was developed at the Head Office for Water at 

the Rijkswaterstaat. This also included responsibility 

for international water affairs, so to that date the Rijkswaterstaat represented the Netherlands in international 

water forums. On January 28, 2002, the Water Directorate 

at the Ministry of Transport, Public Works and Water 

Management (now called the Ministry of Infrastructure 

and the Environment) was created and took the leading 

role in the decision-making process. The Rijkswaterstaat 

remained a part of the ministry and is responsible for the 

design, construction, management, and maintenance 

of the main infrastructure facilities in the Netherlands, 

including the network of main roads, the network 

of main waterways, and the main water systems. As 

outlined in the sections on “Renewed Concern for Safety” 

and “Europeanization of Water Politics,” the Rijkswaterstaat played the leading role until 2002, and after that 

this role was assigned to the policy departments of the 

ministry. The background of this shift is a clear distinction between policy and construction/maintenance. 

In daily practice, there remains a narrow cooperation 

between the policy departments of the ministry and the 

Rijkswaterstaat as the executive agency of the ministry.

The separation of policy making and policy 

implementation led to intensive discussions of how 

the Rijkswaterstaat should be related to the ministry. 

248

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Finally, the decision has been made to transform the 

organization of the Rijkswaterstaat into an agency 

(Agentschap), through which the organization came to 

be positioned at a greater distance from the Ministry.7

In the period 2004–2008, the organization changed 

significantly under the leadership of the generaldirector, Bert Keijts. The Rijkswaterstaat developed 

into the executive organization of the ministry with 

three main tasks: the management of the main roads, 

the management of the main waterways, and the integrated management of the main water systems. The 

organization was modernized by introducing a new 

business model. First, a high priority was given to a 

transparent financial system, through which expenditures can be controlled and justified and budget overruns can be avoided. Furthermore, the organization 

developed itself to a public-oriented network organization with a focus on the users of those networks—

the complicated systems of main roads, main waterways, and main water systems. The construction of 

large infrastructure works remains an important task 

of the new Rijkswaterstaat. Much attention has been 

given to internalize this “public-oriented network 

management” in the minds and working methods of 

the Rijkswaterstaat employees.8 At the same time, the 

challenge was to do more with fewer employees. In the 

period 1980–1994, the number of employees decreased 

from 13,700 to 9,700.9 This number went up again in 

the subsequent years. The period 2003–2008 showed a 

comparable decrease: from 11,300 to 9,300.10

Another important organizational change came 

from the national discussion within the Dutch government on the organization of applied scientific research 

in the Netherlands. On the basis of the Report of the 

Commission Wijffels, scientific knowledge was concentrated in a few renowned institutes, the so-called Large 

Technological Institutes (Dutch abbreviation: GTIs).11

These GTIs are centers of technological expertise for 

companies and the government. For knowledge of 

water management, the institute Deltares was founded 

in 2007. In this organization, WL/Delft Hydraulics, 

Geodelft, parts of TNO-Bouw, and large parts of the 

research services of the Rijkswaterstaat were concentrated. At the Rijkswaterstaat these research services 

changed from knowledge institutes to institutes “externally organizing knowledge,” and they developed expertise for advising the networks managed by the Rijkswaterstaat. Repeatedly, the discussion arises as to how 

much knowledge the Rijkswaterstaat must have within 

its own organization to fulfill its new role. From 2007 

to 2013, the Water Service (Waterdienst) has fulfilled 

this task within the Rijkswaterstaat. Since 2013, the 

Service for Water, Traffic and the Environment (Water, 

Verkeer en Leefomgeving) has been performing this task. 

An important task of the Rijkswaterstaat is to provide 

information about the water system. This effort is now 

concentrated in the Water Management Centre in the 

Netherlands (WMCN), which provides daily information 

for users of the Dutch water systems, including water 

levels, river discharges, flood risks, water quality, and 

so on.12 This information is obtained from the National 

Water Monitoring Network (Landelijk Meetmet).

THE ENVIRONMENTAL ERA

In the 1960s and early 1970s, environmental awareness 

started to grow in the Western world (as discussed in 

chapter 6). One of the most influential publications at 

that time was the Limits to Growth report of the Club of 

Rome (1972). This report clearly demonstrated the limits 

to exploiting the earth’s natural resources by a rapidly 

increasing population.13 At that time people began to 

learn about the unintended consequences of the rapid 

economic growth and industrialization after World 

War II. This new perception of the limits to economic 

prosperity was further strengthened by the oil crisis of 

1973. The change of societal mood was reinforced by the 

249

8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
activities of an environmental movement that was at first 

rather fragmented, but increasingly became better coordinated and more influential.

The 1950s and 1960s had been glorious decades 

for the Rijkswaterstaat. Both the budgets available for 

public works and the number of large infrastructure 

projects (most notably the construction of highways 

and the Delta Works) were at their height. The new environmental movement, however, would be particularly 

successful in shaping new images of the large public 

works that were planned and designed by the Rijkswaterstaat engineers.

The impact of environmentalism on the Rijkswaterstaat and Dutch water management was also strongly 

influenced by a second main societal development: 

the democratization of Dutch society. As in many other 

places around the world, the sixties and seventies were 

a politically dynamic period in the Netherlands. This 

was the time of protest marches against the war in 

Vietnam, student revolts, and the occupation of universities. Support for political parties that were based on 

religious affiliation declined rapidly. Gaining support 

were new political parties—such as the Social-Liberal 

party D66—aimed at a fundamental reform of the political system. This democratization movement attacked 

all established institutions, including traditional 

political party structures, universities, and churches. 

Authority was less accepted and people demanded 

more openness and possibilities for influencing 

decision-making processes. Not surprisingly, the Rijkswaterstaat came under attack in that turbulent period. 

Whereas the Rijkswaterstaat had always received credit 

for its expertise and contribution to the economic 

welfare of the country, in the seventies, the very same 

organization became heavily criticized for its lack of 

responsiveness to societal demands and environmental 

issues. Increasingly, the Rijkswaterstaat was labeled as 

a closed technocratic bulwark, with its road planning 

destroying nature because of an authoritarian and nonresponsive attitude that was out of touch with society.14

The organization of the Rijkswaterstaat clearly faced 

difficulties in responding to the new societal demands 

for openness and transparency and in incorporating new 

environmental values in its policies and working practices, but gradually it developed capacities for adapting 

to the new circumstances. This process was facilitated 

by the dynamics within the Rijkswaterstaat, induced by 

the march of new disciplines—ecologists and biologists 

particularly—into the ministry. This “new vanguard” 

managed to challenge the policies and working practices 

of the community of civil engineers that had dominated 

the organization of the Rijkswaterstaat until then.15 It is 

exactly the combination of the external (growth of environmental awareness, democratization of society) and 

internal pressures (a new vanguard) that accounts for 

the “ecological turn” in Dutch water management.16 In 

spite of important value conflicts, such as safety versus 

ecology or economy versus ecology, the expertise and 

concepts of the ecologists were incorporated by the 

traditional corps of engineers rather smoothly. Some 

quantifiable concepts of ecology could be integrated into 

decision-support systems and assessment tools.17

Besides the impact of the environmentalists and 

the democratization of Dutch society, the economic 

decline after the second oil crisis (1980–1982) put the 

Rijkswaterstaat under pressure. The budgets for the realization of public works and the number of employees 

were reduced substantially after the seventies. Later 

on, this process was reinforced by the global spread of 

the neo-liberal ideology. This ideology favored market 

deregulation and promoted the role of the private 

sector. It was best articulated by Ronald Reagan and 

Margaret Thatcher (in Thatcher’s “there is no alternative”) and would influence policies of the successive 

Dutch governments since that time. Liberalization and 

the tools of New Public Management became quite 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
popular during this period. Contracting-out and publicprivate partnerships became increasingly accepted 

instruments in Dutch water management. Next to these 

ideological motives, more substantive changes in water 

resources management triggered reorganizations of 

the Rijkswaterstaat as well. After the completion of the 

Delta Works, the Delta Service became superfluous 

and was dismantled. Until 1984 water quantity and 

quality management were organized separately. With 

the recently developed concept of integrated water 

resources management, these tasks were combined, and 

a new organizational distinction between fresh and tidal 

water was made (National Institute for Inland Waters 

and National Institute for Coastal and Marine Waters).

Shortly after the celebration of the 200 years of the 

Rijkswaterstaat, the organization came under fire again. 

The costs of several large infrastructure projects—most 

notably the Betuwe Route (Betuwelijn), a new railroad 

to Germany—exceeded the planned budgets. Even 

though cost overruns were mainly due to a long list of 

modifications proposed by local politicians and pressure 

groups to mitigate negative impacts on the landscape 

and those living near the railroad, the organization of 

the Rijkswaterstaat was often blamed for it in the media. 

Moreover, several cases of corruption in the Netherlands 

in which a few employees of the Rijkswaterstaat were 

involved attracted media and political attention. Under 

pressure from Minister of Finance Gerrit Zalm, and the 

leadership of the Minister of Transport, Public Works 

and Water Management Karla Peijs, the organization of 

the Rijkswaterstaat was fundamentally reorganized by 

a substantial reduction of the number of civil servants 

and by the introduction of a sharp distinction between 

the policy-making task of the ministry and the implementation task of the Rijkswaterstaat, which was given 

the status of an agency. Recent accounts of the reorganization process by Van den Brink and Metze show that 

the main objectives of the reorganization (reducing the 

number of civil servants and a more public-oriented 

way of working) have been achieved, but some new 

problems were introduced.18 Where Metze points to the 

drawbacks of the loss of expertise, which makes it more 

difficult to critically supervise projects that are being 

implemented by market parties, Van den Brink mainly 

points to the difficulties employees of the Rijkswaterstaat face when they participate in regional planning 

projects.19 Since the Rijkswaterstaat was given the status 

of an implementation agency, its representatives in the 

region are not allowed to make any policy-sensitive 

decision without consulting the policy directorate in The 

Hague. Such problems, however, are not unique to the 

Rijkswaterstaat organization, as they are faced by any 

organization undergoing a similar transformation.

These developments in Dutch water management 

are illustrated by the controversies over three major 

infrastructure projects: the enclosure of the Eastern 

Scheldt; the reclamation of the Zuiderzee polder, the 

Markerwaard; and the strengthening of the dikes along 

the main rivers. It will be shown how the waves of environmentalism and democratization have influenced 

Dutch national water policies since the early seventies.

Decision making on the storm surge barrier in the 

Eastern Scheldt is often considered a major turning 

point in the history of Dutch water resources management.20 In the past, coastal engineering projects had 

been aimed at flood protection and at serving economic 

interests, but, in the decision-making process on the 

enclosure of the Eastern Scheldt, environmental issues 

were seriously addressed for the first time. During the 

implementation of the Delta Plan most other tidal 

branches in the southwestern Netherlands had been 

closed off, and their valuable estuarine ecosystems were 

destroyed. Because of the influence of the environmental movement and the shift in public opinion, social 

and political attention to potential ecological damage 

increased during the construction of the Delta Works.

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
In 1967 the Rijkswaterstaat Delta Department 

started developing plans for the enclosure of the widest 

estuary, the Eastern Scheldt. This estuary had a very rich 

biodiversity and the sandbars were favorite feeding spots 

for birds. The estuary also had an important shellfishery. 

According to the engineers working at the Delta Department, a fixed dam would be the only possible option for 

realizing safety, but a coalition of environmentalists and 

fishermen argued that strengthening the dikes along 

the estuary would be a much better alternative. Various 

accounts of the Eastern Scheldt crisis demonstrate that 

the Delta Department faced difficulties in incorporating 

the new environmental values into policy alternatives, 

and stuck to the proposal for a fixed dam.21 Only after 

the installation of the cabinet under Prime Minister 

Joop Den Uyl, the most leftist cabinet in Dutch history, 

did the coalition of environmentalists gain access to 

the decision-making forums on the highest level, and 

the Dutch cabinet started to put pressure on the Rijkswaterstaat engineers to develop a solution that would 

take into account the environmental issues raised. 

This is a clear example of the primacy of politics. It is 

only due to a change of government that the change of 

Eastern Scheldt policies became possible. The ministers 

of the new social-liberal party D66, in particular, played 

a crucial role in this. These political changes, however, 

reflected the change in public opinion: many perceived 

the Rijkswaterstaat as an organization that had no eye 

for environmental or ecological issues. 

An expert committee designed alternatives to 

the closure and concluded in its report that an open 

storm surge barrier was technically feasible. The Rijkswaterstaat had to further develop this alternative into 

a new design that would meet safety standards as well 

Sea anemone, one of the many species in the Eastern Scheldt

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
as ecological standards. Doing so required a radically 

innovative concept, which the Delta Department developed in cooperation with the involved contractors, a 

consultant, and the assistance of various knowledge 

institutes. They managed to design a half-open storm 

surge barrier on piers. The core idea of this construction 

was that the barrier can be closed during storm surges, 

and left open under normal weather conditions, thus 

maintaining estuarine dynamics. 

Decision making concentrated on three policy alternatives: the construction of a fixed dam, the strengthening of dikes along the estuary, and the construction of 

a semi-permeable dam. The Rijkswaterstaat contracted 

with the RAND Corporation for comparing these alternatives. The POLANO-study (Dutch acronym for Policy 

Analysis for the Eastern Scheldt) was an interesting 

innovation in Dutch water policy analysis, because 

this study included a wide range of possible criteria, 

including the potential impact on the environment and 

ecology. Part of the environmental research carried out 

for this study was supported by a newly created environmental section of the Delta Department headed 

by the first university-educated biologist to work for 

the Rijkswaterstaat, H. L. F. Saeijs.22 The Dutch Cabinet 

opted for the construction of a storm surge barrier in 

1976, and the Eastern Scheldt Storm Surge Barrier was 

completed in 1986, at a total cost of 2.5 billion euros 

(more than the cost of all other Delta Works combined). 

Numerous innovations were developed during the 

construction process: a special ship was constructed 

The Eastern Scheldt Storm Surge Barrier pillar construction dock , 1984

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
to transport the pillars and a machine was designed 

to place huge mattresses to stabilize the pillars. Today 

the Eastern Scheldt Storm Surge Barrier is generally 

perceived as one of the main achievements in coastal 

engineering in the world. It served as a test-bed for 

ecological design, integrated project planning, and 

stakeholder analysis and communications strategies. 

As such, it marked a new era in water management and 

in the Rijkswaterstaat’s position: the project enabled 

the Rijkswaterstaat to repair the rift with society and to 

partly restore its prestige.23 In spite of the impressive 

engineering achievement, and the innovative concept 

of a storm surge barrier with movable gates, it is now 

clear that the barrier still has had an enormous impact 

on the Eastern Scheldt ecosystem, because the tidal 

volume—and hence estuarine dynamics—has diminished substantially. The reduced tidal volume flowing 

through the storm surge barrier has caused the estuary 

sand bars to begin to shrink, threatening the bird 

feeding spots, and new protective measures had to be 

Construction ship Ostrea lifts a pillar into position

The Eastern Scheldt Storm Surge Barrier with 

the gates closed

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
undertaken. In the other closed estuaries in the southwestern part of the Netherlands, mineral emissions 

from farms caused severe water pollution, and here, 

also, additional projects were undertaken to improve 

the ecological quality, such as an inlet sluice to refresh 

the stagnant water in the Veere Lake.

A second model project illustrating the environmental era in Dutch water management is the reclamation of the Markerwaard, a polder in the Zuiderzee 

(IJssel Lake). Where decision making on the Eastern 

Scheldt Storm Surge Barrier is generally considered to 

be a turning point in the implementation of the Delta 

Works, decision making on the Markerwaard can be 

considered a similar turning point in the implementation of the Zuiderzee works.24

As described in chapter 6, the Afsluitdijk (1932) had 

reduced flood risks along the IJssel Lake considerably 

and made possible various land reclamation projects. 

After the successful reclamation of the Northeast Polder 

(Noordoostpolder), which includes the former islands 

of Schokland and Urk, the Eastern (1957) and Southern 

(1968) Flevopolders were reclaimed. Unlike the northeast polder, the Flevopolders were designed as an artificial island with a narrow lake between the mainland and 

the new polder. This lake was created to maintain access 

to the sea for certain towns on the mainland and to be 

able to better manage the water tables. 

The next reclamation project planned was the 

Markerwaard. There are many reasons why the Markerwaard polder has never been created. First and foreAlmere, the main city on South Flevopolder

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
most, it is important to know 

that the food self-sufficiency 

doctrine, which was the 

main trigger for creating the 

other polders, was no longer 

adhered to after the establishment in 1957 of the European 

Economic Community, predecessor of the EU. In addition, 

unlike the reclamation of the 

older polders, the reclamation of the Markerwaard was 

planned in an era characterized by distrust of the Rijkswaterstaat. A broad coalition of 

actors opposed to a new land 

reclamation project in the IJssel 

Lake successfully challenged 

the various arguments put 

forth by the government. They 

pointed, for example, to the 

loss of a valuable fresh water 

ecosystem, an argument that 

had never played a role in decision making on reclamation 

projects until then. The opposition also successfully challenged the various economic 

arguments for creating another 

polder in the Zuiderzee. In 

1972 a new decision-making 

procedure for large-scale spatial 

and infrastructure projects was introduced: the Spatial 

Key Decision (Planologische kernbeslissing, or PKB). This 

procedure allowed for the participation of a wide range 

of actors in decision making on the Markerwaard. In 

addition to the end of the food self-sufficiency doctrine, 

the democratization of decision making and the recognition of new (environmental and landscape) values may 

explain why decision making on the reclamation of the 

Markerwaard has been postponed time and again. 

Environmentalism and the democratization of 

Dutch society also influenced decision making on the 

improvement of dikes along the main rivers. The river 

Rally against the Markerwaard polder project, 1979

Farmers’ rally supporting the Markerwaard polder project, 1984

Erfgoedcentrum Nieuwland, Lelystad Erfgoedcentrum Nieuwland, Lelystad

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
levee strengthening 

program had made 

virtually no progress 

until the 1970s because 

the Delta Works and 

sea dike strengthening 

projects took such a 

large share of the allocated budgets. In the 

1970s, the water boards 

finally sped up the levee 

strengthening schemes. 

By then, however, they 

faced staunch opposition from conservationist 

action groups who feared 

the destruction of the 

idyllic river landscape 

and doubted the necessity of the strengthening 

program. Because of 

the value conflicts and 

the ample opportunities 

opponents had to delay the realization of planned dike 

improvement projects, the Rijkswaterstaat and the 

water boards were practically unable to meet the legally 

defined safety standards and to guarantee safety along 

the main rivers. Only after the floods of 1993 and 1995 

were they able to realize these safety standards.

The developments described above also had an 

impact on the broader national water policies, which 

were formulated in a series of policy documents on 

water management. The first national policy document on water management, issued in 1968, mainly 

addressed water quantity issues and the economic 

functions of water, such as water use by households 

and industry, agricultural water use, and navigation.25

Environmental issues were not completely ignored—in 

the 1940s, the Rijkswaterstaat director-general, Ludolf 

Reinier Wentholt, addressed the problem of salt intrusion, and in the 1950s water quality became a major 

issue. Salt intrusion worsened, as did chemical pollution, also because of increasing effluents in the Rhine 

and Meuse basins. The pollution had detrimental 

effects on the quality of drinking water, since large 

parts of the Dutch Randstad, the urbanized western 

part of the Netherlands, use Meuse water as a source 

for drinking water production.

In 1970, after years of preparation, a water pollution 

act passed Parliament (Wet Verontreiniging Oppervlaktewateren, WVO). The Rijkswaterstaat was assigned the 

legal task of implementing this water pollution act on 

the main rivers and lakes, and the provinces had to set 

Towship on the River Waal. Inland navigation is an important cargo mode in the Netherlands

Bart Hofmeester

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
up provincial water quality programs. The WVO introduced a permit system for emissions and a system of 

fines for violators based on the “polluter pays” principle. 

Also under the WVO, wastewater purification stations, 

already developed before 1940, were built on a massive 

scale. The WVO is often called a prime international 

example of successful environmental legislation.26

The second national report on water management, issued in 1984, broadened the scope of national 

water policies by more systematically addressing water 

quality and ecological issues. This was made possible 

by the PAWN-study (Policy Analysis for Water management in the Netherlands), which, like the POLANOstudy for the Eastern Scheldt, was a new type of policy 

analysis introduced in the Netherlands by the RAND 

Corporation.27 Together with the Rijkswaterstaat and 

Delft Hydraulics, RAND developed computer models 

that were able to calculate the impact that various 

water management alternatives would have on specific 

interests, such as agriculture, navigation, drinking 

water production, or nature itself. The PAWN-study has 

been particularly helpful in showing the various interrelationships within a water system and the interdependencies between water users. 

Building on the highly influential document 

“Living with Water” (1985), to which Rijkswaterstaat 

biologist H. L. F. Saeijs contributed, the third water 

management policy document of 1989 introduced the 

concepts of a water systems approach and of integrated 

water resources management.28 Water was conceived 

as an integrated system of subsystems (surface water, 

groundwater) and functions (transport, drinking 

water, ecological functions, recreation, etc.) and 

water management required an integrated approach, 

balancing these functions, and linking water management, spatial planning, and nature development.29 This 

Rijkswaterstaat laboratory researcher investigates oil emissions from a ship that was sailing on the North Sea

Peter Mastenbroek, Lelystad

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
concept was implemented by the Rijkswaterstaat for 

the main rivers and lakes and by the provinces and the 

water boards for the regional waters. The 1992 Water 

Boards Act assigned to the water boards—in addition 

to flood management and water quantity management—water quality management.30 This act strengthened the position of the water boards within the Dutch 

state organization. The position of the water boards was 

further strengthened by the ongoing mergers between 

water boards. There are currently only twenty-four 

water boards, many of which cross provincial borders. 

Although the provinces still play a role in coordinating 

water policies with spatial and environmental planning, their position in the water sector has weakened 

considerably over the past few decades. 

The fourth water management policy document 

was released along with the influential document 

“Water Management in the 21st Century.” These documents were issued in the aftermath of the floods on 

the main Dutch rivers that occurred in 1993 and 1995 

and the water troubles in 1998 stemming from intense 

precipitation. Both of these documents emphasized 

the urgent need for better coordination between water 

management and land-use planning.31 After a few 

decades in which environmental and ecological issues 

had gained a prominent place in the political agenda, at 

the turn of the century water safety issues again started 

to dominate the Dutch water agenda.

In December 2009 the Dutch Cabinet adopted the 

National Water Plan, which contains the national water 

policies for the period 2009–2015. The new national 

water policy emphasizes the need for climate-proofing 

the Netherlands and for implementing the Room for the 

River and Delta programs.32

Oil pollution in the IJmuiden harbor, 1990

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
RENEWED CONCERN FOR FLOOD SAFETY 

The 1970s showed a continued discussion on the flood 

safety standards along the major rivers in the Netherlands. This period marked the aftermath of the Report 

of the Delta Commission (1960), which advised the 

Dutch government on the safety standards after the 

flood disaster of 1953.33 However, these new safety levels 

would result in significantly increasing the height of 

the dikes along the river. Much opposition arose within 

society because of its impact on the landscape. Therefore, the Dutch government installed the Becht Commission in 1975 to evaluate the new safety standards. In 

1977 the Becht Commission advised on an exceedance frequency of 1:1,250 years at a river discharge of 

16,500 cubic meters per second for the Rhine River at 

Lobith.34 This advice was accepted by the government 

in 1978. However, continuous protest against the dike 

reinforcements forced the government to install a new 

commission in 1992: the Boertien Commission. In 1993 

the Boertien Commission concluded that a safety level 

of 1:1,250 years was required, but advised, on the basis 

of a new statistical analysis, to reduce the representative river discharge to 15,000 cubic meters per second.35

The commission advised also taking into account the 

so-called LNC-values (landscape, nature, and culture) 

and involving citizens and municipalities more in the 

decision-making process. 

However, shortly after the presentation of the 

report of the commission, the floods of 1993 and 1995 

demonstrated that the existing dikes could barely 

resist the floods with an exceedance frequency of 1:100 

years. In 1995 the situation was extremely critical, and 

about 250,000 inhabitants in a Gelderland riparian 

zone were evacuated within two days. This situation 

Fish migration research: a transponder is being inserted in a sea trout, 1997

Martijn Beekman

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
made clear that dike reinforcement programs had to be 

implemented with high priority and in a short period 

of time. On February 13, 1995, the government—after 

negotiating agreements with representatives of the 

provinces, water boards and the Dutch municipalities—presented the Delta Plan Major Rivers.36 Within 

one month of the flood of 1995, the emergency law Delta 

Law Major Rivers, prepared by the Legal Department of 

the Headquarters of the Rijkswaterstaat, was accepted 

by the Dutch Parliament. Under this law, procedures 

could be passed or shortened, and the dikes could be 

given the required height and strength in 1995 and 1996. 

According to this law, dikes in areas of a lower urgency 

had to be completed before 2001.37

In the River Meuse, extreme floods occurred in 

1993. In December 1993 the river discharge reached a 

maximum of 3,120 cubic meters per second, resulting 

in large inundations and much damage. Therefore, in 

January 1994 the Boertien Commission II was installed 

with the task of advising the government on the protection of the River Meuse against such extreme floods. 

The commission presented their report on December 

12, 1994.38 It laid out three possible strategies: building 

of levees together with deepening of the summer bed 

of the river; building of levees together with deepening 

of the summer bed and nature development; and 

building of levees. The commission advised to deepen 

the summer bed combined with a limited amount of 

environmental development and to build levees only 

for specific areas where other measures are shown to be 

insufficient. However, in the beginning of 1995 a flood 

occurred again. Although the maximum Meuse river 

discharge was lower (2,870 cubic meters per second), in 

the more downstream areas it had more severe effects 

because of the longer duration of the flood wave.39

Under societal pressure, the government decided to start 

with building the levees to guarantee a protection with 

an exceedance frequency of 1:50 years. Under the Delta 

1993 flood at Roermond, Limburg at the river Meuse

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
Law Major Rivers (Deltawet Grote Rivieren), these works 

had already been completed in 1996 and 1997. The next 

step was to realize a safety level of 1:250 years, which 

was the mandate of the project De Maaswerken (Meuse 

Works), and had to be realized at the latest in 2005. For 

budgetary reasons, this date shifted to 2015, under the 

condition that seventy to eighty percent of the agreed 

safety level would be realized by 2005.40

The safety standards are legally confirmed in the 

Flood Defense Act (Wet op de Waterkering). This law 

was first introduced in Parliament in 1989, agreements 

were obtained in 1994, and it came into force in 1996. 

Because of the critical flood risk situations in 1993 and 

1995, a number of amendments were applied.41 The 

safety standards for the coastal areas were in agreement 

with the proposals of the Delta Commission (1960). For 

the embanked rivers Rhine and Meuse a safety standard 

of 1:1,250 years was declared for the upstream parts of 

these rivers and 1:2,000 years for the downstream parts. 

Every five years the safety standards are to be evaluated, through which an updated insight is obtained of 

the natural pressures (water levels, wave attack, river 

discharge). This occurs for each of the fifty-three dike 

ring areas. In 2005 the forty-two dike ring areas along the 

1995 near-flood: extremely high water levels on the Waal

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
upstream part of the Meuse also came under this law, 

with a safety standard of 1:250 years. In 2009 the Flood 

Defense Act was incorporated in the Dutch Water Act, in 

which a number of existing water acts were integrated, 

thus creating a framework for the modernization of 

Dutch water management.42

On the basis of the five-year evaluation, in 2001 

the representative river discharges associated with the 

agreed safety levels changed from 15,000 to 16,000 cubic 

meters per second for the Rhine and from 3,650 to 3,800 

cubic meters per second for the Meuse.43 In 2006, these 

safety levels remained unchanged.44 For the longer term, 

reconnaissance studies were carried out, for both the 

Rhine and the Meuse.45 The objective was to investigate 

the possibility of guaranteeing the same safety levels in 

the twenty-first century under the influence of climate 

change and expected soil subsidence. The representative river discharges, for which these safety levels must 

be reached, were 18,000 cubic meters per second for the 

Rhine and 4,600 cubic meters per second for the Meuse.

In fact, all these agreements were reached as a 

consequence of the implementation of the recommendations of the Delta Commission in the 1950s and its 

1960 report. The recommendations and report resulted 

in the Delta Plan, shortening the coastline by more than 

600 kilometers through blocking the estuary mouths of 

the Haringvliet (Haringvliet Dam, 1971), the Grevelingen 

(Brouwers Dam, 1971) and the Eastern Scheldt (Storm 

Surge Barrier, 1986). The estuary mouths of the New 

Waterway and the Western Scheldt were to remain open 

because of the shipping routes to the ports of Rotterdam 

and Antwerp. The height of the dikes along these waterways must be raised to the “Delta level.” Around 1980 

it was discovered that the dikes in the Rotterdam area 

were too low to fulfill the determined level of protection. Although they have been raised significantly after 

World War II, they should be raised by at least 1.60m.46

However, it was difficult to make these dikes higher, as 

they were situated in a very densely populated area, 

involving high costs and having a visual impact on old 

town centers, some with a history of several centuries. Moreover, the duration of the construction was 

an important factor, because the reinforcement of the 

dikes in this area was expected to take more than thirty 

years. Therefore, there was pressure to find alternatives, 

particularly a moveable barrier that could be closed 

under exceptional circumstances, occurring once in ten 

years. An important requirement of the barrier was that 

it would not block the shipping route.47

The choice was made for two large floating gates 

on either side of the New Waterway that would move to 

each other to close the waterway. The construction of 

the barrier started in 1991, and on May 10, 1997, after six 

years of construction, Queen Beatrix opened the Maeslant 

Barrier. The barrier was designed with two “circle 

segments,” each with a length of 210 meters and a height 

of 22 meters. Each gate rotates around a ball joint with a 

diameter of 10 meters and a weight of 680 tons. Closing 

and opening of the barrier is driven by a self-operating 

computer system, which is linked to meteorological, 

river discharge, and sea level data. When a storm surge 

of three meters above normal sea level is anticipated in 

Rotterdam, the barrier will be closed automatically. The 

complexity of the closure process requires that decision making be completely automated. To achieve the 

required level of reliability, a double computing system 

has been installed; during extreme situations the system 

is continuously monitored by a team of experts. Well 

before the actual closing procedures are started, incoming 

and outgoing ships are warned, and two hours before 

closure shipping is prohibited. The barrier is designed 

to withstand a storm situation that is expected to occur 

once in 10,000 years. It is expected that closing the barrier 

is needed, on average, once in ten years. 48 On November 

8, 2007, the Maeslant Barrier was closed for the first time 

since its construction because of a strong storm surge. 

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
In 1999 the secretary of state for transport, public 

works and water management and the president of 

the Union of Water Boards established the Advisory 

Committee on Water Management in the 21st Century 

(WB21). The committee was charged with developing 

recommendations for desirable changes to the water 

management policy in the Netherlands, focusing on the 

consequences of other water-related problems, such as 

climate change, rising sea level, and land subsidence. In 

2001 guidelines were produced for future water management. The Dutch government enacted these guidelines 

in a new approach to ensure safety and to reduce other 

water-related problems in the twenty-first century. This 

approach includes, among other things:

• Awareness: citizens should be more aware of problems associated with water

• Three-step-strategy: retaining, storing, discharging

• Room for the river: more land for occasional storage 

is required

• Spatial planning: prevent non-river-related human 

activities in the floodplains

• International cooperation: must be intensified.49

The new approach requires land use changes and 

introduces new scientific research issues and has an 

impact on the working methods of the responsible water 

resources agencies. Increased attention is also being 

given to communication and public participation.

In 2000 the Room for the River concept was adopted 

as a government policy. Through this concept the 

Dutch government initiated a shift from “traditional” 

flood protection policies (i.e., raising the dikes) towards 

creating increased water discharge capacities. More 

Maeslant Barrier

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
than thirty projects were formulated and a variety of 

measures were developed to implement this policy, such 

as levee relocation, the construction of bypasses and 

spillways, and locations for water storage. The main goal 

is a reduction of high water levels; other goals are nature 

development and landscape restoration. The development and implementation of these new river policies 

required intensive cooperation among water managers, 

spatial planners, nongovernmental organizations 

(NGOs), and inhabitants of the areas along the main 

rivers. For that reason, the Dutch national government 

decided to organize the decision-making process on the 

new Room for the River policies not as a centralistic topdown process in which the Dutch national government 

would decide autonomously on the most effective policy 

program. Instead, the national government demanded 

that the provinces issue regional guidance on desirable measures to create more room for the river. The 

provinces were asked to prepare this guidance in close 

cooperation with the affected municipalities and water 

boards, and to involve a wide range of NGOs, including 

agricultural organizations, agencies serving the interest 

of recreation, representatives of river-related industries, 

and environmental groups. 

Two main policy objectives or conditions were 

formulated beforehand. First, the final policy program 

proposed by the Dutch provinces would have to guarantee safety for the approximately four million inhabitants of the areas along the main rivers. Safety standards 

were defined, which would have to be reached within 

both the short term (2015) and the long term (2050). 

Second, it was decided to improve the “spatial quality” 

A secondary channel, parallel to the main channel in the Waal River, intended to spur nature 

development and reduce peak water levels

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
of the river landscape at the same time—for example, 

considering possibilities to create new nature preserves 

or for the development of new sites for urban expansion along newly created river branches. Because of 

the relatively open policy process, parties have been 

able to combine different perspectives and to develop 

multi-purpose plans that are acceptable to most of them. 

The Room for the River project, therefore, is not only a 

substantive policy innovation, but is generally considered 

to be an interesting innovation in governance as well.50

The Room for the River concept has also had an 

international resonance. During the flood of 1995, the 

ministers of land use planning had their regular meeting 

in Arles. In the communication of this meeting the 

ministers of the riparian states declared that further 

measures had to be taken to reduce future river flood 

risks. They supported an integrated approach: not only 

water management, but also land use/spatial planning had to be taken in account, leading to river basin 

management. In 1998 Highwater Action Programs were 

created on the basis of the Arles Declaration.51

To be prepared for record-level river discharges—

discharges higher than those related to the agreed 

safety standards—the Luteijn Commission was 

installed in April 2001 to advise on the possibilities of 

“controlled flooding.” Although such a catastrophic 

situation is not expected, a significant reduction of 

damage and number of casualties is expected when 

the surplus water is guided to areas with low population densities and relatively low economic investments. 

In their report of 2002, the commission presented the 

results of their investigations to look for possibilities 

of emergency inundation areas along the Rhine and 

Meuse rivers.52 Ultimately, they focused on three areas: 

the Rijnstrangen and the Ooijpolder along the Rhine 

and Beersche Overlaat along the Meuse. The cabinet 

was intrigued by the recommendations of the commission and announced in July 2002 that a final decision 

would follow in the coming years. However, local 

opposition arose in the potential emergency inundation areas, particularly in the Ooijpolder, because 

the people and the local political representatives had 

the feeling that their land would be sacrificed to the 

benefit of more-downstream areas. Moreover, memories of the evacuations in 1995 were still alive. Amidst 

all this political turmoil and the scientific debates on 

uncertainties with respect to the real flood reduction 

impact of emergency inundation areas, the government decided in 2005 that the use of Ooijpolder and 

Rijnstrangen would not be cost-effective and that 

those areas would not be used for controlled flooding. 

In extreme flood stage, therefore, these areas will be 

particularly vulnerable. The situation illustrates the 

gap between policy and politics.53 It may be expected 

that this political discussion will return when proposals 

are presented for further differentiation of the safety 

standards, based on new insights of the flooding risks 

within the Netherlands as a result of the newest findings of societal cost/benefit analyses. In the National 

Water Plan, which came into force in December 2009, 

it was decided by the Dutch government to also give up 

the reservation of the Beersche Overlaat as an area for 

controlled flooding in emergency situations.

At the beginning of the twenty-first century, an 

American flood event and a former American politician 

have contributed much to placing the issue of water safety 

high on the Dutch political agenda again. The devastating 

Hurricane Katrina raised social and political awareness 

of the risks involved in occupying low-lying delta areas in 

the Netherlands. Furthermore, Al Gore’s film An Inconvenient Truth, and his related visits to the Netherlands, 

which received a great deal of media attention, contributed much to societal awareness of the seriousness of 

climate change and the vulnerability of the Netherlands. 

In September 2007 the Dutch government installed 

the new Delta Commission, which was responsible 

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for giving advice on how to protect the Netherlands 

against floods for the longer term (specifically to 2100 

and generally to 2200). This question was asked in the 

light of climate change (rising sea level and higher 

peak discharges of the rivers) and developments within 

society (demographic shifts and increased investments). 

In September 2008 the new Delta Commission presented 

its report to the Dutch Parliament. It was concluded 

that sea level is probably rising faster than was previously projected, and extreme variations in river flow are 

expected to increase. It was advised that the flood protection levels of all diked areas must be improved by a factor 

of ten, and that all measures to increase the protection 

levels must be implemented before 2050. At the moment 

there is no serious problem, but the need for being well 

prepared was strongly emphasized.54

An important recommendation of the commission was that a Delta Act should be implemented. This 

act was discussed in the cabinet in October 2009 and 

submitted to the Lower House in the spring of 2010. 

The Delta Act forms the legal basis for a Delta Program, 

in which measures and provisions for water safety and 

fresh water supply are developed, including their planning and estimates of their costs. A Delta commissioner 

is charged with drawing up, updating, and implementing this program on behalf of the cabinet. A ministerial steering group under the authority of the minister 

of transport, public works and water management 

includes representatives from the Ministry of Housing, 

Spatial Planning and the Environment, the Ministry 

of Agriculture, Nature and Food Quality, the Ministry 

of the Interior and Kingdom Relations, the Ministry of 

Economic Affairs, and the Ministry of Finance. 

To finance all the measures and provisions for 

water safety and freshwater supply, a Delta Fund was 

proposed. The fund is expected to include the expenditure of the state on the construction, improvement, 

management, maintenance, and operation of water 

management structures with a view to water safety 

and freshwater supply—and the related water quality 

management. The budget will be allocated annually to 

the Delta Fund from the general resources. The costs for 

the implementation of the proposed Delta Program were 

estimated by the commission at 1.2 to 1.6 billion euros 

per year in the period 2010–2050 and 0.9 to 1.5 billion 

per year in the period 2050–2100.

The Delta Program comprises nine sub-programs, 

three of which are general (safety, freshwater, and 

new spatial developments and reconstructions) and 

six are directed to specific regions (Rhine estuary 

mouth, Southwestern delta, IJsselmeer region, rivers, 

coasts, and Wadden Sea region). The Delta Program 

commissioner is responsible for ensuring that the Delta 

Program is realized. 

Proposals for a new system of safety standards 

against flooding and their differentiation will be 

prepared in the safety sub-program. Cost-benefit 

analyses have been made based upon the present situation and combined with assessments of individual risk 

of death as a result of flooding and group risk (the risk 

of large numbers of casualties). The new standards are 

scheduled to be incorporated into the Water Act. Obviously, this fundamental decision will be of great importance for the outcome of the regional sub-programs. 

Whereas Dutch water safety policies had almost 

exclusively focused on reducing flood probability 

(either by constructing dikes or creating room for the 

river), floodplain occupancy and the increasing investments made behind the dikes have made it necessary 

to develop policies aimed at reducing flood exposure 

and flood vulnerability as well. Therefore, a three-step 

approach was chosen: giving additional emphasis to 

prevention, paying attention to risk reduction through 

sustainable spatial planning, and developing sound 

evacuation plans.55 In this new approach to flood 

management, prevention remains the highest priority, 

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
and its safety levels will not be reduced by secondary 

risk-reducing measures or provisions. It is expected that 

the Delta Program will have a profound impact on flood 

defense policies in the Netherlands for the years to come. 

At least as important as the flood management 

along the rivers is the defense of the country against the 

attacks from the North Sea. Therefore, coastal defense 

has a high priority in the Netherlands. The coast itself 

consists of about 290 kilometers of natural dunes and 

60 kilometers of dikes and dams. In the 1970s and 1980s 

attention focused on the realization of the Delta Works. 

The Storm Surge Barrier in the Eastern Scheldt and the 

Maeslant Barrier in the New Waterway also reflected 

an emphasis on coastal defense. For the coast itself 

the Rijkswaterstaat was invited by the government to 

prepare a strategy for the years after 1990. The document 

“First Coastal Report” (Eerste Kustnota) (1990) made a 

plea for “dynamic preservation,” for which strategic and 

operational objectives have been defined. The strategic 

objective was to guarantee a sustainable safety level and 

sustainable preservation of values and functions in the 

dune area. The operational objective was to maintain 

the coastline at its 1990 position, for which an ongoing 

coastal nourishment policy has been developed. 

As a standard of reference, the so-called Basal Coast 

Line (BCL) has been defined as the estimated position 

of the coastline on January 1st of 1990. This position has 

been derived from an extrapolation of the linear trend 

of coastline positions during the years 1980–1989. The 

choice for a ten-year linear extrapolation is based on 

being not dependent on incidental erosions.56 The operational objective is to maintain the Momentary Coastline (MCL) not landward of the BCL. The MCL is calculated from data of the Dutch yearly coastal monitoring 

program, which has been operational since 1963. In the 

coastal documents that followed, a plea has been made 

for sand replenishment at deeper water (1993) and to 

look for a stronger relation between coastal safety and 

spatial planning (1995). The expected effects of climate 

change became of increasing importance in making a 

new water safety policy. A lot of uncertainty is acknowledged. In the water policy document “National Water 

Plan” (Nationaal Waterplan) (2009) the sea level rise of 

0.15 to 0.35 meters is expected for the period 2000–2050 

and 0.35 to 0.85 meters for the period 2000–2100.57 The 

sand replenishment strategy offers the advantage that 

the amount of replenished sand can be adjusted easily 

when the sea level rise is higher or lower than expected. 

