In 1992, Bruce Shepard accused us of being maladaptive in our management, and probed the depths of entanglement that got us to where he believed we then stood. It might do us good to take a look at his accusations and try to understand where we stand today. Where have we improved? Where, if anywhere, are we still maladaptive? Here is a preliminary list of accusations I drew from Shepard’s remarks:
Of the three accusations, I believe we have transcended only one, the technical problem with harvest scheduling. Although we need to continue to improve here too, we have finally embraced simulation instead of optimization, and are looking at vegetation and other modeling at various scales.
- Planning: The Solution Becomes the Problem … Beginning with a Committee of Scientists, a novel group created by the NFMA legislation to offer recommendations, the recommendations of this committee were turned into planning regulations, Handbook materials, and Manual chapters that boggle the mind in their detail and their complexity. What had been a simple political warning from the U.S. Congress to do a better job of listening to people was turned into a nightmare. … The Forest Service was facing questions about what ought to be. Some of the questions were fairly commonplace, pragmatic considerations of who is going to win and who is going to lose. Some of the questions tapped deeply held moral concerns.
- …[E]arly and persistent dedication to the use of linear programming models as planning tools epitomizes the inadequacy of "old forestry."
- The problem was not with glitches in the tools of scientific forestry; the problem was with the reliance upon scientific forestry itself. The questions that the Forest Service increasingly faced in the 1970's dealt with how the forests ought to be managed and for whom the forests should be managed. Answers to those questions come not from science but from values and interests. …“[N]ew perspectives” intends to combine both the scientific and the political responsibilities of the public land manager. New perspectives … recognize[s] the value of conflict and debate, the need for change in the sociological as well as the ecological concepts being used, and the need to compliment applied science with applied politics.
That is hopeful. "New perspectives" can avoid the trap I have suggested awaits "new forestry" if "new perspectives" embraces political responsibilities. We have to recognize how much more is being asked in "new perspectives" because what is being asked goes against the grain of both history and personal predilection. It goes against the grain of almost a century of agency history. And, perhaps more importantly, it goes against the grain of foresters who are comfortable with questions that can be answered on the basis of "facts" but who are uncomfortable with questions that can only be answered by reference to values and interests.
As for the other two accusations, I believe we still have a very big hurdle in front of us in embracing a new, less-nightmarish planning that simply rehashes the past and rehearses the future to set a stage for adaptive management. And I believe we have another very big hurdle in front of us in embracing the reality that forest management is arguably at least as much about public value choices as it is about ‘science.’ I like to think our public forestry choices are guided by public values, and delimited by science.
For interested readers, Bruce Shepard’s 1992 paper, “Maladaptive Forest Management: How We Arrived at Our Current Situation” is appended below.
Maladaptive Forest Management: How We Arrived at Our Current Situation
W. Bruce Shepard*
Introduction
According to the program, I am to address the subject: "how did we arrive at our current situation." The person who invited me put it a bit more bluntly. He wrote, "would you please talk to us about how things came to be so screwed up."
The conference is on Adaptive Forest Management; however, my assignment seems to be to discuss an example of maladaptive forest management: management that, following a trajectory of past success, was not responsive to a changed environment and feedback.
As I have worked with foresters and forestry students over the last decade, I have tried to figure out how forest management - in particular the National Forest Management Act - seemed to get so badly off track. I must, at the offset, confess that this analysis relies upon that great academic skill known as hindsight. As the NFMA was unfolding, I—like many—was grappling with questions of how the Act could be made to work, and it is only after years of experience that it is possible to see where the locomotive got shunted to the wrong tracks.
Understanding what happened is not enough. We need to figure out what to do about it. That's something I also think quite a bit about. But, here, the deeper one probes, the only message that seems to emerge with clarity is that there are no easy answers. Nevertheless, I will share with you some thoughts on the directions that we need to follow.
