The title of my talk is conservation and consequence: the
role and responsibility of humans in a wild landscape. This represents my
personal view about what ultimately contributes to successful conservation.
I begin with a strong belief that successful conservation
requires acknowledgement of people in the landscape and people as the
solution. Not a popular notion, but a
practical one. I’d like to start this
conversation with a clip from the upcoming BBC/National
Geographic Show called Galapagos.
What did you see, what impressed you? And what didn’t you see?
You didn’t see people.
As much as I love this film, it is troubling because it
inadvertently feeds a deeply held notion about conservation. That is that conservation is about landscapes
without people. People are an
afterthought or worse, a problem to be solved,
The filmmakers, both of whom I met, didn’t intend this
consequence. They wanted to show how
special Galapagos is and how hundreds of years after their discovery (1535),
Galapagos still remains relatively wild and intact. That’s a noble goal for a filmmaker
Please understand that I am not necessarily pro people. I am however, after more than 20 years in
conservation, a realist. There are few
places on this earth where people aren’t.
I’d like to use Galapagos as a model for a place which
offers a special opportunity to develop a model for successful conservation. I am suggesting
that there are four basic pieces to successful conservation, and frankly each
one has flaws. But together, they appear
to be the pieces that ultimately work
Acknowledgement of
People in the Landscape
We are used to thinking about successful conservation
reflected in the establishment of large continental land masses (Serengeti,
Amazon) where the indigenous peoples are simply moved out of the way. Their presence is not (or was not at the
time) considered integral to the conservation or preservation of these areas or
their biological systems.
Then there are models where large land masses (Yellowstone) are set aside and have varying degrees of
land use defined by governmental agencies.
A park like Yellowstone was also created
long after the native people lived there.
However, via a more benign system of relocation (but relocation it was),
those who live in and around the park generally agree that this is a place of
special use and almost all folks willingly stay out.
Incidentally, when I talk about large continental land
masses, I am not making a statement about the value of these to conservation,
or inviting discussion about fragmented systems versus contiguous systems. I’m just talking about familiar park areas
These models, which are the oldest and most familiar models
to us, have a spotty track record. Land masses where people have been integral to
the management and cultivation of these lands require their presence. The biological systems have become integrated
with the human systems. These areas,
such as the Amazon and Serengeti, are constantly disrupted by conflicts over
appropriate use (and who’s doing the using!) ranging from traditional land clearing in the
Amazon, to overpopulation of certain species, to poaching and in many cases,
deadly violence.
I am not someone who believes that native people are
inherently better at long-term land management than newer colonists, but I do
believe that systems which evolve together cannot easily be ruptured without
some consequence. Today, there are
simply too many people, too large a footprint in natural places, too many
processes we have set into place, either deliberately or inadvertently, to
ignore or marginalize the importance of bringing humans into the equation
Then there are places like Galapagos where people never
really were. The Charles Darwin Foundation was a construct of scientist and
academics, and functioned as the first national park service until 1968 when Ecuador created
the Galapagos National Park Service. The
Park was created, and then the scientists came, the industry came. And then population came. Being originally in the equation or coming relatively
new to the equation does not appear to have an impact on the creation of a
conservation consciousness as we understand it.
Or for purposes of this talk, an ethic which guides behavior in such a
way as to minimize biologically destructive behaviors and sacrifice short term
objectives for the greater, long term health of the biological system. In this rather obscure definition which I
just made up, what you don’t see is spontaneity. No one just “gets it.” Regardless
of how and when they got there, people must be deliberately and meaningfully engaged in conservation.
Regulatory
Instruments and Infrastructure
Conservation requires successful regulatory instruments and
infrastructure. That infrastructure
doesn’t necessarily mean bricks and mortar.
It means feedback mechanisms which refresh and reexamine conservation methodologies
on a regular basis.
Hence the role of scientists. Science has focused the world’s attention on
Galapagos; it has brought money, prestige.
Galapagos was one of the first World Heritage Sites, is a Man and the
Biosphere Reserve, has a 40,000 Square Mile marine reserve, it is a whale
sanctuary, etc. etc. That’s the good
bit.