The role of the state is extensive: overall supervision, 

flood defense management at the Wadden Isles and at 

the Delta Dams, and coastline management. As overall 

supervisor, the state also bears responsibility for strategic policy. Daily management of flood defenses of the 

sandy Holland and Delta coast is the task of the water 

boards. For implementation of coastline management, 

such as the design of annual management schemes, the 

state seeks advice from provinces, water boards, and 

municipalities. Since 2002 the water policy and international coordination is the responsibility of the Water 

Directorate at the Ministry of Infrastructure and the 

Environment, whereas the Rijkswaterstaat is responsible 

for the design, construction, management, and maintenance of the main infrastructure facilities. 

Toward the end of the first decade of this century 

an innovative project started in the Dutch coastal zone 

called “Sand Motor” or “Sand Engine” (Zandmotor).58

The Rijkswaterstaat, the Province of South Holland, 

universities, research institutes, and the private sector 

started experiments by depositing large amounts of 

sand at a specific location near the coast and allowing 

the natural elements such as wind, waves, tides, and 

currents to work. As a consequence, a kind of manmade 

peninsula was formed along the coast, which subsequently contributed to the formation of new beaches 

and dunes. The purpose is the enhancement of coastal 

protection in the long term, by widening beaches and 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
dunes for natural and recreational use, and especially 

reducing the need for beach replenishment. Much 

attention is given to the monitoring of the sand movements. Knowledge development, thanks to the Sand 

Motor project, is co-financed by the European Union’s 

Regional Development Fund. Between March and 

October 2011, 21.5 million cubic meters of new sand 

were deposited in the coastal zone. The “Sand Motor 

Monitoring and Evaluation” program of this project is 

organized by the Rijkswaterstaat. The first official results 

will be published in 2016.

EUROPEANIZATION OF WATER POLICIES

BORDER-CROSSING RIVERS

The Netherlands is located in the delta of four international rivers: the Rhine, Meuse, Scheldt, and Ems, of 

which the Rhine is the largest. The largest portion of 

these basins is situated in other European countries. 

Therefore, international cooperation, mutual adjustment, and joint decision making are of utmost importance, and transboundary river commissions have a 

long and rich history. 

The Rhine River is one of the longest and most 

important rivers in Europe, at about 1,230 kilometers in length and an average discharge of more than 

2,000 cubic meters per second. It is Europe’s busiest 

waterway, linking the Swiss Alps to the North Sea, 

flowing through Switzerland, Germany, France, and 

the Netherlands. Its basin includes major European 

industrial areas, such as the Ruhr region in Germany 

and the Rijnmond region in the Netherlands. The Port of 

Rotterdam—“The Gateway to Europe,” at the mouth of 

the Rhine—is the largest harbor in Europe. 

There is a particularly rich history of cooperation 

on the Rhine River. Major progress has been achieved 

The Sand Motor (or Sand Engine) is a huge volume of sand that was deposited along the coast of Zuid-Holland 

at Ter Heijde in 2011. Forces of nature will spread the sand along the shore, thereby reinforcing the coastline 

and creating a dynamic area for nature and recreation.

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
following wars, other manmade and natural disasters, 

and more recently European Union interventions. 

Cooperation started in the field of navigation in 1815, 

just after the Napoleonic Wars, with the creation of 

the Central Commission for the Rhine Navigation (see 

chapter 2). The river authorities of the Rhine states 

succeeded in eliminating obstacles that impeded navigation, which contributed considerably to trade and 

industry in this part of Europe. 

The end of World War II marked the beginning of a 

new chapter in the Rhine’s history. Although pollution 

from chlorides gained attention at the beginning of the 

twentieth century, awareness of this problem has grown 

rapidly since then. Industrial and urban leaders came to 

realize that they could not continue to dump untreated 

effluents into the river and still expect it to provide their 

freshwater needs, and governments realized that the river 

was no longer capable of fulfilling its multiple functions. 

On July 11, 1950, upon the initiative of the Netherlands, 

the riparian countries of the Rhine downstream of Lake 

Constance—Switzerland, France, Luxembourg, Germany, 

and The Netherlands—joined forces by establishing the 

International Commission for the Protection of the Rhine 

(ICPR). During the first decade of the ICPR, it served as 

a common forum for discussing questions and seeking 

solutions relating to pollution in the Rhine. However, in 

1963 the ICPR parties concluded that the existing tools for 

cooperation among the governments should be strengthened. Therefore, on April 29, 1963, they formalized ICPR’s 

existence by signing the Convention on the Protection 

of the Rhine, which widely became known as the Bern 

Convention. The Bern Convention gave the commission 

the authority to hold annual plenary sessions and draft 

international treaties. In 1972 the commission was given 

the additional task of organizing regular ministerial-level 

meetings. These Rhine Ministers’ Conferences remain the 

single most important forum for handling issues of Rhine 

pollution and ecology.59

The first Rhine Ministers’ Conference on the 

pollution of the Rhine was held in 1972 to recommend further actions to reduce pollutant chemicals. 

In 1976 the Rhine Ministers drafted two important 

conventions. The first treaty, the 1976 Bonn Convention Concerning the Protection of the Rhine against 

Pollution by Chlorides, focused on waste salts from 

industrial production (mostly potash fertilizers). The 

second, the Bonn Convention for the Protection of the 

Rhine, addresses all chemical inputs into the river, both 

those from “point sources” and those from “non-point 

sources.” In fulfillment of the Chloride Convention, 

the bulk of the discharge reductions fell on the potash 

industry in the Alsace region in France. The convention obligated France to construct chloride-removal 

systems at their potash plants and to pump the recovered salts into underground limestone formations. 

However, due to protests in the Alsace region, the 

French government refused to submit the Chlorides 

Convention to Parliament for ratification. In 1985, 

after finding methods for storing the waste salts more 

securely, the French ratified the Chlorides Convention. 

Since then the river’s salt load has dropped significantly. Although the convention required a strong 

reduction of the inputs from France, it was financed 

largely by the other basin states (Switzerland 6 percent, 

Germany 30 percent and the Netherlands 34 percent). 

The official argument was that the other countries 

must also reduce their inputs, but in reality the French 

potassium mines were the main contributor. However, 

it was viewed as a concession to France to come to an 

agreement. The Chemicals Convention was initially on 

a faster track but also ran into implementation problems of its own. One of the causes was the lack of suitable technologies for reducing the input of many of the 

chemicals. Treatment plants often took years to design 

and construct, especially if the mitigation technologies 

were new or untested. 

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International cooperation got a new impetus on 

November 1, 1986, when a fire broke out in a chemical 

storehouse by Sandoz in Basel, Switzerland. It was 

extinguished with large amounts of water which then 

streamed into the Rhine, heavily polluting the water 

with pesticides and degradation products. The water in 

all downstream countries became polluted. Drinking 

water companies had to stop their intake of water, 

massive fish kills occurred, and some speculated that 

the Rhine ecosystem was virtually dead. The ecosystem 

was restored relatively quickly after the chemicals 

disappeared, however, because of renewal from tributaries. Nonetheless, the accident had a large impact. 

Within two weeks, a Rhine Ministers Conference was 

organized, and in May 1987 a concept Rhine Action 

Plan (RAP) was ready, which included as central goals 

the return of salmon to the Rhine and a 50 percent 

reduction of emissions for many substances.60 The RAP 

was helpful in implementing the Chemicals Convention, putting many of the chemicals in the Chemicals 

Convention on a fast track for reduction and targeting 

every factory on the Rhine, regardless of size, that 

produced any testable amount of organic and inorganic 

substances on the priority list. Improvements in water 

quality between 1970 and 2000 demonstrate unequivocally that both the Chemicals Convention and the Rhine 

Action Plan have had an enormously positive impact on 

the entire Rhine basin. 

A part of the 1987 Rhine Action Plan was the Plan 

Salmon 2000, which aimed to establish self-sustaining 

populations of Rhine salmon by the first decade of 

the new millennium. This plan was directed to all of 

the river’s main migratory fish (salmon, sea trout, sea 

lamprey, and sturgeon), but the spotlight was on the 

salmon as a key indicator of the river’s health. It also 

has a greater symbolic value than other migratory 

fish in this river. Many hindrances in the river were 

removed or made passable, so that these fishes could 

migrate between the upper river and the North Sea. 

Examples are changes in the operation procedures of the 

Haringvlietdam in the mouth of the Meuse-Rhine Delta 

and modifications at the sluiceways in the Afsluitdijk 

between the IJsselmeer and the Wadden Sea/North Sea. 

However, it was not until the Rhine Protection Commission issued its blueprint for riparian restoration, the 

Ecological Master Plan for the Rhine (1989), that salmon 

repopulation commenced.61

In January 1998 the 12th Conference of Rhine 

Ministers adopted an Action Plan on Flood Defense to 

be implemented over twenty years. The floods of 1993 

and 1995 were catalyzing events for this plan. The most 

important aims of the plan were to reduce damage by up 

to 10 percent by the year 2005 and by up to 25 percent by 

2020. Extreme flood levels downstream of the regulated 

Upper Rhine are to be reduced by up to 30 centimeters 

by 2005 and by up to 70 centimeters by 2020. These 

ambitious targets are likely to be reached only through 

an integrated managerial approach at local, national, 

regional, and international levels. 

The Rhine Action Plan on Flood Defense empowered 

the Rhine Protection Commission to “compensate for 

the ecological deficits of the past” by removing “human 

Poisoned fish in the Rhine due to the Sandoz 

chemical plant explosion, 1986

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
interferences with the river regime as far as possible.” The 

plan is conceived in phases. The first phase (1995–2000) 

was directed to provide a comprehensive overview of 

flood-prone regions in the Rhine catchment basin. This 

task was largely accomplished with the publication of 

the Rhine Atlas in 1998, which identifies polder areas 

and maps sites where a return to natural conditions is 

economically feasible and ecologically necessary.62 The 

second phase (2000–2005) focused primarily on the 

establishment of water storage sites. The goal is to reduce 

the maximum water height under extreme conditions by 

30 centimeters. The aim of the third phase (2005–2020) 

is a reduction of 70 centimeters of the maximum water 

level for protecting the downstream areas.

Because the 1987 Rhine Action Plan ended in the 

year 2000, the 13th Conference of Rhine Ministers on 

January 29, 2001, adopted the new program, Rhine 

2020: Program for the Sustainable Development of 

the Rhine. The Rhine 2020 program focused on the 

continued implementation of the Ecological Master 

Plan for the Rhine (1991), the improvement of flood 

prevention by implementing the Action Plan of Floods 

(1998), and the further improvement of water quality 

and groundwater protection. Summarizing, the targets 

of the Rhine 2020 program are:

• Sustainable development of the Rhine ecosystem

• Secure the use of Rhine water for drinking water 

production

• Improve sediment quality in order to be able to 

dispose of dredged material without causing any 

harm

• Comprehensive flood protection and protection 

taking into account ecological requirements

• Depollution of the North Sea.63

During the 14th Conference of Rhine Ministers held 

on October 18, 2007, the ministers, together with the 

representative of the European Commission, made 

an assessment of the many years of cooperation in 

protecting the Rhine, its tributaries, and the entire watershed. Above all, they recommended a further reduction 

of inputs of pollutants, particularly nitrogen inputs of 

diffuse origin, such as agriculture and micro-pollutions 

from urban wastewater. They also made agreements for 

the upstream migration of fish into the Rhine system via 

the floodgates of the Haringvliet and the construction of 

a fish passage at the Strasbourg Barrage and decided to 

work on an “overall strategy for the sediment management of the Rhine.” Special attention was given to jointly 

developing adaptation strategies for water management 

in the Rhine watershed in order to be able to cope with 

the challenges of climate change. In this way they actualized the guidelines for future cooperation.

Sixty years of cooperation on the Rhine by a 

succession of Rhine Conventions and Conferences of 

Rhine Ministers, and the implementation of numerous 

measures, resulted in immense improvement of the 

water quality of the Rhine and along many of its tributaries. Also, the biological state of the Rhine and its 

tributaries improved substantially and the species 

numbers continued to rise. Since 2006 migratory fish 

may again reach the spawning grounds in the Rhine 

tributaries as far as Strasbourg. Great efforts were made 

towards improving flood prevention and protection, 

but also a large number of measures have yet to be 

implemented. A continued monitoring and updating of 

the Action Plans is foreseen. In particular, the effects of 

climate change have garnered a great deal of attention. 

Increasingly this cooperation is organized on the scale 

of the entire international river basin. 

The Rhine 2020 program is increasingly carried 

out in direct relation to the European Water Directives, 

particularly the EU Water Framework Directive (2000). 

These European developments will be discussed further. 

Comparable developments occurred in the other major 

river basins (Meuse, Scheldt, and Ems), but the Rhine 

River has primary consideration. 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
EUROPEAN WATER POLICY

The history of Europe has been characterized much 

more by divisions, tensions, and conflicts than by 

any common purpose. Rivalry between the states, 

emerging and declining empires, such as the Roman 

Empire (27 BC–476 AD), the Frankish Empire (third–

tenth century), the Austro-Hungarian Empire (1867–

1918), the Ottoman Empire (1293–1922) and so on, are 

the “ever repeating” picture in the European history. 

European history is therefore shaped by a long list of 

conflicts: wars between and within European nations 

as well as rebellions by groups seeking independence. 

Examples include the Eighty Years’ War (1568–1648), 

the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648), and the Napoleonic 

Wars (1799–1815). Political, religious, and economic 

deviations and differences in language form the basis 

of these conflicts. The twentieth century showed 

dramatic explosions in the rivalry between the European powers, resulting in World War I (1914–1918) and 

World War II (1939–1945). 

After the Second World War the political climate 

favored the unification of Europe. The European Coal 

and Steel Community (ECSC) was founded in 1951 by 

the Treaty of Paris. The founding members of the ECSC 

were Belgium, France, Italy, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, and West Germany. In 1957 two new communities 

were established: the European Economic Community 

(EEC), founded by the Treaty of Rome, and the European 

Atomic Energy Community (Euratom) by yet another 

Treaty of Rome. These three together were generally 

known as the European Community (EC). On this basis 

the European Union (EU) was introduced by the Treaty 

of Maastricht and came into force on November 1, 1993.64

Currently (2013) the EU is composed of 28 independent sovereign states, which are known as the Member 

States (MS). Discussions on joining the EU are going on 

with some “candidate countries” (Iceland, Montenegro, 

Serbia, the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, 

and Turkey). To join the EU, a country must meet the 

Copenhagen Criteria, defined at the 1993 Copenhagen 

European Council. These criteria require a stable democracy which respects human rights and the rule of law, 

a functioning market economy capable of competition 

within the EU, and the acceptance of the obligations of 

the membership, including EU law.65

The European Community started its environmental 

policies with an ambitious program that contained 

many elements of today’s ideas on “sustainable development.”66 After the first United Nations Conference 

on the Environment in Stockholm 1972 and growing 

public and scientific concerns on the limits to growth, 

the commission became active in initiating an original 

community policy. On the basis of European council 

commitments in 1972 to establish a community environmental policy, the first Environment Action Program 

(EAP) was decided upon in November 1972. It was 

argued that “the protection of the environment belongs 

to the essential tasks of the Community.” The next EAPs 

have become gradually broader in their scope, reflecting 

the cross-border nature of many environmental issues as 

well as the development of the single market, where the 

freedom of movement of people, goods, services, and 

capital is guaranteed by a standardized system of laws 

for all Member States. The sixth EAP (2002–2012) focuses 

on four priority areas: climate change, nature and 

biodiversity, environment and health, and sustainable 

use of natural resources and the management of wastes. 

Its strategy now is to postpone potentially controversial 

political decisions to later phases and to rely on more 

cooperative approaches. The role of small specialist 

expert communities increased and the commission 

changed its key role from an initiator of legislation to a 

manager of policy processes. 

Water legislation was one of the first sectors to be 

covered by the EU environmental policy. Since the beginning of the 1970s water protection has been a subject of 

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
rising concern. It developed in a number of steps. The 

first period (1973–1988) mainly focused on the protection 

of water used for human activities. Environmental quality 

standards (EQS) were specified in a number of directives. Examples are the Surface Water Directive in 1975, 

the Dangerous Substances Directive of 1976, and the 

Drinking Water Directive in 1980. This period included 

quality objectives legislation on fish waters, shellfish 

waters, bathing waters, and groundwater. 

The period 1991–1998 focused more on limitations 

of particular emissions, both from point sources and 

diffuse sources. The eutrophication of waters, caused 

by an abundance of nitrates and phosphates, received 

particular attention. One of the biggest problems that 

future water protection is facing is not insufficient legislation, but the fact that basically no directive has been 

completely implemented and applied by the Member 

States. Central to this are the high public costs involved. 

For example, the EU-wide costs for the implementation 

of the Urban Waste Water Treatment Directive were 

estimated to be 150 billion euros (1994–1995 value) 

during the period of 1993–2005. However, this directive was relatively well implemented. Greater problems 

arose with the implementation of the Nitrate Directive, 

which created problems in most European countries. 

The reduction of diffuse pollution and required changes 

in agricultural production are much more difficult to 

achieve than the control of the easily identifiable sources 

of urban waste water pollution. 

Pressure for a fundamental rethinking of community water policy came to a head in mid-1995. The 

commission, which had already been considering 

the need for a more global approach to water policy, 

accepted requests from the European Parliament’s 

Environmental Committee and from the Council of 

Environmental Ministers. The commission agreed to 

produce a framework for water policy and, if appropriate, devise a legislative proposal to ensure the overall 

consistency of water policy. The draft legislation of this 

Water Framework Directive (WFD) was circulated in 

1996, with amendments processed in 1997 and 1998. 

The final text was adopted in October 2000, and the WFD 

came into force in December 2000. The directive’s overriding requirement is that the Member States ensure that 

a “good chemical status” and a “good ecological status” 

are achieved in all European waters by the end of 2015. 

Its aims are a higher quality of aquatic ecosystems and 

their environment, a sustainable use of water resources, 

and an improvement of the aquatic environment by 

reducing pollution and mitigating the impact of floods 

and droughts. To implement these objectives, river 

basin management plans have to be outlined for every 

international river basin. In the Netherlands four river 

basins have been defined: The Rhine, Meuse, Scheldt, 

and Ems. The Water Framework Directive marked a new 

stage in the harmonization and internalization of integrated water management policy. Its implementation 

also implied a more intensive network-building of all 

relevant water management actors. 

Although the WFD aspires to an integrated water 

management approach, flood management issues 

are not covered by the WFD. However, pushed by the 

extreme summer floods in 2002, the commission made a 

proposal for a Floods Directive, Reducing the Risks of 

Floods in Europe, which was adopted in 2007 and came 

into force in December 2007. The objective of the Floods 

Directive is to create obligations for Member States to 

manage the risks of floods to people, property, and the 

environment by concerted, coordinated action at river 

basin level and in coastal zones. Such provisions should 

be undertaken by all European countries in their River 

Basin Management Plans. In the coming years, a further 

integration may be expected of the ecological WFD with 

the EU Floods Directive to an integrated water resources 

management approach under the EU Common Implementation Strategy (CIS).67

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Dutch River Basins 

The four rivers entering the Netherlands: Rhine, Meuse, Scheldt, and Ems. Lower left, the 

river basin districts and the sub-basins in the Netherlands.

Rijkswaterstaat

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8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
Notwithstanding large differences among the 

various European countries, such as differences in 

geography, physical conditions, culture, institutional 

organization, and politics, this strategy successfully 

arrived at a coherent and harmonious implementation 

in accordance with the agreed-upon time scales. The key 

element is the River Basin Management Plan (RBMP) 

that Member States have to produce for each river basin 

management district. The preparation of RBMPs is an 

important area of influence for all stakeholders, because 

this is where all relevant issues for the achievement of 

the WFD objectives are negotiated. Part of this plan is the 

program of measures (PoM), which should be indicated 

for all waters at risk, to achieve the objectives of Article 4 

of the WFD in good time. The DPSIR-approach (DriverPressure-State-Impact-Response), a causal framework 

for describing the interactions between society and the 

environment, is used as a logically stepwise approach 

of driving forces (land use, industry, agriculture, etc.), 

human pressures, the “state” of the environment, the 

environmental effects, and the societal response through 

physical measures, regulations, taxes, and so on. The 

legally binding timetable with its strict deadlines and 

powerful sanctions is expected to be a valuable instrument to reach the agreed targets in good time. 

In almost all European countries the introduction of 

the WFD has placed a great deal of pressure on existing 

institutions. The WFD provides procedural rules and 

guidelines for organization, planning, and management 

at the river basin scale. Kallis and Briassoulis (2004) 

indicate how the WFD recognizes the limits of the topdown “command and control” approach and adopts a 

more flexible and cooperative implementation strategy.68

EU working groups, with participation from national 

delegates, experts, and representatives of NGOs, are 

preparing nonbinding guidance on the various implementation-related tasks, such as the identification of 

water bodies, reference conditions, environmental 

objectives, public participation, and monitoring.

The new European dimension of water management has induced changes in water management 

practices in the Netherlands. In fact, it is working with 

a number of new “rules of play.”69 The Netherlands has 

experience of many centuries in the protection of the 

country against extreme floods. During the past several 

decades, water quality, nature conservancy, and landscape ecology received increasing attention, and since 

the 1980s integrated water management has become 

a widely accepted practice. The Water Framework 

Directive builds on this by focusing on the ecological 

status of the water bodies. Furthermore, the catchment approach forms the basis for the European water 

management, and this has no long history in the Netherlands because it is situated in a delta and the basins 

of all major rivers are largely situated outside the 

country. Furthermore, in the Netherlands the commitments of the water agencies were generally based on 

agreements to work on the realization of jointly agreed 

high ambitions. Now commitments must be made on 

measurable contracted results. No large differences in 

the final results are expected, but the loss of flexibility 

should be accepted and the agreed ambitions need to 

be attuned to the new situation. 

Also for the Rijkswaterstaat, this European context 

and its “new rules of play” implies a change in its 

working practice. It has the responsibility for the 

management of the major rivers, which means that it 

concentrates on the river management between the 

dikes. However, working with the catchment approach 

means close coordination with a number of stakeholders, including the water boards and the provinces. 

It was difficult to see these major rivers as a part of 

the whole catchment, in which jointly-agreed visions, 

objectives, and measures must be defined and agreements must be reached about their real implementation. This was all the more difficult because of the 

276

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
transition from a set of rather independent regional 

divisions of the Rijkswaterstaat to a more centrally 

governed organization, where priorities must be made 

between investments in different river basins. It often 

resulted in tensions in the decision-making process 

in sub-basins at the regional level. Setting priorities at 

the national level requires the balancing of priorities of 

one river basin over another. The question then arises 

how joint agreements can be made with regional representatives of organizations in the river basin, in which 

decisions are taken at a higher (national) level. Nevertheless, these problems have been solved pragmatically during the cooperation of all concerned water 

authorities in the more than 130 regional working 

groups, in which joint proposals have been developed 

for objectives, measures, and actions to arrive at a positive status of all water bodies in such an area. In this 

way, all contributed to the jointly agreed River Basin 

Management Plans, which were sent to the European 

Commission in March 2010. 

Not surprisingly, this European cooperation was 

not restricted to the border crossing rivers and their 

catchments; also the North Sea has a long international 

history. In the North Sea a huge number of functions 

have to be fulfilled, such as shipping, fishing, recreation, oil and gas production, sand and gravel extraction, energy production by wind turbines, pipeline 

transport, and so on. The challenge is to combine such 

a large number of functions with a sustainable maintenance of ecological values. Doing so had become a 

major concern for the Directorate for the North Sea 

of the Rijkswaterstaat as well. This directorate, since 

its establishment in 1971, has been responsible for 

the maintenance of navigation channels to the ports 

of Rotterdam and Amsterdam, for the management 

of navigation on the North Sea, and for a monitoring 

network that produces data for weather forecasts, 

prediction of storm surges, and other purposes.70 The 

directorate became increasingly involved in the implementation and enforcement of international environmental agreements and regulations and the Sea Water 

Pollution act (Wet Verontreiniging Zeewater).71

Two important milestones in the 1970s are the Oslo 

Convention and The Paris Convention. A particular 

event gave rise to these agreements for protection of the 

sea area. On July 16, 1971, the Dutch ship Stella Maris

was sailing from the port of Rotterdam to dump chlorinated waste in the North Sea. Under pressure from 

public opinion and the governments of several countries, the ship returned to the port without carrying out 

her mission. On February 15, 1972, in Oslo agreement 

was reached on the Convention for the Prevention of 

Marine Pollution by Dumping from Ships and Aircraft 

(the “Oslo Convention”). The agreement came into 

force in 1978. It was felt that such an agreement must 

not be restricted to marine pollution by dumping but 

should also prevent marine pollution from discharges 

of dangerous substances from land-based sources, so 

a Convention for the Prevention of Marine Pollution 

from Land-Based Sources (the Paris Convention) was 

signed on May 4, 1974, in Paris and came into force in 

1978. Two commissions were established to administer 

these conventions: the Oslo Commission and the Paris 

Commission. In a joint meeting of the commissions in 

1992 in Paris, which was attended by the ministers of all 

concerned states and a representative of the European 

Union, a new convention was adopted for the Protection 

of the Marine Environment of the North-East Atlantic 

(the OSPAR Convention), together with a Final Declaration and an Action Plan to guide the future work of 

the OSPAR Commission, in which the Oslo and Paris 

Commissions were united. The OSPAR Convention 

came into force in 1998. Its activities concentrate on four 

main areas: protection and conservation of ecosystems 

and biological diversity, hazardous substances, radioactive substances, and eutrophication. Important steps 

277

8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
forward have been made by the international North Sea 

Ministers Conferences, which started in 1984 in Bremen. 

An example of such an important step is the adoption 

of the precautionary principle at the London Conference in 1987. Until 1995, pollution was the main issue. 

Since then, increasing attention was given to the North 

Sea fish stocks and the impact of fisheries on the North 

Sea ecosystem. Starting from an ecosystem approach, 

a framework of operative ecological quality objectives 

(EcoQOs) has been established. 

In June 2008 the European Commission adopted 

an ambitious Marine Strategy Framework Directive 

(MSFD) to protect more effectively the marine environment across Europe.72 It aims to achieve “Good Environmental Status” (GES) of the EU’s marine waters by 

2020. On September 1, 2010, the European Commission 

adopted a set of detailed criteria and indicators. Major 

research topics were defined to develop additional 

scientific understanding for assessing this GES, which 

include the effects of climate change, the impact of 

human activities, the ecosystem approach to research 

management and spatial planning, and a further development of operational oceanography and marine technology. Both through this MSFD and the OSPAR-agreements, intensive cooperation has developed between 

the countries around the North Sea. The Netherlands 

is represented by the Rijkswaterstaat as the administrator of the Dutch part of the North Sea area. At the 

strategic level, the Rijkswaterstaat was the leading actor, 

but since 2002, the Water Directorate of the Ministry of 

Transport, Public Works and Water Management (now 

the Ministry of Infrastructure and the Environment) has 

assumed this leading role. 

CONCLUSION

As described in chapter 6, the period 1900–1970 was a 

technocratic era, where the required budgets were available and civil engineers had the mandate to design their 

solutions for water problems within society. This situation changed radically since the 1970s. The economic 

decline forced the Rijkswaterstaat to work with lower 

budgets and a severe reduction in the number of 

employees. From 1980 to 1994 the number of employees 

was reduced from 13,700 to 9,700. At the same time, the 

increased environmental awareness, through which 

water systems are now seen as important ecosystems, as 

well as the unfolding democratization of Dutch society, 

had an enormous impact on water management. Water 

management problems could only be solved by an 

integrated approach, where hydraulic, environmental, 

economic, and social aspects were combined, and 

collaboration with stakeholders and the public has 

become key to solving many water problems.

The organization of the Rijkswaterstaat clearly 

had difficulties in responding to the new challenges. 

Discussions on large infrastructure projects led to 

severe criticism of the organization of the Rijkswaterstaat, notably the cost overruns of the Betuwe railroad 

route to Germany. Although other factors contributed 

to exceeding the project budget, the organization of 

the Rijkswaterstaat was often blamed in the media. 

The technocratic approach and not listening to other 

viewpoints sparked criticism as well. In regard to water 

management, this is illustrated by the Eastern Scheldt 

project and the Markerwaard reclamation project.

Particularly the Eastern Scheldt project, but also 

other discussions in the same period, contributed to a 

turning point in the organization and working methods 

of the Rijkswaterstaat, although this was generally a 

gradual development process. A number of painful reorganizations were needed. During the period 1970–2010 

the Rijkswaterstaat developed into a multidisciplinary 

organization and attempted to become more oriented 

to the public. Over the past 200 years the Rijkswaterstaat 

has proved to be a resilient organization, knowing how 

to adapt and to survive.

278

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Notwithstanding all the criticism, impressive results 

were achieved during this period, including a number 

of innovative technological projects, new methodologies, and advanced water management policies. The 

organization also managed to realize these changes in 

complex political and societal circumstances. An essential difference with the past is that implementation of 

new policies and the realization of projects are increasingly accomplished with other actors, such as the provinces, water boards, and private enterprises. Examples 

include the implementation of the Water Pollution 

Act (WVO), the construction of the Eastern Scheldt 

Barrier, the development and implementation of integrated water policies in the 1970s and 1980s, and the 

River Management Plans in the 1990s after the floods 

of 1993 and 1995, resulting in the large infrastructure 

projects Room for the River and Meuse Works. In addition, the Flood Defense Act of 1989 and the emergency 

Delta Law Major Rivers of 1995 were implemented in 

cooperation with the provinces and water boards. The 

coastal zone benefited equally from such achievements, 

such as the new policies for “dynamic preservation” of 

the coastline in the 1990s and the application of innovative sand replenishment technologies to guarantee 

a sustainable safety level and to preserve values and 

functions in the dune area. Finally, important contributions were made to the international coordination for 

the Rhine, Meuse, Scheldt, and Ems rivers, resulting, for 

example, in Rhine Action Plans and Meuse Action Plans 

and their implementation. 

In addition to the “ecological turn” and “societal turn” 

at the end of the twentieth century, the beginning of the 

twenty-first century witnessed an “organizational turn” in 

2002, as policymaking and international cooperation were 

transferred to the policy department of the ministry. After 

that, the Rijkswaterstaat underwent an intensive reorganization process, resulting in a public-oriented network 

organization. Also impressive is the “knowledge turn” in 

2007, when a large number of Rijkswaterstaat specialists 

switched to the knowledge institute Deltares.

 Notwithstanding all these “turns,” there is also a 

great deal of continuity. The basic institutional structure of water management within the Netherlands has 

hardly changed. The new Ministry of Infrastructure 

and the Environment, the Rijkswaterstaat, provinces, 

and water boards are still the crucial governmental 

actors in Dutch water management, and unlike many 

other countries, water management and water safety 

continue to be the exclusive responsibility of these 

governmental actors. Finally, in spite of the broadened 

arsenal of flood management strategies, the construction and strengthening of dikes remain the dominant 

safety strategy to date. 

279

8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
BIBLIOGRAPHIC ESSAY 

ENGLISH SOURCES

A general account of the central role of water management in Dutch society, focusing on the last decades, is 

P. Huisman, Water in the Netherlands, managing checks 

and balances (Utrecht, 2004) (see also the bibliographical 

essay in chapter 2). On the development of integrated 

water resource management, see J. Wisserhof, Matching 

research and policy in integrated water management, 

(Delft, 1994) and A. Lenschow, “Environmental Policy: 

Contending Dynamics of Policy Change,” in H. Wallace, 

W. Wallace and M. A. Pollack (eds.), Policy-Making in the 

European Union, (Oxford, 2005), pp. 305–27.

S. V. Meijerink, Conflict and Cooperation on the 

Scheldt River Basin, A case study of decision making 

on international Scheldt issues between 1967 and 

1997 (Dordrecht, 1999) presents in his Ph.D. thesis 

a framework for the analysis of policy making on 

international river issues, applied to the case of the 

river Scheldt. R. D. Wilken gives a brief overview on 

the Rhine recovery program in “The recovered Rhine 

and its history,” in T. P. Knepper (ed.), The Rhine. 

The Handbook of Environmental Chemistry 5, Water 

Pollution, (Berlin, 2006), pp. 47–87. B. Wu et al., 

(eds.), Flood Defence 2002: Proceedings of the second 

international symposium, Beijing, China, September 

10–13, 2002 (Beijing, 2002) contains a useful chapter 

on recent trends in Dutch flood management: H. T. C. 

van Stokkom and A. J. M. Smits, “Flood defense in the 

Netherlands: a new era, a new approach,” pp. 34–47. 

See also Hein T. C. van Stokkom, Antonius J. M. Smits, 

and Rob S. E. W. Leuven, “Flood Defense in The Netherlands: A New Era, a New Approach,” in Water International 30/1 (2005), pp. 76–87. On the implementation of the Room for the River program, see M. van den 

Brink’s Ph.D. thesis Rijkswaterstaat on the horns of a 

dilemma (Delft, 2009).

DUTCH SOURCES

Informative introductions to Dutch environmental 

history are J. Cramer, De groene golf: geschiedenis en 

toekomst van de Nederlandse milieubeweging (Utrecht, 

1989) and J. L. van Zanden and S. W. Verstegen, Groene 

geschiedenis van Nederland (The Hague, 1993). On the 

environmental movement in the 1960s and 1970s, see 

E. Tellegen and J. Willems, Milieu-akties in Nederland

(Amsterdam, 1978).

On the development of integrated water resource 

management, see L. C. Grijns and J. Wisserhof, Ontwikkelingen in integraal waterbeheer. Verkenning van 

beleid, beheer en onderzoek (Delft, 1992), and the 

inaugural lecture of W. van Leussen, Leven met water, 

vermaatschappelijking van het waterbeheer: consequenties voor de civiel ingenieur en voor waterbeheerorganisaties (Enschede, 2002).

The Rhine pollution process is the subject of a very 

useful Ph.D. thesis: C. Dieperink, Tussen zout en zalm. 

Lessen uit de ontwikkeling van het regime inzake de 

Rijnvervuiling (Amsterdam, 1997). Marcel de Wit, Van 

regen tot Maas. Grensoverschrijdend waterbeheer in 

droge en natte tijden (Diemen, 2008) is a clearly written 

account on the Meuse catchment, providing a rich 

amount of information on geological, geographical, 

hydrological, and institutional aspects, and focusing on 

recent developments.

On the Eastern Scheldt Barrier, a hallmark in 

ecological engineering, a few valuable books are available. R. Antonisse gives a lot of technical information 

about the Eastern Scheldt Barrier in his useful sketch 

De kroon op het Deltaplan (Amsterdam/Brussels, 

1985). D. F. Westerheijden, Schuiven in de Oosterschelde: besluitvorming rond de Oosterschelde 1973–

1976 (Enschede, 1988) is a Ph.D. thesis focusing on the 

decision-making process. 

On the environmentalist protests against the 

planned Eastern Scheldt closure and the ecological 

280

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
open barrier redesign, see Paul de Schipper, De slag 

om de Oosterschelde (Amsterdam/Antwerp, 2008). Alex 

van Heezik presents a vivid and detailed account on the 

Eastern Scheldt project in De Kering. Over de bouwers 

van de stormvloedkering Oosterschelde (Diemen, 2011).

On the Markerwaard project, see H. J. M. Goverde, 

Macht over de Markerruimte (Amsterdam/Nijmegen, 

1987). The Maeslant Barrier project is covered in BMK 

Bouwkombinatie Maeslantkering et al. (eds.), Sluitstuk van de Deltawerken: Stormvloedkering Nieuwe 

Waterweg (Rotterdam, 1997).

Recent developments in the Rijkswaterstaat organization are portrayed in M. Metze, Veranderend getij, 

Rijkswaterstaat in crisis (Amsterdam, 2010), a critical 

account on the major organizational changes in the 

Rijkswaterstaat since 2003. 

281

8 Environmentalism, Flood Safety, and Europeanization of Policy
1 Website http://www.helpdeskwater.nl (in Dutch).

2 The adoption of Christiaan Brunings “Plan tot 

beheeringhe van de Waterstaat in de Bataafse Republiek” on 

May 24, 1798, is considered the birth of the Rijkswaterstaat. 

More details can be found in chapter 2.

3 Toon Bosch and Willem van der Ham , Twee eeuwen 

Rijkswaterstaat (1798 – 1998) (Zaltbommel: Europese Bibliotheek, 1998).

4 K. d’Angremond, P. Huisman, T. de Jong, G. J. Schiereck 

and W. Thissen (eds.) (1998), Water tovenaars, Delftse ideeën 

voor nog 200 jaar Rijkswaterstaat (Rotterdam: Beta Imagination 

Publishers, Rotterdam, 1998).

5 H. M. Oudshoorn (ed.) (1999), Sustainable Development of Deltas. Proceedings international conference at the 

occasion of 200 year Directorate-General for Public Works 

and Water Management, Amsterdam, The Netherlands, 23–27 

November 1998 (Delft: Delft University Press, 1999). 

6 J. R. Hoogland, Ingenieur van den Waterstaat. Especially chapter 1.12 “Een krimpende organisatie” (‘s Gravenhage: Rijkswaterstaat, 2010).

7 More details of this process can be found in Rijkswaterstaat, Ondernemingsplan. Een nieuw perspectief voor 

Rijkswaterstaat. Doorpakken – wel degelijk (Den Haag: Rijkswaterstaat, 2004).

8 An analysis of these changes of Rijkswaterstaat at the 

beginning of the 21st century is given by Margo van den Brink, 

Rijkswaterstaat on the horns of a dilemma (Delft: Eburon, 

2009), especially chapter 5.

9 Jaarbericht Rijkswaterstaat 1991 (Zoetermeer: Rijkswaterstaat, 1992); Jaarbericht Rijkswaterstaat 1994 (Den Haag: 

Rijkswaterstaat, 1995).

10 Rijkswaterstaat , Ondernemingsplan. Agenda 2012

(Den Haag: Rijkswaterstaat, 2008).

11 Commissie-Wijffels, De kracht van directe 

verbindingen (Den Haag, 2004).

12 www.rijkswaterstaat.nl/wmen. In English: 

www.rijkswaterstaat.nl/en.

13 D. Meadows, De grenzen aan de groei, rapport van de 

Club van Rome (Utrecht/Antwerpen: Het Spectrum, 1972).

14 E. Tellegen and J. Willems, Milieu-akties in Nederland

(Amsterdam: De Trommel, 1978); C. R. Grimbergen, R. Huibers, 

D. van der Peijl, Amelisweerd: de weg van de meeste weerstand

(Rotterdam: Ordeman, 1983).

15 C. Disco, “Remaking ‘Nature’: The Ecological Turn 

in Dutch Water Management,” Science, Technology, & Human 

Values 27, no. 2 (2002): 206–35; S. V. Meijerink, “Understanding 

policy stability and change, The interplay of advocacy coalitions and epistemic communities, windows of opportunity, 

and Dutch coastal flooding policy 1945–2003,” Journal of European Public Policy 12, no. 6 (2005): 1060–77.

16 Disco, “Remaking ‘Nature’”, 206–35.

17 Ibid.

18 Van den Brink, Rijkswaterstaat on the horns of a 

dilemma; M. Metze, Veranderend getij. Rijkswaterstaat in crisis

(Amsterdam: Balans, 2010).

19 Metze, Veranderend getij; Van den Brink, Rijkswaterstaat on the horns of a dilemma. 

20 W. E. Bijker, “The Oosterschelde Storm Surge Barrier, 

A Test Case for Dutch Water Technology, Management, and 

Politics,” Technology and Culture 43, no. 3 (2002): 569–84; 

Disco, “Remaking ‘Nature,’” 206–35; D. F. Westerheijden, 

Schuiven in de Oosterschelde, Besluitvorming rond the Oosterschelde 1973–1976 (Enschede: Universiteit Twente, 1988).

21 Bijker, “The Oosterschelde Storm Surge Barrier”, 

569–84; Disco, “Remaking ‘Nature,’” 206–35; Meijerink, 

“Understanding policy stability,” 1060–77; Westerheijden, 

Schuiven in de Oosterschelde.

22 Disco, “Remaking ‘Nature,’” 206–35.

23 Alex van Heezik, De kering (Diemen: Veen Magazines, 2011); R. Antonisse, De kroon op het Deltaplan, stormvloedkering Oosterschelde, het grootste waterbouwproject aller 

tijden (Amsterdam: Eslevier, 1985).

24 H. J. M. Goverde, Macht over de Markerruimte

(Amsterdam/ Nijmegen: Koninklijk Nederlands Aardrijkskundig Genootschap/Katholieke Universiteit, 1987).

25 Waterhuishouding in Nederland (Den Haag: Staatsuitgeverij, 1968).

26 Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat en de Unie van 

Waterschappen, Bestrijding van de watervervuiling. 25 jaar 

WVO (‘s Gravenhage: Unie van Waterschappen, 1995).

ENDNOTES

282
27 J. W. Pulles, Beleidsanalyse voor de waterhuishouding in Nederland: PAWN (Den Haag: Staatsuitgeverij, 

1985); L. C. Grijns and J. Wisserhof, Ontwikkelingen in 

integraal waterbeheer, Verkenning van beleid, beheer en 

onderzoek (Delft: Delft University Press, 1992); J. Wisserhof, 

Matching research and policy in integrated water management (Delft: Delft University Press, 1994).

