I visited the Patagonia web site looking for some Christmas presents yesterday and learned that “the president stole my land.” How horrible! So I looked into it and discovered that President Trump took federal land that was managed by a particular set of federal agencies under a particular set of restrictions and changed it into federal land managed by the very same federal agencies under a slightly different set of restrictions. Not to jump on Patagonia, whose clothing I’ve always enjoyed, but where’s the theft in that?
Of course, what Trump did was reverse changes by Presidents Clinton and Obama who first imposed the slightly different set of restrictions in 1996 (Clinton for the Grand Staircase-Escalante) and 2016 (Obama for the Bears Ears). I can say with absolute certainty that, when they made those changes in 1996 and 2016, many people in Utah said, “the president stole our land.”
Supposedly, one issue is vandalism and destruction to Native American antiquities and artifacts. But such vandalism and destruction was equally illegal (under laws that are equally difficult to enforce) under both sets of restrictions, so claims that Trump’s decision opens the areas to more looting or devastation are red herrings. Continue reading
In 1993, Bill Clinton swept into office with a Democratic majority in both the House and Senate. His attempt to pass a controversial health-care bill failed but generated enough of a backlash that the Republicans took over both houses of Congress in 1995.
In 2001, George H.W. Bush entered the White House with Republicans in control of both houses. The events of 9/11 muted criticism of Bush for a time, but by 2007 Democrats had taken over Congress.
In 2009, Barack Obama became president and Democrats held both houses of Congress. He succeeded where Clinton failed in passing a health-care bill, but Republicans took over the House in 2011 and the senate in 2015.
It seems like we’ve been here before. A bunch of people mount a protest against the federal government. The only real violence is committed by the police. When seven of the people are put on trial for conspiracy charges, they turn the courtroom into a circus. The nation is shocked when all of them are found innocent of conspiring to break the law.
I’m writing, of course, about the Chicago Seven, one of whom, Tom Hayden, passed away earlier this week. Just four days later, the Malheur Seven were similarly found innocent of conspiracy charges in Portland.
The parallels go further. After the Chicago Seven cases were heard (but before the jury rendered a verdict), the judge cited the defendants for contempt of court and sentenced them to 2-1/2 to 4 years in prison (all of which were reversed on appeal). After the Malheur Seven jury presented its verdict, U.S. marshalls arrested and allegedly tased one of their lawyers for protesting the detention of his client without offering a warrant.
A lengthy report in the Seattle Times reveals just how out of control the Forest Service’s fire program has become. Rather than a subprogram aimed at protecting the national forests and adjacent lands from fire damage, fire has become the agency’s main driver and raison d’être.
According to the Times, to control a fire in the Lake Chelan National Recreation Area, the agency cut hundreds of acres of old-growth trees to form a ten-mile long fire line. As it turned out, the fire was put out by rain long before it reached the fire line, but the agency continued to cut the fire line even after it began to rain. Fisheries biologists and other resource specialists within the agency protested the cutting to no avail.
“One of the problems with fire fighting is a mentality completely takes hold that pretty much you are going to double down on things just simply because you want to protect your rear,” forest ecologist Jerry Franklin told the Times. “It is very characteristic, they just freak out. Basically in a sense it’s war. And you don’t worry a whole lot about side effects. It is what’s called collateral damage.”
It’s spring, which means it’s time for the annual spate of articles asking: Are we loving the national parks to death? Journalists have tediously asked this question for at least thirty years. One article from a few days ago suggests we limit the number of visitors into the parks, perhaps by allowing only the first so many hundred cars in each day. For example, Grand Teton has proposed allowing only 200 cars on a popular road at any given time.
A small crowd of people watch the Lion Geyser erupt in Yellowstone.
On one hand, national park visitation is up, which is actually a relief as a few years ago it appeared that people were losing interest in the parks. Between 1999 and 2003, visitation dropped precipitously from 287 million to 266 million visits per year. It didn’t reach the 1999 level again until 2014, then jumped to 307 million visits in 2015.
Jack Ward Thomas, the 13th chief of the Forest Service, died the other day, and with him went a lot of the traditions of the Forest Service, both good and bad. Thomas was a top-notch researcher with an expertise in elk and other large mammals, and as a Forest Service wildlife biologist he published some of the most important research showing that timber harvesting wasn’t always compatible with game habitat. Unfortunately, his appointment as head of the Forest Service was an example of the Peter Principle, as it put him in the middle of a highly charged political environment that he wasn’t trained to deal with.
I first met Jack when we were both doing research in Northeastern Oregon forests, and I have a few fond memories of him. However, I can’t say I knew him well enough to write a eulogy for him. Instead, I’d like to eulogize the era of the Forest Service that he represented.
