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By Dr. Roderick
Frazier Nash Wilderness
preservation is an American invention – a unique
contribution of our nation to world civilization. The 40th
anniversary of the Wilderness Act (September 3, l964) has come and
gone, and
Americans should renew their pride in and commitment to the National
Wilderness
Preservation System. It is one of the
best ideas our country ever had. One place to start the
celebration is with the recognition
that wilderness is the basic component of American culture. From the its raw materials we built a
civilization.
With the idea of wilderness we sought to give that civilization
identity and
meaning. Our early environmental history is inextricably tied to wild
country. Hate it or love it, if you want
to understand American history there is no escaping the need to come to
terms
with our wilderness past. From this
perspective, designated Wilderness Areas are historical documents;
destroying
them is comparable to tearing pages from our books and laws. We can not teach our children what is special
about our history on freeways or in shopping malls.
As a professional historian I deeply believe
that the present owes the future a chance to know its wilderness past.
Protecting the remnants of wild country left today is an action that
defines
our nation. Take away wilderness and you diminish the opportunity to be
American. Of course our nation
changed its initial wilderness
environment. Early on we eliminated a
lot of wild places along with the wild people who were there before us.
But in
this process of pioneering we also changed ourselves. In time Americans
began
to understand that the conquest of the wilderness could go too far for
our own
good. Now, many think, it is time to conquer a civilization notorious
for its
excesses. Unrestrained growth can be ironic; bigger is not better if
the
support systems are compromised. Wilderness is an anchor to windward in
the
seas of increasingly frightening environmental change. The intellectual
revolution that changed our attitude toward
wilderness from a liability to an asset is one of the most profound in
environmental
history. In the beginning of the American experience wilderness was
“howling”: feared and hated by European
colonists who longed to bring order and security to uncontrolled nature. Their religious heritage taught them that god
cursed wild places; the civilizing process was a blessing. Only
gradually and
incompletely did these old conquer-and-dominate biases give way first
to
wilderness appreciation and then to preservation. Romanticism, with its
delight in awesome scenery and noble
savages, underlay changing attitudes. So did the concept that
wilderness was
the source of a unique American art, character and culture. The Adirondacks and the Grand Canyon were the
American equivalent of the Acropolis and Granted, few paused to
read Thoreau’s essays at the height
of westward expansion, but a half century brought significant physical
and
intellectual changes in the What was new about the Wilderness Act of
l964 was the way it gave
specific, systematic and secure protection to wilderness qualities and
the
wilderness experience. The law spoke about the importance of securing
“an
enduring resource of wilderness” for the American people.
The language itself was revolutionary.
Traditionally Americans reserved the term
“resource” or “natural resource” for hard-core economic stuff like
lumber, oil,
soil, minerals and hydropower. In
describing wilderness as a “resource,” Howard Zahniser, who wrote most
of the
Act, and Congress enlarged the definition of that term to include
space,
beauty, solitude, silence and biodiversity. They
created a framework for understanding wilderness
protection as just
a legitimate use of the public lands as the extractive industries. As a professor I
sometimes used a literary metaphor to
explain the evolution of American wilderness policy.
Think about individual national parks and
forests as books. In time they were “shelved” in libraries such as the
National
Park System and the National Wilderness Preservation System. Rangers, who might be thought of as
“librarians,” provided protective and custodial services. By the 21st
Century the task of collecting and cataloging was largely over. Most of the wilderness we will ever have is
identified and at least nominally protected. The challenge now, to
continue the
metaphor, is to improve our ability to read the books we have reserved.
We need
to become more environmentally literate. This
task calls for a new generation of educators and
interpreters who
will help people realize full value of the preserved wilderness
resource.
Scientists are important, but so are poets, theologians, historians and
philosophers. With their help we may
realize the highest potential of our preserved wilderness: using it for
instruction and inspiration in how to live responsibly and sustainably
on this
planet. In l964 the American
public understood the Wilderness Act to
be anthropocentric. Wilderness was protected as a scenic outdoor
playground.
Recreation and the economic gains that came from tourism justified the
policy
of preservation, and they served the cause well. But,
as the Endangered Species Act of l972
suggested, there were higher horizons for wilderness valuation. New philosophies called environmental ethics
or ecocentrism gained credibility. If, as the ecologists claimed,
nature was a
community to which people belonged, didn’t we have a responsibility to
recognize the intrinsic value of its other non-human members and of
natural
processes? Wasn’t it plausible to assume
that nature had rights human ought to respect? Wilderness figured
importantly in this new ecocentric
philosophy because it was uncontrolled environment. We didn’t make it;
we don’t
own it; and our use of it is not in the old utilitarian style. Indeed
designated wilderness could be understood as not for people at all. As
the Act states, humans are “visitors” who do not remain. Wilderness,
then, was
someone else’s home. It was an environment in which to learn that we
are
members and not masters of the community of life. An environmental
ethic, rules
establishing fair play in nature, is the logical next step. Why not do for other species what we have
tried to do for oppressed minorities within our species? Restraint is at the core
of the new valuation of wilderness
as a moral resource. When we protect wilderness we deliberately
withhold our
power to change the landscape. We put
limits on the civilizing process. Because we have not conquered and do
not
dominate wild nature, we demonstrate understanding of the basic ethical
concept
of sharing and fair play. In this case
it’s the rest of life on the planet that’s involved!
Thoreau realized that “wilderness is a
civilization other than our own.” Respecting
it by restraining our impact is the key to
effective global
environmentalism. The kind of ecocentrism wilderness teaches is not against humans at all; it transcends
them and recognizes that their best interest is ultimately that of the
larger
whole. The Wilderness System,
then, is still a place to recreate;
but it is also evidence of our capacity for badly-needed self restraint
in our
relationship to nature. Wildernesses are places to learn gratitude,
humility
and dependency; to put our species’ needs and wants into balance with
those of
the rest of the natural world. Even if
never visited them, Wilderness Areas have value as a symbol of
unselfishness.
Wilderness preservation is a gesture of planetary modesty by the most
dangerous
animal on Earth! Let’s celebrate the Wilderness
Act as the dawn of a kinder,
gentler and more sustainable relationship with our planet.
Can anything really be more important? Roderick
Nash is a Professor Emeritus of History and Environmental Studies,
University
of California SantaBarbara; author of Wilderness and the American
Mind and The Rights of Nature: A History of Environmental Ethics. |
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