28 H. L. F. Saeijs, Omgaan met water. Naar een integraal 

waterbeleid (Den Haag: Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, 

1985); Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, Derde Nota Waterhuishouding: water voor nu en later (Den Haag: SDU, 1989-

1990).

29 W. van Leussen, Leven met water, vermaatschappelijking van het waterbeheer- consequenties voor de civiel ingenieur 

en voor waterbeheerorganisaties (Enschede: Universiteit 

Twente, 2002).

30 P. Glasbergen, “Waterschappen en integraal waterbeheer”, in: J. C. N. Raadschelders en Th. A. J. Toonen, Waterschappen in Nederland, een bestuurskundige verkenning van 

de institutionele ontwikkeling (Hilversum: Verloren, 1993), 

133–47; P. Huisman, Water in the Netherlands (Utrecht: Netherlands Hydrological Society, 2006), 81–83.

31 Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, Vierde Nota 

Waterhuishouding. Regeringsbeslissing (Den Haag: Ministerie 

van Verkeer en Waterstaat, 1998); Commissie Waterbeheer 21e

eeuw. Waterbeleid voor de 21e eeuw. Geef water de ruimte en 

aandacht die het verdient (Den Haag: Commissie Waterbeheer 

21e eeuw, 2000).

32 Ministerie vanVerkeer en Waterstaat, Ministerie 

van Volkshuisvesting, Ruimtelijke Ordening en Milieubeheer, 

Ministerie van Landbouw, Natuur en Voedselkwaliteit, Nationaal Waterplan. 2009–2015. (‘s Gravenhage: Ministerie van 

Verkeer en Waterstaat, 2009).

33 Deltacommissie, Rapport Deltacommissie. Eindverslag en Interimadvies. Deel I–VI. (‘s-Gravenhage: Staatsdrukkerij en Uitgeverijbedrijf, 1960).

34 Commissie Rivierdijken, Rapport Commissie Rivierdijken (Den Haag: s.n., 1977). (Rapport Commissie Becht).

35 Commissie Toetsing Uitgangspunten Rivierdijken, 

Toetsing Uitgangspunten Rivierdijkversterkingen. Advies van de 

Commissie (Den Haag: Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, 

1993) (Rapport Commissie Boertien I).

36 Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, Deltaplan 

Grote Rivieren (Den Haag: Rijkswaterstaat, 1995).

37 P. P. J. Driessen, A. J. J. de Gier, Uit Nood geboren. Een 

bestuurlijk-juridische evaluatie van de dijkversterkingen en 

kadenaanleg onder de Deltawet grote rivieren (‘s-Gravenhage: 

VUGA, 1997).

38 Commissie Watersnood Maas. De Maas terug! Advies 

van de Commissie Watersnood Maas (Maastircht: Rijkswaterstaat Directie Limburg, 1994) (Commissie Boertien II).

39 Rijkswaterstaat Directie Limburg, De Maas slaat weer 

toe. Verslag hoogwater Maas januari/februari 1995 (Maastricht 

1995); W. van Leussen, U. Boot, H. Verkerk. “Civil Engineering 

Aspects of the “Meuse Works”: a Restoration Program of the 

River Meuse,” J. Kongeter (ed.), Verkehrswasserbau. Proceedings Internationale Wasserbau Symposium Aachen 2000

(Aachen: RWTH, 2000), 117–44. 

40 W. van Leussen, “Maaswerken: van sectoraal plan 

naar adaptief proces,” A. Driesprong, M. V. van Ginkel, 

H. G. Heegstra,W. H. M. A. Pluimakers (eds.), Lex aquarum, 

Liber amicorum. Opstellen over waterstaat, waterstaatswetgeving en wetgeving, opgedragen aan mr. J. H. A. Teulings (Den 

Haag: Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, 2000), 30–52.

41 I. Poortvliet, “Wetgeving inzake de waterkeringszorg,” 

A. van Hall (ed.) Waterbeheerswetgeving (Lelystad: Koninklijke 

Vermande, 1997), 195–249.

42 Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat (Den Haag 

2009). The English version of this document can be found on 

http://www.helpdeskwater.nl/wet-_en_regelgeving/wetten/

waterwet/engelstalige/dutch-water-act/?ActItmIdt=29167.

43 Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, Hydraulische Randvoorwaarden 2001 voor het toetsen van primaire 

waterkeringen (Den Haag: Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, 2001).

44 Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, Hydraulische Randvoorwaarden 2006 voor het toetsen van primaire 

waterkeringen (Den Haag: Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, 2007).

45 Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat, De 

spankracht van ons rivierenland (Lelystad: RIZA, 2002); 

Rijkswaterstaat Directie Limburg, Integrale verkenningen 

Maas – IVM (Maastricht: Rijkswaterstaat, 2001). 

283
46 G. P. van de Ven, Man-made Lowlands: History of 

Water Management and Land Reclamation in the Netherlands

(Utrecht: Uitgeverij Matrijs, 2004), 410–11.

47 Jim Keulemans, “Dure en duurzame zeewering,” 

Magazine voor de Provincie Zuid Holland, 5 nr 6 (maart/april 

1989) and Staten-Generaal Digitaal, 1989-1990, kamerstuk 

20317, ondernummers 13 en 14.

48 More details on the Maeslant Barrier can be found on 

www.keringhuis.nl, both in English and Dutch.

49 H. T. C. van Stokkom, A. J. M. Smits, “Flood defense 

in the Netherlands: a new era, a new approach,” in: B. Wu et 

al. (eds.) Flood Defence 2002 (New York: Science Press, 2002), 

34–47.

50 M. A. Wiering and P. J. Driessen, “Beyond the Art of 

Diking: Interactive Policy on River Management in The Netherlands,” Water Policy, no. 3 (2001): 283–96; S. V. Meijerink, 

“Rivierbeheer als leerproces. Een tussentijdse evaluatie van het 

procesontwerp voor de PKB Ruimte voor de Rivier,” Bestuurswetenschappen 58, no. 5 (2004): 406–27. 

51 Werkgroep Hoogwater Maas (WHM). Actieplan Hoogwater Maas (s.l, s.n., 1998) Frankrijk, Waals Gewest, Vlaams 

Gewest, Nederland. Francis Habye, Namur; Internationale 

Kommission zum Schutze des Rheins (IKSR), Aktionsplan 

Hochwasser (Koblenz: s.n., 1998).

52 Commissie Luteijn, Gecontroleerd Overstromen. 

Advies van de Commissie Noodoverloopgebieden (Den Haag: 

Projectsecretariaat Commissie Noodoverloopgebieden, 2002).

53 D. Roth, J. Warner, M. Winnubst, Een Noodverband tegen Hoog Water. Waterkennis, beleid en politiek rond 

noodoverloopgebieden (Wageningen: Wageningen UR, 2006).

54 Delta Commissie, Samen werken met water: Een 

land dat leeft, bouwt aan zijn toekomst. Bevindingen van de 

Deltacommissie 2008 (Den Haag: s.n., 2008). English version on 

http://www.deltacommissie.com/en/advies.

55 Ministerie van Verkeer en Waterstaat , Nationaal 

Water Plan 2009–2015 (Den Haag: Ministerie van Verkeer en 

Waterstaat, 2009). More information on the website 

www.nationaalwaterplan.nl.

56 M. van Koningsveld and J. P. M. Mulder (2004) 

“Sustainable Coastal Policy. Developments in The Netherlands. A Systematic Approach Revealed,” Journal of Coastal 

Research, 20 (2) (2004): 375–85.

57 See endnote 55.

58 Rijkswaterstaat et al., The Sand Motor. Pilot project for 

natural coastal protection. Report. (Den Haag: Rijkswaterstaat, 

2013). For more information see: www.rws.nl/zandmotor; 

www.ecoshape.nl; www.dezandmotor.nl.

59 M. Cioc, The Rhine. An eco-biography, 1815–2000

(Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 2002). 

Chapter 7 “A River Restored?”: 173–201.

60 C. Dieperink, Tussen zout en zalm. Lessen uit 

de ontwikkeling van het regime inzake de Rijnvervuiling

(Amsterdam: Thesis Publishers, 1997).

61 Cioc, The Rhine, 186. 

62 ICPR, Rhein-Atlas: Ökologie und Hochwasserschutz

(Koblenz: Internationale Kommission zum Schutze des Rheins 

gegen Verunreinigung, 1998). 

63 R. D. Wilken, “The recovered Rhine and its history,” 

T. P. Knepper (ed.), The Rhine. The Handbook of Environmental 

Chemistry 5. Water Pollution (Berlin/Heidelberg: Spring, 2006) 

47–87.

64 N. Nugent, The Government and Politics of the European Union (Durham: Duke University Press, 2006).

65 More information can be found on the official 

website “Gateway to the European Union”: http://europa.eu/

index_en.htm.

66 A. Lenschow, “Environmental Policy. Contending 

Dynamics of Policy Change,” H. Wallace, W. Wallace, 

M. A. Pollack (eds.), Policy-Making in the European Union

(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 305–27.

67 European Commission, Common Implementation 

Strategy (CIS) for the Water Framework Directive (2000/60/

EC). Strategic Document, as agreed by the Water Directors 

under Swedish presidency (Brussels: s.n., 2001).

68 G. Kallis, H. Briassoulis, “Integration of the EU water 

and development policies: vision or plausible expectation?” 

Paper to the Berlin Conference on the Human Dimensions of 

Global Environmental Change. “Greening of Policies – Interlinkages and Policy Integration,” Berlin, December 2004. http://

web.fu-berlin.de/ffu/akumwelt/bc2004/download.htm.

69 W. van Leussen, “Toepassing in de praktijk van de 

Europese Kaderrichtlijn Water is: leren omgaan met nieuwe 

spelregels,” Studiecentrum voor Bedrijf en Overheid, Proceedings Nationale Conferentie Water Beheer, chapter 5 (Leiden: 

Studiecentrum voor Bedrijf en Overheid, 2004). 

284
70 Bosch and Van der Ham, Twee eeuwen Rijkswaterstaat, 279–80.

71 Ibid.

72 More information at the website: http://ec.europa.

eu/environment/marine/eu-coast-and-marine-policy/

marine-strategy-framework-directive/index_en.htm.

285

9

Major societal changes in the United States in the 1960s profoundly influenced the direction of 

water resources development for the rest of the century. 

In particular, the rise of environmentalism and the 

anti-war and civil rights movements directly challenged 

traditional deference to the existing top-down, bureaucratic, and scientific responses to economic growth and 

social problems. A sharpened environmental consciousness resulted in part from a shift in societal values from a 

desire for more material goods to a concern for “quality 

of life.” The impact of books such as Rachel Carson’s 

Silent Spring (1962) with revelations about the effects of 

pesticides on ecosystems were highly visible examples 

of this perspective. As awareness grew regarding the 

environmental costs of construction projects for water 

resources—multiple-purpose dams and major irrigation projects—resistance to development undertakings 

emerged across the country.1

After 1964, the prevailing social and political 

consensus of the 1950s was challenged by urban race 

riots in Detroit, Los Angeles, and other cities and 

growing antiwar protests against America’s involvement 

in the Vietnam War, especially on college campuses. 

The 1968 assassinations of civil rights leader Martin 

Luther King and of Robert F. Kennedy, brother of the late 

president, along with the decision by President Lyndon 

Johnson not to seek reelection, added to the tumultuous political atmosphere. The ferment over feminist 

issues, gay rights, and the growing antiwar sentiment all 

heightened the sense of social flux and contributed to a 

widespread loss of faith in traditional political systems. 

During this time of dramatic social upheaval, Congress 

pushed through major environmental and civil rights 

legislation. These laws and related court cases affecting 

water resources development are discussed below.

Traditional water resources activities, such as 

multiple-purpose dam building, reached a peak in 

the U.S. in the 1960s, and the Corps and other federal 

water resources agencies faced new challenges. In 

particular, budget considerations and environmental 

concerns led the Corps to reconsider its narrowly 

focused engineering approach to water resources 

development. During this busiest decade for water 

project completion, the Corps built 149 dams, and the 

Soil Conservation Service constructed more than 2,000 

small watershed dams. In fact, 50 percent of the Corps’ 

THE U.S. MOVES TOWARDS MORE 

INTEGRATIVE APPROACHES TO WATER 

RESOURCES MANAGEMENT, 1970–2010

William F. Willingham

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water resources projects built from 1900 to 1989 were 

constructed between 1960 and 1980. Building on this 

scale raised questions of cost and need.2

Presidents Eisenhower in the 1950s, Carter in the 

1970s, and Reagan in the 1980s attempted to limit federal 

investment in water resources development on the 

grounds that such projects often represented wasteful 

expenditures or, if justified, ought to be funded at least in 

part by the local interests that most benefitted from them. 

President Carter also questioned the environmental 

damage caused by many water projects. Efforts to restrain 

costs or weed out questionable projects through refinements of the cost-benefits analysis that all federal projects underwent gained emphasis through the executive 

branch push for cost-sharing requirements mandated in 

the 1980s. As a result of mounting budgetary and environmental concerns, coupled with disarray among the ranks 

of water resources project supporters, Congress failed 

to pass any major water resources project authorization 

measures between 1976 and 1986. When Congress finally 

enacted the Water Resources Development Act of 1986 

(WRDA-86), the law imposed major policy changes for 

funding the 377 projects in the measure. Implementation of cost-sharing also required a fundamental shift 

in the way the Corps managed its water resources projects. These changes in project planning, funding, and 

management are discussed below, as well as a variety of 

environmental concerns and the impact of these environmental concerns on the Corps’ traditional navigation 

and flood-control missions.

PROJECT PLANNING AND 

ENVIRONMENTAL ISSUES

As public concern for the environment grew during the 

1960s, the Corps and other federal water resources agencies responded by giving greater attention to environmental values in the planning, construction, and operation of their projects. The initial stirrings of change came 

in the early 1960s when Congress passed new interagency 

standards for water project planning. The new approach 

required consideration of a broader mix of views prior to 

the formulation of federal water project alternatives. By 

the end of the decade, Congress had adopted sweeping 

environmental legislation, such as the Wilderness Act of 

1964 and the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) 

of 1970, which forever changed water resources planning.3

In the early 1960s, both Congress and the Kennedy 

administration formulated new water resources planning 

legislation. At the president’s request for a review of the 

standards for formulating and evaluating water resources 

projects, Congress debated Senate Document 97 (1962), 

which set new interagency standards for water project 

planning. The new requirements mandated that the views 

of all parties—federal, state, and local entities—be considered in the formulation of water projects. The measure 

favored multiple-purpose undertakings and required 

full consideration of broad-based, river basin plans. 

The new approach directed that recreation and water 

quality be treated with equal weight as project benefits, 

along with the traditional purposes of navigation, hydropower, flood control, irrigation, water supply, and fish 

and wildlife enhancement. In 1965, Congress passed the 

Water Resources Planning Act, which authorized a Water 

Resources Council made up of federal agency representatives charged with establishing river basin commissions 

to coordinate water resources development. The commissions, established by the president and composed of both 

state and federal members, were to prepare and keep 

up-to-date a comprehensive and coordinated joint plan 

for federal, state, interstate, local, and nongovernmental 

development of water and related resources.

Although the 1965 Water Resources Planning Act 

encouraged state participation in river basin planning, 

final authority remained with Congress and the executive branch. In practice, representatives of the federal 

water agencies dominated the river basin commissions, 

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and the commissions had no independent regulatory or 

enforcement power. The federal agencies had congressionally mandated missions and possessed the technical 

expertise in the field of water resources development. 

The Supreme Court in Arizona v. California (1963) 

confirmed that the federal government had ultimate 

authority over water resources planning. In that case, 

the court held that Congress had the final authority to 

distribute water from a federally constructed reservoir 

without consulting state laws. Even though the federal 

government retained final say in water resources planning involving federal funds, budgetary limitations led 

some in Congress to encourage cost-sharing with states 

and local entities. The states, localities, and user interests, however, were less enthusiastic about it.

Besides pushing river basin planning, the Water 

Resources Council reviewed the procedures guiding 

water resources planning. Influenced by the mandates 

of National Environmental Policy Act and congressional 

intent expressed in the Flood Control Act of 1970, the 

council recommended that project planning seek to 

enhance four major interests: national economic development (NED), quality of the environment, social wellbeing, and regional development, with all four interests 

treated equally. The council published a revised set of 

planning objectives in the Federal Register in September 

1973. These objectives, called the “Principles and Standards for Planning Water and Related Land Resources” 

(“Principles and Standards”) placed environmental 

concerns on an equal footing with NED as the two objectives for water resources planning. Planners, however, 

also had to assess the effects of project alternatives on 

regional development and social well-being.

In the late 1970s, the Carter administration 

attempted further refinement of the planning process. 

The new “Principles and Standards”—while retaining 

President John F. Kennedy at the dedication of the multipurpose Greers Ferry Dam on the 

Little Red River in Arkansas, October 1963

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
the co-equal objectives of enhanced NED and environmental quality—emphasized that plan formulation was a dynamic process, required that at least one 

alternative consider a nonstructural approach, and 

expected planners to integrate water conservation as 

an element of project planning. In 1983, the Reagan 

administration replaced Carter-era regulations with 

the “Principles and Guidelines.” The new approach 

changed the focus to a single NED objective rather than 

two co-equal objectives. To be sure, an acceptable NED 

plan had to be consistent with all environmental laws 

and regulations, but the new guidance gave economic 

development greater standing than environmental 

quality. Environmental groups protested the downgrading of the environmental quality objectives. The 

Corps’ struggle throughout the 1980s to refine its water 

resources planning process was further complicated 

by the new project cost-sharing requirements imposed 

by the enactment of the WRDA-86, passed under pressure from the Reagan administration. The first omnibus 

water act in a decade, it required non-federal interests 

to contribute a share of project costs and pay 50 percent 

of feasibility study costs. WRDA-86 also emphasized 

the need to quantify and assess the regional and local 

economic value of water resources projects. Subsequent 

WRDAs have continued the evolution of the Corps’ 

water resources planning process.

While the executive branch and the Corps, in 

particular, struggled to update water resources planning, budget-minded members of Congress continued 

to push cost-sharing and to raise environmental 

concerns. In 1968, Congress created a National Water 

Commission. Five years later, it recommended that 

“insofar as is practicable and administratively feasible, 

the identifiable beneficiaries of project services should 

bear appropriate shares of development and operating 

President Ronald Reagan signing the Water Resources Development Act of 1986

White House

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
costs through systems of pricing or user charges.” The 

commission believed that such a policy would “provide 

incentives for the selection of efficient projects that will 

lead to progress toward water resources policies that 

are in harmony with other national programs and policies.” In 1968, the Water Resources Council had initiated 

its own study of cost-sharing and began a broad review 

of water resources project evaluation guidelines. The 

“Principles and Standards” came out of this and became 

the basic framework for water resources planning for the 

next ten years. Although the number of Corps projects 

would decline beginning in the 1970s, efforts at costsharing and more stringent methods of project evaluation were not the cause. Rather, this reduction came in 

response to budgetary constraints and environmental 

opposition. The adoption of NEPA had imposed major 

new requirements on the Corps and other federal water 

resources agencies. This groundbreaking legislation 

directed federal agencies to prepare an environmental 

impact statement (EIS) for every 

project, existing or future. This document evaluated all environmental 

aspects of a proposed federal action, 

assessed potential adverse effects, 

considered the alternatives to the 

proposed undertaking, and sought 

input from affected agencies, organizations, and concerned individuals.4

The Corps recognized that 

it faced “an apparent dilemma,” 

as a November 1970 report from 

its Institute for Water Resources 

(IWR) noted, “We are still called 

upon to meet increasing demands 

for resources to support a higher 

standard of living for more Americans. And now we are also being 

called upon to conserve those same 

resources in order to preserve the quality of the natural 

environment in which our people live.” The report went 

on to confidently assert that “these apparently conflicting 

demands need not be mutually exclusive . . . . We can 

continue to serve the American people effectively and 

economically and at the same time meet the requirements of a quality environment.”5

At the headquarters level, the Corps prepared to 

meet the new environmental challenges. In April 1970, 

Chief of Engineers Lt. Gen. Frederick J. Clarke formed 

an Environmental Advisory Board composed of six 

scientific experts to provide policy and practical advice 

on environmental problems and issues related to Corps 

projects and programs. The new board was unique 

among federal agency environmental boards in that it 

restricted membership to professional environmentalists. The creation of the Environmental Advisory Board 

was only the initial step in the Corps’ efforts to institutionalize environmental views.6

In response to growing environmental concern, the Corps hired more 

specialists in environmental fields, such as botany.

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
As part of its internal response to NEPA, the Corps 

hired more professionals with skills in various technical 

and social science fields related to the environment. 

Between 1966 and 1970, the Corps recruited 26 landscape architects, so that by 1970, it had 101 such specialists. In addition, the Corps brought in more biologists, 

foresters, agronomists, and others trained in various 

environmental sciences, bringing the total for all such 

specialists to 287 by the beginning of the 1970s.7

In June 1970, General Clarke announced that as the 

Corps carried out its civil works mission it would “seek to 

balance the environment and development needs of our 

Nation.” He further pledged that in seeking best solutions to engineering issues, “environmental values will 

be given full consideration along with economic, social 

and technical factors.” Clarke also promised the public 

an expanded role in establishing the Corps’ objectives 

and plans for projects: “we will encourage as broad 

public and private participation as practical in defining 

environmental objectives and in eliciting viewpoints 

of what the public wants and expects as well as what 

it is projected to need.” Additionally, he committed to 

“provide governmental and nongovernmental agencies 

and the public with timely information on opportunities, consequences, benefits and costs . . . before making 

recommendations based on a balanced evaluation of the 

social, economic, monetary and environmental consideration involved.” These goals set a high level of expectations for the Corps’ integration of environmental values 

into its water resources projects.8

A year later, General Clarke reiterated the Corps’ 

commitment to accommodate, to the fullest extent 

possible, the environmental values related to its projects. He instructed all elements of the Corps that they 

were to “preserve unique and important ecological, 

aesthetic, and cultural values of our national heritage; 

conserve and use wisely the natural resources of our 

Nation for the benefit of present and future generations; 

enhance, maintain, and restore the natural and manmade environment in terms of its productivity, variety, 

spaciousness, beauty, and other measures of quality; 

create new opportunities for the American people to 

use and enjoy their environment.”9

As the Corps strove to meet its new environmental 

responsibilities, General Clarke expressed confidence in 

the agency’s ability to handle the challenge. He noted, 

“It is clear that the strength of the Corps has always 

resided in its ability to adapt to change.” The agency 

had, however, its skeptics and detractors. To journalist 

Elizabeth Drew in the early 1970s, for example, the 

Corps seemed impervious to change: “As times change 

so do the nation’s needs and priorities. But the Army 

Corps of Engineers just keeps rolling along as it has for 

decades, working one of the most powerful lobbies in 

Washington, winning more than $1 billion a year from 

[C]ongress to straighten rivers, build dams, and dig 

canals that frequently serve only narrow interests and 

too often inflict the wrong kinds of change on the environment.” Other observers noted that the Corps had 

begun to show signs of changing its approach to planning water resources projects and had become more 

receptive to the idea of active public participation in its 

planning and evaluation process, especially with regard 

to environmental issues.10

Traditionally, the Corps had provided for some 

level of public input on its proposed projects. Such 

involvement typically came through public hearings 

held during the preauthorization stage. In the new era of 

NEPA, critics saw this process as inadequate for determining community sentiment. Although the old-style 

public hearing might meet the letter of the procedural 

requirements of EIS preparation and other new environmental regulations and guidelines, it clearly missed the 

spirit of informed and continuing public involvement in 

project development. In fact, Seattle District Engineer 

Col. Howard Sargent, Jr. observed in the early 1970s:

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
The traditional way engineers go about planning a public works project leaves little room 

for the citizen to be heard. Engineers would 

first define the “problem,” then “objectives” or 

“goals.” Finally, they would develop “the Plan” 

to attain those goals. Of course, eventually the 

public gets a look at “the Plan” in public meetings or hearings. Presentation is oral. And a 

thick study document is available for inspection 

should some persistent citizen have the energy 

to labor through it. Often times, engineers do 

not show the public alternative plans; and if 

they do, written copies are not available for 

public scrutiny. Questioned about alternatives, 

the planner is likely to answer: “We looked at 

other ways to solve the problem, but there was 

little support for any of them.”11

In recognition of the situation described by Colonel 

Sargent, the Corps took the first steps to creating a 

meaningful program of public participation. At that 

time, the Corps’ policy began requiring three public 

meetings throughout the early phase of project planning. The Corps took the next step in February 1971 

when it ordered division and district planning and 

public affairs chiefs to attend a training course in “Public 

Participation in Water Resource Planning.” In June 1971, 

IWR offered the divisions and districts technical assistance on new approaches to public participation. The 

Seattle District led the way by adopting a program of 

hearings, workshops, and information dissemination 

concerning district studies and projects. Other districts 

also introduced such practices in the early 1970s.12

The Corps’ ongoing struggle to internalize environmental ethics and respond to NEPA had a significant 

impact on the organization. By 1974, the Corps of Engineers had filed 950 EISs nationwide, and from necessity, 

the effort occurred in stages. From January 1970 to April 

1971, the Corps evaluated its work and decided that 

almost its entire civil works program had significant effects 

on the environment and that most projects required an 

EIS. In May 1971, the Corps began updating its regulations 

and guidelines to reflect the need to complete an EIS for all 

existing as well as new projects within three years, but by 

1972 the Corps realized that it would take more than three 

years to clear its backlog of project impact statements. As 

the Corps worked to identify and eliminate the adverse 

environmental effects of its projects, by 1973, fully onethird of the five hundred projects under or near construction were modified to address environmental considerations. In 1975, a study of environmental compliance 

issues rated the Corps as the best among federal agencies 

in its procedural compliance with NEPA.13

NEPA-based litigation by environmental groups in 

the early 1970s helped to hasten changes in the Corps’ 

environmental policies and procedures. In October 1973, 

Frederick J. Clarke (1915–2002), who became 

Chief of Engineers in 1969

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
the Corps was facing thirty environmental lawsuits. The 

Corps responded by improving the technical quality of 

its EISs between 1973 and 1976 so that they could withstand the scrutiny of federal courts. The Corps’ scientific 

specialists reduced the scientific jargon in the EISs, incorporated more environmentally focused alternatives, and 

created a more inclusive decision-making process. After 

the mid-1970s, with the Corps’ efforts to improve its EISs, 

the number of environmental lawsuits against the agency 

declined. It helped that, as environmental groups worked 

more closely with the Corps, they could observe the 

agency’s commitment to protecting the environment and 

complying with new environmental laws and regulations.14

In the 1980s and 1990s, the Corps continued to step 

up its environmental commitment. The legal impetus 

for the Corps’ institutionalization of an ethic committed 

to environmentally friendly water resources projects 

was reflected in several congressionally enacted Water 

Resources Development Acts. These measures reflected 

a growing recognition by Congress and the Corps of the 

nation’s environmental concerns and a sincere determination to consider those concerns in every phase of 

water resources project development. Section 1135 of 

WRDA-86 authorized the Corps to review its completed 

water resources projects to determine whether they 

should be modified to improve environmental quality. 

As the Corps’ traditional engineering projects had 

altered existing watershed conditions and features to 

promote economic development, some of the damaging 

results of past projects were mitigated by restoring areas 

to prior watershed condition through the Continuing 

Authorities Program (CAP). Furthermore, WRDA-1990 

directed the Corps to include environmental protection 

as one of its primary missions. Subsequently, in 1992 

and 1996, Congress further refined and expanded the 

Corps’ environmental reach by authorizing it to protect, 

restore, and create aquatic and ecologically related 

habitat, including wetlands. 15

A public hearing on two reservoir projects in the Sacramento District, 1968

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
In June 1990, Assistant Secretary of the Army 

for Civil Works Robert Page issued a statement that 

provided programmatic structure to the Corps’ various 

environmental activities, including undertakings 

under Section 1135. Page emphasized that environmental initiatives should be pursued within existing 

expertise and authorities and that the Corps should 

attempt to reverse environmental degradation caused 

by its existing projects. Accordingly, changing social 

values required the Corps to review the operations of 

its projects (more than five hundred by the early 1990s) 

to decide if new environmental considerations should 

alter the operating systems. The Corps’ environmental 

focus embraced the full range of its mission, from 

single-purpose projects such as flood control, dams, 

and navigation works, and the handling of dredged 

materials to multiple-purpose structures.16

In February 1990, Chief of Engineers Lt. Gen. 

Henry (Hank) Hatch, also weighed in with his commitment to the new environmental focus growing out of 

the opportunity provided by Section 1135. In a memorandum to the entire Corps of Engineers, “Strategic 

Direction for Environmental Engineering,” General 

Hatch went further than the assistant secretary, challenging the Corps to make the new concerns for the 

environment a central part of its business. According to 

Lieutenant General Hatch, the environmental aspects 

of projects were to have equal standing with engineering and economic considerations. Moreover, he 

did not limit the environmental focus to existing Corps 

projects but indicated that new authority would be 

sought wherever necessary. He saw the Corps’ commitment to the environment as a continuation of the 

agency’s two hundred years of responding to changing 

national needs. As a follow-on to Lieutenant General 

Hatch’s memorandum, in March 1991, the Corps’ 

director of civil works issued policy guidance that 

gave environmental restoration outputs equal budget 

priority with the more traditional economic outputs of 

navigation and flood control.17

The biggest hurdle encountered in the 1980s 

in evaluating environmental projects involved the 

economic analysis to justify such projects. The “Principles and Guidelines” (P&G) protocol attempted to 

measure the ability of alternative plans to advance 

NED through changes in the economic value of the 

national output of goods and services, expressed in 

monetary units. Environmental values were to be 

taken into account, but were difficult to quantify in 

monetary terms. Some observers felt the P&G gave 

greater weight to project alternatives that favored 

national economic development over those focused 

on environmental values. In practice, though, the 

P&G approach to alternatives and plan selection was 

permissive enough to allow the selection of some 

environmental restoration plans. The authorization of Section 1135 projects was in keeping with 

P&G language stating that “other plans which reduce 

net NED benefits in order to further address other 

Federal . . . concerns not fully addressed by the NED 

plan should also be formulated.” Although slow to 

get underway, the Corps initiated the first Section 

1135 environmental restoration projects during fiscal 

year 1991, and by 1995, seven project modifications 

had been completed and an additional fifteen were 

approved for implementation.18

Over time, the Corps’ water resources planning grew 

ever more complex. What criteria to apply in achieving 

the NED plan, how much weight to give each assessment account, and how to interpret each new higher 

directive were questions that bedeviled project planning at the district level through the last quarter of the 

twentieth century. By 1999, the P&G seemed once again 

ripe for revision, as critics of the Corps’ planning process 

pointed to what they considered wasteful and/or environmentally damaging water resources projects.19

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A prime example of the Corps’ efforts to remediate the environmental effects of its older flood 

control projects involved its attempt to repair the 

water resources system in South Florida in the 1990s 

and 2000s. Following World War II, the Corps carried 

out a flood control project that cleared the way for 

vast urban and agricultural development in southern 

Florida. The Corps’ Central and Southern Florida Flood 

Control Project (C&SF Project), authorized in 1948, 

managed the flow of water through a variety of structures to curb floods and supply water for urban and 

agricultural development, often to the detriment of the 

region’s ecosystem. Southern Florida is shaped like a 

shallow bowl that drains water from the headwaters 

of the Kissimmee River southward to the Florida Bay 

at the state’s southern tip. Much of the area, known as 

the Everglades, is dominated by expansive sawgrass 

sloughs, wet prairies, cypress and mangrove swamps, 

and coastal lagoons and bays. It was once home to a vast 

diversity of flora and fauna; but gradually development 

shrank the Everglades in half and much of its diversity 

of life was lost. The C&SF Project’s drainage and flood 

control structures—mainly canals, levees, and pumping 

stations—contributed to a slow destruction of the fragile 

ecosystem. By the 1970s and 1980s, much of the environmental damage was readily apparent.20

In the late 1990s, the Corps restudied the C&SF 

Project to see how it might mitigate the environmental 

Water distribution gates, built in 1962 on the Tamiami Canal, which control the flow of surface 

water south into the Shark Slough area in the Everglades, 1976

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
damage. A feasibility study, called for in the WRDA of 

1996, resulted in the Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan (CERP), which sought to correct the hydrologic 

regime, restore and enhance the natural systems, and 

transform the built environment. All elements were to 

be based on principles of sustainability. In the process of 

securing the support of various stakeholders, the Corps 

acknowledged the ecosystem damage caused by the 

C&SF Project and proposed a restoration package that 

promised remediable actions such as removal of canals 

and levees, development of new water storage above and 

below ground, and water release regimens that mimicked 

natural processes. After much public debate, input from 

other federal and state agencies, and further study, the 

Corps issued a revised plan in April 1999. In implementing the plan, the Corps promised to use adaptive 

assessment and management techniques so as to correct 

for unforeseen problems that might occur over time. 

Finally, after further debate and compromise, Congress 

passed the CERP provisions in the WRDA of 2000. 

Water management in South Florida was a highly 

contentious undertaking. In addition to a need for 

flood control, explosive urban and rural growth created 

greater demands on the existing water supply. Initially, 

development interests relied on the Corps to provide 

engineering solutions to problems of water management. Over time, however, the Corps adopted more 

environmentally friendly methods of water management to ameliorate damage done by previous structural 

measures. By the late twentieth century, the divisive 

story of water and its management, as evidenced in 

South Florida, appeared repeatedly across the nation. 

The Corps, as a major player in the narrative of water 

management in Florida, had shown a capacity to evolve 

and give equal weight to environmental quality and 

engineering proficiency. A future challenge would be the 

application of those lessons to different problems and 

with diverse state and local partners.

REGULATORY PROGRAM

The Corps has regulated certain activities in the nation’s 

waters since the late nineteenth century. The Rivers and 

Harbors Acts of 1890 and 1899 established a program 

administered by the secretary of the army, and implemented through the chief of engineers, to protect navigation and control most construction activity in or over 

the navigable waters of the United States. Navigable 

waters are defined in law and regulation as “those waters 

subject to the ebb and flow of the tide shoreward to the 

mean high water mark and/or were used or have been 

used in the past or may be susceptible to use in interstate or foreign commerce.” Section 10 of the Rivers and 

Harbors Act of 1899 prohibited the construction, excavation, or deposition of materials in, over, or under navigable waters without a permit from the Corps. Structures 

such as piers, wharfs, breakwaters, bulkheads, jetties, 

Prairie Canal after being plugged by the South Florida 

Water Management District as part of the Everglades 

restoration project, 2010

Jacksonville District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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and weirs, as well as dredging or disposal of dredged 

material, excavation, filling, and other changes to navigable waters required Section 10 permits. Section 13 

of the Act assigned the Corps regulatory responsibility 

over the discharge of refuse into navigable waters of 

the United States—without a permit from the Corps, 

discharges of refuse were prohibited. (Although this 

Section 13 permit authority is still in effect, it was later 

superseded by Sections 402 and 405 of the Clean Water 

Act.) Until the 1960s, the Corps based its permitting 

and regulatory decisions solely on a proposed activity’s 

effects on navigation.21

In the 1960s, as broader environmental concerns 

began to sweep the nation, the Corps expanded the 

public interest factors used for evaluating permit 

requests. It began to include consideration of fish 

and wildlife, recreation, and water quality concerns 

in addition to the effects on navigability. The federal 

courts upheld the Corps’ broadened interpretation of 

its permitting responsibilities beyond just navigability 

concerns (see U.S. v. Republic Steel (1960), U.S. v. Standard Oil (1960), and Zabel v. Tabb, 1970), and interpreted Section 13 to forbid dumping of all foreign matter 

into the nation’s waters, holding that any discharge 

constituted a deposit of refuse within the meaning of the 

law. The broadened reading of Section 13 culminated in 

December 1970 in President Richard Nixon’s Executive 

Order 11574, mandating the Corps implement a formal 

permit program under Section 13 to protect the nation’s 

waters from pollution. 

Next, passage of the Federal Water Pollution Control 

Act (FWPCA) of 1972 further expanded the Corps’ regulatory program. Most importantly, Section 404 of the 

1972 act prohibited the discharge of any dredged or fill 

material into all waters (not just navigable ones) of the 

U.S. without a permit from the Corps. This later came 

to include the addition or redeposit of materials from 

dredging operations, as well as from mechanized landclearing, ditching, channelization, and other grounddisturbing activities. Subsequent court decisions (see 

NRDC v. Callaway, 1975) defined “waters of the U.S.” 

in the broadest possible sense, including virtually all 

wetlands and isolated waters where the use, degradation, or destruction of such waters could affect interstate 

or foreign commerce.22

The subsequent Clean Water Act (CWA) of 1977 

amended the FWPCA to strengthen and clarify the 

federal commitment to restore and maintain the 

chemical, physical, and biological integrity of the 

nation’s waters. Congress continued the Environmental 

Protection Agency’s (EPA) policy-making and oversight role in the program, while assigning the Corps 

the primary administrative responsibility for carrying 

out the program. Wetlands protection under Section 

404 of the Act became a prime focus of the Corps’ 

regulatory responsibilities. By the 1970s, wetlands 

protection had been recognized as essential to the 

health of the nation’s natural environment. Wetlands 

serve many ecological purposes, such as water quality 

and supply, sediment trapping, chemical detoxification, flood and drought modulation, storm protection, 

and fish and wildlife habitat. Found in many different 

forms—including bottomland hardwoods, wooded 

swamps, marshes, wet meadows, bogs, and playa 

lakes—wetlands had, by the mid-twentieth century, 

been widely filled and drained for agricultural and 

commercial purposes. By 2000, the nation’s wetlands 

had been reduced from 221 million acres to 105 million, 

with nearly 80 percent of the loss resulting from agricultural activities. California’s reduction of wetlands was 

especially severe, amounting to a 91 percent loss of such 

habitat. Popular support for wetlands protection grew 

as people recognized the economic and environmental 

consequences of the continued destruction.

Although not a comprehensive wetlands protection program, the CWA provided a primary authority for 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
federal efforts to stem the loss of valuable wetlands. The 

1977 amendments to the CWA, in an effort to streamline 

the permit application process, exempted certain activities from Section 404 regulations, including normal agriculture, forestry, and ranching activities. The amended 

act also exempted work related to maintaining dikes, 

dams, breakwaters, causeways, and bridge abutments; 

construction and maintenance of farm and stock ponds, 

irrigation and drainage ditches; construction of farm 

and forest roads; and congressionally approved projects with completed environmental impact statements. 

Many of the activities, however, would require a permit 

if their purpose involved converting an area of water to a 

new use, and thereby restricting or reducing the flow of 

that water. Prior converted croplands were not considered waters of the U.S., but the discharges associated 

with excavation activities did fall under the definition of 

dredged material discharges.

In addition to the Corps of Engineers, several federal 

resource agencies played roles in implementing the 

Section 404 program. The most influential of these was 

the EPA, which had responsibility for defining the reach 

of the “waters of the United States” and for interpreting 

the extent of exemptions [Section 404(f)] under the 

Section 404 program. The EPA also had veto authority 

[Section 404(c)] over all Corps-approved permits. Other 

federal resources agencies had agreements [Section 

404(q)] with the Corps that established a process for 

requesting a review of district engineer permit decisions 

by higher authority within the Department of the Army. 

The assistant secretary of the army for civil works could, 

however, refuse the request for an evaluation of a district 

engineer’s decision. Finally, Section 401 of the CWA 

required state or EPA water-quality-certification prior to 

issuance of a Section 404 permit.

The secretary of the army delegated permit authority 

under Section 404 to the chief of engineers and his 

authorized representatives. In practice, because of the 

decentralized nature of the Corps, district engineers 

made decisions on permit applications. The processing 

of individual permits followed a three-step process: an 

optional pre-application consultation to discuss alternatives and impacts, a formal project review following the 

receipt of an application, and a final determination by 

the district engineer. Decisions on permits were based 

on balancing input from a variety of sources including 

state or federal resources agencies, the concerned public, 

and affected American Indian tribes. The Corps called 

this process the public interest review and conducted 

it simultaneously with the required Section 404(b)(1) 

guidelines evaluation and an environmental review as 

required by NEPA. The guidelines, jointly established by 

the EPA and the Corps of Engineers, detailed the aquatic 

ecosystem standards used to evaluate all Section 404 

permit applications. The purpose of the permit process 

was to reduce the potential impact of private sector and 

state and federal projects on the aquatic environment.

The Corps considered many factors in its public 

interest reviews. These included conservation, 

economics, aesthetics, wetlands, cultural values, navigation, fish and wildlife values, water supply, water quality, 

and in general, the needs and welfare of the public. The 

Corps usually granted a permit unless the district engineer determined that it would be contrary to the public 

interest. In all cases, the district engineer took into 

account any practical alternatives to proposed activities 

and the possible beneficial effects of proposed measures 

to lessen the adverse environmental effects of proposed 

projects. In addition to the Section 404(b)(1) guidelines, 

the Corps considered three general criteria in evaluating 

permit applications: the extent of public and private 

need for the proposed activity; the practicality of using 

reasonable alternative locations and methods to carry 

out the proposed work; and the extent and permanence 

of the effects from the proposed project on public and 

private uses to which the area is suited.

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
Throughout the permitting process, Corps regulators 

worked closely with developers to modify, when necessary, proposed projects in order to minimize impacts 

and protect the aquatic environment or other aspects 

of the public interest. Nationwide, the Corps received 

about 15,000 applications a year for individual permits; 

during the 1990s, the Corps denied, on average, about 

600 of those activities annually, or less than 1 percent of 

all proposed actions. Prior to approval, many projects 

required compensatory mitigation to replace the loss of 

wetland, stream, or other aquatic resources. Corps regulators determined the appropriate form and amount of 

mitigation required, and these included aquatic resource 

restoration, establishment, enhancement, and, in some 

instances, preservation. A memorandum of agreement 

between the Corps and EPA prescribed the type and 

level of mitigation necessary to demonstrate compliance 

with the Section 404(b)(1) guidelines and established 

a sequence of steps for evaluating proposed projects 

requiring permits. District regulators worked closely with 

applicants to follow the required mitigation sequencing. 