The Forest History Society says Thomas was the first person since 1910 to be made chief as a political appointment. I don’t think that’s quite true: in 1933, Assistant Secretary of Agriculture Rex Tugwell named his friend, Ferdinand Silcox, chief even though Silcox hadn’t worked for the agency in 16 years. The seven chiefs between Silcox and Thomas, however, all had worked their way up the ranks of the agency, having spent time in local, regional, and Washington, DC, offices of either the research or national forest branches of the agency. Most of them remained chief until they were ready to retire, as no president between Taft and Clinton ever tried to replace a chief with someone of their own liking.
The federal government owns so much of Nevada–nearly 85 percent–that it has put a crimp in the state’s economy. The Antiplanner has designated it, along with Alaska, a remnant of the “Old Feudalism” in which the government or a few private parties own so much land that it is hard for individual residents to own land and conduct business.
Still, there is something wrong with a bill proposed in Congress with the peculiar title of Honor the Nevada Enabling Act of 1864 Act. The bill’s premise is that Congress failed to convey to Nevada lands that it gave to 38 other states at statehood, so Congress should immediately give the state 7.2 million acres of its choosing, with more acres to be given to the state later.
This is historically inaccurate. Only 30 states, including Nevada, received federal lands on statehood, not 38 as claimed by proponents of the so-called Honor bill. Nevada was made a state in 1864, and was among those states created between 1849 and 1896 that were offered two square miles of land out of every 36 square miles in the state–that is, sections 16 and 36 out of every township.* That would have been 3.9 million acres in Nevada. These lands were to be used to help fund schools.
The Antiplanner was in Washington, DC on Tuesday to testify before the Federal Land Action Group, an unofficial Congressional committee made up of representatives from western states who support more local control of federal lands. Several of the committee members expressed the opinion that federal land would be better managed by the states because the easterners who made up a majority of Congress didn’t understand the West.
While I believe the federal lands could be better managed, I had to throw cold water on some of their ideas. The real debate, I said, wasn’t between easterners and westerners. It was between urbanites who have little connection with agriculture, forestry, and mining, and ruralites whose jobs depended on those sectors of the economy. Ninety percent of residents of the West live in urban areas that occupy just one percent of the land, and–unlike forty or so years ago–few if those urbanites have jobs that directly depend in mining, logging, or farming.
The population of the most rural state in the West, Montana, is 55 percent urban; Wyoming and Alaska are 65 percent; Idaho and New Mexico from 70 to 80 percent; and all the others are more than 80 percent urban. Many people in these urban areas moved to or stay in the West because they love the easy access to recreation on federal lands, and polls show that most of them support continued federal ownership of these lands. Can anyone really think that ranchers and other rural interests are going to get more sympathy from the West’s urbanites than those from the East?
The Hammonds case in eastern Oregon is the result of a political tug-of-war between ranchers and environmentalists. Congress’ willingness to cater to whichever happens to be most politically powerful has left public land management in a shambles and subject to repeated disputes like this one.
Two acts of Congress, one passed in 1978 and one in 2000, played hidden but key roles in the Hammonds’ case. The Public Range Improvement Act (PRIA) of 1978 was passed at the behest of ranchers, but ultimately it may have worked against them. The Steens Mountain Cooperative Management and Protection Act of 2000 was passed in response to environmental lobbying, and it probably generated much of the Hammonds’ hostility to the federal government.
When the Forest Service and later the Grazing Service (forerunner of the BLM) started regulating grazing, they established rules that were similar to rules the ranchers themselves had developed years before the agencies were created. These rules were much like those for mining and water, and included first-in-time, first-in-right and use-it-or-lose-it.
The more I read about the case of Dwight and Steven Hammond, the more convinced I am that their prison sentences are a gross miscarriage of justice. After conducting prescribed fires on their own land that crossed onto a few acres of federal grasslands, they were convicted of arson on federal lands, which under a 1996 anti-terrorism law carries a five-year mandatory minimum sentence.
The law says, “Whoever maliciously damages or destroys . . . by means of fire or an explosive, any . . . real property in whole or in part owned or possessed by, or leased to, the United States . . . shall be imprisoned for not less than 5 years.” The key word is “maliciously”: there is nothing malicious about starting a prescribed fire, something that is regularly practiced by thousands of landowners as well as the government itself.
In its opinion on the case, the Ninth Circuit concluded that a 2001 fire (which the Hammonds started on their own land but which escaped to federal land) was malicious because Dwight Hammond’s grandson and Steven’s nephew, who was a 13 years old in 2001, “testified that Steven had instructed him to drop lit matches on the ground so as to ‘light up the whole country on fire.'” This betrays a divide between urban and rural cultures. To urbanites such as the judges on the Ninth Circuit, “the whole country” means the entire United States.