Science provides the long-term monitoring, the external,
practiced eye, and the benchmarks against which the various systems can be
monitored. It is necessarily distant and
disengaged. I believe it is as integral a
part of useful infrastructure as is the legal regulatory systems which define
either conservation settings or conservation activities.
But these systems are imperfect and cannot stand alone. The U.S. and Canada have
impressive legal structures surrounding its parks and those systems are being
compromised daily due to human impact. People know what they can and cannot do, and
often they choose what they should not do. Galapagos has an impressive legal framework
guiding the decision-making in the national park. And impressive feedback mechanisms and science
advice at the ready. But those systems
are being compromised or ignored daily. Laws alone don’t make people do the right
thing.
Equitable Economic
Return and Closed Systems
Successful conservation requires place-specific economic
models and revenue systems (concessions, permits, etc.) which are transparent
in their operation and appropriately finite and internally controlled. As an example, island systems require island
specific industry, industry which is not dependent on large inflows of product
and people. Fishery based societies,
such as industry surrounding the Great Barrier Reef
has put a premium on the opportunities to fish and “close” the opportunities to
relatively few people. Land based models
have slightly more flexibility, but concession systems in our own US national
parks must be necessarily controlled if we are to avoid an upward spiraling of
people flocking to make more and more money with fewer and fewer opportunities
In Galapagos, tourism, which is the largest economic driver,
has already shown this upward spiral, bringing more people into Galapagos and
more residents dependent on tourism.
Either the system collapses on its own, and it will, or the tourism and
conservation industry join hands and deconstruct the current tourism models to
produce higher return on investment.
This essentially requires fewer boats, fewer tourists, but more money
per tourist.
One might think that if people fully understood the economics
of, say, sea cucumber fishing in Galapagos, for example, they’d figure out that
a sustainable harvest is the only way to go.
Fish what you can without compromising the resource. If people understood the economics of logging
in US national forests, they would harvest sustainably. Further, they would mitigate the accompanying
resource management problems such as accompanying runoffs into salmon streams,
etc. But they don’t
The economics are clear, but people don’t do the right
thing because there are long-economic benefits.
Or because those benefits have been pointed out to them. Remarkably, they do just the opposite. People will grab a short term economic
opportunity and let the consequences be felt by a future generation. Or anyone who isn’t them!
Proximity and Respect
What is the difference between conservation and
preservation?
What words do you associate with preservation: formaldehyde,
vacuum packed, sealed, set aside, static?
Those are my words anyway.
What are words you associate with conservation? Compromise, competition, dynamic, incomplete.
Conservation is complex and thorny. It is not just doing the right thing or
getting money to the problem. It is strangely
practical and spiritual.
I’ve addressed the practical. I’ve talked about the economics and the legal
frameworks. I’ve talked about the value
of bringing people into the problem solving, because in many parts of the
world, they were there at the beginning, and in other parts of the world like Antarctica and Galapagos, they are there now. Because there are people, wild places are jeopardized. I don’t know of an example of a human/wilderness
interaction where wilderness hasn’t lost.
Let’s address the spiritual.
Sylvia Earle, oceanographer
extraordinaire and unabashed Galapagos enthusiast once said to me that she
didn’t have to actually see the Crown Jewels of England to appreciate them and
value the fact that they are there.
She’s quite right, not everyone has to go to Galapagos to appreciate
what they are and what they represent.
But the people who are there, and the people who can visit, form the
fourth and most important piece of this protective framework. Ultimately, we protect what we love and
value, and understand.
Do you remember
what we said about preservation? The problem
in my mind with preservation is that it distances you from the natural
world. It closes things in, and shuts
you out. It creates a destructive
distance.
Returning to our “recipe” for successful conservation, does
Galapagos have it all?
Galapagos has survived with 95% of its presuming biodiversity
intact. That’s impressive. It has fared well because of international
focus, scientific prestige, and a well funded park and research station. But in my mind it has survived because people
have come to know Galapagos, they understand it, they care about it, they are
passionate about it. People like Martin,
like the Grants. The scientists, the
tourists, the residents.
Conservation happens only because people give meaning to
wild places. And as dangerous as it
sounds, a spiritual connection, which cannot be legislated, parsed, quantified,
or even adequately expressed, is the most powerful conservation tool we
have.
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