This enabled applicants to reduce the project’s environmental impacts so a permit could be issued; or if it 

became clear that a project would not meet the guidelines, the applicant could withdraw their permit application rather than go through the process and have the 

permit denied over unresolved environmental concerns. 

Under the CWA, the district and division engineers 

had the authority to issue other types of permits. For 

example, the Corps used letters of permission when 

a district engineer concluded that a proposed activity 

would not have significant individual or cumulative 

St. Paul District’s rehabilitation and enhancement project at the Pool 8 Islands that restored 643 acres of aquatic habitat

Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
impacts on the aquatic environment. In addition, 

the Corps issued general permits to cover activities substantially similar in nature and causing only 

minimal individual or cumulative impacts. General 

permits could be designed to apply to activities within 

a limited geographical area, a particular region, or 

nationwide. Geographical or regional permits were 

handled by the Corps districts whose boundaries 

encompassed such permits, while nationwide general 

permits were issued by the chief of engineers through 

the Federal Register rulemaking procedure. All permits, 

whether individual or general, included public notice 

and the opportunity for comment.

The Corps and EPA had joint responsibility for 

monitoring and enforcing Section 404 permit requirements. The Corps, however, had sole responsibility for 

ensuring compliance with permit conditions. Although 

criminal or civil action could be taken when violations were discovered, the Corps generally preferred 

administrative remedies to correct adverse impacts. 

These remedial actions usually entailed some form of 

restoration or mitigation work by the violator. The Corps 

sought penalties and fines only in cases of flagrant or 

repeat violations. During the 1990s, Corps districts 

processed about five thousand violations nationwide. 

Eighty percent of the reported violations involved 

unpermitted discharges; the others involved noncompliance with permit conditions.23

Nationwide during the 1990s, the Corps’ regulatory program annually processed about 80,000 permits 

of all types, involving both Section 10 and Section 404 

approval. The Corps attempted to process permit applications in a timely manner, with a goal of having 85 to 

95 percent of all permit actions completed in less than 

sixty days. During fiscal year 1994, for example, the 

average time for all forms of Section 404 permit authorization stood at 25 days. The average time for processing 

individual permits in that year, however, averaged 115 

days. Over time the Corps’ regulatory program steadily 

grew, so that by 1998 it had a budget of $106 million and 

approximately 1,100 employees.24

Most Section 404 permits required some form 

of compensatory mitigation to replace those aquatic 

ecosystem functions lost or impaired by an authorized 

activity. Mitigation typically included the restoration, 

enhancement, creation, or preservation of wetlands and 

other aquatic resources. Regulators generally preferred 

on-site or adjacent, as opposed to off-site compensation to minimize losses to the affected aquatic environment. In 1997 alone, the Corps required nationwide, 

53,400 acres of wetland restoration/creation through its 

permit program. Under certain conditions, mitigation 

banking served as an acceptable form of compensatory 

mitigation. This approach provided consolidated off-site 

compensation for numerous authorized activities in 

advance of adverse project impacts. Restored or created 

wetlands could be “banked” as “credits,” which could be 

used later to compensate for wetland losses or “debits” 

from a permitted discharge. Typically, a third party 

accepted the responsibility of designing, implementing, 

and ensuring the success of compensatory mitigation for 

the permittee. Mitigation bank sponsors include industrial firms, individual entrepreneurs, public and quasipublic agencies, and federal agencies. 

Mitigation banking helped address two particularly 

troublesome issues. First, it dealt with scattered small 

losses by allowing their consolidation and compensation within a specially designated and managed area. 

Second, it provided compensation of losses before the 

fact—that is, before the wetland losses occurred.25

In the early 1990s, the Institute for Water Resources 

extensively studied and evaluated wetlands mitigation banking to determine its potential for achieving 

national wetland goals and applicability to Corps 

programs. The study found that, while existing mitigation banks had an inconsistent record with some signifi301

9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
cant failures, when properly planned and executed 

they could be an effective tool for mitigating the loss 

of wetlands. The study also concluded that if the Corps 

assumed a more direct role in establishing banks (for 

example, as a condition for a regulatory permit) and 

certifying credits, then it needed to provide strong 

oversight in their operation. Based on this analysis of 

the mitigation banking concept, the Corps, in 1995, 

sought to develop general guidance on establishing and 

operating such banks. In part, the Corps’ regulatory 

guidance to districts stated that “mitigation banking is 

an important part of the Regulatory Program because it 

represents an efficient and effective way to offset authorized aquatic resource impacts.” The principles set forth 

in the Corps’ mitigation guidance served as a basis for 

other improvements in the compensatory mitigation 

arena. By 1997, public and private entities had created 

more than 100 wetland mitigation banks nationwide.26

FLOOD CONTROL AND COASTAL PROTECTION

Until the early twentieth century, flood control on the 

nation’s rivers was considered a local concern and 

responsibility. Major floods on the Mississippi River in 

1912, 1913, and again in 1927 led Congress to extend 

federal assistance to flood control efforts on that river. 

Finally, in 1936, after a series of devastating floods in 

the eastern half of the United States demonstrated the 

inability of state and local governments to cope with 

major flooding, Congress established flood control as a 

federal concern and assigned the Corps of Engineers a 

key role in fighting floods. Initially, the Corps employed 

a two-pronged approach in carrying out its flood-control 

mission. First, it tried to prevent floods by building 

upstream storage reservoirs to contain excessive runoff 

and thereby reduce downstream flood stages. However, 

topography and hydrology limited suitable reservoir 

sites, and even if sites met the necessary engineering 

criteria, economic, political, or environmental considerations often prevented their use. The Corps’ periodic 

efforts to revise its multiple-purpose development of the 

Columbia River and tributaries to provide better flood 

control exemplified the problems posed in pursuing 

preventive approaches to flood control. If prevention 

through upstream storage proved impossible, such as on 

the Mississippi River and its tributaries, then the Corps 

had to rely on traditional protective works such as levees, 

floodwalls, and channelization to minimize high flood 

stages. Whatever its approach, the Corps projects had to 

be economically justified: the average annual benefits 

had to exceed the average annual flood damages before 

the Corps could proceed with an undertaking.27

Flood control efforts on the Mississippi River after 

1970 revealed the difficulties the Corps faced in reconciling its traditional flood reduction methods with the 

new environmental ethos. Much of the Mississippi flood 

control work focused on the Atchafalaya River basin. 

During the 1950s and 1960s, the Corps built the Old River 

Control structure to keep the Atchafalaya River from 

capturing the Mississippi River. A large flood in 1973 

nearly undermined the control structure, causing the 

Corps to construct an auxiliary structure (completed in 

1986) below the original flood control works to improve 

the operation of the system. These two flood control 

structures, in turn, worked in combination with a system 

of levees and channel deepening to reduce the heavy 

load of sediment carried by the Mississippi and its tributaries. By necessity, the Corps had to build the levees 

on swampy land, which caused them to subside over 

time, while silt coming down the river channel raised 

the ground elevation in the floodways. This situation 

required ever higher levees, which would again subside, 

perpetuating a dangerous cycle. The Corps attempted 

to enlarge the channel to reduce sedimentation and 

increase the river’s flow capacity by dredging. The flood 

control project also called for closing distribution channels, extending levees, and stabilizing river banks.28

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
The Corps’ attempt to replumb the Atchafalaya River 

basin had a major impact on its ecosystem. Wetlands 

and their flora and fauna were especially vulnerable. 

Disposing dredged material without harming wetlands 

proved especially difficult. In addition, recreation, 

commercial fishing interests, and hunters all expressed 

concern about the changes brought by the Atchafalaya 

River project. Reconciling the multiple objectives of the 

environmental interests with those primarily concerned 

with flood control required the Corps to reduce its 

dependence on structural solutions, especially levees. 

One solution involved extensive purchase by the federal 

and state governments of flow easements and fee simple 

holdings to control water flow and distribution to benefit 

fish and wildlife resources. By the mid-1990s, much of 

the Corps’ modified flood control plan and related environmental provisions were accomplished. The Atchafalaya’s hydrologic regime, however, was constantly 

changing, requiring ongoing monitoring and data 

collection to inform adjustments to the plan. 

The Corps employed several methods to reduce 

flood damage. Besides attempting to modify floods 

through a structural approach, these efforts included 

emergency flood fighting, modifying the susceptibility 

to flooding through changing land use, and reducing 

the financial effects of flooding through insurance 

and relief-and-recovery activities. For much of the 

twentieth century the Corps’ flood-control mission 

focused on structural methods. Between 1936 and 

1990, Congress invested approximately $25 billion 

in the Corps’ flood-control projects throughout the 

nation. By the last decade of the twentieth century, 

the Corps provided a water-control regulation plan for 

703 water projects—581 owned by the Corps and 122 

The auxiliary Old River control structure to prevent the Mississippi from overtaking the Atchafalaya, 1986

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

303

9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
controlled by others. In addition, the Corps built about 

110 smaller flood-control dams and reservoirs, which 

were transferred to agencies or local government for 

operations and maintenance.

While Congress adjusted the requirements of the 

Corps’ flood-control mission over time, three important 

provisions established in the 1936 Act and subsequent 

flood-control legislation remained unchanged: the 

requirements that local interests provide lands, rights-ofway, and easements; hold and save the federal government free from damage that might result from project 

construction; and maintain and operate the non-reservoir 

Residents placing sandbags on Chouteau Island in Illinois against the Mississippi River flood waters, March 1973

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

304

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
works after construction. These requirements ensured 

that beneficiaries shared the cost of flood control projects. 

Congress gave the Corps some flexibility for urgently 

needed, small flood-control projects. In place of the 

requirement that each civil works project be individually 

authorized and funded, Congress delegated to the secretary of the army and the Corps of Engineers the authority 

and responsibility for selecting and funding emergency 

flood-control projects under a special Continuing 

Authority Program (CAP). Post-World War II amendments to the Flood Control Act of 1936 provided the 

specific legislative authorization and funding limits for 

such work and stipulated requirements for local cooperation. For example, Section 205 of the Flood Control Act 

of 1948 permitted the Corps to plan and construct small 

flood-control projects that did not exceed $1 million 

(subsequently raised to $5 million) per undertaking. 

Local interests had to provide financial participation 

in accordance with prevailing federal law. In addition, 

Section 208 of the Flood Control Act of 1954 allowed the 

Corps to carry out emergency snagging and clearing 

projects up to a cost of $100,000 (subsequently raised to 

$500,000) for flood control. Under terms of Section 14 of 

the Flood Control Act of 1946, the Corps could engage 

in emergency stream bank and shoreline protection 

for existing public works if the cost was under $50,000 

(subsequently raised to $500,000). Again, federal-local 

cooperation requirements applied.

 An important measure that expanded the flood 

damage reduction options available to the Corps came 

in Public Law 84-99 (Pl-99) passed by Congress in 1955. 

This legislation authorized the Corps to engage in a broad 

Emergency loop levees holding flood waters of the Arkansas River after a breach in the original levee (upper left), April 1945

U.S. Army

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
range of emergency flood response measures. These 

included advance preparations when the potential for 

unusual flooding was imminent, as well as flood fighting, 

rescue operations, and the repair and restoration of 

existing flood control works damaged by a flood. The law 

set no monetary limits and established an emergency fund 

and the authority to temporarily use other appropriations 

if necessary. The measure also emphasized that the Corps’ 

advanced flood-damage reduction measures were supplemental to local efforts, temporary in nature, and designed 

to meet an imminent flood threat. The local cooperation 

requirements for accomplishing advance measures and 

rehabilitating flood control works were the same as those 

established in the Flood Control Act of 1936.

Congress did establish rigid reporting controls to 

prevent abuse of the CAP program. In general, the regulations required each project be discrete and not merge 

with or overlap some other project; that each project 

be investigated, justified—economically and technically—and reported by a Corps of Engineers district; and 

that each project be reviewed and approved by higher 

authority in the agency. Congress, of course, retained 

oversight through annual program reviews.

Prior to the late 1950s, the Corps relied primarily 

on structural approaches for flood control (dams, 

reservoirs, levees, floodwalls, diversion channels), and 

nonstructural flood-control measures, such as zoning 

and prohibiting or restricting building in flood-prone 

areas, played little part in the Corps’ program. In the 

thirty-four years before the Corps received its floodcontrol mission in 1936, losses amounted to some $4.1 

billion, but the continued human encroachment on 

floodplains for housing, commercial applications, and 

industrial uses resulted in mounting losses. In the period 

between 1936 and 1958 damages came to $6.6 billion. By 

the late 1950s, recognizing the continuing flood losses, 

the Corps began serious consideration of nonstructural 

approaches to flood-damage abatement. 

However, many congressional and administration officials had both practical and philosophical 

reasons for opposing land-use regulation as a means of 

achieving flood protection. They did not want to seem 

opposed to development even in flood-prone areas, 

and they understood that land-use laws were a local 

government prerogative. Ultimately, the issue of regulation became a question of cost. Chief of Engineers Lt. 

Gen. Samuel Sturgis framed the issue in these terms:

The difficulties of prescribing and enforcing 

evacuation and rezoning must be weighed 

against the long-range requirements for 

development of an area and the effect thereof 

in aggravating natural flood conditions, 

increasing hazards to life and property, and 

future protection costs. Progress cannot be 

stopped, but it can be guided wisely.29

The Corps’ willingness to consider nonstructural 

means to flood-damage abatement resulted from new 

studies in the field of flood prevention. Francis Murphy, 

an experienced and widely respected hydrologist in the 

Seattle District, played a key role in researching and 

disseminating the results of new approaches to effective 

flood-damage control. He and others within the Corps 

pointed out the value of developing hydrographic data 

and flood maps so that localities could adopt effective 

land-use planning to regulate floodplain development. 

With passage of the Flood Control Act of 1960, Congress 

responded to increased concerns about adopting more 

effective flood-control measures and authorized the 

Corps to provide flood-hazard data and technical assistance to federal agencies, state and local governments, 

and individuals. The measures carried out by the Corps 

under this legislation included providing assistance in 

establishing floodplain regulations, flood warning and 

preparedness, flood-proofing, and floodplain evacua306

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
tion and relocation. Corps studies established floodplain 

boundaries, flood-hazard potentials, standard project 

floods and flood-frequency curves, and floodplain maps.

In 1968, Congress provided an incentive to regulate 

floodplain development by offering subsidized flood 

insurance if a community’s zoning, land-use regulations, 

and building codes conformed to standards designed 

to minimize flood losses. The Corps became involved 

in flood-damage mitigation when local authorities 

requested a study to determine the best approach to 

limiting potential flooding. The basic level of information provided by the Corps defined floodplain boundaries and the reoccurrence interval for a flood, usually 

expressed as a flood that has a 1 percent chance of 

being equaled or exceeded during any given year (100-

year flood). The Corps could also recommend a floodwarning and preparedness system, with or without 

structural measures, as a component of a flood-control 

program. In addition, the Corps performed flood insurance studies for the Federal Emergency Management 

Agency (FEMA), which had been established in 1978.

In 1993, a massive Mississippi River flood challenged the Corps’ flood control methods, as the upper 

river system experienced its worst flood since 1927. The 

Mississippi remained above flood stage for 152 days and 

the Missouri River for 116. More than 1,000 levees failed, 

nearly 100,000 homes were damaged, and 47 people 

died. Flood waters closed navigation on the Mississippi 

for 52 days and inundated 20 million acres of farmland 

during the growing season. In all, the rampaging waters 

caused approximately $16 billion in damages.30 Much 

of the damage stemmed from the failure of non-federal 

agricultural levees not designed to offer protection from a 

flood event of the magnitude experienced in 1993. In fact, 

federal flood control structures—reservoirs and levees—

prevented an estimated $19 billion in damages. Still, the 

extensive losses led to reassessing the best methods for 

future flood-damage reduction. 

After floodwaters on the upper Mississippi and 

Missouri Rivers receded, President Bill Clinton ordered 

a review of existing floodplain management and related 

watershed management programs. An interagency 

research team led by Brig. Gen. Gerald Galloway, a retired 

Corps officer, studied the problem and, in its influential 

report, called for a comprehensive approach to “flood 

damage reduction,” as opposed to strict flood control, 

that would deploy a variety of available tools including 

structural (levees and dams) and nonstructural (wetland 

management and floodplain restrictions). This new 

paradigm recognized the limitations of what could be 

protected and emphasized the importance of shared 

responsibility for floodplain management.

Congress initiated a parallel study through the Corps’ 

North Central Division that reached similar conclusions. 

In particular, the study evaluated the potential impacts 

of changes in flood insurance programs, state and local 

floodplain regulations, flood hazard mitigation and 

disaster assistance, wetland restoration and agricultural 

support policies, in addition to traditional structural 

approaches such as reservoirs and levees. The Corps’ study 

managers used sophisticated computer modeling for the 

impact analysis of structural and nonstructural alternatives to flood reduction. A key finding of the study was that 

better floodplain management and assignment of responsibility for preventing flood damages could be achieved 

through a greater application of nonstructural policies, 

such as local floodplain zoning ordinances, flood insurance, and public education. In addition, greater emphasis 

on flood hazard mitigation—including acquisition, floodproofing, and raising of flood-prone structures—would 

be beneficial. The NCD study, like the Galloway Report, 

also acknowledged the ecological values of rivers and 

their floodplains in reducing flood damages. The study 

cautioned that from a hydraulic evaluation perspective, 

no single alternative provided consistent beneficial flood 

damage reduction results throughout a system.

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
Many of the ideas presented in the two reports had 

been around for decades, but the 1993 flood provided an 

opportunity to pull them together with the latest environmental thinking. The NCD study, as one reviewer noted, 

“validates the view that while structural flood control 

measures are an important part of an overall floodplain 

management program, they have limitations and floodplains are best managed through a combination of structural and nonstructural measures that fully recognize the 

inherent risk of occupying flood hazard areas.”31

Population growth and development along the 

nation’s coastline exposed people and property to 

flooding caused by beach erosion. The Corps became 

actively involved in investigating coastal zone erosion 

problems in 1930, when Congress authorized the Beach 

Erosion Board, but initially the Board’s purview was 

limited to the ocean shoreline where a federal interest 

was involved. Over time, the scope of the Board’s 

investigations broadened to include the public interest 

potentially affected by coastal protection projects. In 

1956, the Corps was authorized to provide cost-shared 

support for beach nourishment projects. The Corps’ 

responsibilities in coastal engineering increased 

substantially in 1963, when Congress authorized 

the Coastal Engineering Research Center (CERC) to 

conduct research on shore processes, winds, waves, 

tides, surges, and currents as they affected navigation, 

flood reduction projects, and as beach erosion control. 

This research directly supported the coastal zone work 

of twenty-two Corps districts bordering coastlines.32

Continued coastal development and a growing environmental awareness supported an expanded program 

A resident of Osage City, Missouri, canoes through Mississippi River flood waters, July 1993

Savannah District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Jonas Jordan

308

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
of coastal zone research by CERC. This research effort 

got a further boost from the Marine Resources and Engineering Development Act of 1966, which mandated a 

long-range policy of accelerated federal research of the 

coastal zone. CERC focused its early research on wave 

action and sediment transport. Data on these natural 

and very complex forces were essential to project design, 

yet complicated to gather. Such field data acquisition 

became a major CERC undertaking and, combined with 

laboratory studies, yielded much useful information 

about wave action and the movement of sediment. In 

particular, CERC developed the ability to quantify and 

predict sediment losses after beach nourishment; and 

to facilitate the use of this information, it initiated a sand 

inventory program for off-shore exploitable sources of 

sand. The CERC research also identified economical 

methods of transporting and depositing sand in the 

near-shore zone. Research on structural methods of 

stopping shore erosion, such as groins, jetties, and 

breakwaters, also received attention at CERC.

As a result of a National Shoreline Study (1970-73), 

CERC determined that a quarter of the nation’s 84,000 

miles of coastline was significantly eroded. Based on 

this study, Congress authorized the Corps to conduct 

numerous demonstration projects to test useful erosioncontrol devices. In the 1980s, CERC also extended its 

research to the erosion issues involved in protecting the 

coastal barrier islands and studied the environmental 

impacts of various erosion- control methods. In the late 

1970s and early 1980s, the Corps and the Rijkswaterstaat 

cooperated on research on wave propagation in shallow 

water, leading to theoretical findings useful in the design 

of coastal engineering structures. For budgetary and 

organizational efficiency, in 1983, the Corps merged 

CERC with the Waterways Experiment Station, another 

major research arm of the Corps. Research and project 

Land erosion caused by wave action from a February 1980 storm at Oceanside, California

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
modeling related to coastal zone issues have continued 

at the Waterways Experiment Station. 

The Corps’ project to save the badly eroding coast 

at Oceanside, California, exemplified the challenges of 

such work. By the 1980s, California presented an especially acute situation where 86 percent of the state’s 

coastline was receding at an average of between 0.5 and 

2 feet per year. During World War II, the Navy built a 

military harbor adjacent to Oceanside, and, using the 

same entrance channel, the city built a civilian smallcraft marina that became economically important to 

the community. Over time, the entrance channel experienced chronic shoaling, while causing severe beach 

erosion south of the harbor. The problems stemmed 

from the harsh wave environment at that location.33

For several decades, the Corps attempted to 

ameliorate the situation at Oceanside through expensive maintenance dredging in the entrance channel 

and periodic sand replacements on the beach. Unfortunately, the traditional efforts proved futile, as millions 

of cubic yards of sand from dredging the harbor and 

hauled from inland locations and placed on the beach 

simply washed out to sea or back into the harbor. In the 

1980s, the Corps determined that structural solutions 

could be environmentally damaging and, drawing upon 

its growing coastal engineering expertise, attempted 

to find a more cost-effective and environmentally 

sound solution to the navigation and beach erosion 

problems at Oceanside. Using modeling work at the 

Waterways Experiment Station and other research, the 

Corps developed a state-of-the-art sand bypass system 

that reduced the costs of maintenance dredging and 

improved the chronic beach erosion problems through 

constant sand nourishment. The sand bypass system 

also proved the most environmentally acceptable 

approach to the navigation and erosion challenges.

Between 1928 and 2000, the Corps’ flood-control 

projects prevented almost $700 billion in damages 

and much human suffering. However after 1970, 

traditional structural approaches to the problems 

became increasingly less acceptable. Many of the best 

construction sites for large reservoirs had been used, 

and proposed sites raised environmental issues. In 

addition, continuing development in many river basins 

precluded the construction of large projects. Cost 

constraints and the advent of cost-sharing also made 

it difficult to finance large reservoirs. As a result, the 

Corps began shifting to nonstructural approaches to 

provide flood protection and reduce flood damages. 

The nonstructural methods included moving communities out of the floodplain, raising and flood-proofing 

buildings, acquiring vulnerable structures, preserving 

wetlands, buying out flood plains, and establishing 

flood warning systems. These measures could be 

accomplished separately or in combination with structural measures such as levees, floodwalls, and channel 

improvements. By the end of the century, the Corps 

spoke less about flood control and more about flooddamage reduction or flood-risk management, recognizing that for those living in a floodplain, the risk is 

never totally eliminated. In addition, just as the Corps 

became more receptive to nonstructural flood control 

approaches, it also favored beach nourishment over 

physical works to restore eroded coastal areas.

DAM SAFETY

Public concern over several major dam failures during 

the early 1970s led Congress to establish a dam safety 

program in August 1972 (PL 92-367). In one particularly 

disastrous incident in June of that year, Canyon Lake 

Dam above Rapid City, South Dakota, failed during a 

flood that killed 238 people. The new dam safety legislation required the Bureau of Reclamation and the Corps 

of Engineers to complete an inventory of all dams in the 

U.S., recommend a comprehensive dam safety program, 

and carry out inspections of selected dams that posed 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
threats to human life or property. The law applied only 

to dams higher than twenty-five feet that impounded 

in excess of fifty acre-feet of water. In 1976, the Corps 

delivered to Congress an inventory of 49,500 federal 

and nonfederal dams. The report also surveyed current 

practices in regulating dam safety and recommended 

a new national dam safety program. The Corps found 

that eleven states had no laws regarding dam safety, and 

most other states had weak safety laws and/or ineffective enforcement. In fact, only 18 percent of the inventoried dams had been inspected under existing federal or 

state authorities. The report estimated that 40 percent of 

the dams represented a hazard to downstream life and property if they failed.34

The continued failure of dams—such 

as the Teton Dam in Idaho, a Bureau of 

Reclamation project—in the mid-1970s 

spurred President Jimmy Carter to order 

a four-year Corps program to inspect 

nonfederal dams with a high potential 

for loss of life and property if they failed. 

By 1981, the Corps was tasked with 

updating the 1976 inventory, inspecting 

and evaluating about 9,000 high-hazard 

nonfederal dams, and assisting states 

in implementing effective dam safety 

programs. By October 1981, the Corps 

had inspected 8,818 dams and rated 

2,925 of them (33 percent) as unsafe and 

in need of modification or repair. The 

updated inventory identified more than 

68,000 dams, an increase of 37 percent 

over the original list.

The Corps’ inventory and evaluations revealed that nonfederal dams 

were more likely than their federal 

counterparts to have design or maintenance deficiencies. Congress, however, 

considered any potential problem to be the responsibility of the dam owner and did not authorize the use 

of federal funds for repairs or modifications. Most of 

the safety concerns were related to spillway design deficiencies that could force floodwaters to overtop a dam 

and lead to structural damage or complete dam failure. 

Although dam owners and the states in which the dams 

were located retained the obligation for structural safety, 

the Corps did provide technical assistance to the states 

in dam safety matters. The inventory also noted that 

the 703 projects for which the Corps provided a water 

control regulation plan had excellent structural integrity.

Seattle District personnel inspecting the municipal Casad Dam near 

Bremerton, Washington, April 1978

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
In recognition of its aging dams and the need to 

ensure their continued integrity, the Corps initiated two 

programs focused on major rehabilitation and structural 

safety assurance. The first was a rehabilitation program 

begun in the 1950s to carry out structural repairs or 

replacement to extend the useful lives of impoundment 

projects. To complement this work, in 1965 the Corps 

began to carry out regular, periodic inspections and 

evaluations of completed projects. Technical reports 

from the periodic inspections contained recommendations and cost estimates for remedial work. The second 

program, begun in 1977, focused on dam safety assurance. It established a mechanism for reviewing and 

modifying completed projects determined to have 

safety hazards. As long as improvements did not alter 

the scope, function, or authorized purpose of a project, 

existing authorities were sufficient to carry out the 

needed safety work.

In 1984, the Corps initiated a dam safety risk analysis program, led by the Institute for Water Resources, 

which developed a new set of procedures and guidelines 

for risk-based analyses of potential dam failure modes, 

and in particular for spillway failures and overtopping. 

This program was precipitated by the release of new 

probable maximum precipitation figures by the National 

Weather Service in its 1982 Hydrometeorological Report. 

This report, in turn, caused the Corps to begin revisions 

of its Probable Maximum Flood computations, which 

serve as the basis for dam spillway design. Given that 

such extreme precipitation and floods are difficult to 

evaluate empirically, the Corps inaugurated a risk-based 

design process that has evolved to encompass all facets 

of water infrastructure design.

NAVIGATION

The Corps’ mission to create and maintain navigable 

channels on the nation’s waterways required dredging, 

but in the 1970s, environmentalists began to challenge 

the Corps’ dredging operations. At this time, domestic 

waterborne commerce moved 16 percent of the nation’s 

intercity ton-miles of cargo, with petroleum and coal 

accounting for over 50 percent of the total waterway 

freight. The inland waterway system, moreover, played 

a crucial role in transporting raw materials and manufactured goods to the nation’s seaports, supporting trade 

with foreign countries. By 1974, waterway commerce 

totaled 1.7 billion tons per year.35 As a result, navigable 

waterways made an important contribution to a healthy 

national economy. 

Through the mid-1970s, the Corps had developed 

25,000 miles of navigation channels, and 15,000 of those 

were nine feet or greater in depth. It annually maintained 

those channels by dredging 350 million cubic yards 

at a cost of $200 million. For 150 years, the Corps had 

dredged navigation channels with little attention from 

the public. Suddenly, as Maj. Gen. J. W. (Jack) Morris, 

Corps Director of Civil Works, noted in 1975, “dredging 

became a dirty word and the Corps was placed in the 

position of being able to take the material from the 

bottom of our waterway channels—but without any 

place to put it.” The Corps found itself on the horns of a 

dilemma; dredging was essential to shipping, but if there 

was no place to put the dredged material, the Corps 

could not dredge. Environmentalists raised concerns that 

dredged material might be polluted and that its placement in wetlands destroyed them, whereas dumping 

in back channels blocked fish and wildlife passage, and 

deep-water disposal created “ocean wastelands.”36

The new environmental laws had a significant effect 

on the Corps’ dredging operations with NEPA requiring 

an EIS for more than 1,200 navigation maintenance 

projects. Section 404 of the Clean Water Act and Section 

103 of the Marine Protection, Research and Sanctuaries 

Act, 1972 (known as the Ocean Dumping Act), required 

dredge material discharge permits and designated the 

Army Corps of Engineers as the federal permit-issuing 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
agency. The permitting responsibility, as set out in the 

various laws, also gave EPA a role in the review and 

approval of permits, especially in a contested action. 

The key factor involved the requirement to provide 

notice and opportunity for public input. While the 

Corps did not issue permits to itself, it did by regulation apply the same criteria and procedures imposed 

on other permit applicants. Although not required by 

NEPA, the Corps chose to prepare an EIS for projects 

initiated or built before NEPA went into effect.37

Besides preparing EISs for maintenance dredging 

operations, the Corps began searching for new disposal 

concepts and techniques to convert dredged material into 

a useful resource. Beneficial uses included creating new 

wetlands or recreation areas, beach nourishment, and 

habitat for wildlife. In 1974, the Corps’ Waterways Experiment Station began a $32.8 million research program 

to develop new testing procedures for identifying the 

degree of pollution in dredged sediments and to find 

new or improved, broadly applicable dredging disposal 

methods. The research effort focused on determining 

the environmental effects of two disposal methods—

open water and land. The study compared physical, 

biological, and chemical conditions before, during, and 

after disposal at four separate test sites and represented 

the largest single research investigation undertaken by 

the Corps up to that time. As General Morris succinctly 

put it, “Out of all this [the dredged material research 

program] we should learn where dredged material is 

harmful and where it is not. We should learn what additional costs are justified in the interest of environmental 

protection. And, equally as important, we must learn 

enough to answer the kinds of questions that will make 

impact statements not only technically viable, but sufficiently authoritative to satisfy the public.”38

In general, the Dredged Material Research Program 

(DMRP) found that no single disposal method by itself 

was inherently good or bad from a technical standpoint. 

Each dredging project had to be evaluated on a caseby-case or site-specific basis. For example, researchers 

could not categorically assert that on the basis of pollution alone, ocean disposal should be ended or that 

all contaminated dredged material should be placed 

behind confined dikes. Much depended on the type of 

contaminants present in the dredged material. Unfortunately, case-by-case evaluations proved to be expensive 

and time-consuming. Moreover, policy, political, and 

legal considerations also came into play when deciding 

how to deal with the disposal of dredged material. Still, 

environmental considerations were the chief factor in 

choosing disposal alternatives.39

The DMRP made a number of important discoveries. Specifically, the study found that in open water 

disposal, physical effects were more important than 

chemical or biological consequences. To deal with this 

matter, the DMRP developed mathematical models 

to predict the dispersion effects of dredged material 

in ocean, estuarine, lacustrine, and riverine environments. Another significant finding demonstrated that 

deep-ocean disposal could be more environmentally 

acceptable than disposal in continental shelf areas. The 

DMRP also determined that concerns about the shortterm release of contaminants to disposal site waters 

were unfounded. Most contaminants were not released 

from the sediment particles to the water. Those that were 

released quickly became diluted to harmless concentrations. The study also showed turbidity to be less of a 

problem than originally thought; most adult organisms 

tolerated turbidity levels in excess of those caused by 

dredging and disposal activities. In another finding, the 

DMRP established that in open-water disposal, bioassay 

tests were needed to determine the effects of chemicalcontaminant ingestion on aquatic organisms. In the 

course of the study at four open-water disposal sites, the 

DMRP looked at controlling or mitigating the harmful 

effects of open-water disposal. One important finding 

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
pointed to efficient operation of properly maintained 

equipment as the key to limiting negative effects of open 

disposal, especially for controlling turbidity.

The DMRP studied confined or diked containment 

of dredged material, as well as open-water disposal. To 

be environmentally effective, confined disposal facilities 

needed to retain a high percentage of the finer soil particles that carried contaminants. In practice, confineddisposal facilities were technically difficult and expensive to build, had a limited lifespan, and permanently 

altered the landscape. Through cooperating federal 

and state agency tests, the DMRP developed methods 

to alleviate some of these problems. One test demonstrated that the surface-trenching method of dewatering 

increased the holding capacity of disposal sites and 

reduced leaching of polluted effluent. The program 

also investigated ways that dredged material could be 

used to create or improve wildlife habitat, particularly 

in wetlands. Tests showed that marsh creation could be 

phased to accommodate maintenance dredging over 

long periods of time in almost any region of the country. 

Only locations subject to high tides or strong currents 

were unsuitable for marsh development. 

The DMRP study also demonstrated that the most 

viable disposal could be achieved at upland habitat sites. 

These, moreover, could be managed to greatly benefit 

wildlife. An especially promising type of upland disposal 

involved creating small islands with dredged material in 

inland waterways, coastal bays, and estuaries. Wildlife, 

in particular, benefitted from such a disposal method. 

The Pointe Mouillee Wildlife Refuge, made primarily from dredged material, in western Lake Erie in southern Michigan

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
The study also demonstrated that dredged material 

could be used as a soil amendment in reclaiming strip 

mines and for filling abandoned pits, quarries, and 

sanitary landfills. In sum, the DMRP showed that it was 

possible in many instances to convert dredged material 

from a troublesome problem into a beneficial resource. 

It also pointed to better methods and techniques for 

disposing of dredged material with a minimum of negative environmental impacts.40

The need to dredge navigable waterways to ensure 

proper channel depths for shipping on inland waterways, 

the Great Lakes, and coastal harbors only increased 

during the last third of the twentieth century. In 1998, 

for example, 3.4 billion tons of domestic and foreign 

commodities moved on the nation’s waterways. Although 

the Corps’ research helped to develop new disposal 

concepts and techniques, other issues confronted it—

the Corps’ aging dredge fleet and the drive by private 

contractors to take over all dredging operations. The 

private dredging industry pressured Congress to allow 

it to assume more of the nation’s dredging. In 1978, 

Congress enacted a law requiring the Corps to reduce its 

dredging plant and maintain only a minimum fleet for 

emergency and national defense work and dredge only 

to the extent necessary to keep the minimum fleet operational. Otherwise, the Corps should put the dredging 

work out to competitive bidding and allow private 

dredging companies to complete the work as long as they 

could demonstrate economical and timely performance. 

The Corps did not have to contract work if the bid was 

more than 25 percent higher than the estimated cost of 

performing the work with a Corps dredge.41

As a result, the dredging industry modernized 

existing equipment and built new dredges to gradually 

assume a greater share of the dredging requirement. 

In 1978, dredging companies and the Corps together 

removed 374 million cubic yards of material at a cost 

of $35 million, with private industry accounting for 63 

percent of the total ($22 million). By 2012, the Corps and 

private companies handled 237 million cubic yards of 

material at a cost of $1.2 billion, with private industry 

responsible for 80 percent of the workload. As private 

industry took over more of the dredging workload, the 

Corps’ once-large fleet of hopper and pipeline dredges 

dwindled from 36 in 1978 to 11 by 2000.42

ENDANGERED SPECIES

One of the most troublesome and complex environmental issues facing the Corps of Engineers and other 

federal water resources agencies after 1970 involved 

the anadromous fish controversy in the Pacific Northwest. It materially affected how the Corps operated 

the Columbia River and tributaries system of multiplepurpose dams, especially after certain salmon species 

began to acquire endangered-species status in the early 

1990s. The life course of these anadromous fish had a 

dramatic impact on the economy of the region. Each 

year, salmon and steelhead in the millions returned 

from the sea to make the long upstream journey to 

distant spawning grounds. American Indians depended 

upon the annual runs for their subsistence and cultural 

renewal. Since the late nineteenth century, Euro-American settlers in the Northwest had come to value the 

salmon for their commercial and recreational use.43

Unfortunately, the annual salmon runs had been in 

serious decline for more than a century. By the 1940s, 

the Columbia River salmon catch was only half that 

of 1883. Several factors accounted for this reduction. 

Overharvesting by commercial fisherman was a leading 

cause of the decline. In addition, stream pollution from 

environmentally unsound logging practices and losses 

from unscreened irrigation intakes took their toll on the 

fish runs. Most attempts to regulate fishing practices, to 

limit harvests, and to improve agricultural and timber 

operations proved futile. Dams, too, had a detrimental 

effect on the fish runs, even if they had fish-passage 

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
facilities. Efforts to increase the supply of anadromous 

fish through artificial propagation in fish hatcheries also 

failed to alleviate the situation.

By the 1930s, when the Corps began building dams 

on the Columbia River and its tributaries, the salmon 

runs were clearly in crisis. Pressure from commercial 

and sport fishers, as well as conservationists, caused the 

Corps to devise and construct an elaborate fish passage 

system at Bonneville Dam, the Corps’ first dam on the 

Columbia River. The initial success of the Bonneville 

Dam fish facilities gave observers hope that high dams 

would not be a permanent barrier to the fish runs. At 

the same time, Grand Coulee Dam, built by the Bureau 

of Reclamation, was too high to permit any feasible 

method of passing salmon. Instead, the Department of 

the Interior transplanted the upriver runs to tributaries 

of the Columbia below Grand Coulee. When the Corps 

built Chief Joseph Dam, it saw no need to provide fish 

passage because the dam’s location was above those 

tributaries and below Grand Coulee Dam.

The Corps and supporters of its plan for additional 

high dams on the Columbia and its tributaries used the 

apparent success at Bonneville to justify further development. Fisheries interests, however, remained skeptical 

that series of high dams and healthy fish runs could 

coexist and opposed the construction of McNary Dam, 

for instance, on the grounds that it made more sense 

to fully develop all potential sites on the tributaries of 

the upper Columbia before building dams detrimental 

to downriver fisheries. During the 1940s and 1950s, the 

Corps continued building dams on the Columbia River, 

outwardly confident that fish ladders would benefit 

upstream runs of anadromous fish, while downstreammigrating fingerlings could safely pass through the 

rotating turbines. For all of its seeming confidence in the 

future health of salmon runs, the Corps also hedged its 

bets by funding extensive research into migratory fish 

issues. By the end of the 1950s, it was funding ever larger 

amounts of scientific research on anadromous fish, both 

through its own biologists and in cooperation with the 

U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. The Corps also relied on 

hatcheries to provide adequate mitigation for fish losses 

and continued to improve fish passage facilities at its 

dams. By 1958, the Corps was funding twelve hatcheries 

and had spent $21 million on research. Unfortunately, 

evidence continued to mount that the loss of fish going 

through the spillways and turbines exceeded what the 

Corps had previously admitted.

A significant change in the Corps’ responsibility 

for fish and wildlife concerns at its projects occurred 

as the Corps began to recognize the full scope of anadromous fish losses. In 1958, Congress amended the 

Fish and Wildlife Coordination Act, first passed in 1934 

and amended in 1946, to require that fish and wildlife 

conservation receive “equal consideration” with all 

other project purposes. Thereafter, the Corps had to 

evaluate a project’s adverse and beneficial effects on fish 

and wildlife in all stages of planning and recommend 

changes or mitigation for all adverse project effects.

The Corps’ fisheries research in the 1960s and 1970s 

focused especially on downstream juvenile losses, which 

averaged approximately 11 percent at each dam on the 

Columbia and Snake Rivers. Mortality stemmed from 

two major causes: passage through the turbines and gas 

bubble disease when fish passed over the spillway. In 

the latter situation, water plunging over a dam’s spillway 

caused nitrogen to be pressurized in the stilling basin and 

dissolved in the river. Fish absorbed the supersaturated 

dissolved gas and died. The Corps developed solutions to 

both problems. Over time, they screened the turbines and 

built bypass systems around the dams to divert the downstream migrants away from the turbines. To address the 

gas bubble disease issue, they attached spillway deflectors 

to limit the plunge depth of water over the dam spillway, 

thereby reducing the supersaturation of atmospheric gas. 

Research also pointed to other problems for migrating 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
salmon caused by the reservoirs behind the dams. These 

causes included predation, downstream migration delays, 

and power peaking operations at the dams.

