Science, culture, and politics in U.S. natural resources management

What I have tried to do here is to provide a historical example of the interdependence between nature and culture that is one of the themes of this conference. To sum up: Scientific descriptions of the world emerge out of a complex interaction between nature, economic production, and the legal system. “Science” consists of a struggle among scientists, and between scientists and citizens, over what counts as “reality.” Lawmaking, in turn, consists of a struggle between people who want to allocate access to resources for particular purposes, whether for commercial use, recreational use, or “natural” uses. Production, for its part, is a complicated function of technology, the sociology of user groups, the structure of legal entitlements to access, and the availability of resources. Nature, finally, is at any point, to no small degree, the product of past and present human impacts on it — which impacts, in turn, are determined in no small way by the sociology and the legal structure of the market. Each process takes place in continual conversation with all the others. As John Muir put it, “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.”45 Historically, resource managers have gotten into trouble when they have unconsciously assumed that such is not the case — yet such, assumptions are powerful because they are made instinctively, unthinkingly, at the level of people's basic understanding of the world and their place in it. Lots of them persist. On the other hand, in a few experimental cases in the United States and Canada where government and users have shared power and responsibility for resources management, including long-range planning for recovery and enhancement, here have been some notable improvements. The strategy goes under the name of “co-management” and involves negotiated agreements for shared decision-making between central authority and local groups. Typically, both government and industry resist such arrangements because they involve restructuring the power relations between different sectors in the industry; the result is that the few experiments in co-management that we have seen in the United States have come in areas, typically fisheries and wildlife, where the resource is in serious crisis and all of the parties to the agreement have had to abandon the positions they held previously. Examples of successful co-management regimes include those among American tribes in the Pacific Northwest, among commercial salmon fishers in Alaska, and in a project to rehabilitate the clam industry in New Jersey. Government employees and local groups share responsibility for gathering scientific data about the resources, for developing plans to manage them, and for enforcing regulations. Successful experiments at co-management seem to generate better scientific data about their resources than traditional management regimes do; they significantly reduce enforcement costs; and they enhance the economic power of the resource users. Most importantly, they nurture among the user groups a sense of control over their own destinies, and a willingness to share both costs and benefits of managing the resources rationally and to develop lasting, stable mechanisms for conflict resolution. The process is both democratic and ecologically rational. The key is to link the day-to-day work of producers to their long-range interests as residents in their communities and as working parts of the ecological systems in which they live.45 At a minimum, it is clear that objective certainty about the state of the resources or the likely effect of whatever regulations we do impose is simply not attainable. This is partly because of the important role that random shocks play in the environment (and should play in our thinking about it), and also because of the sheer complexity of the system in which we are embedded. There will always be something that even the most complete model leaves out; and in any event the total system of ecology, production, and management will change every time something changes in any part of it. The policy lesson to be derived from all of this, finally, is that what we ought to sustain when we approach conservation problems is not the size of a particular resource, or even the prosperity of a particular harvesting group, but the long-term health of the interaction between nature, the economy, and the political system. We can recognize that the balance of the system, our attempted insurance against an uncertain future, democracy among user groups, and our moral duty to avoid extinguishing species — all of these things being difficult to quantify — do play integral roles in the conversation between nature and humankind, and perhaps more significant roles than the more objective measures to which we usually look for guidance. We can recognize, as John Muir did, that because everything in the universe is hitched to everything else, every step we take will change the total system in some way. When we make choices, then, we can keep an eye on what kind of conversation we want to have with the rest of Creation and make our choices accordingly. *** DIRECT SUPPORT *** A8402064 00014 *** DIRECT SUPPORT *** A8402064 00015