Much of the Corps’ fisheries research concentrated 

on developing safer and more efficient bypass systems; 

improved fish ladders; and collection and downstream 

transportation of the fingerlings in barges. The Corps 

carried out much of this work in cooperation with the 

National Marine Fisheries Service (NMFS), federal and 

state fisheries agencies, and American Indian tribal fish 

experts. Between 1953 and 1993, the North Pacific Division of the Corps of Engineers spent $63.4 million on its 

fish passage development and evaluation program and 

approximately $696 million on its fish facilities at Corps 

projects on the Columbia and Snake Rivers. Despite the 

Corps’ research efforts and facilities improvements at 

its dams, much remained unknown on how to optimize 

in-river conditions for migrating salmon and increase 

the prospects for their survival. As one historian noted in 

1994, “for all of the improvements in fish passage facilities, transportation systems, and hatchery supplementation, annual runs of Chinook and sockeye salmon have 

not significantly increased.”44

Because of the precarious state of salmon runs on 

the Columbia River, conservation groups, in early 1991, 

filed a petition under the Endangered Species Act (ESA) 

to list five salmon populations as endangered. Enacted 

in 1973, the ESA established regulations to prevent the 

The Bradford Island fish ladder under construction on the south end of Bonneville Dam, 1936

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
The north fish ladder at the John Day Dam on the Columbia River, August 1974

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
harvesting, possession, sale, and delivery of threatened 

and endangered species. The act also required federal 

agencies to develop a plan to recover animal populations listed as threatened or endangered. In the case of 

anadromous fish, the NMFS coordinated ESA activities 

and, in December 1991, listed three of the proposed 

salmon runs and designated critical habitat for the 

continued survival of the fish.

The ESA declaration embroiled the region and federal 

water resources agencies in controversy. While environmentalists gambled that the ESA would force a solution 

that would save anadromous fish of the Columbia River 

and its tributaries, other interests, such as agriculture, 

timber, and industries dependent on cheap hydropower 

feared the economic costs of the listing. The Corps 

found itself directly involved in the ESA process and was 

required to review its actions affecting salmon runs. If the 

NMFS proposed an emergency listing and determined 

that the Corps’ activities were detrimental to the species 

or its habitat, the Corps had to consider alternatives 

recommended by NMFS, though the Army agency could 

elect not to follow the recommendations. Final ESA listing 

required the Corps to consult once again with the NMFS 

about potential actions to avoid species extinction and 

formulate its own opinion of impact.

As a consequence of the ESA process, in 1991 the 

Corps modified operations at five Columbia Basin 

reservoirs, adapted six Columbia River dams, and 

completed three studies and a dozen reports evaluating 

its actions. In an attempt to broker an agreement among 

environmental and economic interests and formulate 

a consensus plan to address the depletion of salmon 

runs, federal and state political leaders and various 

stakeholders held a Northwest Salmon Summit in 1990. 

A series of meetings into early 1991 failed to achieve 

a consensus plan for action. After the ESA listing, the 

NMFS established a Salmon Recovery Team to develop 

recommendations for a recovery plan. 

Much of the controversy surrounding salmon 

recovery during the remainder of the 1990s involved 

how much water to spill each year to speed the downstream migrants through the complex of dams on the 

Snake and Columbia rivers. Unfortunately, spilled water 

was expensive to the region because it was not available 

for electric power generation. Because of the complexity 

of the issues involved in a recovery plan and the 

expense of scientifically acceptable solutions, the issue 

found its way into the federal courts. The remainder 

of the decade was spent litigating the issues while the 

Corps attempted to refine operations at its projects to 

accommodate the evolving recovery plan for ESA-listed 

salmon species. No permanent solution emerged by the 

beginning of the new century.

CIVIL WORKS PROJECT MANAGEMENT

In the post-World War II era, questions of cost and best 

methods of project administration greatly affected the 

process of federal water resources development. By 

1970, the federal Office of Management and Budget had 

gained increasing control of water resources policy, 

while the Department of the Army considered civil 

works a minor function within the military bureaucracy. 

During the 1960s, concern within the Army about the 

growth of the civil works budget and the need to coordinate water resources policy with other federal agencies 

led to the establishment, in 1970, of the Office of Assistant Secretary of the Army for Civil Works. This office 

had the goal of strengthening planning and review functions within the Corps, while giving the agency more 

clout within the executive branch. However, for political 

reasons the position was not filled for five years. The 

rest of the 1970s were spent defining how the assistant 

secretary would accomplish their mission and develop 

a sound relationship with the Corps of Engineers. This 

process unfolded just as the Corps faced changes in the 

way projects were financed.45

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
When a Republican administration took office in 

1981, it brought new water resources priorities. Instead 

of relying on traditional, full federal funding of water 

projects, the new assistant secretary of the army for 

civil works, William R. Gianelli, wanted to fund the 

Corps’ water resources undertakings through costsharing with nonfederal interests. His successor, Robert 

K. Dawson, saw the process to completion five years 

later with WRDA-86. The law represented a watershed 

event in the way the Corps of Engineers operated by 

implementing greater cost-sharing with nonfederal 

sponsors and expediting the planning process for civil 

works projects. It contained new requirements for 

intergovernmental cooperation, local sponsorships, 

and the financing of inland navigation, harbor maintenance, and construction. For the first time, cost-sharing 

was imposed on all flood control projects, with local 

sponsors required to pay at least 25 percent of project 

costs. The legislation also established two trust funds, 

based on user fees, for support of inland waterways 

and for harbor maintenance. Recognizing that the 

Corps would have to change its project planning and 

management procedures to implement WRDA-86, the 

agency senior leadership initiated a major review of the 

Corps’ business functions in 1987.46

Traditionally, a Corps district developed a civil 

works project by passing it from one functional area to 

the next as it progressed from concept through completion—that is, from planning to engineering to construction and finally to operations. Typically, each functional 

area assigned a different manager to the project, with 

no single person responsible for delivery time or cost 

control. This approach to management of projects 

proved time-consuming and expensive. In contrast to 

the Corps’ method, the private sector employed one 

person—the project manager—to oversee all project 

costs and schedules throughout the life of the undertaking. The system emphasized teamwork above loyalty 

to a functional specialty and stressed cost controls and 

timeliness throughout the life of the project.47

In 1988, the Corps adopted the project management concept and issued an engineering circular to 

guide implementation. Each district designated a civilian 

as deputy district engineer for project management 

(DDE(PM)) and assigned a project manager for each large 

civil works project. An Office of Project Management was 

to provide technical advice to the DDE (PM). The chiefs 

of functional areas retained responsibility for providing 

functional products, including schedules, budgets, and 

manpower requirements necessary to accomplish their 

assigned work. The new project managers had responsibility for the overall project schedule, cost, and coordination and reported directly to the DDE (PM). The Corps’ 

headquarters ordered that no additional personnel positions be created to achieve the new structure.48

Over the next four years, senior leaders at headquarters and in the field struggled to implement the 

new project management system, as the process did 

not go smoothly. The functional elements (“stovepipes”) and their chiefs did not want to give up 

authority or personnel to a project manager or DDE. 

Complicating the process, each district tended to 

interpret and implement the project management 

guidance differently. Although frustrated, Chief of 

Engineers Lt. Gen. Henry Hatch, pushed ahead—clarifying that the DDE (PM) had equal rank with the chiefs 

of engineering and construction. He also restructured 

Corps headquarters to emphasize commitment at 

the top to the project management system. The key 

change at headquarters involved the establishment, 

in July 1989, of two program directorates—Civil Works 

and Military Programs. Each directorate had its own 

engineering and construction division, but Civil Works 

also contained divisions for project management, 

programs and policy, and planning. Military Programs 

had a project management and an environmental 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
restoration division. In the field, each district and division combined programs and project management 

offices. By 1990, project managers existed at every level 

of the Corps. In effect, this new organization created 

its own stovepipes.49

To support the project management initiative, 

the Corps pushed the automation and linking of 

reporting, budgeting, and scheduling requirements 

with the project managers’ data networks. One goal of 

these efforts was to reduce the time it took to design 

and construct a civil works project, which could run 

to twenty years under the old planning approach. As 

Bory Steinberg, chief of the Civil Works Directorate 

at the Corps headquarters, noted in July 1990, such a 

lapse of time was “totally unacceptable in an era of cost 

sharing and partnership with nonfederal sponsors.” One 

way of reducing project planning and execution time 

relied on cutting the study and review effort. The goal 

aimed to achieve the planning and design of a project 

in seven years. In addition, the Corps was committed 

to constructing all projects according to the costs and 

schedules set in the cost-sharing agreements with local 

sponsors. The Corps recognized that the key element 

in the new planning process was accountability, and 

it hoped that a successful project management system 

would be that functional tool.50

Col. Gordon M. Clarke and Maj. Gen. Henry J. Hatch of the Corps signing the local cooperation 

agreement for the Clear Creek flood control project in Texas, June 1986

Galveston District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
Between 1990 and the end of his term as chief of 

engineers in 1992, General Hatch continued to finetune the implementation of program and project 

management and to overcome residual resistance to 

the new way of doing business. In March 1991, the 

Corps issued a regulation for project management 

that established a project team led by the project 

manager. This team included technical personnel from 

the functional elements. Field surveys conducted by 

headquarters continued to reveal resistance to the new 

project management approach, with field personnel 

complaining about conflicting guidance, complicated 

reporting requirements, and micromanagement. 

Nevertheless, the new system gradually took hold as 

leaders emerged in the district and division offices who 

embraced project management as the way to do business in the Corps. By the end of the decade, project 

management, according to several observers, had 

helped to encourage a sense of empowerment among 

district staff and break down the old stovepipe mentality 

within the organization.51

As the Corps worked during the 1990s to implement 

project management, it also undertook a major restructuring of the entire organization. Shifts in workload from 

design and construction to operations and maintenance, 

a need to reduce overhead, and the advent of cost-sharing 

pushed the decision to reorganize. A reduction of the 

number of Corps division and districts offered a means 

to distribute workload more evenly, cut nontechnical 

personnel, and reduce overhead. After several unsuccessful reorganization attempts, the Corps finally developed a plan by the mid-1990s that focused first on the 

headquarters and division levels. This phase of the restructuring streamlined the Corps’ technical review procedures 

by removing divisions from the process. This change, 

coupled with alterations in other management processes, 

sought to deliver quality work at less cost. The next phase 

involved reducing the number of divisions from thirteen 

to eight, with four districts in each remaining division. 

The districts maintained their core functions such as engineering, planning, operations, and construction; but the 

level of competency in each functional element varied 

across districts, depending on respective workloads. The 

goal was to accomplish the projected civil works mission 

in a time of diminished resources.52

The process of reorganizing the divisions required 

great care because of the potential to harm morale and 

disrupt ongoing business. Ultimately, the restructuring 

was accomplished by combining those divisions having 

major river systems with similar needs, such as navigation, hydropower production, and environmental issues. 

Thus, for example, the North Pacific Division (covering 

the Columbia River Basin) and the Missouri River Division (covering the Missouri River Basin) joined to form the 

Northwestern Division. Despite the challenges inherent in 

restructuring, at the completion of the process, the Corps 

created a leaner, more efficient, and focused organization 

with the necessary technical and managerial skills to meet 

the engineering and environmental challenges ahead. 

Coupled with the project management innovations, 

the reorganization made the Corps a more nimble and 

competent organization as it faced a new century.

EMERGENCY OPERATIONS

The Corps’ role in providing disaster relief stemmed 

chiefly from its flood-control mission. Beginning in 

1917, with the first Flood Control Act, Congress accepted 

federal responsibility for flood control on the Mississippi and Sacramento Rivers and assigned the Corps to 

assist in the resulting levee work. When massive flooding 

struck the Mississippi River in 1927, the Corps attempted 

to reinforce the levees holding back the rising waters. 

When these levees failed, the Corps undertook disaster 

relief efforts for the flood-affected communities, such as 

transporting supplies to communities isolated by rising 

water and rescuing thousands of stranded refugees. The 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Corps had added incentive to assist in disaster response 

activities when floods affected its navigation projects.53

The Corps of Engineers’ role in providing disaster 

relief expanded substantially when Congress enacted 

the Federal Disaster Relief Act of 1950. This measure 

allowed for local and state governments to petition the 

president for a disaster declaration and, subsequently, 

federal disaster assistance. Authorized assistance 

included emergency housing, repair of critical facilities, 

and debris removal. In 1955, Congress further expanded 

the Corps’ disaster preparedness and emergency 

response role by authorizing emergency operations in 

the face of imminent floods to rehabilitate flood-control 

works threatened or destroyed by floods and to protect 

Alaska

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Corps of Engineers Field Organization 

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers is organized geographically into eight divisions and 

forty-one civil works districts. Districts are defined by watershed boundaries for civil 

works projects and by political boundaries for military projects.

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
or repair federally authorized shore-protection works 

that were threatened or damaged by coastal storms. 

These provisions enabled a vigorous Corps response 

to a series of devastating Gulf Coast hurricanes in the 

1960s, as well as the periodic flooding occurring on the 

nation’s waterways. Federal disaster policy changed in 

the 1970s when Congress once again greatly expanded 

assistance under the Disaster Relief Act and through the 

establishment of the Federal Emergency Management 

Agency (FEMA). The new agency would coordinate 

relief from multiple agencies, including the Corps. To 

accomplish its growing mission, the Corps developed 

and maintained emergency response plans and trained 

personnel for response and recovery operations. The 

Corps regularly tested its emergency readiness by 

conducting exercises with state and local governments 

and other federal agencies.

After a series of catastrophic disasters in 1989, 

FEMA improved coordination of disaster relief through 

a Federal Response Plan that included prescripted 

Emergency Support Functions assigned to specific 

agencies. The Corps assumed responsibility for public 

engineering, which included debris removal, critical 

facility repair, emergency power, temporary housing 

repairs, and distribution of food and water. The Corps 

also supported other missions such as hazardous 

materials removal and urban search and rescue. Later 

versions of this plan, including the National Response 

Plan of 2005 and the National Response Framework of 

2008, expanded these missions and adopted standard 

organizations and terminology. In the 1990s, the Corps 

developed national response assets to support the 

regional Corps districts that had previously resourced 

disaster relief. The Corps rolled these efforts into its 

Readiness 2000 program, which established the Readiness Support Center, authorized the use of the 249th

Engineer Battalion (Prime Power) to support emergency 

power requirements, approved advanced contracting, 

and introduced the concept of planning and response 

teams (PRTs). PRTs were highly trained and specialized 

regional teams with pre-assigned public engineering 

missions that could get on the ground quickly after a 

disaster. In addition, new technologies such as easily 

manufactured plastic tarps (“blue roofs”), remote 

sensing, computer modeling, and rapid global positioning system-enabled surveys helped speed disaster 

responses. These measures greatly standardized and 

enhanced the ability of the Corps to provide aid in 

floods, hurricanes, and other disasters.54

Several large-scale national disasters—especially 

the 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens in Washington 

State and Hurricane Andrew on the Florida coast in 

1992—illustrate the Corps’ short- and long-term emergency response roles that grew from its flood-control 

and navigation missions. The unprecedented devastation caused by these two events required emergency 

actions to cope with immediate impacts on life and 

property as well as long-term rehabilitation and protection projects to prevent ongoing and future damage. On 

a lesser scale, the Corps’ disaster response to the aftermath of the Loma Prieta, California, earthquake and the 

Exxon Valdez oil spill off the coast of Alaska—both in 

1989—revealed the range of its emergency capabilities. 

MOUNT ST. HELENS

On May 18, 1980, an earthquake of magnitude 5 on 

the Richter scale caused the collapse of almost 12 

percent of Mount St. Helens. This then triggered an 

explosion of superheated water in the mountain, 

equaling twenty-four megatons of energy—a blast five 

hundred times more powerful than the atomic bomb 

that destroyed Hiroshima. The explosion took more 

than 1,200 feet off the top of the mountain, forming 

a huge crater over a mile in diameter. The mountain 

spewed approximately three billion cubic yards of 

material, some as volcanic ash and some as mud and 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
pyroclastic flows that sped down the mountain at one 

hundred miles an hour. These flows (averaging up to 

sixty-six feet in depth) contained massive amounts 

of debris, rock, trees, water, and glacial ice in superheated conditions, which filled in and leveled out river 

beds, reducing, for example, the channel capacity in 

the Cowlitz River from 70,000 to 13,000 cubic feet per 

second. Very quickly, the mudflow deposited as much 

as fifteen feet of sand, volcanic ash, and pumice in 

the river channels and ten feet on the floodplain. On 

the Columbia River, the mudflow reduced the fortyfoot-deep ship channel to a mere fifteen feet. More 

ominous for the future, the debris avalanche also 

created lakes in the Toutle River drainage, blocking 

them with eroded, unstable material. As these 

lakes retained rainwater or snowmelt, the danger of 

breaching and downstream flooding increased. 

The eruption and its aftermath killed fifty-seven 

people, destroyed 150 square miles of valuable forest, 

and caused $1.1 billion in damage. As infill eliminated 

natural river channels, 45,000 people were left without 

flood protection. The avalanche of mud and debris 

clogged the Toutle, Cowlitz, and Columbia rivers, which 

threatened to cause extensive navigation and flooding 

problems. The Corps faced a difficult and uncertain situation in devising appropriate technical solutions to the 

immediate and long-term water problems caused by this 

unprecedented natural disaster.

After initiating emergency dredging to restore the 

shipping channel in the Columbia River and floodfighting operations on the Cowlitz, the Portland District 

of the Corps of Engineers devised and implemented both 

short- and long-term solutions to the flooding and navigation problems caused by continuing flows of volcanic 

material. By December 1980, the Corps had restored the 

Columbia River navigation channel by removing fourteen million cubic yards of infill, raising 14,700 feet of 

levees, and extending 21,400 feet of levees in preparation 

for the winter flood season. The Corps then focused on 

maintaining the restored navigation-channel and floodprotection measures from the large volume (potentially 

three billion cubic yards) of erodible debris deposits in 

the Toutle River system, which fed into the Cowlitz and 

Columbia rivers. The Corps built two debris dams on the 

Toutle (weir-like rock retaining structures) to hold back 

the rapidly eroding layers of debris so that excavation 

equipment could remove it to spoil areas. The Corps also 

constructed eight sediment basins on the Toutle River 

to trap additional sediment and stabilize river channels. 

The crews periodically dredged the trapped sediments. 

By May 1981, dredging and sediment-trapping efforts 

removed 74.4 million cubic yards of material from the 

Cowlitz and Toutle rivers.

Based on updated sediment predictions that one 

billion cubic yards would be transported to the Cowlitz 

and Columbia rivers over a fifteen-year period, potential economic damage could exceed $3 billion if no 

actions were taken. The Corps proposed nine projects 

to maintain the existing level of protection, mainly 

focused on trapping sediments and stabilizing river 

banks. The engineers also constructed a controlled 

outlet from South Castle Lake, which had been created 

by the debris avalanche and had a plug that, if it catastrophically failed, would release 25,000 acre-feet of 

water and large volumes of sediment. In all, the Corps’ 

emergency and short-term response work cost $327 

million. However, the experts estimated that one billion 

cubic yards of sediment from the initial three billion 

cubic yards of volcanic material ejected from Mount St. 

Helens would continue eroding downstream and settle 

in the Cowlitz and Columbia rivers, posing grave problems. Large additional expenditures of public money 

would be necessary to prevent heavy future losses from 

flooding and channel sedimentation.

The Corps’ comprehensive, long-term strategy for 

controlling Mount St. Helens’ sediment focused on 

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
two areas: the unstable debris dam formed at Spirit 

Lake and the continuing sedimentation of the Cowlitz 

River. Volcanic material up to six hundred feet in depth 

formed a ridge at Spirit Lake’s outlet to the North 

Fork of the Toutle River. Overtopping or breaching 

the blockage would cause catastrophic downstream 

flooding. While temporarily pumping water from the 

lake to relieve pressure on the debris plug, the Corps 

decided in 1984 to provide a more permanent outlet by 

drilling an 8,460-foot long tunnel through solid rock. 

After completing the tunnel in April 1985, the Corps 

then constructed a large sediment retention structure 

(SRS) on the North Fork of the Toutle River to trap 

sediment from water before it moved downstream. In 

December 1989, after five years of work, contractors 

completed the SRS—an 1,800-foot-long and 184-foothigh rock and clay embankment, at a cost of $73.2 

million. It contained a concrete outlet structure and 

an unlined spillway at one end. The 3,200-acre lake 

formed by the SRS had a projected fifty-year life. The 

outlet works contained six rows of pipes through which 

water passed. The Corps’ plan called for closing each 

row of pipes gradually, as the pool filled, until the river 

flowed freely over the spillway top. When the Corps 

closed the last row of pipes in 1998, the SRA still had 

room for almost two hundred million cubic yards of 

sediment. The total Corps expenditures—long- and 

short-term—for Mount St. Helens recovery work came 

to about $561 million. Both the tunnel at Spirit Lake 

and the SRS were major engineering works. These, 

Excavating the Cowlitz River as part of the cleanup effort following the eruption of Mount St. Helens

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

326

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
together with the short-term response to the unprecedented flooding and disruptions to navigation caused 

by the Mount St. Helens eruption, demonstrated the 

Corps’ engineering and planning capabilities to cope 

with water resources emergencies.55

HURRICANE ANDREW AND OTHER NATURAL 

DISASTERS

During the late twentieth century, the devastation caused 

by hurricanes out of the south Atlantic Ocean severely 

tested the Corps’ ability to provide disaster relief. Hurricane Andrew, a category 5 storm, roared ashore twentyfive miles south of Miami, Florida, on the morning of 

August 24, 1992. Carrying exceptionally strong wind 

speeds and storm surges, Andrew created a path of 

destruction twenty-two miles wide and devastated the 

land from Biscayne Bay to the Everglades. It destroyed 

thousands of homes and other buildings, tore down 

power lines, and left millions of cubic yards of debris. All 

told, Hurricane Andrew killed twenty people, left 250,000 

homeless, and caused $26.5 billion in damages.56

The Corps, through its Jacksonville District, quickly 

responded to Andrew under the overall guidance of 

FEMA. Over several months, the Corps spent nearly 

$400 million in federal relief funds installing temporary 

roofs on about 22,500 homes, removing debris, setting 

up emergency generators and pumps, distributing 

thousands of gallons of safe drinking water, and rehabilitating 270 schools. The Corps also oversaw the repair 

of telephone, water, and sewage treatment systems. 

Unloading roofing material in Florida following Hurricane Andrew, 1992

Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

327

9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
Removing the vast quantity of debris and refuse (11 

million cubic yards) caused by the storm, required a 

significant logistical effort. At one point, the Corps and 

its contractors operated 2,000 trucks a day to clean up 

the mess. The Corps’ technical assistance and project 

management skills were essential in promptly coping 

with what at the time was the largest disaster recovery 

effort undertaken by the agency.

In addition to hurricanes, the Corps has responded 

to a variety of other natural and man-caused disasters. 

In October 1989, the Loma Prieta, California, earthquake 

lasted less than fifteen seconds, but killed sixty-two 

people, left 14,000 homeless, and caused $7 billion in 

losses. In response, the Corps provided assistance in 

debris removal, damage assessment, restoration of critical 

municipal services, and technical assistance involving 

geotechnical support analyzing geologic hazards. As with 

other disasters, the Corps responded quickly and effectively because of its organizational flexibility. A Corps 

division and two local districts coordinated an efficient 

and timely response to FEMA’s requests.57

In the case of the Exxon Valdez oil spill, the Corps 

demonstrated yet another side of the agency’s emergency response capabilities. The oil spill cleanup after 

the tanker ran aground in Alaska’s Prince William Sound 

in March 1989 demonstrated the Corps’ ingenuity in 

improvising a response to the release of 11 million 

gallons of crude oil along 1,500 miles of south-central 

Alaska coastline. The Corps modified two of its dredges 

to vacuum the oil from the water’s surface, something 

never previously attempted. The crews of the Corps’ 

dredges Yaquina and Essayons, after brief trial and error, 

adapted the vessels’ dragheads by inverting them to 

enable recovery of significant amounts of oil (almost 

400,000 gallons) for safe disposal.58

The Corps also assisted in devising a plan for cleaning 

the contaminated shoreline areas through its research 

capabilities at WES and the Cold Regions Research and 

Engineering Laboratory (CRREL) in New Hampshire. 

WES had extensive experience concerning hazardous 

and toxic materials and contaminated sediments, while 

CRREL had investigated the long-term effects of crude oil 

spills on terrestrial environments and was able to successfully apply remote sensing technology.

TERRORIST ATTACKS OF SEPTEMBER 11, 2001

Among a series of coordinated attacks on Tuesday 

morning, September 11, 2001, a hijacked American 

Airlines Flight 11 smashed into the north tower of 

the World Trade Center in New York City. Seventeen 

minutes later, a second hijacked plane, United Airlines 

Flight 175, crashed into the south tower. Both towers 

ultimately collapsed. The disaster response came from a 

wide range of first responders including members of the 

New York District of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. 

The immediate reaction was to both ascertain the situation and provide assistance. Six Corps vessels responded 

by ferrying people from Manhattan Island across the 

Hudson River to New Jersey and returning loaded with 

firefighters and supplies such as fuel for fire trucks. The 

activities over the next few days evolved from rescue 

to recovery with Corps structural engineers assisting 

with the removal of rubble from the collapsed towers. 

The Corps involvement was headed by North Atlantic 

Division Engineer Brig. Gen. M. Stephen Rhoades, who 

was headquartered across New York Harbor at Fort 

Hamilton. Personnel from New York District, whose 

offices were located one-half mile from the towers, 

were quickly engaged and over time debris management specialists from every district and laboratory in the 

Corps arrived to assist. The efforts of Corps personnel 

were coordinated through FEMA. 

Within a few hours of the attack, city officials realized a plan was needed to dispose of rubble from the 

destroyed buildings. New York City officials reopened 

the Fresh Kills Landfill on Staten Island and used barges 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
to move the debris. However, a deep water access on 

lower Manhattan Island would be required. Within 

twenty-four hours, the Corps completed the permitting 

to allow dredging at Pier 25 and work began. Dredging 

efforts encountered a buried pier, slowing progress, but 

the deep-water access was available within a week and 

debris was steadily moved to the Staten Island landfill as 

well as selected deep water disposal sites. 

The Staten Island landfill became a crime scene 

as debris was inspected for human remains and clues 

concerning the attack. In response, the Corps invited Phillips and Jordan (P&J), a Knoxville-based contractor that 

had an existing debris removal contract with the Corps, to 

come to New York City to assist with the recovery. P&J and 

the New York District worked carefully with twenty-four 

public (federal, state, and local) agencies to establish a 

safe and cooperative work area that met the law enforcement objectives. At its peak, the operation employed 

almost 1,000 workers running 24-hour operations. The 

debris processing operations continued for several 

months and consumed 1.7 million work hours.

While the debris removal at the World Trade Center 

complex or “ground zero” continued for many months, 

the City of New York was able to quickly assume the 

associated duties, so that by mid-October only forty 

Corps employees outside of New York District remained 

in the disaster area. However, the quick response, technical skills, and leadership brought by the Corps of Engineers were invaluable in dealing with the consequences 

of the worst-ever terrorist attack on American soil.59

Corps of Engineers personnel confer with a member of the New York City Fire Department 

at the World Trade Center site, September 2001

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
HURRICANE KATRINA

Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, Louisiana, on 

August 29, 2005, with incredible force, traveling across the 

Gulf of Mexico as a Category 5 hurricane with 175-mph 

winds. The storm lost some of its force before making 

landfall—wind speeds dropped to 127 mph—and fell to a 

Category 3, but it still produced unprecedented devastation. Katrina generated an unexpected 28-foot storm surge 

and 55-foot waves, resulting in unparalleled damage for a 

storm of that strength. Flood waters inundated almost 80 

percent of New Orleans, with depths exceeding fifteen feet. 

The surge and waves caused fifty major levee breaches, 

disabled thirty-four of the city’s seventy-one pumping 

stations, and compromised 168 of 350 miles of protective structures designed to reduce storm-related damage. 

Rainfall of fourteen inches in a 24-hour period added to 

the misery. In all, more than 1,500 people died and property losses came to an estimated $90 billion, making it 

the costliest disaster in U.S. history.60 The environmental 

consequences were dire as well, permanently altering 

the landscape of the Louisiana coast and exacerbating 

an already serious erosion problem. In normal years, the 

loss of coastline averaged 25 to 35 square miles—Katrina 

wiped out 118 square miles.

In the immediate aftermath of the hurricane, the 

New Orleans District responded to FEMA’s call for relief 

actions while racing to repair damage and restore the 

hurricane protection system (HPS) to pre-Katrina conditions in time for the 2006 hurricane season. In addition 

to initial work on the levees and pumping systems, the 

Corps also assembled a task force to remove stagnant 

flood waters from New Orleans, ultimately ridding the 

city of 250 million gallons in just fifty-three days. All 

together, 9,000 people, including 6,000 from nearly every 

Corps’ district and division, took part in the agency’s 

response to the storm.

Hurricane Katrina led to a number of investigations 

into what went wrong and how to prevent such destruction in the future. The Corps of Engineers established the 

Interagency Performance Evaluation Taskforce (IPET) 

to study the performance of the HPS during Katrina 

and to assist in the application of that knowledge to the 

reconstruction of the damaged portions of the system, 

to improve the protection system, to identify existing 

deficiencies, and to establish a risk-based framework 

for recommending changes.61 The eight-volume report 

explored all aspects of the storm’s behavior and the New 

Orleans HPS. The resulting analysis uncovered design 

failures in the structural components of the protection 

system with foundation failures of “T-walls,” inadequate 

levee foundation sheer strengths, and inconsistent 

elevation datums for aligning the system of protective 

structures receiving the most notoriety. While these engineering failures were devastating and an embarrassment 

for the Corps of Engineers, the causes and remediation 

of these design deficiencies were readily addressed. 

However, a fundamental change in storm protection 

design resulted from the post-Katrina investigation. This 

was the concept of “risk-based analysis.” Previously, the 

design of protective structures applied factors of safety 

to determine final design criteria, but the analysis of the 

Katrina event indicated a range of possible storm events 

and storm consequences based on storm intensity and 

trajectory.62 A key conclusion of the IPET, and supported 

by an external IPET review by the American Society of 

Civil Engineers (ASCE), was that future designs should 

be based on the probability of different storm events 

combined with the consequences of those events.63 From 

this came the concept of “shared” risk among the owner 

of a structure and those impacted by the possible failure 

of the structure. It also opened a new direction in engineering design that included the quantification of risk, 

communication of risk, and management of risk.

In addition to promoting the concept that 

“residual” risk exists in every engineered work, the 

Corps also examined the decision-making process for 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
the HPS—which can be characterized as a project of 

large magnitude, with long duration of development 

and construction and having multiple responsible 

parties. This analysis was reported as the “DecisionMaking Chronology for the Lake Pontchartrain and 

Vicinity Hurricane Protection Project.” Produced 

through IWR, this report indicated inconsistent decision making over five decades by the multiple federal, 

state, and local parties involved. The result was an HPS 

that was not fully integrated, consistently designed, or 

robustly maintained.64 ASCE later concluded that all 

large-scope, long-duration, and multiple-stakeholder 

projects should quantify, communicate, and manage 

risk; employ integrated systems approaches; exercise 

sound leadership, management, and stewardship in 

decision making; and adapt critical infrastructure in 

response to dynamic conditions and practice. These 

Guiding Principles were to be integrated to achieve an 

overarching principle of holding paramount the safety, 

health, and welfare of the public.

65

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VIRGINIA

GEORGIA

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ALABAMA

MISSISSIPPI Mississippi River

Gulf of Mexico

LOUISIANA

New Orleans

Gulfport Biloxi

Mobile

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Naples Miami

Ft. Myers

TEXAS

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SOUTH

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TENNESSEE

Areas impacted by sustained

hurricane-force winds

(8/25)

(8/26)

(8/27)

(8/28)

(8/28)

(8/29)

Hurricane Katrina 

Striking Florida and the Gulf Coast in late August 2005, Hurricane Katrina ranks among 

the deadliest hurricanes ever to hit the United States. An estimated 1,836 people died as a 

direct result of the storm and the flooding that followed while millions were left homeless.

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
While carrying out its hurricane recovery operations, the Corps also began a congressionally authorized 

two-year study to develop a long-term plan for hurricane 

risk reduction and coastal restoration in Louisiana and 

Mississippi. Hurricanes Katrina and, several weeks later, 

Rita, had permanently altered the landscape along the 

Gulf coast with their combined effects destroying many 

square miles of Louisiana wetlands. This study drew on 

the Corps’ 1990s work with the State of Louisiana, which 

sought to recover or restore the state’s coastal wetland 

environment. Earlier cooperative studies had focused 

broadly on recovering regional ecological balance, but 

the new study sought to ensure public safety and benefit 

to the nation, while balancing the needs of navigation, 

flood and hurricane storm damage reduction, and 

environmental stewardship. The Corps and the State 

of Louisiana completed a $20 million study, called the 

Louisiana Coastal Protection and Restoration (LACPR) 

report in December 2009.66

The multidisciplinary team of scientists, engineers, 

and planners inventoried the economic, social, and 

environmental resources of coastal Louisiana; collected 

data; developed risk assessment models for various 

hurricane intensities and trajectories; and then designed 

strategies to reduce risk. The Corps found it difficult 

to model and prepare a quantitative risk assessment 

because Katrina combined the characteristics of both a 

Category 3 and Category 5 hurricane, pushing enormous 

amounts of water in front of it. The combination of water 

and wind speed set records for a surge associated with 

a coastal storm in the New Orleans area. To provide a 

100-year level of protection against such powerful winds 

and water, the team looked at a range of alternative 

measures, reformulating and refining various solutions 

to meet the defined objectives.

While looking at a broad range of potential future 

hurricanes and their possible effects, the team had to 

take into account Louisiana’s continuing loss of coastal 

wetlands. The lack of sediment in the delta, attributed to trapping upstream by dams and other flood 

control measures, contributed to weakening coastal 

wetlands. This meant that structural solutions would 

have to be part of new protective measures. As a consequence, the LACPR proposed a dual line of defense, 

combining an outer line of natural coastal features, such 

as barrier islands, marshes, and forests, with an inner 

line of armored levees. The report also recommended 

nonstructural techniques, such as elevating structures 

and creating effective evacuation plans.

The unprecedented LACPR report was unique in 

several respects. As a complex planning and analysis 

undertaking by the Corps and the State of Louisiana, the 

report represented the first integrated plan for hurricane 

damage risk reduction and restoration of Louisiana’s 

disappearing wetlands and their ecosystems. The scope 

of the planning area was daunting, encompassing 18,000 

square miles of coastal area and involving a broad 

range of interrelated human and environmental factors. 

In addition, developing a range of alternative solutions required the improvement of existing hydrologic 

modeling methodologies. The study also incorporated, 

in cooperation with Dutch engineers, best practices 

from the Dutch flood protection system.

A key breakthrough in the LACPR involved the use 

of modeling that identified the residual risk present, 

despite the measure of protection being considered. 

This approach used both historical and projected future 

storms as a basis for estimating risks and deciding how 

and where to rebuild. In previous studies, only historical 

data were used. The risk model presented a means to 

acquaint the public with the level of risk in any proposed 

project design. The Corps also established, for the first 

time, a quantitative measure of the value of Louisiana’s 

existing wetlands in achieving coastal protection against 

storm surges. To aid in understanding the impacts of 

various alternatives on the many stakeholders, the Corps 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
team used a methodology known as multi-criteria decision analysis. This approach revealed the tradeoffs associated with the various alternatives. For example, more 

environmental outputs from protection might require 

giving up some development opportunities.

After completing the draft technical report, the 

team submitted it for peer review by the National 

Research Council of the National Academy of Sciences. 

The review, begun in March 2008, was designed to 

provide assurances that the science behind the report’s 

alternatives was sound and that all appropriate interests 

had been taken into account. The Corps team submitted 

the final technical report of the LACPR process to the 

chief of engineers in July 2009. The technical report, 

with its list of alternatives and cost estimates, then 

served as the basis for future decisions related to the 

level of flood protection provided under the congressionally authorized project called the Hurricane and Storm 

Damage Risk Reduction System (HSDRRS).

Through a series of appropriations starting in 

2006, Congress provided a total of $14.6 billion for 

the HSDRRS of New Orleans and vicinity. The Corps’ 

annual civil works construction budget averages 

approximately $2 billion, so the HSDRRS’s two hundred 

construction projects represented one of the largest 

engineering programs in U.S. history. This package of 

storm- and flood-damage-reduction projects included 

350 miles of levees and floodwalls; 73 non-federal 

Corps of Engineers personnel observing a helicopter maneuver at a sandbag staging area 

following Hurricane Katrina, September 2005

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Hank Heusinkveld

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9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
pumping stations; 3 canal closure structures with 

pumps; and 4 gated outlets to attain 100-year level 

flood risk reduction for New Orleans. The new designs 

also addressed the primary causes of New Orleans 

levee breaches during Katrina: weak foundations, 

scour, and overtopping. The effort to provide a 100-year 

level of protection took into account factors besides 

storm surges and wave levels, such as an unexpected 

sea level rise, subsidence, and possible increases in 

storm severity and frequencies. The designs benefitted 

from the IPET analysis of previous engineering design 

flaws and inconsistent elevation datums on which 

the heights of structures throughout the New Orleans 

region were based. 

One of the most controversial decisions was the 

installation of outfall canal closure structures. As most 

of New Orleans is below sea level, three canals exist to 

drain rainwater and groundwater from the center of New 

Orleans to Lake Pontchartrain in the north. While these 

canals are efficient in transporting excess water from 

New Orleans, they also required contiguous levees and 

floodwalls along their banks to prevent Lake Pontchartrain flood waters from flowing backward into the city. 

The canals were 13,500 feet, 11,000 feet, and 15,000 feet 

in length and required protective structures along both 

banks. During Hurricane Katrina, these canal levees 

and floodwalls were the locations of several significant 

structural failures. The new outfall canal closures can 

The Inner Harbor Navigation Canal surge barrier, the largest design-build civil works project in the history of the 

Corps, stretching across the Golden Triangle Marsh to protect New Orleans from hurricane surges, July 2012

New Orleans District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
be opened during normal weather to allow the canals 

to function by gravity flow, but during storm events can 

be closed, thereby preventing 79,000 feet (15 miles) 

of levees and flood walls along the canals from being 

exposed to Lake Pontchartrain flood waters. To function 

during storm events, the closure structures also required 

the construction of pumping facilities to remove rainwater falling in the city. By necessity, these pumping 

stations are massive and were designed to remove 9,200, 

2,200, and 5,200 cubic feet per second, respectively. One 

of the larger undertakings within the HSDRRS program 

was the $720 million Inner Harbor Navigation Canal 

(IHNC) surge barrier, which closes the Inner Harbor 

Navigation Channel linking Lake Borgne with New 

Orleans. The IHNC consists of a two-mile-long, 24- to 

26-foot high concrete and steel structure with three navigable gates. One of these movable structures is a storm 

surge barrier with two curved floating gates resembling 

the Maeslant or Rotterdam Barrier in the Netherlands. 

According to one Corps official, the IHNC “is unique in 

its magnitude and the technical demands are unique to 

anything that we’ve ever done in the United States.”67

SUPPORT TO MILITARY OPERATIONS 

As previously discussed, the nineteenth-century composition of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers was predominately military engineers with 109 military and no civilian 

engineers in 1867, but growing to 200 military and 367 

civilian engineers by 1918. This transition is consistent 

with the emergence of civilian engineers in the United 

States through the industrial revolution.68 However, with 

the passage of numerous federal flood control acts, environmental legislation, and eventually water resources 

development acts during the twentieth century, a divide 

developed within the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. One 

branch provided engineering and construction services 

for others, primary the Army and later the Department of 

Defense (DoD), but also the Department of State, Department of Energy, Environmental Protection Agency, and 

other state and federal agencies. This engineering support 

also included the military engineer missions of mobility, 

countermobility, and survivability for U.S. armed forces, 

contractors, and allies working in hostile areas. The 

second branch to evolve included the water resources 

or civil works missions of flood-risk reduction, inland 

navigation, and aquatic ecosystem restoration. These 

two branches gradually became quite distinct as the civil 

works missions have unique energy and water development appropriations from Congress that cannot be mixed 

with other funding sources.

While the two mission areas somewhat stabilized 

during the Cold War, employees working in either civil 

works or military programs remained employees of the 

Department of the Army and under the control of the 

chief of engineers. From time to time, individuals with 

expertise in areas such as engineering, construction, and 

environmental issues were provided opportunities to 

work in both mission areas. 

During the Global War on Terror, which followed 

the September 2011 attacks on New York City and 

Washington, D.C., the Corps’ water resources expertise became a newly found asset for the DoD. Working 

through the United States’ Central Command, water 

resources experts were mobilized in response to nationbuilding needs for sustainable water resources in Iraq, 

Afghanistan, and neighboring countries. This expertise 

included hydrologic modeling of rivers and reservoirs as 

well as assistance in the development of water-management plans and decision-support tools and methodologies by the local governments. Sharing this expertise 

has since expanded to the other Combatant Commands 

located around the world. This civil works effort was 

provided in addition to engineering and construction 

of new and repaired schools, roads, power distribution, 

protective structures, and similar national infrastructure 

provided by the Corps’ military programs. 

335

9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
The military programs budget peaked in 2009 at 

approximately $31 billion dollars. This work included 

support to the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq as well as 

major improvements to the infrastructure of U.S. Army 

and U.S. Air Force facilities within the United States. By 

contrast, the civil works budget in that same year was 

less than $19 billion dollars and included supplemental 

funds for construction of the HSDRRS in New Orleans 

and stimulus funding under the American Recovery 

and Reinvestment Act following the global economic 

slowdown of 2008.69

CONCLUSION

During the last quarter of the twentieth century, federal 

water resources agencies significantly reduced structural development, increased spending on maintenance 

and rehabilitation of existing aging infrastructure, and 

became intensely involved in environmental issues. 

Cost constraints and environmental concerns meant 

efforts started to shift from new construction to operations and maintenance and emergency response as 

primary drivers for water resources budgets. In 1970, for 

example, construction accounted for 60 percent of the 

Corps’ civil works budget, and operations 22 percent. By 

1990, construction dropped to 34 percent, while operations doubled to 44 percent of the total.70 The result of 

this shift in funding distribution was a corresponding 

shift in work requirements such that individuals working 

in planning and design were provided fewer opportunities to practice their technical skills. Additionally, a 

concern developed that without continued engineering, 

design, and construction work, the Corps of Engineers’ 

civil works program would gradually lose its technical 

expertise in water resources engineering and become 

primarily a caretaker of water resources infrastructure.

As trends in the 1990s and 2000s indicated, the 

future of water projects also started shifting toward 

watershed management and ecosystem restoration. 

The Corps, at the direction of Congress, committed 

to spending billions of dollars for the undoing of 

the environmental consequences of older projects. 

Restoring the natural flow of the Kissimmee River, Lake 

Okeechobee, and the Everglades in south Florida are 

examples of this trend. In the Pacific Northwest, the 

Corps and other federal water resources agencies spent 

millions of dollars on modifications to the Columbia 

River and tributary systems of dams and their operations to save endangered salmon. In addition, more 

than 3,000 dams nationwide were considered unsafe 

and in need of repair; numerous locks and dams on the 

Ohio and upper Mississippi rivers required upgrading 

to accommodate modern shipping; and the Corps’ 

hydropower infrastructure required periodic improvements. Repairing infrastructure remained vital to the 

nation’s well-being, but prioritizing the effort in a 

fiscally constrained environment proved a challenge. 

As water resources historian Marty Reuss noted, “Water 

planners must take into account both the economic 

benefits and the environmental costs, while politicians 

calculate how they can provide necessary services 

without increasing taxes or mortgaging a community’s 

future through the bond market.”71

To operate competently and efficiently in an everevolving water resources arena, the Corps, in the last 

third of the twentieth century and into the 2000s, reorganized and adopted new planning and management 

techniques. While maintaining its technical and engineering expertise and absorbing new environmental 

capabilities, the Corps became a leaner and more 

focused organization. However, the heart of the Corps’ 

continued efficiency and functional responsiveness 

rested on its decentralized organization. This flexibility 

accounted for the Corps’ ability to propose and carry 

out—through its districts and divisions—solutions to the 

evolving water resources needs and emergency disaster 

situations across the nation.

336

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
BIBLIOGRAPHIC ESSAY

As with the suggested readings in Chapter 3, the following 

books represent readily accessible published works 

providing more in-depth coverage of the various topics in 

this chapter. For sound, general coverage of society and 

politics in the 1960s and early 1970s, see James Patterson, 

Grand Expectations: The United States, 1945–1974

(New York, 1997). The Corps, The U. S. Army Corps of 

Engineers: A History (Ft. Belvoir, 2007) provides a brief 

background on all of the topics covered in this chapter. 

Beatrice Holmes, in History of Federal Water Resources 

Program and Policies, 1961–70 (Washington, D.C., 1979), 

thoroughly covers the key water resources issues at the 

federal level. A good introduction to the evolution of 

environmental politics in the United States since 1945, 

which emphasizes the interplay between development 

pressures and environmental values, is Samuel Hays, A 

History of Environmental Politics since 1945 (Pittsburgh, 

2000). Martin Reuss, in Reshaping National Water Politics: 

The Emergence of the Water Resources Development Act of 

1986 (Ft. Belvoir, 1991), details the political process that 

produced cost sharing for federal water resources projects. For context and in-depth analysis of the Corps’ early 

struggles with environmental concerns and the implementation of NEPA requirements, see Daniel Mazmanian 

and Jeanne Nienaber, Can Organizations Change: Environmental Protection, Citizen Participation and the Corps 

of Engineers (Washington, D.C., 1979). Martin Melosi 

provides a thoughtful examination of the technological 

and environmental aspects of water management in 

Precious Commodity: Providing Water for America’s Cities

(Pittsburgh, 2011).

While no comprehensive look at the Corps’ 

regulatory program has yet been published, helpful 

background information is available in U.S. Office of 

Technology Assessment, Wetlands: Their Use and Regulation (Washington, D.C., 1984), General Accounting 

Office, Wetlands Protection (Washington, D.C., 1993), 

and Jeffery Stine, America’s Forested Wetlands: From 

Wasteland to Valued Resource (Durham, 2008). The best 

available overviews of the Corps of Engineers’ response 

to declining salmon runs in the Pacific Northwest are 

Lisa Mighetto and Wesley Ebel, Saving the Salmon: A 

History of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ Efforts to 

Protect Anadromous Fish on the Columbia and Snake 

Rivers (Portland, 1995) and Blain Hardin, A River Lost: 

The Life and Death of the Columbia (New York, 2012, rev. 

ed.). Background on the Corps’ flood control mission 

is provided in Joseph Arnold, The Evolution of the 1936 

Flood Control Act (Ft. Belvoir, 1988) and Jamie Moore 

and Dorothy Moore, The Army Corps of Engineers and 

the Evolution of Federal Flood Plain Management Policy

(Boulder, 1989). A brief look at the Corps’ response to 

Hurricane Katrina can be found in Craig Collins, “Gulf 

Coast Recovery,” in Serving the Nation and the Armed 

Forces (Tampa, 2009).

337

9 Integrative Approaches to Water Resources Management
1 Samuel P. Hays, A History of Environmental Politics 

Since 1945 (Pittsburgh, Pa.: University of Pittsburgh Press, 

2000); Ted Steinberg, Down to Earth: Nature’s Role in American 

History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002).

2 David Wingerd and Ming T. Tseng, “Flood and 

Drought Functions of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers,” in U.S. 

Geological Survey, National Water Summary, 1988–89 (Washington, D.C: Government Printing Office, 1989), 123–24.

3 The discussion of federal water policy in the 

1960s and 1970s is largely based on Beatrice Hort Holmes, 

A History of Federal Water Resources Programs and Polices, 

1961–1970 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of Agriculture, Economics, Statistics, and Cooperative Services, 1979); 

Gregory Graves, Pursuing Excellence in Water Planning and 

Policy Analysis: A History of the Institute for Water Resources 

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Institute for 

Water Resources, 1995); Charles Yoe and Kenneth D. Orth, 

Planning Manual, Institute for Water Resources (IWR) Report 

96-R-21 (Nov. 1996).

4 Martin Reuss, Reshaping National Water Politics: 

The Emergence of the Water Resources Development Act of 1986

(Fort Belvoir, Va.: Institute for Water Resources, 1991), 30–34, 

quotes on 30–31.

5 U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Institute for Water 

Resources, Environmental Guidelines for the Civil Works 

Program of the Corps of Engineers (Washington, D.C.: Nov. 

1970), 2.

6 Martin Reuss, Shaping Environmental Awareness: 

The United States Army Corps of Engineers Environmental Advisory Board, 1970–1980 (Washington, D.C.: Historical Division, 

Office of the Chief of Engineers, 1983), 1–16; Daniel Mazmanian and Mordecai Lee, “Tradition Be Damned! The Army 

Corps of Engineers Is Changing,” Public Administration Review

35 (March-April 1975), 168.

7 Reuss, Shaping Environmental Awareness, 5.

8 Institute for Water Resources, Environmental Guidelines, 4–5.

9 Lt. Gen. Frederick J. Clarke, “Civil Works and Shifting 

Trends,” Military Engineer (March-April, 1971), 93; see also 

Institute for Water Resources, Environmental Guidelines, 6–12.

10 Clarke, “Civil Works Trends,” 94; Mazmanian and 

Lee, “Tradition Be Dammed,” 166–72, Drew quote on 167; 

Reuss, Shaping Environmental Awareness, 5–6.

11 Col. Howard Sargent, Jr., “Fishbowl Planning 

Immerses Pacific Northwest Citizens in Corps Projects,” Civil 

Engineering–ASCE (September 1972), 54.

12 Mazmanian and Lee, “Tradition be Dammed,” 

169–70; Daniel Mazmanian and Jeanne Nienaber, Can Organizations Change? (Washington, D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 

1979), 61–157.

13 Col. Robert Werner and Lt. Col. John Wall, “The Army 

Corps of Engineers and NEPA,” Military Engineer (March-April 

1974), 111–13; see also C. Grant Ash, “Three-Year Evolution,” 

Water Spectrum (No. 4, 1973), 28–35.

14 Jeffrey K. Stine, “Environmental Politics and Water 

Resources Development: The Case of the Army Corps of Engineers during the 1970s” (Ph. D. diss., University of California, 

Santa Barbara, 1984), 35–36, 54, 57, 81–82, 84, 193, 197.

15 Leonard Shabman, Environmental Activities in Corps 

of Engineers Water Resources Programs: Charting a New Direction, IWR Report 93-PS-1 (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Water Resources 

Support Center, Institute for Water Resources, 1993); Amy 

Doll, Review and Evaluation of Programs for Determining 

Significance and Prioritization of Environmental Resources, 

IWR Report 94-R-7 (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Water Resources Support 

Center, Institute for Water Resources, Sep. 1994).

16 Shabman, Environmental Activities of the Corps of 

Engineers Water Resources Programs, 12–13.

17 Ibid.

18 Ibid, quote in 37, see also 35–55; Doll, Review and 

Evaluation of Programs for Determining Significance and Prioritization of Environmental Resources.

19 Daniel McCool, River Republic: The Fall and Rise of 

America’s Rivers (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012), 

42–44.

20 An outstanding discussion of water management in 

south Florida is Matthew Godfrey and Theodore Catton, River 

of Interests: Water Management in South Florida and the Everglades, 1948–2010 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing 

Office, 2011).

ENDNOTES

338
21 Background on the Corps’ regulatory program and its 

impact on wetlands can be found in U.S. Office of Technology 

Assessment, Wetlands: Their Use and Regulation (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, March 1984) and 

General Accounting Office, Wetlands: The Corps of Engineers’ 

Administration of the Section 404 Program (Washington, D.C.: 

Government Printing Office, July 1988); General Accounting 

Office, Wetlands Protection: The Scope of the Section 404 

Program Remains Uncertain (Washington, D.C.: Government 

Printing Office, April 1993); James O. Jones, “Wetlands Policy: 

A Synopsis,” Military Engineer (October 1994), 19–21; David 

Salvesen, Wetlands: Mitigating and Regulating Development 

Impacts (Washington, D.C.: The Urban Land Institute, 1990); 

see also http://www.nws.usace.army.mil/PublicMenu/Menu.

cfm?sitename=Reg&parename=Hist, accessed 12/14/2007.

22 Ibid.; additionally, this and subsequent paragraphs 

are based also on the following sources: Albert E. Cowdrey, 

“Pioneering Environmental Law: The Army Corps of Engineers and the Refuse Act,” Pacific Historical Review XLVI, no. 3 

(August 1975): 331–49; Garret Power, “The Fox in the Chicken 

Coop: The Regulatory Program of the U.S. Army Corps of 

Engineers,” Virginia Law Review 63 (1977): 503–59; Lance D. 

Wood and John R. Hill, Jr., “Wetlands Protection: The Regulatory Role of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers,” Coastal Zone 

Management Journal 4 (1978): 371–407; Jeffrey K. Stine, America’s Forested Wetlands: From Wasteland to Valued Resource

(Durham, N.C.: Forest History Society, 2008); the Clean Water 

Act may be found at 33 U.S.C. 1251 et seq.: the implementing 

regulations are at 33 C.F.R. 320–330; U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Digest of Water Resources Policies and Authorities, 

Chapter 21, Regulatory Program, EP 1165-2-1 (February 15, 

1996); U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Operations Division, 

Directorate of Civil Works, Standard Operating Procedures for 

the Regulatory Program (Washington, D.C.: October 15, 1999).

23 U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Public Affairs Office, 

Command Information Division, Corps Facts: The Corps of 

Engineers Regulatory Program, Section 404 of the Clean Water 

Act, vol. 5, no. 4 (August 1, 1994); U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Regulatory Branch, Special Statistical Report, July 1995; 

“Information Paper: Civil Works Program Statistics,” January 8, 

1998, Civil Works-General Files, Office of History, Headquarters, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (hereafter CEHO).

24 Ibid.

25 For background on mitigation banking, see U.S. 

Army Corps of Engineers, Institute for Water Resources, 

National Wetland Mitigation Banking Study: Wetlands Mitigation Banking Concepts, IWR Report 92-WMB-1 (July 1992); 

ibid., First Phase Report, IWR Report 94-WMB-4 (February 

1994); U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers Civil Works Pocket Reference (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Institute 

for Water Resources, 1998), 92, 105.

26 Ibid.; quote in Standard Operating Procedures for 

the Regulatory Program, 23.

27 For background on the Corps’ flood control mission, 

see U.S Army Corps of Engineers, The U.S. Army Corps of 

Engineers: A History, rev. ed. (Alexandria, Va.: Headquarters, 

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office of History, 2007), 57–67, 

247, 263–71; Joseph L. Arnold, The Evolution of the 1936 Flood 

Control Act (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 

1988); Wingerd and Tseng, “Flood and Drought Functions of 

the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers,” 123–32; North Pacific Division, Water Resources Development in Washington (1995), 2–3, 

8–10; Andrew Dzurik, “Floodplain Management Trends,” Water 

Spectrum (Summer 1980), 35–42.

28 The best coverage of the lower Mississippi River flood 

control efforts can be found in Martin Reuss, Designing the 

Bayous: The Control of Water in the Atchafalaya Basin, 1800–

1995 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1998); 

for a good environmental history of the Mississippi River, see 

Christopher Morris, The Big Muddy: An Environmental History 

of the Mississippi and Its Peoples (New York: Oxford University 

Press, 2012).

29 Quote in 41, Jamie W. Moore and Dorothy P. Moore, 

The Army Corps of Engineers and the Evolution of Federal Flood 

Plain Management Policy (Boulder, Colo.: Institute of Behavioral Science, 1989), 34–54.

30 This account of the 1993 flood is based on U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers, North Central Division, The Great Flood 

of 1993, Post-flood Report, Upper Mississippi River and Lower 

Missouri River Basins: Main Report (Chicago, Ill.: September 

1994); U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Lower Mississippi Valley 

Division, Impacts of the Great Flood of 1993, Upper Mississippi River and Lower Missouri River Basins (Vicksburg, Miss.: 

July 1996); Alan Mairson, “The Great Flood of ‘93,” National 

Geographic, vol. 185 (January 1994), 42–81.

339
31 Quote in U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Floodplain 

Management Assessment of the Upper Mississippi River and 

Lower Missouri Rivers and Tributaries (June 1995), 7; see 

also McCool, River Republic, 170–72; Interagency Floodplain 

Management Review Committee, A Blue Print for Change: 

Sharing the Challenge: Floodplain Management into the 21st

Century [commonly referred to as the Galloway Report] (Washington, D.C.: June 1994).

32 Jamie W. Moore and Dorothy Moore, History of 

Coastal Engineering Research Center, 1963–83, vol. 1, Waterways Experiment Station Laboratory History Series (Vicksburg, 

Miss.: U.S. Army Engineer Waterways Experiment Station, 

1991).

33 Susan Pritchard O’Hara and Gregory Graves, Saving 

California Coast: Army Engineers at Oceanside and Humboldt 

Bay (Spokane, Wash.: The Arthur H. Clark Company, 1991), 

129–258.

34 This section is based on the following reports and 

studies: U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, National Program of 

Inspection of Non-Federal Dams: Final Report to Congress

(Washington, D.C.: Office of the Chief of Engineers, May 1982); 

United States Committee on Large Dams, Dam Safety Practices 

and Concerns in the United States (Washington, D.C.: April 

1982); Wingerd and Tseng, “Flood and Drought Functions of 

the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers,” 123–32; “Dam Inspections 

Reports,” Engin-Ears [newsletter] (Seattle, Wash.: U.S. Army 

Engineer District, June 1979), 2, 4.

35 Maj. Gen. J. W. Morris, “Our Troubled Waterways,” 

Water Spectrum, vol. 6, no. 4 (Winter 1974–75): 2.

36 Quote in ibid., 2. Four types of areas were used for 

disposal of dredged material: off-channel, ocean or other open 

water areas, diked areas, or upland sites. Each had advantages 

and disadvantages.

37 Ibid., 7.

38 Quote in ibid., 10.

39 The following discussion of the research findings is 

based on Roger T. Saucier, “Dredged Material—Waste Product 

or Resource?” Water Spectrum (Fall 1978), 11–17 and Mary K. 

Vincent, “The Dredged Material Research Program,” Military 

Engineer (November-December, 1977), 413–15.

40 The DMRP used test results from disposal sites in 

Puget Sound as part of the study. Examples of the beneficial 

use of dredged material included results from Jetty Island, 

Everett, Washington; clam habitat development at Oak Bay 

Canal; and a beach feed erosion control project at Keystone 

Harbor on Whidbey Island. 

41 John M. Eddinger, “American Dredging: The Turning 

Point,” 388–91; Maj. Gen. Charles I. McGinnis, “Dredging the 

Nation’s Waterways: A Big Job for Industry and the Army Corps 

of Engineers,” 402–04; Thomas M. Turner, “Dredging: A Vital 

but Troubled Industry,” 405–07, all in The Military Engineer

(November-December, 1978). 

42 McGinnis, “Dredging the Nation’s Waterways,” 402; 

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, The U.S. Waterway System—

Transportation Facts (Corps of Engineers, Navigation Data 

Center, December 1998).

43 The following discussion of the effects of declining 

salmon runs in the Pacific Northwest and the Endangered 

Species Act on water resources development is based on Lisa 

Mighetto and Wesley J. Ebel, Saving the Salmon: A History of 

the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ Efforts to Protect Anadromous 

Fish on the Columbia and Snake River (Portland, Ore.: U.S. 

Army Engineer Division, North Pacific, 1995).

44 Ibid., 140.

45 The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History, 250–54.

46 Reuss, Reshaping National Water Politics.

47 Donita Moorhus and Gregory Graves, “The Limits of 

Vision: A History of the United States Army Corps of Engineers, 

1988–1992,” August 1998, unpublished ms., CEHO, 17–18.

48 Ibid., 20–22.

49 Ibid., 23–25.

50 Bory Steinberg, “Project Management: The New 

Emphasis at the Corps,” The Military Engineer (July 1990), 

60–64, quote on 62.

51 For an example of the implementation of project 

management at the district level, see Todd Jennings, Lisa 

Mighetto, and Jill Schnaiberg, Currents of Change: A History of 

the Portland District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1980–2000

(Portland, Ore.: U.S. Army Engineer District, 2003), 184–87.

340
52 For a good discussion of the restructuring process 

at the division and district levels, see ibid., 187–90; William 

Willingham and Lisa Mighetto, Service—Tradition—Change: A 

History of the Fort Worth District, 1975-1999 (Fort Worth, Tex.: 

U.S. Army Engineer District, 2000), 100–03.

53 The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History, 263–65; 

Wingerd and Tseng, “Flood and Drought Functions of the U.S. 

Army Corps of Engineers,” 126–28.

54 William Irwin, “Readiness 2000 Tested By Storms,” 

Engineer Update (October 1998).

55 The account of the Corps’ emergency operations 

in response to the eruption of Mount St. Helens is based on 

William F. Willingham, “The Army Corps of Engineers’ Shortterm Response to the Eruption of Mount St. Helens,” Oregon 

Historical Quarterly (Summer 2005), 174–203; Jennings, 

Mighetto, Schnaiberg, Currents of Change, 150–61

56 The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: A History, 265, 

270–71.

57 Janet A. McDonnell, Response to the Loma Prieta 

Earthquake (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 

1993).

58 Janet A. McDonnell, The U. S. Army Corps of Engineers Response to the Exxon Valdez Oil Spill (Washington, D.C.: 

Government Printing Office, 1992).

59 Howard Green, Continuing the Mission: A History of 

the New York District, 1975–2005 (New York: U.S. Army Engineer District, 2009), 408.

60 “Performance Evaluation of the New Orleans and 

Southeast Louisiana Hurricane Protection System,” Interagency Performance Evaluation Task Force, U.S. Army Corps of 

Engineers (2006), Vol I-VIII.

61 Ibid., Vol I, Executive Summary and Overview, 1.

62 Ibid., Vol IV, The Storm, 1–3.

63 American Society of Civil Engineers, Hurricane 

Katrina External Review Panel, “Hurricane Katrina: One Year 

Later: What Must We Do Next?” (Reston, Va.: American Society 

of Civil Engineers, 2006), 13.

64 Douglas Woolley and Leonard Shabman, “DecisionMaking Chronology for the Lake Pontchartrain and Vicinity 

Hurricane Protection Project,” (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Institute for 

Water Resources, 2008), 333.

65 “Guiding Principles for the Nation’s Critical Infrastructure” (Reston, Va.: American Society of Civil Engineers, 

2009), 40.

66 “Louisiana Coastal Protection and Restoration 

(LACPR): Final Technical Report,” (New Orleans: U.S. Army 

Engineer District, 2009), 293.

67 Quote in Collins, “Gulf Coast Recovery,” 71.

68 Joe D Manous, Jr., “Military Engineering Education: To promote Peace, Not War,” in Peace Engineering: When 

Personal Values and Engineering Careers Converge, P. Aarne 

Vesilind, ed. (Woodsville, N.H.: Lakeshore Press, 2005), 14.

69 “USACE Overview,” PowerPoint Presentation, May 

2013, Lt. Gen. Thomas Bostick, Chief of Engineers, Headquarters USACE, Washington, D.C.

70 For the Bureau of Reclamation, see Donald J. Pisani, 

“Federal Water Policy and the Rural West,” in The Rural West 

Since World War II, R. Douglas Hurt, ed. (Lawrence, Kan.: 

University Press of Kansas, 1998), 119–46; Donald J. Pisani, 

“Federal Reclamation and the American West in the Twentieth 

Century,” Agricultural History 77 (2003), 391–419.

71 Martin Reuss, “The Development of American Water 

Resources: Planners, Politicians, and Constitutional Interpretation,” in Managing Water Resources Past and Present, Julie 

Trottier and Paul Slack, eds. (London: Oxford University Press, 

2004), quote on 68.

341

10

Comparing water resources management development between two nations is a challenging undertaking, especially when those nations differ in a number 

of essential characteristics, as do the United States and 

the Netherlands. Obviously, the physical geography 

within the two countries varies dramatically. The difference in size and diversity of terrain is striking: the 

surface of the Netherlands is smaller than half the state 

of Maine and is largely deltaic in formation, whereas the 

U.S. is nearly three hundred times larger and is highly 

varied in its physical makeup.

The historical flood characteristics of the two countries also differ in a dramatic way. Since nearly two-thirds 

of the Netherlands lies within a delta, it is extremely 

susceptible to both coastal and inland flooding. This high 

degree of vulnerability made national flood management 

in the Netherlands an imperative for the politicians who 

laid the foundations of a nation-state at the beginning 

of the nineteenth century. In the U.S., however, the risks 

posed by inland floods and coastal storms vary extremely 

from place to place, and flood and coastal storm management did not become a central concern of the federal 

government until well into the twentieth century.

In spite of such stark differences, both countries also 

have a great deal in common as their water management 

strategies have evolved. They each developed advanced 

market economies and, over time, grew into prosperous 

democracies imbued with Western values. In science 

and technology during the nineteenth century, the U.S. 

was inspired by European developments. This knowledge transfer reversed in the first decades of the twentieth century, as America became—at least in the eyes of 

many European intellectuals—the paradise of modernity and scientific progress. The post-1945 period is even 

frequently labeled by Dutch historians and sociologists 

as the “Americanization” of the Dutch society. 

What, then, are the key similarities and differences 

between American and Dutch water resources management that have evolved over the past two centuries? 

Though direct collaboration between the two countries 

was relatively rare, the evolution of water resources 

management in both was driven mainly by the same 

factors—relative prosperity and industrialization, 

evolving technology, and the professionalization of engineering. These changes played out in parallel over the 

course of four distinct periods or phases. The first period 

TWO CENTURIES OF DUTCH AND U.S. 

EXPERIENCE: COMPARATIVE PERSPECTIVE

Bert Toussaint and William F. Willingham

343
(1800–1860) marks the start of national water resources 

management within certain legal, administrative, and 

financial limitations. The second period (1860–1900) 

can be characterized as one with a liberal state experiencing an expanding world market, increasing industrialization, and growing infrastructure. The third period 

(1900–1970) was informed by big government and 

technocratic scientific engineering. Finally, the fourth 

period (1970–2010) reflects the rise of environmentalism 

and public involvement in the decision-making process. 

Both national water management services—the U.S. 

Army Corps of Engineers and the Rijkswaterstaat—have 

existed for more than two hundred years and have 

developed a number of similar institutional traits as 

engineering services. 

EMERGENCE OF NATIONAL WATER 

MANAGEMENT (1800–1860)

Water management on a national scale emerged in both 

countries around 1800, with the Rijkswaterstaat being 

established in 1798 and the Army Corps of Engineers in 

1802. For both countries this was a transformative era. 

The Netherlands entered a phase of centralization and 

nation-building, while the U.S. attempted to work out 

the power relationship between national and state levels 

of government within the newly established federal 

system. Both political cultures were imbued with the 

spirit of the radical Enlightenment. The American and 

Dutch constitutions testified to the persuasive power 

of enlightened ideals, and because of their emphasis 

on universal rights, both nations inherently had a great 

deal in common. The American constitution, however, 

generally seemed to place restrictions on federal activities beyond strictly prescribed limits. The 1798 and later 

Dutch constitutions, on the other hand, did not include 

this restrictive perspective.

French engineering organization and culture 

shaped both the Army Corps of Engineers and the Rijkswaterstaat, and that influence lingered into their first 

decades. Engineering students in the U.S. trained at the 

Military Academy at West Point, an institution founded 

in 1802 and modeled after the French Ecole Polytechnique. Thus, the Corps, from its earliest history, was 

staffed by engineers trained with a broad formal and 

theoretical education. 

Similarly, the Rijkswaterstaat’s engineers were organized in a corps of engineers, established in 1816 and 

modeled after the French Corps des Ponts et Chaussées. 

While a rigid hierarchy was enforced and ceremonial 

uniforms introduced, this Dutch water management 

service initially did not set strict education standards. 

The service recruited military engineers trained at the 

various military schools but also brought in self-made 

men, and until the 1850s many high-ranking engineers 

had no theoretical training. Practical skills were held 

in high esteem. In the Netherlands, therefore, professional theoretical development took half a century 

or more to take shape. The Delft Technical College, 

founded in 1842, soon became the recruitment reservoir 

for the Rijkswaterstaat engineers. The Rijkswaterstaat 

also developed a unit of scientifically trained experts, 

“engineers in general service,” and it further strengthened its knowledge base by collecting water-level data 

and soundings. Through the course of the nineteenth 

century, these data collection efforts were gradually 

extended to address coastal phenomena (river flows, 

tides, and high water data) and offered rich training 

opportunities for young engineers. The Corps of Engineers offered a similar experience for young engineers in 

the performance of surveying and mapping duties. 

These investments in knowledge and expertise were 

crucial to both services in order to perform at effective 

levels. From the beginning in 1798, the Rijkswaterstaat 

was assigned a broad spectrum of tasks ranging from 

navigation and flood management to infrastructure 

projects, including road building, reclamation projects, 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
and research. Few contested this broad mandate in the 

political-administrative arena, although repeatedly 

conflicts arose among the Rijkswaterstaat, the provinces, 

and the water boards over the extent of national interference in the regional water management domain; and the 

regional and local stakeholders usually had considerable impact on the decision-making processes. On the 

whole, water boards and provinces continued to play an 

important role in local and regional water management 

while still respecting the Rijkswaterstaat’s national tasks. 

Moreover, in 1819, due to a structural budget crisis, the 

maintenance of many of the Rijkswaterstaat’s water 

management works were transferred to the provinces, 

and many of the Rijkswaterstaat’s engineers entered 

into provincial service, thus compelling them to adopt a 

double loyalty. This ambiguous situation ended in 1876.

The civil works program of the Army Corps of Engineers was, until the end of the Civil War in 1865, limited 

in scope by Congress and the executive branch. Even 

though the War of 1812 exposed the military problems 

created by an inadequate transportation infrastructure, 

strict constructionist views concerning the limits of 

federal power hindered congressional efforts to fund 

public works. After much debate, Congress passed the 

General Survey Act of 1824 and embraced navigation 

improvements, surveying of roads and canal routes, 

and cartographic projects (ancillary to navigation) as 

legitimate federal interests that promoted trade and 

commerce and served national defense. Congress even 

permitted the federal government in 1825 to purchase 

stock in private canal companies. And so the federal 

field of action expanded on a gradual basis. In the 1840s, 

Congress even allowed the sale of public lands to states 

to raise funds for specific local improvements, including 

transportation and irrigation projects. 

In addition to the General Survey Act, a Supreme 

Court ruling, Gibbons v. Ogden (1824), opened the way 

for the Corps’ continuous involvement in water-related 

civil engineering projects. However, the executive 

branch and Congress limited the scope of the Corps’ 

activities to a select number of building projects and 

maintenance tasks. Moreover, in 1838 a second federal 

water management service entered the stage: the Corps 

of Topographical Engineers. Previously, between 1818 

and 1838, the topographical engineers constituted a 

bureau within the Corps of Engineers that performed 

cartographic work and, after 1824, conducted river and 

canal surveys, built lighthouses, and carried out river 

and harbor improvements. In 1838 Congress established 

the “topogs” as a separate corps. In addition to the range 

of congressionally authorized public works related to 

water resources development assigned to the topogs, the 

secretary of war, within the executive branch, directed 

them to play an important role in exploration and railroad survey operations in the western territories. Meanwhile, the Corps of Engineers necessarily focused its 

work on coastal fortification. 

In 1852, however, the role of the Corps enlarged 

yet again, as Congress directed the War Department to 

start an extensive public works program. Secretary of 

War Charles M. Conrad divided the projects between 

the Corps of Engineers and the Corps of Topographical 

Engineers based on a geographical division of the 

work—the former conducted improvements on the 

Atlantic and Gulf coasts, while the latter remained in 

charge of the Great Lakes and western rivers. During 

this period, the two engineering services operated on 

an equal footing. 

The emphasis on limited federal government was 

a strong impediment to Congress supporting and 

funding infrastructure development unless national 

economic benefits seemed worth the effort, such as 

building the national railways. Moreover, Congress was 

anxious not to disregard local and state interests and to 

spread among them a substantial share of federal water 

management projects. Pork-barrel politics had, as a 

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10 Dutch and U.S. Experience: Comparative Perspective
budgetary distribution mechanism, much more impact 

in the U.S. than in the Netherlands. 

The more cautious embrace of limited government in the Netherlands regulated the scope of national 

administrative tasks as well, at least until the 1880s. But 

water management on a national scale had not only a 

solid constitutional underpinning, it was also strongly 

supported by King William I, who was the dominant 

political power until his abdication in 1840. The authoritarian king kept Parliament in a weak position—unlike 

in the U.S. where Congress was a powerful actor—while 

he closely monitored national assistance to water 

management projects. King William linked his program 

of economic modernization to infrastructure development. Under this royal aegis, the Rijkswaterstaat was 

able to strengthen its position and consolidate long-term 

project budgets without too much opposition from Parliament. The Rijkswaterstaat undertook during this period 

numerous canal works, a road-building scheme, and huge 

reclamation projects, such as the successful reclamation 

of the Haarlemmer Lake using steam-powered pumps. 

River projects generally lagged behind these ambitious 

infrastructure projects. The river projects were subject to 

a prolonged clash of views between the experts centered 

on two conflicting options: relying on spillways and diversions or undertaking systematic normalization. The Rijkswaterstaat ultimately gave priority to normalization projects where periodic inspection, systematic surveying, dike 

emergency surveillance, and river mapping contributed 

to a growing river zone expertise within the organization. 

Coastal management remained, to a considerable extent, 

the domain of local water boards and provinces except for 

the extremely vulnerable coast defenses in Zeeland. 

LIBERAL ERA (1860–1900)

At the middle of the nineteenth century, both nations 

were entering a new era. A wave of liberal revolutions 

swept Europe in 1848, creating turmoil but also generating economic and political ideas that pervasively 

influenced a number of European countries. During this 

liberal era, trade tariffs were removed and world trade 

was expanded; hence, more transport facilities, such as 

harbors, canals, and navigable rivers, were needed to 

accommodate the increasing volume of trade.

The 1848 European liberal revolution also had a 

profound impact on the Netherlands. A liberal constitution came into force, and the position of the Dutch king 

changed to that of a head of state with limited political 

power. The power balance shifted to the government’s 

ministers, who, in turn, were now controlled by Parliament. The rising ministerial power meant the Rijkswaterstaat’s top engineers were able to increase their influence as advisors to the ministers in water management 

and infrastructure projects. 

Economic liberalization, of course, also had a great 

impact on the United States. The U.S. made an economic 

leap forward after the destructive Civil War (1861–1865). 

The so-called Gilded Age that followed was a period of 

rapid economic and technological progress. Federal 

government expansion now had substantial political 

support, and the Corps was positioned as a central actor 

in water management projects. As an efficiency move, 

Congress merged the Corps of Topographical Engineers 

into the Corps of Engineers in 1863. However, the Corps, 

while still a leader in America’s professional engineering 

field, faced increasing competition from civilian engineers who were trained in American colleges that had 

begun offering civil engineering courses in 1835. These 

civilian engineers also established the American Society 

of Civil Engineers in 1852, an event that further stimulated the professional development of engineers. 

The Dutch engineers had set up their own professional organization five years earlier, in 1847, as the 

Koninklijk Instituut van Ingenieurs (Royal Institute of 

Engineers). Foreign travel, along with publication of 

handbooks and scientific journals, expanded interna346

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
tional knowledge in the engineering communities in 

both countries. In the 1850s, a new generation of theoretically trained top managers took the lead in the Netherlands, further developing the knowledge already based in 

the Rijkswaterstaat. The secondary school of the Higher 

Burgher Schools created a reservoir of well-trained technical experts, as did the Trade Schools for laborers and 

the lower level technical staff at the Rijkswaterstaat. 

In the late nineteenth century, the Corps continued 

to carry out numerous river and harbor improvements 

around the United States. It entered the field of canal 

construction and began to master the technology of 

navigation locks and dams. Two decades of navigation 

projects ensued, which helped fuel rapid economic 

expansion. The Corps built wing dams, removed rock 

and snags, and dredged channels to improve navigation 

on such important rivers as the Mississippi, Ohio, and 

Columbia and their tributaries. To learn about the most 

modern construction techniques, the Corps sent engineer 

officers to Europe to inspect jetty systems and other engineering practices, including the use of fascines (wooden 

mattresses), widely used in the Netherlands to construct 

jetties and to stabilize riverbanks. In general, after some 

experimentation, Corps engineers favored the British 

method of building jetties with concrete and massive 

stones. On the whole, bilateral contacts between American 

and Dutch engineers remained sparse. J. A. Beijerinck’s 

advice on the drainage and reclamation of the swamps 

near New Orleans is one of the few examples indicating 

Dutch interest in American water management projects.1

In the United States, federal commitment to flood 

control projects was limited until the twentieth century. 

From the 1850s onward, the federal authorities offered 

aid through the transfer of federally owned swamplands to the state to finance drainage projects and 

levee construction. However, state and local authorities still shouldered the lion’s share of the burden. After 

the 1860s, federal policy began to evolve, with two key 

reports playing a crucial role in this change. Charles 

Ellet, Jr., a prominent civil engineer, presented a research 

report and a comprehensive flood control plan for the 

Mississippi River basin in 1852. Nine years later, the 

Corps’ Andrew A. Humphreys and Henry L. Abbot made 

an even more impressive contribution through their 

exhaustive hydraulic investigation of the Mississippi 

River. Their report, the Delta Survey, recommended the 

construction of a general levee system, supported by a 

few natural outlets, as the core of a river flood management strategy. This comprehensive report garnered 

worldwide recognition.

Although the scope of and spending on federal 

river projects in the U.S. grew in the last quarter of the 

nineteenth century, comprehensive development plans 

drew little support in Congress, which kept close control 

of the budget, making only year-by-year appropriations. Floods continued to inundate riparian farmlands 

and river cities, especially along the lower Mississippi 

River, but the damages, though sometimes severe, 

were regional in impact, so Army Engineers generally 

pursued regional flood management measures. Also, 

the economic interests of both agriculture and industry 

stimulated river improvement and harbor projects, with 

interested parties emphasizing the importance of navigation on waterways as competition to railroads in an 

effort to bring down shipping rates. 

Over in Europe, after a few decades of dwindling 

impact in the mid-nineteenth century, the Rijkswaterstaat was rejuvenated by raising its professional standards and by undertaking the management of a huge 

river improvement system. After decades of disagreement, experts reached consensus in 1850 on an improvement plan based on systematic normalization, along with 

jetties, a few major outlets, and levees. Normalization 

required the Rijkswaterstaat to determine a regular navigation channel for each river section and then reshape 

the channel in accordance with fixed (normal) widths.

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10 Dutch and U.S. Experience: Comparative Perspective
A sense of real urgency drove Dutch river projects: floods repeatedly wreaked havoc, and Dutch 

and German navigation interests lobbied successfully for improved navigability in the branches of the 

Rhine. Political consensus and an increased number of 

balanced state budgets allowed proponents to finance 

the projects with long-term project funds. 

Dutch and American river projects were conducted 

with a similar but not identical technical repertoire. 

Channel confinement was a primary objective in both 

countries, aiming to speed up the flow of water and 

thus deepen the navigation channel. Tools used by the 

Americans—the use of sediment in spur dikes or wing 

dams to narrow the channel—were generally not used 

by the Rijkswaterstaat. Instead, before 1850, the Dutch 

constructed a number of lateral diversions to move high 

flows and store flood water temporarily in thinly populated polders. Due to the unsatisfactory results of these 

efforts, the Dutch turned instead to single navigation 

channels and normal river widths on the one hand and 

the construction of river outlets on the other. 

During the late nineteenth century, the Dutch 

engineers, like their American counterparts, made 

study tours abroad: they visited Britain, France, and 

Germany to review river normalization projects. 

Although river engineering was emerging as an international field of knowledge—with handbooks, travels, 

and journals used to collect and disseminate expertise 

in both the U.S. and the Netherlands—solutions were 

generally project specific and driven by local geographical and hydraulic challenges.

The collection of hydraulic data, including water 

heights, flow velocities, and discharges, gradually helped 

the engineers make their normalization designs more 

effective, though this learning process was tiresome. 

As an example, the construction of the Rotterdam New 

Waterway proved a frustrating experience. The project 

leader, Pieter Caland, predicted that tidal scour would 

create a navigation channel of sufficient depth; but his 

supposition proved erroneous, and extensive dredging was 

necessary. Until the 1920s, tidal mechanisms were not very 

well understood. Achieving consensus with local interests 

was also no simple task. The Meuse Project (1885–1904) 

crowned the nineteenth-century projects with its use of 

mechanical and dredging equipment, but it also illustrated 

the complex process of trade-offs with local stakeholders, 

which slowed the construction process.

Dredging technology became a key success factor 

in these river improvement projects and also in the 

construction of the North Sea canal, which created a new 

waterway to the Amsterdam harbor. One of the benefits 

of this project was that British harbor and dredging 

know-how was transferred to the Dutch. Dredging 

capacity increased spectacularly due to innovative 

dredge designs, which were also developed in both countries. Dredges became the most effective mechanical 

tool to deepen low-water channels and to create harbor 

entrances, as in Rotterdam’s New Waterway. Dredging 

also exemplified the overriding importance of steam 

power in this era. At this time, dredging in the Netherlands was performed solely by the private sector, while 

in the U.S., the public sector played a much larger role. 

Because the Mississippi River Commission concluded 

that dredging was the most cost effective tool for maintaining navigability on the rivers under its purview, it 

built a small fleet of dredges. The private Dutch dredging 

sector, on the other hand, laid the foundation in the 

late nineteenth century for the Netherlands’ worldwide 

prominence in dredging projects after 1900. 

The Corps’ prestige grew after 1850, but its military 

engineers did not enjoy a monopoly on federal water 

management projects. After 1879, Congress set up the 

Mississippi and Missouri River Commissions in which 

the Corps shared responsibilities with civilians and, in 

the case of the Mississippi River Commission, with an 

officer of a rival federal agency, the Coast and Geodetic 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Survey. On the whole, throughout the late nineteenth 

century, the Corps of Engineers saw its primary missions 

expand. In the 1880s, it assumed lock operation and 

maintenance duties on a number of rivers, which gave 

its presence there a continuous character. Around 1890, 

the Corps received authority to inspect bridges to ensure 

they would not obstruct navigable waterways. 

The Rijkswaterstaat’s position was relatively strong 

at the turn of the century. It had accomplished a number 

of large river and harbor projects, created the structure 

to maintain these works, and expanded its bureaucracy. But provincial and local water managers were not 

marginalized. New water boards were founded, mainly 

in the eastern part of the country, to carry out water 

resources management in the agrarian regions in the 

east. Additionally, provinces set up public works agencies, thus taking over the Rijkswaterstaat’s provincial 

tasks. The new delineation of roles was laid down in the 

1900 General Law on Water Management.

In the nineteenth century, the Corps of Engineers 

and the Rijkswaterstaat contributed substantially to 

the development of the modern nation-state, mainly by 

creating modern transport networks and thus stimulating national integration, economic modernization, 

and industrialization. The Corps, more than the Rijkswaterstaat, assumed a role alongside other federal 

agencies. Both organizations stimulated innovations 

in dredging technology, canal building, and river engineering. Numerous river and harbor improvement 

projects facilitated inland navigation and sea transport, 

and thereby strengthened economic growth in both 

countries. The Rijkswaterstaat played an even larger 

role in economic modernization as it not only built 

canals and undertook river projects but also developed 

a national road network in the 1820s and 1830s and 

a railway system (in cooperation with military engineers) from 1860 to 1890. Even if the impact of their 

work differed, the Corps and the Rijkswaterstaat both 

symbolized the expanding state, a phenomenon that 

was clearly visible at the century’s end.

TECHNOCRATIC ERA (1900–1970)

The early twentieth century ushered in a period of 

sustained economic and social modernization to both 

countries at a greatly accelerated pace. Large enterprises 

operated on an increasingly bigger scale in a much more 

globalized world market. Research and development 

became intertwined with marketing and sales. As a 

result, a technological dynamic emerged where planned 

investment in research and development resulted in 

a continuous stream of new products. Growing prosperity created an expanding middle class of consumers 

willing to buy new products. During this period, the U.S. 

became the world’s largest economy. 

The industrialization of society had serious side 

effects: population pressure in growing cities, increasing 

pollution, sanitation issues, and infrastructure challenges. To address these problems, a group of professionals came to the fore, comprising engineers, architects, and scientists, who offered solutions based on 

scientific knowledge and organizational efficiency. Planning of urban public spaces became a pressing issue and 

a major focus of reform. Scientific experts infused policy 

making and bureaucratic processes with knowledge and 

planning concepts, and engineers were a major part of 

this emerging technocratic elite. This progressive movement also influenced Dutch social reformist groups, 

such as radical liberals and social-democrats. The 

dazzling pace of industrialization uprooted the traditional social fabric; but pillarization—dividing Dutch 

society into ideological blocks or “pillars”—offered a 

new backbone of stability. Dutch engineers, architects, 

and zoning specialists began to play an important role 

in urban and spatial planning and in infrastructure and 

water management, but pillarized ideological views 

had little impact on water management policy. Engi349

10 Dutch and U.S. Experience: Comparative Perspective
neers and other technical experts seemed to transcend 

these ideological divisions; their influence was growing, 

largely due to their demonstrated scientific skills.

At the end of the nineteenth century, civil engineering entered a long transformative period. New 

materials, notably reinforced concrete and steel, were 

used to build structures like bridges, weirs, sluices, 

breakwaters, piers, and bank revetments. Theoretical 

scientific knowledge, derived from mathematics, 

physics, coastal engineering, and geodetic engineering, 

increasingly underpinned engineering designs, 

making them more reliable and quantifiable and their 

performance more predictable. Tidal research, fluid 

mechanics, soil mechanics, and many other theoretical 

fields began to mold the engineering practice. Electricity 

became a key technology with a wide range of applications. Modeling and testing procedures were also developed and enhanced. The improved science and new 

technologies had a major impact on both organizations. 

The Rijkswaterstaat began to amass scientific knowledge in new specialist departments. Across the Atlantic, 

the Waterways Experiment Station, established in 1930 

as the first federal hydraulics research laboratory in the 

U.S., made groundbreaking contributions to the field 

of hydraulics. The Corps also initiated the systematic 

collection of hydrographic and flood-hazard data and 

the preparation of related maps. In the 1890s, the Corps 

began to use concrete in jetties, harbor piers, and bank 

revetments, and steel in lock gates and dam crests—

innovations that were inspired by European examples. 

Dam technology changed profoundly as the use of reinforced concrete enabled the design of large-scale dams.

A desire to make more efficient use of public lands 

resulted in the creation by Congress of the Bureau of 

Reclamation (1902) and the U.S. Forest Service (1906), 

with both agencies playing an important role in water 

management projects. They also were lead actors in the 

move to espouse the new concept of multipurpose river 

development, which saw irrigation, flood control, navigation, hydropower, and urban water supply as related 

interests. This new framework envisioned each of these 

concepts combined or reconciled in water management 

projects. The introduction of the concrete dam also facilitated implementation of the multipurpose philosophy. 

Large-scale dams enabled the control of major rivers and 

efficient use of water resources for multiple purposes, such 

as flood control, hydropower, irrigation, and navigation.

In the United States, the introduction of multipurpose river development led to new demands for scientific understanding and data acquisition. In addition, 

cost-benefit analyses arose as another tool to assess 

public benefits of planned projects. The emphasis on 

cost-benefit assessments can be attributed to a critical 

attitude towards government that was, and still is, deeply 

ingrained in American culture. This multipurpose water 

resources management philosophy, coupled with costbenefit analysis and attention to environmental impacts, 

signaled a profound conceptual shift from singlepurpose projects to multi-functional water resources 

development plans and was the beginning of an integrated approach to water resources management.

Naturally, its adoption as a conceptual framework 

was neither effortless nor immediate. The Corps had to 

shift emphasis away from its historical single-purpose 

(navigation) approach, and for a long time, states 

remained distrustful of a greater federal role in water 

resources development. In 1925, Congress directed 

that the Corps and the Federal Power Commission 

jointly make cost estimates for surveys of navigable 

rivers and their tributaries where power generation 

appeared feasible and could be developed in conjunction with flood control and irrigation projects. Congress 

then directed the Corps to carry out the river survey 

program, collecting socio-economic, scientific, and 

engineering data. The results became known as the 

308 Reports, named after the number of the House of 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Representatives document in which the survey estimates first appeared. These reports had far-reaching 

consequences: they laid the foundation for the planning 

and budgeting of water resources management for the 

next several decades and provided the basis for many 

New Deal and postwar dam construction projects. 

Under the aegis of multipurpose planning, the Corps 

went on to build a number of impressive dams. 

The Grand Coulee, Bonneville, Hoover, and Fort 

Peck dams showcased the growing engineering skills of 

the Corps and the Bureau of Reclamation. These huge 

and complex construction projects also demonstrated 

the application of major technical innovations. The 

expansion of public sector hydropower development 

also fit into President Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal, 

his response to the Great Depression of the 1930s. One 

of the new government agencies that built dam projects—the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA)—sought to 

integrate water uses, from hydropower to flood control, 

and to foster economic development in the Appalachian 

region. In the late 1930s, the Roosevelt administration attempted to centralize water resources planning 

on major river systems under government planning 

boards. Congress, however, refused to set up TVA-like 

basin planning in key river basins around the country. 

Thus, federal planning power in the U.S. remained more 

restricted than national planning in the Netherlands. 

Unlike the Rijkswaterstaat, the Corps never achieved a 

dominant position in nationwide infrastructure planning or project management, but because of its close 

relationship with Congress, it kept its relatively strong 

position relative to the other water resources management agencies. As one potential tradeoff, this relationship with Congress also meant close congressional 

control and oversight of the Corps’ activities.

The multipurpose philosophy simplified and facilitated the adoption of flood control measures in water 

projects. A number of major floods in the Mississippi 

and Sacramento river basins led Congress to formally 

accept flood control as a federal responsibility and, ultimately, to assign this important mission to the Corps. 

But the same multipurpose approach had an impact on 

the repertoire of flood management measures. After the 

major 1927 flood in the Mississippi region, the “levees 

only” approach, which was official policy until 1927 

(although not very strictly applied), was replaced by one 

favoring the use of a variety of structural measures such 

as levee building, the installation of floodways and spillways, the diversion of flood waters, and the construction of dams on upstream tributaries. Local authorities, 

however, still had to maintain and operate non-reservoir 

works such as levees—in contrast to the Dutch system in 

which the Rijkswaterstaat performed both the operation 

and maintenance of all the works it had constructed. 

In 1955, a broad range of emergency flood response 

measures were added to the Corps’ flood control tasks. 

These included evacuation planning, emergency 

response measures, and post-disaster recovery efforts. 

Over time, multipurpose water resources projects 

in the U.S. expanded in scope, and planners began to 

account for aspects of conservation, pollution control, 

water supply, and recreation. Environmental considerations had previously surfaced with legislation in 

1934 requiring the protection of valuable fisheries. 

This requirement led the Corps to establish a fisheries 

research program in conjunction with the construction of Bonneville Dam. The Corps later expanded the 

program along the Columbia River in the 1950s.

In the Netherlands, multipurpose planning did 

not take root as a conceptual framework for all water 

resources management projects. The lack of hydropower 

potential played a role in its absence, and the weaker 

resonance of cost-benefit optimization concepts was 

also important. Nevertheless, cost-efficiency assessments were not unknown to the Dutch. They had played 

a role in nineteenth-century canal projects, for example.

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10 Dutch and U.S. Experience: Comparative Perspective
The largest Dutch projects were not related to 

massive dams, as they were in the U.S., but instead were 

comprehensive planning and building schemes. The first 

twentieth-century example was the Zuiderzee Project. 

To be sure, seven decades of debate were needed to 

finally arrive at the 1918 parliamentary decision to 

embark on this huge and pioneering mega-project. It 

was designed by Cornelis Lely in 1891, who, as a government minister, was able to realize his own engineering 

dream. Lely understood that moving forward would 

require an enclosure dam to close off the Zuiderzee 

and that the reclamation of four polders would have 

to provide sufficient safety from the sea and adequate 

fertile agricultural soil. As the project developed, other 

requirements were added in the areas of freshwater 

capacity, recreation, housing, and, finally, environmental protection in response to new societal demands. 

The Zuiderzee Project was transformative. It was the first 

national comprehensive scheme with such a long planning horizon, and it required careful cooperation among 

engineers, architects, planning experts, agronomists, 

sociologists, anthropologists, and others. Unfortunately 

for the Rijkswaterstaat, a dominant conservative attitude 

within that organization caused it to be passed over 

and not directly involved with the work. The project 

instead was commissioned to an ad hoc organization 

established specifically to manage the operation—the 

Zuiderzee Service—in cooperation with the Wieringermeer Service, which was in charge of the polder design. 

The planning process and the resulting enclosure 

dam became a milestone in modern Dutch engineering. 

The future tidal regimes, flow patterns, and storm surge 

levels in the area of the dam were studied in a physicalmathematical model; research that resulted in realignments of the dam. Engineers tested the designs and 

dimensions of the discharge gates in the sluices at the 

Karlsruhe Hydraulic Laboratory, one of the earliest incidences of hydraulic research by the Dutch. This research 

had an important impact on costal engineering and 

hydraulic modeling in the country. The Zuiderzee polder 

development also involved a high degree of planning, 

not only of the polder space but also in regards to selection procedures in advance of the polder’s settlement. 

In fact, in the Zuiderzee Project, technocracy reigned 

fairly freely until other stakeholders, such as conservationists, recreation interests, and water enterprises, 

began to articulate their views. In this sense, a Dutch 

variant of multipurpose planning can be identified, albeit 

minus any strict application of cost-benefit criteria.

The IJsselmeer Lake provides another example of 

Dutch multipurpose efforts. As its primary purpose, the 

lake provided a strategic freshwater reservoir, but the 

Rijkswaterstaat developed a national water resources 

management view to link its future use to water resources 

planning, Rhine navigation, and the prevention of saltwater intrusion. By building three weirs, engineers were 

able to control the water quantity in the Rhine branches 

and, consequently, in a lake that held a substantial part 

of the nation’s freshwater. This effort represents another 

early Dutch attempt at an integrated water resources 

management approach. Environmental concerns focused 

on salt intrusion from the sea and salt emissions from the 

Rhine (and to a lesser extent chemical emissions), both of 

which helped create a growing awareness of water quality 

issues. On the other hand, conservation and wildlife 

advocates were less influential in the Netherlands than 

they were in the U.S., at least until the late 1960s.

In the 1920s and 1930s, coastal management became 

a much more prominent issue in the Rijkswaterstaat. 

In contrast, in the U.S., federal assistance for coastal 

management remained limited, leaving this responsibility to states and local communities. In this field, accumulated scientific knowledge provided Dutch engineers 

with tools to understand tidal regimes, storm surges, and 

other coastal phenomena. This understanding eventually fostered new plans to raise the safety level along 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
the coastal zone and counter saltwater intrusion. They 

included, most notably, enclosure dam tidal modeling 

and Johan van Veen’s proto-Delta plans.2

However, the 1953 coastal storm in the Netherlands 

shattered confidence in traditional risk philosophy and 

safety measures and served as a galvanizing event to 

rally support for a new direction in flood protection—

a new safety strategy to minimize flood damages. The 

resulting Delta Plan recommended estuary closures, 

based on the Zuiderzee enclosure dam experience. The 

plan was inspired by Van Veen’s original ideas but also 

required many innovative closure techniques. Each 

enclosure method and procedure was an “on-the-spot” 

innovation and served as a learning example for the next 

project. While ultimately successful, the Delta Works 

required a long learning curve.

As one result of the devastating floods, a new probabilistic risk philosophy set very strict safety standards for 

the Netherlands. A dike failure chance of 1:10,000 per year 

for the Holland provinces in the core was established, 

with 1:4,000 per year the standard for the remaining 

coastal zone, except for a failure chance of 1:2,000 for 

most of the Wadden Isles.3 Structural measures (mainly 

robust dike strengthening schemes) were at the heart of 

this flood-safety approach, a somewhat single-purpose 

effort that prevailed in the Netherlands. In contrast, the 

Corps of Engineers in the U.S., which faced a serious 

and more varied but not existential threat, opted for an 

assortment of new floodplain management approaches—

such as building stronger levees, advancing local zoning 

measures to restrict floodplain occupancy, and developing advanced early warning systems.

In the U.S. federal government, no single department or agency had the lead responsibility for water 

resources management. As of 1986, ten federal organizations were recognized as having a significant role 

in some aspect of national water resources management.4

 This division of responsibilities, coupled with an 

annual appropriations process, made long-term and 

holistic planning of water resources and river basins 

a challenging and often ineffective process. The situation in the Netherlands was much different, with the 

Rijkswaterstaat assuming an increasingly dominant 

role in areas such as road building, coastal and river 

engineering, and related research. Trade-offs with other 

water management interests and administrative stakeholders remained important but did not impede the 

Rijkswaterstaat’s rising stature. The service managed 

to safeguard its long-term budgets and to design and 

execute long-term programs in road building and the 

Meuse River and Delta Works projects. 

Between 1945 and 1973, both countries experienced a period of sustained economic growth and prosperity. During the postwar period, the authority of the 

U.S. and Dutch governments expanded significantly, 

although the Corps experienced more restrictions than 

did the Rijkswaterstaat. Both entities were regarded 

as successful problem-solving organizations, and the 

public had confidence in their engineering expertise. However, growing concerns in the U.S. regarding 

resource depletion, decreased water quality, and 

growing risks to endangered species prompted a new 

environmental research program and associated mitigation measures. In the Netherlands, environmental 

concern was mainly restricted to saltwater intrusion 

along the Rhine, which was investigated by the International Rhine Commission, but, steadily, this concern 

broadened. The chemical industry had developed 

quickly after 1945, and its side effects were becoming 

increasingly serious in both countries. The toxic effects 

of DDT, brought to light in Rachel Carson’s Silent 

Spring, helped galvanize the growing environmental 

movement, which consequently had a huge impact on 

water management and water management organizations. Water pollution, especially, became a hot issue 

for the general public.

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10 Dutch and U.S. Experience: Comparative Perspective
ENVIRONMENTAL ERA (1970–2000)

The protest generation of the 1960s demanded more 

individual freedom, attacked consumerism and pollution, and harshly criticized the bureaucratic and technocratic management styles that dominated business 

and public authorities. This vehement wave of criticism 

had a huge impact on water resources management, as 

well as on the Corps (and its fellow federal actors) and 

the Rijkswaterstaat. Both agencies experienced a loss of 

public support, being labeled as technocratic bastions 

that were out of touch with society. In response, they 

had to adjust to a rapidly changing societal climate and 

adopt new environmental values; in addition, they had 

to develop wholly new approaches to dealing with the 

public. In both countries, environmentalism led to new 

legislation aimed at reducing water pollution, protecting 

natural resources, and promoting biodiversity.

The Corps accommodated this ecological turn 

earlier than did the Rijkswaterstaat. The Corps’ experience with multipurpose planning made the adoption 

of environmental values easier in the U.S. than in the 

Netherlands, where a single- (or dual-) purpose focus on 

safety (and navigation) predominated. In the 1960s, the 

Corps began to recruit biologists, landscape architects, 

and environmental scientists—a full decade earlier than 

the Rijkswaterstaat. The U.S. also moved ahead with 

its interagency procedures for water project planning 

(introduced in 1962 at the federal, state, and local levels) 

and the expansion of multipurpose planning to include 

recreation and water quality aspects. The 1964 Water 

Planning Act created the Water Resources Council, which 

was charged with establishing river basin commissions 

to coordinate water resources development with a basinlevel approach. Nevertheless, at the federal level, the 

president, Congress, and other agencies maintained their 

dominance over the river basin commissions.

As a reflection of the growing environmental movement, Congress enacted the National Environmental 

Policy Act in 1970. This seminal legislation required 

a new type of regulatory evaluation in the form of an 

Environmental Assessment (EA) or a more detailed 

Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) on the relevant 

environmental effects of any proposed federal project or 

undertaking. These evaluations, which also considered 

potential mitigation alternatives to reduce the impact of 

proposed projects, brought about a new era in environmental investigation, research, and mitigation of detrimental impacts. Fulfilling the requirement to consider 

protection of the natural environment as a significant 

criterion in project planning and funding required a 

somewhat difficult adjustment for all public agencies 

and private industry in the United States. 

Water quality issues were of special concern to 

the American public. The Federal Water Pollution 

Control Act Amendments (Clean Water Act) of 1972 

established a goal of making the waters of the U.S. suitable for fishing and swimming, an ambitious target 

that reflected the new emphasis placed on environmental issues by the public and the government. The 

new regulations brought new responsibilities to the 

Corps of Engineers. Section 404 of the Clean Water Act 

required a new permitting process for the disposal of 

dredged materials in the nation’s waters and by extension wetlands protection, a program to be administered 

by the Corps. The new legislation greatly expanded the 

Corps’ regulatory responsibilities, which previously had 

only applied to navigation impediments. The problem 

of water pollution was addressed by prohibiting the 

emission of point source pollutants without a permit. 

The newly established Environmental Protection 

Agency (EPA) formulated environmental policy and 

assumed a monitoring role.

Even more integrated approaches to water resources 

management began to emerge, wherein economics, 

flood safety, navigation, energy, wetland conservation, 

recreation, and other interests were more effectively 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
balanced. The adoption of environmental values in 

federal water resources management required a broadening of project scope—for example, adverse impacts 

of one part of a project were often counterbalanced 

by requiring restoration or other mitigation measures 

at another project location—and a greater reliance on 

multidisciplinary knowledge so that engineering and 

environmentalism could be reconciled. These changes 

also brought in new actors: environmental impact 

statements drew the public into the planning process. 

Technocratic project planning, imbued with engineering 

expertise and rational planning, had to be more flexible, 

and better communication skills and procedures were 

needed to respond to public opinion.

The environmental movement also had a considerable impact on the field of flood management, shifting 

emphasis from large protection structures like levees 

and reservoirs to nonstructural measures, such as relocation from flood-prone areas, flood-proofing buildings, 

protecting wetlands, and developing advance warning 

systems. Environmentalism also influenced navigation 

projects; for example, the Corps began to develop new 

disposal methods to minimize environmental impacts 

caused by disposing contaminated and non-contaminated sediments dredged from waterways.

The Netherlands introduced its Water Pollution 

Act in 1970 and tasked the Rijkswaterstaat with issuing 

permits to limit polluting emissions in rivers, the North 

Sea, the Wadden Sea, and the IJsselmeer. Polluters were 

fined, according to the principle “polluter pays.” The 

1986 Rhine Rehabilitation Plan, designed following the 

major Sandoz chemical plant explosion, prompted the 

Rijkswaterstaat to tighten its inspection role, and pollution was reduced drastically in the following decades. 

Wastewater purification stations appeared all over the 

country. Environmental impact statements were made 

mandatory in 1986, and public participation requirements were laid down in legislation. Consequently, the 

Rijkswaterstaat incorporated these aspects into their 

project planning procedures. 

In addition to environmental and public participation legislation, the Eastern Scheldt project also transformed Dutch water resources management. Although 

this estuary was scheduled to be closed off according 

to the Delta Plan, environmental protests called for 

the protection of the Eastern Scheldt’s unique aquatic 

biodiversity. Environmentalists established a coalition 

with regional fishermen who believed the closure plan 

endangered their livelihood. The leftist administration 

compelled the Rijkswaterstaat to work out an ecologically 

sensitive alternative to closure, and the use of new policymaking decision criteria led to a wide range of alternatives. After reviewing several options, the Rijkswaterstaat 

selected an open storm surge barrier, the design of which 

was further refined through partnerships with the private 

sector. Moreover, the Rijkswaterstaat learned to employ 

flexible planning by carefully considering the needs of its 

many stakeholders and by communicating with politicians and the public not only about the project itself but 

also about rising expenditures. 

The implications of the Eastern Scheldt project were 

broad. On the basis of decision-criteria analyses and the 

ecological design process, the Rijkswaterstaat developed 

a water systems approach, leading to more integrated 

water management practices. Safe transport, water 

quality, recreation, fisheries, and many other issues were 

identified as important functions in this comprehensive 

water systems approach that all stakeholders recognized 

as a new frame of reference. Starting in the 1990s, this 

framework became widely used in projects of both the 

Rijkswaterstaat and the Dutch water boards. As in the 

United States, integrated water resources management 

emerged in the Netherlands as a response to challenges 

posed by the multiple stakeholders. In the U.S. this 

concept largely developed from NEPA, Clean Water Act, 

and Endangered Species Act regulations in concert with 

355

10 Dutch and U.S. Experience: Comparative Perspective
preexisting multipurpose planning criteria, whereas 

in the Netherlands it evolved from the Eastern Scheldt 

barrier ecological design process.

Unlike the Corps, the Rijkswaterstaat and the water 

boards were for decades unable to make substantial 

progress in river levee-strengthening projects. Here, 

the difference between a more flexible American 

multipurpose perspective and a Dutch single-purpose 

approach probably resulted in much more opposition 

from stakeholders in the Netherlands. In the eastern 

part of the country, for example, valuable houses located 

near levees were destroyed in levee projects that were 

commissioned by the water boards in the 1970s. Conservationists and the media vehemently opposed other 

levee-strengthening schemes that were meant to offer 

safety by constructing dikes having a 1:3,000 chance 

of failing or overtopping. In response to these massive 

protests, the Rijkswaterstaat changed the levee design 

standard to 1:1,250, but to no avail in terms of public 

opinion. The stalemate was finally broken by the 1993 

flood and the 1995 near-flood. An emergency act—the 

Delta Plan Major Rivers—enabled the Rijkswaterstaat to 

execute a levee-strengthening scheme that also took into 

account land values. Additionally, a Flood Defense Act 

introduced five-year cycles of flood structure inspections 

in 1996. Meanwhile, the construction of the Rotterdam 

Barrier in the New Waterway offered a much higher 

degree of protection to the Rotterdam region and made 

a levee-strengthening proposal superfluous.

In the United States, the oil crisis of the 1970s, 

growing federal budget deficits, and a shift toward 

greater fiscal conservatism by the Reagan administration in the 1980s prompted an aggressive move towards 

greater cost sharing for water resources projects. The 

Water Resources Development Act of 1986 established 

cost-sharing requirements for many types of projects, 

including flood control. This shift mirrored the conservative philosophy of reducing the size and cost of the 

federal government. Whereas fiscal conservatism and its 

concomitant new public management philosophy had 

a considerable impact on the Dutch public sector, water 

resources management was less affected by this shift to 

fiscal restraint. While cost-sharing arrangements were 

not mandated in the Netherlands, they nevertheless 

began to materialize at the end of the century. 

Until the 1990s, the role of the engineering sector and 

the construction industry in the execution of projects was 

clear in the Netherlands. The Rijkswaterstaat—and other 

water management agencies—developed the project 

plans and designs and contracted the execution out to the 

market, usually through competitive bidding. Because 

of the high-risk profile of the Delta Works project, the 

Rijkswaterstaat used consortia of contractors but did not 

always rely on normal bidding procedures. From 1962 on, 

framework agreements were concluded, serving to establish business relationships between Rijkswaterstaat and 

contractors, followed by detailed contracts that set the 

project construction specifications. But in more standard 

projects, bidding procedures were generally respected. 

The Corps of Engineers had periodically made use of 

“hired labor”—labor obtained directly by the government 

without working through a contractor—notably in the 

1920s. But in response to mounting criticism and charges 

of government inefficiency, the Corps reverted to using 

contracts with commercial firms as the primary method 

to complete its projects. In contrast, the Dutch water 

management sector has been using contractors for similar 

work since the early 1800s.

A NEW CENTURY AND NEW CHALLENGES

Although this survey focuses on the period 1800 to 2010, 

certain recent trends have made impacts in the early 

part of this century. Changing roles and responsibilities 

related to water management, movement towards more 

integrative practices, and management of resources in 

an increasingly uncertain world are notable examples. 

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Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
Over the last decade, the organizational roles and 

responsibilities in the field of water resources management have become increasingly shared between the 

public and private sectors, particularly so in the Netherlands. In the past, the clear and steady role delineation 

between the Rijkswaterstaat in designing, engineering, 

and bidding projects and the private sector in executing 

the projects helped strengthen the Rijkswaterstaat’s 

position. However, a significant change occurred in 2004 

when the Rijkswaterstaat began to outsource design 

of its projects to consultants and contractors. Consequently, commercial firms have produced many of the 

recent Dutch designs. Furthermore, the newly formed 

Deltares, an independent Dutch research institute that 

also has a nonprofit arm, now performs much of the 

research and development that was previously the sole 

domain of the Rijkswaterstaat.

Also, within the past few decades, Dutch water 

resources management has become increasingly 

shaped by European Union (EU) directives. Consequently, the Ministry of Transport, Public Works and 

Water Management lost part of its policy-making 

power. The EU Water Framework Directive (WFD), 

issued in 2000, laid down strict guidelines on the use 

of chemicals and for overall water quality of all European waters. EU water resources management policy 

implied, on the other hand, more active public participation procedures and co-governance processes in the 

establishment of river basin planning management. 

International and regional stakeholders were prompted 

to build coalitions. A catchment or watershed approach 

was not a new concept in Europe, as was demonstrated 

in the international Rhine and Meuse agreements of 

the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, but WFD catchment planning went a step further. All four catchments that are 

partially situated on Dutch soil—the Rhine, the Meuse, 

the Scheldt, and the Ems/Dollard—were included in 

the WFD initiative. The EU authorities, and not only the 

national governments, monitor the results of projects 

in the basins. Finally, all governmental layers and other 

stakeholders have to cooperate. Thus, the WFD involves 

a multi-governance approach. 

Because of the need for European cooperation, 

the WFD approach differs from river basin planning in 

America, which is much less international in character. 

The U.S. and Canada have concluded some bilateral 

river planning agreements, such as the Columbia River 

Treaty in 1961, and the U.S. has also entered into river 

planning agreements with Mexico. In addition, various 

U.S. states have completed river basin and watershed 

agreements. Although the major commonality in river 

planning between the U.S. and the Netherlands is the 

catchment approach, the Netherlands deals with other 

state actors and international organizations to a much 

greater degree than does the U.S. On the other hand, this 

type of river basin management—developed in the U.S. 

in the 1960s and mandated by the 1964 Water Planning 

Act—also has a much longer history in the United States 

than it does in the Netherlands.

The emergency situation faced by the Netherlands 

in 1995 due to near-flooding in river zones that led to 

massive evacuations prompted the Rijkswaterstaat 

to develop alternative approaches to flood control. 

Climate change also triggered a conceptual turn. 

Climate scenarios forecast more frequent and more 

extreme flood levels in the future; and the Netherlands 

responded by raising the flood safety protection. Within 

a few years arose the “Room for the River” concept, 

which was adopted as government policy in 2000. The 

ministry’s new motto became: “retention first, then 

storage, and if these instruments failed, discharge of 

flood water.” Using a flexible set of tools, engineers 

lowered high water levels through levee relocation, the 

lowering of groynes, and the creation of spillways and 

bypasses, flood polders, and storage reservoirs. Additionally, environmental rehabilitation was incorporated 

357

10 Dutch and U.S. Experience: Comparative Perspective
into the flood safety program. The development and 

execution of these projects demanded close cooperation among the Rijkswaterstaat, provinces, municipalities, water boards, nongovernmental organizations, and 

private industry. Room for the River also combined river 

engineering with spatial planning and landscape development. In a number of projects, public participation 

had a considerable impact on the designs. Thus, Room 

for the River has become a test case for a more interactive governance style. 

To a considerable extent, Room for the River can 

be interpreted as a Dutch version of U.S. multipurpose 

planning. Yet, there are also notable differences between 

the two. The range of purposes—safety, navigation, landscape protection, and environmental rehabilitation—

remains somewhat restricted within the Dutch context, 

since energy and recreational purposes, for example, are 

not part of the overall strategy. Also, cost-benefit criteria 

have not been explicitly applied to the overall program. 

For many decades, the U.S. had not experienced 

a galvanizing flood at the national level as the Dutch 

experienced in 1953. Then the Mississippi River flood 

of 1993, the most devastating natural disaster to strike 

the waterway since the flood of 1927, captured national 

attention. Post-flood analyses led to improved structural 

and nonstructural flood damage reduction measures 

on the Mississippi River but also marked the beginning 

of a serious discussion of changes in U.S. flood damage 

reduction policy. The 1993 flood also encouraged 

development of improved forecasting and warnings 

and rescue and evacuation methodologies. However, it 

took a coastal storm twelve years later to truly galvanize 

efforts at the national level. 

In 2005, the U.S. experienced the tragedy of Hurricane Katrina, a storm that took the lives of more than 

1,800 individuals and forced the development of a new 

flood-risk strategy. This disaster reminded the Dutch 

of their own 1953 catastrophe, which also had a huge 

impact on safety and flood-risk policy. In the aftermath 

of Katrina, the Dutch offered assistance, and a program 

of bilateral cooperation was established. But Katrina 

was also, in a sense, a wake-up call for the Dutch, and 

flood-safety awareness again became a leading public 

issue. Soon after Katrina, the Dutch government passed 

the Delta Act, the legal basis for a new Delta Program to 

address the accelerated sea level rise along the Dutch 

coast forecast by various climate change scenarios. This 

law encompassed measures for water safety and fresh 

water supply for the long term, up to the year 2100.

In the United States, the damage wrought by 

Hurricane Katrina resulted in the development of new 

methods for analyzing possible storm scenarios as well 

as new approaches to flood damage reduction based 

on risk analyses. Using this new risk-based approach, 

the Corps of Engineers designed and built large multibillion-dollar flood protection measures for the city 

of New Orleans. Ultimately, Hurricane Katrina was a 

significant catalyst for planners in the United States 

and in the Netherlands, and consequently both countries are reshaping their water resources management 

approaches to address current and future challenges 

while also retaining important programmatic elements 

from the past.

A PRODUCTIVE WATER MANAGEMENT HERITAGE

Over the course of two hundred years, the Rijkswaterstaat 

and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers have accumulated a large body of knowledge and expertise in water 

resources management. The scientists and engineers 

in both organizations became world leaders in their 

respective fields and established close and long-standing 

working relationships with universities, hydraulic laboratories, and specialized research centers to develop and 

apply innovative and effective scientific and engineering 

techniques to water resources issues. The intellectual 

capital assembled by the two organizations includes the 

358

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
development of technical solutions for a wide range of 

water issues, such as dredging; levee construction and 

maintenance; and the operation and maintenance of 

flood protection systems, dams and locks, and hydropower facilities. Cooperation between the two water 

management authorities along with citizens, private 

industry, and knowledge institutions such as universities 

remains imperative for the development of innovative 

solutions that address challenges such as climate change 

and the associated threats posed by sea level rise. In 

addition, planners on both sides of the Atlantic have to 

deal with the challenges inherent in addressing the needs 

caused by floods, droughts, fresh water supply, and satisfying the needs of the navigation industry.

Integrative designs are needed to rise to these challenges—not only because water problems have become 

increasingly complex, and thus need a comprehensive 

approach, but also to serve various regional and local 

interests and address public participation requirements. 

Hence, multipurpose solutions and integrated water 

resources management approaches remain important 

conceptual and administrative frameworks.

Future perspectives will likely make fruitful use of 

the policy options selected in the past, as most of these 

remain relevant. Geography is also an important factor. 

The essential features of rivers, lakes, seas—the landscape in general—tend to change slowly. As such, key 

water resources challenges, such as flood safety and 

availability of freshwater, have an inherent long-term 

character. However, demographic shifts, climate change, 

and a rapidly aging infrastructure are forcing both the 

Rijkswaterstaat and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to 

confront new challenges with some sense of urgency. 

When addressing these issues, planners cannot simply 

start over; existing water management policies, engineering decisions, and completed projects still in operation provide important ingredients for current and 

future policy decisions. A normalized river, for instance, 

will not return to its former “natural” course in the short 

term. Furthermore, engineering designs from the past 

are made according to some essential design principles, 

which have an equally stable character. 

As historians in the U.S. and the Netherlands look 

back over two hundred years of water resources experience, several broad themes emerge. From the outset, the 

Corps and the Rijkswaterstaat demonstrated a sense of 

mission, an esprit de corps that fostered the establishment 

of sophisticated engineer organizations that developed 

the necessary technological expertise and organizational 

structures to design and manage large construction projects. Demonstrating a dedication to achieving workable 

solutions to specific problems, the two agencies built 

regional structures and displayed their technical skills 

to the public. But on both sides of the Atlantic, water 

resources managers rarely found that implementing their 

plans was easy or straightforward. Ultimately, the most 

successful projects involved a healthy blend of bottomup commitment and support and a persuasive top-down 

professional expertise, as seen in the work on the lower 

Mississippi River in the U.S. and the Bergse-Meuse canalization project in the Netherlands.

The leaders of the Rijkswaterstaat and the Corps 

also learned that developing the necessary support 

for their water resources projects depended on establishing supportive, well-informed partnerships at 

local, national, and even international levels. Over 

time, the two organizations found that for a project to 

be truly successful, it was vital to reach a consensus 

that reflected the interests of all stakeholders. Hence, 

managers in both organizations embraced the necessity 

of coalition building. They also found that building these 

coalitions was easiest when a project combined multiple 

purposes—flood safety, energy production, navigation, 

recreation, or environmental protection—reconciled 

through multipurpose design. Water resources development, as it turns out, has a natural inclination toward 

359

10 Dutch and U.S. Experience: Comparative Perspective
an integrative approach. This trend became evident in 

the nineteenth century when planners combined the 

needs of flood management and navigation into their 

designs. Multipurpose planning continued to evolve 

in the twentieth century and in the 1970s underwent a 

significant transformation when environmental criteria 

were incorporated into the process. Today this concept, 

now known as integrated water resources management, 

or IWRM, is used around the world. 

Responding to change is often difficult, and incorporating new operating principles, such as collaboration 

and multipurpose planning, sometimes proved difficult 

for both the Rijkswaterstaat and the Corps of Engineers. 

In addition, the two government engineering organizations proved initially too rigid when responding to the 

environmental movement’s criticism of the technocentric mindset that tended to dominate their strategic 

thinking prior to the 1970s. 

The evolution of multipurpose planning, along with 

the rise of a host of environmental concerns, brought 

new and complex challenges to the Rijkswaterstaat and 

the Corps of Engineers. There were also organizational 

questions to be answered. Beginning in the early 1980s, 

government planners, members of the scientific and 

engineering communities, and influential voices from 

industry began to question the leading role of the Rijkswaterstaat and the Corps of Engineers in water resources 

management. Concurrently, over the past decades both 

organizations have seen some of their engineering and 

research and development functions outsourced to 

academia and industry. This phenomenon reflects a longterm trend and may one day threaten to undermine the 

professional competence of both organizations. 

The Corps of Engineers and the Rijkswaterstaat 

continue to adapt to the many environmental, technological, and organizational challenges. Integrated water 

resources management is emerging as a suitable framework to combine these intangible human perspectives 

and engineering science. To meet the challenges ahead, 

the two organizations must continue to develop new 

perspectives, skills, and technologies, while relying on 

the existing foundations of accumulated knowledge and 

expertise. While these qualities and attributes are irreplaceable, it is the capacities to learn, adapt, and deliver 

projects and services—proven over two hundred years 

of operations—that remain essential to the character of 

both organizations and necessary to meet the needs of 

present and future generations of both nations.

360

Two Centuries of Experience in Water Resources Management
1 J. G. W. Fijnje, “Levensberigt van Frederik Willem 

Conrad, voorzitter en een der opgrigters van het Koninklijk 

Instituut van Ingenieurs en eene bijdrage tot de geschiedenis 

van den waterstaat van zijn tijd,” in Notulen van het Koninklijk 

Instituut van ingenieurs (‘s Gravenhage: KIVI, 1870), 187.

2 See Chapter 6, the sections on the Zuiderzee project 

and on High Tide of Coastal Engineering.

3 See Pieter Huisman, Water in the Netherlands

(Utrecht: Netherlands Hydrological Society, 2004), Figure 5.1, 

p. 47. This map indicates the different safety standards for the 

flood-prone areas.

4 “A Unified National Program for Floodplain Management, 1986” was published by the Interagency Floodplain 

Management Task Force through the Federal Emergency 

Management Agency. The task force membership as listed on 

the inside of the front cover consists of the Departments of 

Agriculture, Army (USACE), Commerce, Energy, Housing and 

Urban Development, Interior, and Transportation, as well as 

the Environmental Protection Agency, the Tennessee Valley 

Authority, and the Federal Emergency Management Agency. 

ENDNOTES

361
249th Engineer Battalion, 324

308 reports, 219–220, 350

A

Aa River, 90

Abbot, Henry L., 65–66, 120, 121, 

138, 347

Abert, John J., 68–69

Act of Mannheim, 86

Adams, Henry, 144

Adams, John Quincy, 59

Advisory Committee on Water 

Management in the 21st Century 

(Netherlands), 264

Afghanistan, 335–336

Alabama, 70

Alaska, 328

Albeni Falls Dam, 231

Algera, Jacob, 190

Allegheny River, 213

Almere, Netherlands, 255

Alpha (dredge), 140

Alton, Illinois, 234–235

Amer River, 53, 69, 89, 91–92

American Society of Civil Engineers, 

114, 330, 346

Amerongen, Netherlands, 180

Amortisatiesyndicaat, 25

Amsterdam Canal Company, 95

Amsterdam, Netherlands, 2, 16, 29, 

40–41, 78, 81, 84, 92–99, 106, 

162–163, 169, 179, 184, 194, 248, 

277, 348

Andel, Netherlands, 92

Antoing, Belgium, 39

Antwerp, Belgium, 40, 164, 183, 263

Arizona, 124, 225

Arkansas, 67

Arkansas River, 5, 71, 116, 137

Arles, France, 266

Arnhem, Netherlands, 93, 179

Arthur, Chester, 133–136, 145

Association of Civil Engineers (Netherlands), 81

Atchafalaya River, 65–66, 144, 215, 

302–303

Atkinson, Henry, 69

B

Babcock, Orville, 117

Babcock, Samuel, 57

Baltimore, Maryland, 53, 57, 120–123, 

137–139, 208–209

Barnard, John Gross, 126

Basel, Switzerland, 271

Batavian Republic, 12, 14, 16, 18–20, 

22, 24–25, 29, 35, 42

Beach Erosion Board (U.S.), 308

Beatrix, Queen of the Netherlands, 

160, 248, 263

Beauregard, P. G. T., 67

Becht Commission, 260

Beijerinck, J. A., 36, 94, 347

Belgium, 25, 36, 81, 162, 273

Bellefontaine, Ohio, 143

Bendegom, L. van, 180

Benton, Thomas Hart, 69

Bergse Meuse River, 4, 89, 92

Berkel River, 101

Berlicum, Netherlands, 89

Bern Convention, 270

Bernard, Simon, 53–54

Betuwe Route Railroad, 251, 278

Betz, Gerardus Henri, 94

Beveridge, W. H., 159

Bill Williams River, 70

Black Sea, 125

Blanken, Jan, 21, 22

Blokzijl, Netherlands, 175

Blom, Gerrit, 248

Board of Engineers for Internal 

Improvements (U.S.), 68

Board of Engineers for Rivers and 

Harbors (U.S.), 210

Boertien Commission, 260–261

Bonaparte, Louis Napoleon, King of 

the Netherlands, 16, 17, 22–23

management, 16–17

portrait, 17

reorganization efforts, 20–21

Bonaparte, Napoleon, 17, 23–24

Bonneville Dam, 213, 220, 221, 

222–223, 230, 233, 316, 351

Bonneville Power Administration, 

223, 229, 232

Bosse, Henry, 34, 61, 79, 122

Boston, Massachusetts, 114, 120–121, 

208–209

Boulder Dam, 225

Boule, Auguste, 131

Brakel, Netherlands, 86, 88

Braudel, Fernand, 11

Breda, Netherlands, 77, 79

Bremen, Germany, 278

Brink, Margo van den, 251

British Columbia, 5

Brouwers Dam, 263

Brown, Lytle, 215

Brown, Micah, 122

Brunings, Christiaan, 15, 20, 22

Brussels, Belgium, 39

Buchanan, James, 52, 63

Buffalo, New York, 58, 63, 114, 118

Buma, Age, 168–169

Bureau of Fisheries (U.S.), 233–234

Bureau of Reclamation (U.S.), 3, 205, 

210–214, 217, 220, 223, 225-230, 

232, 310–311, 316, 350–351

Index

Page references in italics refer to illustrations; 

those in boldface to maps or charts.

363
Bureau of the Waterstaat (Nether

-

lands), 20–25, 27, 30, 32, 42, 77

Burton, Theodore E., 210 C

Cairo, Illinois, 56, 66, 133, 139, 140

Caland, Abraham, 29

Caland, Pieter, 93–95, 348

Calhoun, John C., 53–54, 56–57

California, 4–6, 69, 123–124, 127–128, 

225, 298

California Debris Commission, 128

Calumet River, 118

Calvert, Monte, 155

Canada, 3, 230–232, 357

canalization, 156–157, 162, 164, 182

canals, 2, 3, 6, 17, 20, 24, 25–27, 29, 

36, 38, 39–40, 51–53, 56–60, 

62–63, 68, 70–71, 78–79, 89, 

93–98, 105, 117, 119–121, 

124–126, 129–130, 143, 146, 156, 

160–162, 164, 180, 209, 212, 218, 

223, 296–297, 334–335, 345–347, 

349, 351

Amsterdam-Rhine Canal, 160

Canal of St. Andries, 88

Cascade Canal, 144, 208

Dalles-Celilo Canal, 208

Dismal Swamp Canal, 57

Erie Canal, 57, 58, 118, 120, 

124–125, 133

Great North Holland Canal, 37, 

39, 93

Hennepin Canal, 125

Illinois and Michigan Canal, 62

Illinois and Mississippi Canal, 

143

Juliana Canal, 162

Louisville and Portland Canal, 

117, 131

Merwede Canal, 96, 99, 103–105

Middlesex Canal, 57

Muscle Shoals Canal, 125

North Sea Canal, 93, 95–97, 99, 

105–106, 160, 164, 348

Panama Canal, 214

Prairie Canal, 297

Santee Canal, 57

Sault Ste. Marie Canal, 119

Soo Canal, 130

South Williams Canal, 37, 90

St. Clair Flats Canal, 119, 130

St. Marys Canal, 117

Tamiami Canal, 296

Twente Canal, 160, 162, 179

Voornsche Canal, 93

Canfield, August, 119

Canyon Lake Dam, 310

Cape Girardeau, Missouri, 65, 216

Carson, Rachel, 193, 287, 353

Carter, Jimmy, 288–289, 311

Casad Dam, 311

Casey, Thomas Lincoln, 121, 

138–139, 141

Cassidy, William, 237

Central and Southern Florida Flood 

Control Project, 6, 296–297

Central Commission for the Naviga-

tion of the Rhine, 19, 33, 270

Central Rhine Commission, 86

Chanoine, Jacques, 131

Charleroi, Belgium, 39

Charleston, South Carolina, 127, 

141, 208

Chesapeake and Delaware Canal 

Company, 71

Chesapeake Bay, 122

Chicago River, 62

Chicago, Illinois, 118, 120, 125

Chief Joseph Dam, 231, 316

Christaller, Walter, 175

Cincinnati, Ohio, 116

Civil War (American), 2, 51, 62–63, 

65, 67, 69–71, 113, 117, 125, 

141–144, 345–346

Clark, William, 67

Clarke, Frederick J., 291–292, 293

Clarke, Gordon M., 321

Clay, Henry, 55–57, 59

Clean Water Act, 298, 312, 339, 

354–355

Clearwater River, 67

Cleveland, Grover, 136–138, 144

Cleveland, Ohio, 58, 118, 145

climate change, 30, 247, 263–264, 

266–268, 272–273, 278, 357–359

Clinton, Bill, 307

Clinton, De Witt, 57

Clyde River, 93

coastal defenses, 12–13, 20, 27–29, 

42, 93, 251, 268, 279, 308, 309, 

346, 352

Coastal Engineering Research 

Center (U.S.), 308–309

coastlines

defense responsibility, 28–29

Dutch overview, 352

erosion control, 308–310

stability, 269

cofferdams, 213, 222

Cold Regions Research and Engi-

neering Laboratory (U.S.), 328

Cold War, 2, 335

Colijn, Hendrik, 170–171

Cologne, Germany, 40, 86, 97

Colorado, 71

Colorado River, 5, 225

Columbia River, 5, 67, 123, 129, 143, 

146, 207–208, 220, 222–223, 224, 

225, 227, 229–234, 236, 238, 302, 

315–317, 319, 322, 325, 336, 347, 

351, 357

Chief Joseph Dam, 231

dams, 224

environmental concerns, 

233–234

flood of 1948, 230

Mount St. Helens eruption, 325

multi-purpose projects, 220–225

navigation projects in 1870s, 129

postwar planning, 229–232

salmon migration, 316–319

Commission of Inspection (Nether-

lands), 35–36

Comprehensive Everglades Restora-

tion Plan, 6, 297

Comstock, Cyrus, 138–139

concrete

Bonneville Dam construction, 

222

difficulties with, 62

early use, 121, 143–144

large-scale dams, 212

mattresses, 237

Conrad, Charles M., 64, 345

Conrad, Frederik Willem, 26, 86, 90, 

102

Corps des Ponts et Chaussées, 23, 344

Corps of Topographical Engineers 

(U.S.), 62, 67–69, 345–346

cost-sharing, 3, 210, 215, 236, 238, 

288–291, 305, 310, 320–322, 356

Cowlitz River, 325, 326

Cox, Samuel, 133

Craighill, William P., 123, 131, 

137–138, 144

Crawford, William, 59

Cumberland Road, 57–58

Cumberland, Maryland, 58

364
D

Dalles, The, 129, 208, 231

dam safety, 310–312, 336

dams, 2, 4, 6, 55–56, 61, 117, 125, 128, 

135, 187, 190, 205, 208, 211–218, 

220, 223, 225–226, 228–234, 238, 

268, 287, 295, 299, 304, 306–307, 

310–312, 315–317, 319, 332, 336, 

347, 350–352, 359

crib dams, 131, 135, 144

rolling crest dams, 208

wicket dams, 132, 208

wing dams, 61, 238, 347, 348

Danube River, 125, 127

Davis, Jefferson, 69

Dawson, Robert K., 320

Deer River, 136

Delaware, 71, 114

Delaware River, 121

Delfland Water Board, 20

Delft Hydraulics Laboratory, 183, 

187, 190–191, 258

Delft Technical High School, 156, 166

Delft University of Technology, 41, 

164, 248

Delft, Netherlands, 40, 41, 79, 102, 

105, 168–169

Delfzijl, Netherlands, 99, 157

Delta Commission, 247, 260, 

262–263, 266–267

Delta Committee, 187, 189–190, 193

Delta Department, 252–253

Delta Fund, 267

Delta Law Major Rivers, 261–262, 279

Delta Plan, 3, 5, 166, 182, 251, 261, 

263, 353, 355–356

Delta Program, 247, 267–268, 358

Delta Service, 190–193, 251

Delta Works, 155, 158, 162, 180, 184, 

186–187, 188, 189–192, 250–253, 

255, 257, 268, 353, 356

components, 189–190

laboratory model, 190

map, 188

overview, 353

Deltares, 249, 279, 357

Den Bosch, Netherlands, 89

Department of Agriculture (U.S.), 

226–228

Derby, George H., 69

Detroit River, 118–119

Detroit, Michigan, 63, 116, 118, 

138, 287

Dieze River, 90

Diggelen, B. P. G. van, 168

Diggelen, P. J. G. van, 168

dike breaches, 23, 30, 31, 32, 86, 

90, 169, 183, 186–187

Dike Law, 17–18, 25

dikes, 4, 6, 11–12, 15, 17, 28–32, 

89, 95, 97, 119, 132–133, 166, 172, 

175, 183, 185–187, 189, 208–209, 

238, 247, 251–253, 256, 260–261, 

263, 264, 267–268, 276, 279, 299, 

313, 348, 356

spur dikes, 139, 140

Dirks, Justus, 95

disaster relief, 17, 322–324, 327

Doijer, H., 105

Dommel River, 90, 194

Dredged Material Research Program, 

313–315

dredges

clamshell, 123

cutterhead, 124, 140

hopper, 127, 141

dredging, 6, 29, 85–86, 88, 92, 95–96, 

117–119, 121, 123–124, 126–128, 

140, 208, 233, 238, 298, 302, 310, 

312–315, 325, 329, 348–349, 359

boat design, 119, 122, 123

industry pressure, 315

Merwede Canal, 98

Mount St. Helens sediment, 325

overview, 348

spoils disposal, 312–315

steam power, 85–86

vs. jetties, 128

Drenthe (province), 99

Drew, Elizabeth, 292

Driehuizen, Netherlands, 90

Driel, Netherlands, 180

Duluth, Minnesota, 118, 120

dunes, 3, 4, 28, 29, 93, 96, 184, 189, 

268–269

Durgerdam, Netherlands, 28 E

Eads, James, 125–129, 131, 133, 137, 

140

East River, 120–121

Eastern Scheldt

closure plans, 192–193

environmental damage, 187–188

sea life, 252

storm surge barrier, 251–255, 253, 

254, 263, 268, 279, 355

Ecole Polytechnique, 23, 51, 65, 344

Education Law, 81

Edwards, Joseph, 141

Eindhoven University of Technology, 

160

Eisenhower, Dwight D., 236, 288

Ellet, Charles, Jr., 65, 347

Emmeloord, Netherlands, 175

Emory, William H., 69

Ems River, 269, 272, 274, 279, 357

endangered species, 315–317, 319, 336

engineers (American). See also U.S. 

Army Corps of Engineers

military vs. civilian, 346

in progressive era, 206–207

engineers (Dutch)

craftsmen as, 20

early training standards, 344

education, 80

education, elevation of, 156

education, French influence on, 

23

education improvements, 79–81

education in liberal era, 346–347

England. See Great Britain

Enkhuizen, Netherlands, 177

Environmental Advisory Board (U.S.), 

291

Environmental Protection Agency 

(U.S.), 298–301, 313, 354

environmentalism, 192–195, 197, 210, 

233, 237, 247, 249–252, 255–256, 

265, 273–274, 276, 278, 287–288, 

290–292, 294–298, 302–303, 312, 

351–352, 354–355, 359

Corps’ cooperation, 234–235

Corps’ focus, 291–292

multi-purpose development, 233

pressure on Rijkswaterstaat, 250

protests, 195

rise of, 193–196

Erie, Pennsylvania, 61

Essayons (dredge), 328

European Union, 3, 269, 270, 273–274, 

277–278, 357

Europeanization, 247–248, 269, 

273–274, 276–277

Europoort, 160, 161

Everglades, 6, 296, 327, 336

Exxon Valdez (oil tanker), 324, 328

Eyck, Aldo van, 175

365
F

Faddegon, P., 93

Federal Emergency Management 

Agency (U.S.), 307, 324, 327–328, 

330

Federal Inter-Agency River Basins 

Commission (U.S.), 229

Federal Power Commission (U.S.), 

219, 227–229, 350

Ferrand, Jean Henri, 34, 84, 88

Fijnje, H. F., 33, 86, 90

Fish and Wildlife Service (U.S.), 234, 

316

fishways, 222, 233–234, 272, 315–316, 

317, 318

Flad, Henry, 140

flood control, 2–3, 6, 12, 34, 64–65, 

67, 71, 85, 131, 134–135, 140, 

156, 158, 161, 163, 168, 170, 186, 

210, 212, 214–218, 225, 227–230, 

232, 235–236, 238, 247, 260, 264, 

267, 288, 295–297, 302–308, 310, 

320, 322, 332, 335, 343–344, 347, 

350–351, 355–357

Flood of 1808 (Netherlands), 28

Flood of 1809 (Netherlands), 17, 32

Flood of 1825 (Netherlands), 28

Flood of 1855 (Netherlands), 86

Flood of 1858 (U.S.), 66

Flood of 1859 (U.S.), 66

Flood of 1861 (Netherlands), 86

Flood of 1862 (U.S.), 67

Flood of 1874 (U.S.), 131

Flood of 1876 (Netherlands), 89

Flood of 1878 (Netherlands), 90

Flood of 1880 (Netherlands), 90

Flood of 1882 (U.S.), 133

Flood of 1889 at Johnstown (U.S.), 

139

Flood of 1890 (U.S.), 134

Flood of 1891 (Netherlands), 101

Flood of 1912 (U.S.), 134, 214, 302

Flood of 1913 (U.S.), 214, 302

Flood of 1916 (Netherlands), 161, 169

Flood of 1916 (U.S.), 214

Flood of 1926 (Netherlands), 161

Flood of 1927 (U.S.), 214, 215, 302, 

322, 351, 358

Flood of 1936 (U.S.), 216, 302

Flood of 1945 (U.S.), 305

Flood of 1948 (U.S.), 229, 230

Flood of 1953 (Netherlands), 158, 

161, 175, 182, 184–186, 189, 196, 

260, 353, 358

Flood of 1973 (U.S.), 302, 304

Flood of 1993 (Netherlands), 247, 

257, 259–260, 261, 271, 279

Flood of 1993 (U.S.), 307, 308, 358

Flood of 1995 (Netherlands), 247, 

257, 259–261, 262, 266, 271, 279

Flood of 2002 (Netherlands), 274

floodways, 33, 84, 88, 215–216, 302, 

351

Florida, 6, 296–297, 324, 336

Forest Service (U.S.), 210, 211, 350

Fort Peck Dam, 225, 226, 228–229, 

351

France, 14, 16, 18, 22–23, 40, 42, 67, 

93, 105, 121, 131, 269–270, 273, 

348

Franklin, Benjamin, 52

Fremont, John C., 69

Friant Dam, 225

Friesland (province), 27, 99, 160, 166, 

168, 170, 172

G

Gallatin, Albert, 52–53, 58

Galloway, Gerald, 307

Galveston, Texas, 126–128, 138–139, 

143

Garfield, James, 133

Garrison Dam, 229

Gelderland (province), 91, 161, 190, 

260

General Survey Act, 51, 56, 60, 68, 345

General Water Administration Act of 

1900 (Netherlands), 104

Geological Survey (U.S.), 69

Georgia, 125

Germany, 19, 33, 42, 85–86, 88, 

99–100, 105, 163, 251, 269, 270, 

273, 278, 348

Gerry, Elbridge, 52

Gianelli, William R., 320

Gillmore, Quincy, 127

Gore, Al, 266

Gorinchem, Netherlands, 97

Grand Canyon, 69

Grand Coulee Dam, 220, 223, 316, 

351

Grant, Ulysses S., 117, 128, 145

Grave, Netherlands, 89, 157, 161–162

Great Britain, 16, 36, 39, 93, 95–96, 

105, 124, 348

Great Lakes, 3, 61–62, 114–120, 

124–125, 128, 139, 146, 208, 238, 

315, 345

Great Salt Lake, 69

Green River, 61, 129

Greers Ferry Dam, 289

Grenoble, France, 191

Grevelingen, 187, 189, 191–192, 263

Gridley, Richard, 51

Griesheim, Germany, 195

Groningen (province), 28, 98, 166, 

168, 170

Gulf of Mexico, 54, 57, 215, 330 H

Haarlem Lake (Haarlemmermeer), 

25, 35, 36, 78, 102, 166

Haarlem, Netherlands, 40, 81

Haarlemmermeer. See Haarlem Lake

Hagestein, Netherlands, 180, 182

Hague, Netherlands, 1, 14, 41, 104, 

184, 251

Hansweert, Netherlands, 164

harbors, 2, 27, 29, 36, 51–52, 62–63, 

64, 71, 79, 92, 94, 98–99, 105, 

114, 117–118, 120–121, 123–126, 

128–129, 135–136, 139, 141, 143, 

145–146, 157, 160, 162, 208–209, 

238–239, 310, 315, 345–346

Haringvliet Dam, 191–192, 263, 

271–272

Harlingen, Netherlands, 27, 99, 157

Harrison, Benjamin, 139

Hartley, Charles, 125

Harvard University, 72, 235

Hatch, Henry, 295, 320, 321, 322

Hayes, Rutherford, 128–129, 133

Heerewaarden, Netherlands, 88

Heezik, Alex van, 84

Heliopolis (snagboat), 61

Hellevoetsluis, Netherlands, 21

Henderson, Kentucky, 61

Henry Lee & Son, 95

Henry, Robert P., 55

Heuer, William, 123–124

Heusden, Netherlands, 89–90, 92

Hickman, Kentucky, 134

highway system, 36, 37, 52, 56, 248, 

250, 346, 349

Hodges, Harry, 144

Holland (province), 15–16, 20, 22–23, 

28, 34, 91, 93–96, 166, 170, 172, 

183–184, 186, 189, 195, 268, 353

Hollands Diep, 4

Hoover Dam, 351

Howells, William Dean, 113

366
Hudson River, 58, 120, 328

Humphreys, Andrew, 65–66, 69, 114, 

115, 117, 120, 125–126, 129, 131, 

347

Hurricane and Storm Damage Risk 

Reduction System, 333, 335–336

Hurricane Andrew, 324, 327

Hurricane Katrina, 1, 266, 330, 331, 

332, 333, 334, 358

Hurricane Rita, 332

hydraulic engineering, 13, 34, 78, 

106, 208

hydroelectric power, 6, 135, 205, 210, 

212–213, 215, 218, 220–221, 225, 

228–230, 232, 238, 288, 319, 322, 

336, 350–351

for Bonneville Dam, 220–221

Columbia River, 232

first hydroelectric plant, 135

as revenue source, 218–219

sales of power, 223

Wilson Dam, 219

I

Idaho, 311

IJmuiden, Netherlands, 96–97, 164, 

165, 171

IJssel River, 4, 29, 30, 85, 93, 168, 177, 

179–180, 187, 189–190

IJsselmeer, 172, 175, 177, 179–180, 

196, 267, 271, 352, 355

Illinois, 62, 70

Illinois River, 5, 62, 125, 207

India, 132

Indiana, 58, 70

Inland Waterways Commission (U.S.), 

212

Inner Harbor Navigation Canal Surge 

Barrier, 334, 335

Institute for Water Resources (U.S.), 

237–238, 291, 293, 301, 312, 331

International Commission for the 

Protection of the Rhine, 270

international cooperation

Columbia River, 231–232

comprehensive policy, 273–274, 

276–278

Dutch resources, 357

on pollution, 270

on Rhine River, 269–272

Iowa, 235

Iraq, 335–336

irrigation, 71, 166, 169, 177, 195, 

210–211, 214, 217, 219, 220, 223, 

225, 227–230, 238, 287, 288, 299, 

315, 345, 350

Italy, 273

Ives, Joseph C., 69 J

Jackson, Andrew, 53, 59

Jacksonville, Florida, 126, 127, 128, 141

Jadwin, Edgar, 215

Jadwin Plan, 215

James River, 125

Jefferson, Thomas, 52, 59, 67, 144

jetties

channel improvement, 62

construction, 142–143

Mississippi River passes, 125–126

South Pass (Louisiana), 126–128, 

127

vs. dredging, 128

Johnson, Andrew, 114

Johnson, Lyndon B., 236, 287

Johnstown, Pennsylvania, 139, 140 K

Kanawha River, 125, 130–131, 137, 213

Karlsruhe Hydraulic Laboratory, 352

Katwijk, Netherlands, 24

Keijts, Bert, 249

Keizersveer, Netherlands, 89–90

Kennedy, John F., 236, 288, 289

Kennedy, Robert F., 287

Kentucky, 55, 129

Kentucky River, 129

Keulse Vaart, 97

King, Martin Luther, 287

Kingdom of Holland, 16

Kingdom of the Netherlands, 12, 18, 36

Kissimmee River, 6, 296, 336

Klerck, Willem, 103

Kloppenburg, J., 93

Korean War, 236

Koseleck, R., 42

Kraus, Jacob, 164, 169

Krayenhoff, Cornelis, 15, 33, 88

Krey, H., 164

Kuffeler, Victor Jean Pierre de Blocq 

van, 180

Kun, Leopold van der, 26, 34, 79, 

83–84, 86, 88, 93, 102

L

La Pierre, A. J., 15

Lake Borgne, 65, 335

Lake Champlain, 63

Lake Erie, 57–58, 63, 118

Lake Huron, 63, 118, 119

Lake Michigan, 63, 125

Lake of the Woods, 63

Lake Okeechobee, 336

Lake Ontario, 63

Lake Pontchartrain, 331, 334–335

Lake St. Clair, 119

Lake Superior, 63, 117–119

Lake Survey, 62–63, 116

Lake Washington, 208

Lake Winnibigoshish, 135, 136

Leclanché, Georges, 120

Leech Lake, 135

Leemans, Wilhelmus, 88–89, 166

Leiden University, 170

Leidschendam, Netherlands, 12

Lek River, 4, 29, 85, 96–97, 106, 

179–180

Lely, Cornelis (father), 161

Lely, Cornelis Willem, 103–105, 

161–162, 163, 164, 168–170, 352

Lelystad, Netherlands, 177

Lemmer, Netherlands, 175

levees, 6, 12, 16–17, 64–65, 66, 67, 71, 

131, 133–135, 139–141, 187, 190, 

209, 214–215, 217, 230, 257, 261, 

296–297, 302–303, 306–307, 310, 

322, 325, 330, 332–335, 347, 351, 

353, 355–356

Yazoo and Huspuckena Levee, 67

Lewes, Delaware, 122

Lewis, Meriwether, 67

Lewiston, Idaho, 129

Libby Dam, 231–232

lighthouses, 29, 57, 59, 62, 122, 345

Limburg (province), 26, 156, 161–162

Lincoln, Abraham, 72, 114, 144

Linge River, 32

Linne, Netherlands, 162

Lith, Netherlands, 162

Little Kanawha River, 129

Liverpool, England, 39

Lobith, Netherlands, 190, 260

Loma Prieta, California, 324, 328

London, England, 25, 79, 278

Long, Stephen H., 53, 57, 61, 65, 69

367
Lorentz, Hendrik, 170

Los Angeles, California, 124, 208, 287

Louis XIV, 23

Louisiana, 67, 332

Louisville, Kentucky, 53–55

Luteijn Commission, 266

Luxembourg, 270, 273 M

Maas River. See Meuse River

Maass, Arthur, 235

Mackenzie, Alexander, 211

Macomb, Alexander, 57

Macomb, John N., 69

Madison, James, 52, 59

Maeslant Barrier, 263, 264, 268, 335

Manchester, England, 39

Maris, A. G., 187

Marshall, William, 143

Massachusetts, 57

McCormick & Son, 95

McFarland, Walter, 138

McKinley, William, 145

McNary Dam, 231, 316

Meijdrecht Lake, 35

Memphis, Tennessee, 66, 71

Mendell, George, 138

Merrill, William, 131

Merwede River, 85, 94, 96–97

Metze, M., 251

Meuse River, 4, 85, 86, 88–91, 92, 93, 

125–126, 156, 157, 158, 161–162, 

164, 179, 191, 195, 247, 257, 

261–263, 266, 269, 272, 274, 279, 

353, 357

canalization, 162

flood of 1876, 89

flood of 1926, 161

flood of 1993, 261

new mouth, 88–92, 90, 91, 92

normalization, 158

plans after 1926 flood, 161–162

weirs, 157

Meuse Works, 262, 279

Mexican–American War, 68–69

Mexico, 5, 69, 357

Miami, Florida, 327

Michigan, 119

Ministry of Infrastructure and the 

Environment, 248, 268, 278–279

Ministry of Public Works, Trade, and 

Industry, 102–103

Ministry of Waterstaat, 22, 83

Minneapolis, Minnesota, 135

Minnesota, 61, 71

Mishan, E. J., 194

Mississippi, 67, 332

Mississippi River, 5, 53–55, 56, 57, 

60–62, 64–67, 69, 71, 114–117, 

125–126, 129, 130, 131, 133, 135, 

137, 139, 140, 144, 146, 207–208, 

211, 214–215, 217, 234, 238, 302, 

307, 322, 336, 347, 351, 358–359

Atchafalaya River separation, 303

drainage area, 56

dredging efforts post–Civil War, 

117

environmental concerns, 234

flood of 1858-59, 66

flood of 1882, 133

flood of 1912, 134

flood of 1927, 215

flood of 1973, 304

flood of 1993, 307–308, 308

laboratory model, 217

levees on, 65–66

lower tributaries, 130

revetments, 237

South Pass jetties, 125–126

survey of 1822, 55

survey of 1852, 64–65

survey of 1861, 65

Mississippi River and Tributaries 

Project, 215–216

Mississippi River Commission, 131, 

133–135, 137, 139–140, 215–216, 

348

Missouri, 67, 69

Missouri River, 5, 53–54, 56, 61, 67, 

69, 71, 116, 133, 140, 207, 225, 

227, 228–229, 238, 307, 322

Fort Peck Dam, 225–226

Pick-Sloan plan, 228–229

system map, 227

Missouri River Commission, 137, 348

Mitchell, Alexander, 122

modeling

advances in, 165–166

first Dutch hydraulic experiment, 

105

for Bonneville Dam, 220

Delta Works, 190

Louisiana risk reduction, 332–333

mathematical, 170

Monongahela River, 56

Monroe, James, 53, 57–58

Morris & Cumings Dredging 

Company, 121

Morris, J. W. Jack, 312–313

Mount St. Helens, 324–325, 326, 327

multiple-purpose projects, 2, 6, 146, 

208, 210–215, 218–220, 225–226, 

228, 230, 232–234, 236, 238, 

287–288, 295, 302, 350, 360

advent of, 210–212

Corps’ acceptance of, 218–220

environmental concerns, 

233–234

Murphy, Francis, 306

Muskingum River, 129 N

Nagele, Netherlands, 175

National Environmental Policy Act 

(U.S.), 234, 288–289, 291–293, 299, 

312–313, 354–355

National Resources Planning Board 

(U.S.), 228, 235

National Water Commission (U.S.), 

290

National Water Plan (Netherlands), 

259, 266, 268

navigation, 2, 6, 33, 51, 55, 60–62, 64, 

84–86, 125, 133–134, 141, 157, 158, 

162, 207–208, 215, 230–231, 234, 

238, 277, 288, 295, 312, 344–345, 

347, 349, 355

Bonneville Dam, 221–222

channel improvements, 207–208, 

209

Columbia River, 231

Corps mission, 312–315

dumping hazards, 208–209

federal control over, 113

on Great Lakes, 61–63

Mississippi River levees, 134

as policy driver, 162

on the Rhine, 84–86, 88

small Dutch rivers, 99–100

traffic jams, 88

New Hampshire, 328

New Jersey, 328

New Merwede River, 86, 88, 89

New Mexico, 69

New Orleans, Louisiana, 36, 53, 55, 57, 

117, 124–126, 131, 330, 332–336, 

347, 358

New Waterway. See Nieuwe Waterweg

New York, 57, 63, 120, 133

368
New York, New York, 120–121, 124, 

138, 141, 206, 208–209, 328–329, 

335

Newton, John, 120–121, 137–138

Nieuwe Maas River, 4

Nieuwe Waterweg (New Waterway), 4, 

88, 92, 94, 95–96, 99, 177, 179–180, 

189, 194, 263, 268, 348, 356

Nieuwerkerk aan de IJssel, Nether-

lands, 184

Nieuwkoop Lake, 24, 35

Nieuwkuijk, Netherlands, 90

Nixon, Richard M., 298

Nobel, Alfred, 120

Norfolk, Virginia, 138

normalization (of rivers), 85–86, 

88–89, 162, 346–348

North Brabant (province), 89–92, 156, 

160–161

North Sea, 19, 24, 28, 78, 88, 93, 125, 

172, 182, 268–269, 271–272, 

277–278, 355

O

Oakland, California, 123, 124

Oceanside, California, 310

Ochten, Netherlands, 30

Office of Pacific Railroad Explorations 

and Surveys, 69

Ohio, 58, 70

Ohio River, 5, 53–57, 60–61, 71, 

116–117, 125, 130–131, 207–208, 

213–214, 216, 238, 336, 347

Oregon, 68, 71, 208, 220, 222

Oslo Convention, 277

Oslo, Norway, 277

Oud, Pieter, 159

Ouwerkerk, Netherlands, 187

Overijssel (province), 99

Overijsselse Vecht River, 101, 102 P

Paducah, Kentucky, 53

Page, Robert, 295

Palmer, J. J., 42

Pannerdensch Kanaal, 4

Paris Convention, 277

Paris, France, 23, 65, 131, 277

Parke, John, 115, 139

Parker Dam, 225

Peijs, Karla, 251

Pennink, Johan M. K., 179

Pennsylvania, 57, 58

permitting

considerations, 299–302

Corps’ responsibility, 298

Environmental Protection 

Agency oversight, 299

Rivers and Harbors Acts, 208–209

spoils disposal, 312–313

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 57, 114, 

120–122, 138–139, 143, 208–209

Pick, Lewis, 228, 229

Pick-Sloan Plan, 228–229

Pierce, Franklin, 63

Pine Bluff, Arkansas, 142

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, 53, 57, 131

Plymouth, Massachusetts, 121

Poe, Orlando, 138

polders, 3, 6, 12–13, 15, 17, 29, 33, 

108, 163, 168, 170, 172, 175, 179, 

187, 255–256, 272, 348, 352, 357

Beemster Polder, 34

Blijdorp Polder, 34

connection to old land, 175

construction method, 6

Eastern Flevoland, 177, 178, 255

Haarlemmermeerpolder, 173

Leidschendam, 12

Markerwaard (unbuilt), 177, 251, 

255–256, 278

Noordoostpolder, 174, 175, 177, 

255

Ooijpolder, 266

Southern Flevoland, 255

Wieringermeerpolder, 172, 173, 

175

Pollmann, Tessel, 170

pollution, 162–163, 177–180, 182, 

193–195, 230, 233, 248, 255, 257, 

259, 270, 271, 274, 277–278, 298, 

313, 315, 349, 351, 353–354

early concerns, 353

IJmuiden harbor, 259

international cooperation on, 270

monitoring, 258

“polluter pays” policy, 194–195, 

257–258

Sandoz fire, 271

spoils disposal, 313–314

Polytechnical School (Delft), 41, 80

Portland, Oregon, 123, 208

Prince William Sound, 328

Progil, 194

project management, 320–322, 328, 

351

Prussia. See Germany

Puget Sound, 208 R

railways, 25, 39, 40, 41, 51, 57, 68, 71, 

79, 81, 82, 83, 84, 88, 92–94, 98, 

101, 103, 113, 118, 120, 122–125, 

133, 141, 146, 169, 207, 345, 347, 

349

Rapid City, South Dakota, 310

Reagan, Ronald, 250, 288, 290, 356

reclamation, 6, 13, 27, 30, 34–35, 36, 

42, 64, 71, 84, 155–156, 163, 166, 

168–169, 196, 255–256, 344, 346, 

352

recreation, 229–230, 232, 238, 258, 

265, 269, 288, 298, 303, 313, 

351–352, 354–355, 359

Red River, 5, 60, 61, 65, 137

Red Wing, Minnesota, 234

Republic of the Seven United Prov-

inces, 11, 13–14

research and development, 1, 32, 

37, 65, 85, 156, 158, 160–161, 

166, 168, 182–183, 189, 193–196, 

233–234, 236, 249, 253, 264, 278, 

308–310, 313, 316–317, 345, 

350–351, 354, 357–358, 360

reservoirs, 65, 135, 183, 187, 211, 

214–217, 228–230, 233, 238, 302, 

304, 306–307, 310, 335, 355, 357

Reuss, Martin, 238, 336

Rhine 2020, 272

Rhine Action Plan, 271–272, 279

Rhine River, 4, 19, 29–30, 33–34, 42, 

84, 86, 88, 92, 96, 99, 125, 157, 

163, 177–180, 190–191, 194–196, 

247, 257, 260, 262–263, 266–267, 

269–272, 274, 279, 348, 352–353, 

355, 357

Rhine River, Nether, 4, 29, 33, 85, 106, 

179–180, 182

Rhine River, Upper, 4, 85, 90, 97, 271

Rhoades, Stephen, 328

Rhone River, 93, 125

Rietveld, Gerrit, 175

Rijkswaterstaat

ambition thwarted, 77

authority vs. water boards, 

103–104

beginnings, 20

culture change in 1970s and 

1980s, 248

creation of, 26

lack of confidence in, 163–164

369
Rijkswaterstaat (cont.)

organizational change in 2000s, 

249

power changes in early 1900s, 

157–158

reorganization under Ringers, 165

role in environmental era, 356

role in liberal era, 349

role in technocratic era, 353

tasks in early years, 344–345, 346

tasks in liberal era, 347–348

Rijnland Water Board, 20

Ringers, Johannes, 159, 164–166, 

170–171

risk management. See also safety 

standards

coastal defenses, 183

lessons from Hurricane Katrina, 

330–333

river management, 12–16, 24, 27, 

29–34, 51, 61, 71, 84–85, 89, 99, 

105, 155, 162, 208, 218, 276

Roberdeau, Isaac, 68

Rock Island, Illinois, 125, 234

Rockefeller, John D., 118

Room for the River, 247, 259, 264–267, 

279, 357–358

Roosevelt Dam, 212

Roosevelt, Franklin D., 159, 220, 223, 

225–226, 228, 235, 351

Roosevelt, Theodore, 145, 210–212

Rose, Hendrik, 89

Rosenwald Commission, 163–164

Rossum, Netherlands, 88

Rotterdam Economic University, 187

Rotterdam, Netherlands, 2, 29, 35, 40, 

41, 84, 88, 92–96, 98–99, 100, 101, 

108, 160, 162–164, 177, 179, 184, 

186, 263, 269, 277, 335, 348, 356

Rough River, 144

Royal Academy of Sciences, 17, 33, 

41, 79, 102

Royal Advisory Commissions, 33

Royal Institute of Engineers, 33, 81, 

168, 346

Royal Military Academy, 77, 79

Royal River Commissions, 19

Royal Society of Engineers, 88, 102

Ruys, Mien, 175 S

Sacramento River, 6, 127–128, 215, 

225, 322, 351

Sacramento, California, 126, 128

safety standards (Dutch)

after 2010, 267–268

after 1993 flood, 262–263

after 1953 storm surge, 189

coastal defenses, 183

Saeijs, H. L. F., 253, 258

salt intrusion

mechanism, 177–178

as policy driver, 257–258

1900s concerns, 163

San Diego River, 124

San Diego, California, 123–124

San Francisco, California, 123–124, 

127–128, 138

San Joaquin River, 6, 225

San Pedro, California, 124

Sand Motor (Zandmotor), 268, 269

Sandoz, 271, 355

Santa Monica, California, 124

Sargent, Howard Jr., 292–293

Savannah, Georgia, 141, 208

Scheldt River, 187, 189, 192–194, 197, 

251–254, 258, 263, 269, 272, 274, 

278–279, 355, 357

Scheur River, 93–94

Schimmelpenninck, R. J., 16–17

Schofield, John, 137

Sears, Clinton, 139

Seattle, Washington, 72, 208

Seine River, 93, 131

September 11, 2001, 328–329

Shasta Dam, 225

Shreve, Henry M., 60, 61, 116

Simons, Gerrit, 36, 102

Simpson, James H., 69, 132

Sioux City, Iowa, 225, 228

Sloan, William, 228

Smyth, Alexander, 57

snagging, 6, 56–57, 60, 61, 116, 305, 

347

Snake River, 5, 67, 232–234, 316–317, 

319

Soil Conservation Service (U.S.), 287

South Carolina, 53, 57

South Castle Lake, 325

spillways, 143, 215, 218, 220, 222, 

226, 233, 265, 311–312, 316, 326, 

346, 357

Spirit Lake, 326

St. Clair River, 119

St. Francis River, 66

St. Johns River, 127

St. Lawrence Seaway, 208, 238

St. Louis, Missouri, 56, 71, 116, 

125–126, 133, 139, 140

St. Marys River, 63, 118

Stansbury, Howard, 69

Steinberg, Bory, 321

storm surges

of 1825, 28

delta 1953, 184–185

Hurricane Katrina, 330, 332, 334

Inner Harbor Navigation Canal 

Surge Barrier, 334, 335

Zuiderzee 1916, 169

Strasbourg, France, 272

Sturgis, Samuel, 306

Superior, Wisconsin, 118

Susquehanna River, 57, 137

Suter, Charles, 132

Swaay, G. J. van, 164

Swamp Land Grants, 64–65, 71

Switzerland, 269–270

Syracuse, New York, 58 T

Tainter, Jeremiah, 143

Telders, Jean Marie, 105

Tennessee, 67

Tennessee River, 70, 125, 218–219, 

223, 238

Tennessee Valley Authority, 213, 223, 

235, 351

Tensas River, 66

Teton Dam, 311

Texas, 126

Thatcher, Margaret, 250

Thijsse, Jo, 180

Thorbecke, Johan Rudolf, 26, 34, 78, 

94–95, 102–104

Three Islands Plan, 189

Tiel, Netherlands, 97, 160

Tienhoven, Gijsbert van, 169

Totten, Joseph, 53–54, 55

Toutle River, 325–326

Truman, Harry, 230, 236

Tulla, Gottfried, 33

Twain, Mark, 113 U

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

criticism over mission, 235–236

establishment, 51

evolution post–Civil War, 113–117

370
field organization, 323

interagency coordination, 

226–228

mission change, 336

mission division, 335

non-engineer specialists, 291, 

292

organization post-Civil War, 

114–117

position on multi-purpose proj-

ects, 211

reorganization under Casey, 

137–139

role in environmental era, 

354–355

tasks in early years, 345

tasks in liberal era, 347

tasks in progressive era, 207–210

tasks in technocratic era, 350–351

U.S. Military Academy, 51, 57, 139, 

207, 344

University of Twente, 160

Uyl, Joop den, 252 V

Veen, Johan van, 166, 180, 182–183, 

186–187, 189, 196, 353

Veere Lake, 255

Veerse Gat, 187, 189, 192

Velsen, Netherlands, 160

Verwey, Albert, 156

Vest, George, 133

Vianen, Netherlands, 97

Vicksburg, Mississippi, 67, 218

Vierlingh, Andreas, 11

Vietnam War, 250, 287

Virginia, 57, 59

Vissering, Gerard, 170

Vlissingen, Netherlands, 157 W

Waal River, 4, 29–30, 33, 85, 86, 87, 

88–91, 97, 107, 179, 257, 262, 265

Wabash River, 141

Wabasha, Minnesota, 234

Waddenzee, 166, 267, 271, 355

Waddenzee Association, 194

Walcheren, Netherlands, 183, 184, 

187, 189

War of 1812, 53, 57, 67, 345

Warren, Gouverneur K., 69

Washington (state), 208, 220, 324

Washington, D.C., 137–138, 144, 335

Washington, George, 51

water boards, 11–13, 15–20, 24, 

27–33, 35, 42, 77, 86, 90, 92, 

96–97, 100–101, 103–106, 161, 

168, 185–187, 189, 194–197, 

257, 259, 261, 265, 268, 276, 279, 

345–346, 349, 355–356, 358

authority vs. Rijkswaterstaat, 

103–104

legal relationship to Rijkswater-

staat, 104

national, 15–16

origins, 12–13

strengthening in the 1990s, 259

Water Framework Directive (EU), 

274, 276, 357

Water Management Centre (Nether-

lands), 249

water management, centralized, 12, 

15, 17–22, 24–25, 29–30, 34–35, 

42, 77, 101, 103, 156, 158, 277, 

289, 344, 346

Water Resources Council (U.S.), 

288–289, 291, 354

Water Resources Development Act of 

1986, 288, 290, 320

water supply, 41, 158, 162, 171, 177, 

180, 193, 206, 211, 228, 230, 232, 

238, 257, 267, 288, 297, 299, 

350–351, 358–359

Waterstaat. See also Rijkswaterstaat

beginnings, 20

coastal defense responsibility, 

28–29

coordination of local efforts, 30

diversification of purpose, 26, 41

insufficient knowledge as 

constraint, 33

political turmoil, 25–26

range of tasks, 26–27

reorganization in 1816, 24–25

Waterways Experiment Station (U.S.), 

217, 218, 309–310, 313, 328, 350

Weitzel, Godfrey, 131

Wemelsfelder, Pieter, 183, 185–186, 

189, 197

Wentholt, Ludolf R., 180, 182, 196, 

257

Western Engineer (steamboat), 53, 54

western exploration, 67–69, 345

Westerterp, Tjerk, 192

wetlands, 6, 193, 294, 298–299, 

301–303, 310, 312–314, 332, 

354–355

Wheeling, West Virginia, 58

White, Gilbert, 235

Wijker Lake, 95

Willamette River, 5, 232

William I, 18, 19–20, 24–26, 35–37, 41, 

78–79, 93, 162, 346

William II, 79

William III, 78, 86, 94

William V, 14

Wilson Dam, 218, 219

Wisconsin, 235

Wisconsin River, 141

World War I, 83, 157, 162, 170, 196, 

218, 228, 273

World War II, 158, 166, 175, 180, 183, 

196, 210, 218, 223, 228, 233, 235, 

249, 263, 270, 273, 296, 305, 310, 

319

Wortman, Hendrik, 170

Woud, Auke van der, 99

Woudrichem, Netherlands, 88

Wright, Horatio G., 131 Y

Yaquina (dredge), 328

Yazoo River, 66 Z

Zalm, Gerrit, 251

Zandkreek, 187, 189

Zeeland (province), 28–29, 175, 183, 

185–186, 189, 346

Zevenhoven Lake, 24, 35

Zuiderzee, 3, 28, 84, 93, 105, 155–156, 

162–163, 165–166, 168–169, 172, 

175, 177, 187, 196, 251, 256, 352

Zuiderzee Association, 108, 164, 

168–170

Zuiderzee Service, 158, 163, 165, 

170–171, 173, 179–180, 352

Zuiderzee Works, 3, 158, 161, 163, 

166, 167, 170–171, 172, 173, 183, 

196, 255, 352–353

Zuidplas Lake, 35

Zutphen, Netherlands, 179

Zwolle, Netherlands, 100, 168

371