One final caveat: my experience has all been with forest management in the public sector and with national agencies, the Forest Service in particular. Those experiences provide the focus for my comments. I recognize the important and distinct role played by other federal and state agencies and by the private sector but that is not where my comments will be directed. Inevitably, there are strong interdependencies among the sectors and so my comments, limited as they are, should have some relevance to those in industry and in other agencies.
Exactly a week ago, most of us watched as the country chose a new president, 470 members of the Congress, and countless state and local officials. I don't know about you, but I've been longing for that day to come simply for the relief that would be provided as commercial TV returned to huckstering beer, bathroom cleaners, and Perrier instead of Bush, Clinton, and Perrot. There is even relief in listening to the dismaying news from Somalia and Sarajevo instead of the sound bites on trust, character, and family values. This week, we have relief from the deluge of solutions to national problems that were consistently earnest, authoritative, and fact free.
With that observation, the central proposition for my talk will strike you as odd. My thesis is that, for forest management to succeed, the political aspects of forest management require renewal and reinvigoration. The problem is not too much politics, it has been too little politics. So, how did we get where we are?
"Old Forestry"
Controversy in the management of our country's forests is nothing new. The origins of the National Forest System can be directly traced to two major, radical social movements that coincided at the turn of the century: one was the reaction to the dominance of government by business interests that came to be known as the progressive movement; the other was the conservation movement, a reaction to the wide-scale, unregulated exploitation and destruction of increasingly valued natural resources. In addition to the collision of the progressive movement and the conservation movement with the status quo, there was division between the conservationists and the preservationists.
The "old forestry" was put in place by Gifford Pinchot, chosen—when an assassin's bullet put the conservationist Roosevelt in the White House—to be the first Chief of the Forest Service. The "old forestry" was a response to the major social and political turmoil surrounding the use of our forests at the turn of the century. It had three elements: scientific management, timber primacy, and decentralization.
In 1905, with the political triumph of the conservationists over the preservationists, there was clear agreement on what should be the benefits of managing the National Forests: an assured supply of water and timber. Agreement on ends provided the consensus Pinchot needed in order to define forest management as the application of the emerging science of forestry: problems were subjected to technical solutions and, where solutions failed, one looked for more data, deeper understandings, better machines, and improved forest practices.
The emphasis upon scientific forestry imbued the Forest Service with an image of technical competence and credibility that, for many decades, could be used to increase budgets and to protect the agency from 'outside' political threats. The profession of forestry evolved along with the Forest Service and the availability of a pool of employees with common values and training added greatly to the internal strength of what some have referred to as a para-military organization.
Scientific management was coupled with what has been called the rule of timber primacy. Trained in biological relationships rather than economic principles of supply, demand, and substitution, American foresters had been predicting for the last 80 years that a timber famine was only a decade or so away. With such a creed, it is easy to see why the timber management function has been a major priority. For decades, the emphasis upon timber was also a political asset: furnishing goods and services to people at below cost is an old recipe for maintaining political good will and for stimulating bureaucratic growth.
Pinchot introduced decentralization in the organization of the Forest Service to a degree that is unusual for a federal bureaucracy. Decentralization served the agency well during a period when the politically significant users of national forests lived in proximity to the forests and when most users probably knew the forest ranger in their area by first name. For much of its existence, this sensitivity to largely rural interests allowed the Forest Service to adapt to local changes. An effective presence in many Congressional districts also did not hurt when budget-time rolled around. In fact, the Forest Service has a record as one of those agencies to which Congress wanted to give more money than, under Presidential orders, the agency was allowed to ask for.
While timber primacy, scientific management, and decentralization persisted, the country was changing. "Earth Day" occurred about twenty year ago. It is no coincidence that the modern problems of forest management first exploded onto the political agenda in the years immediately following that first "Earth Day." An agency emphasizing the production of wood fiber was not in tune with a growing environmental movement. An agency with its ear to the ground in 156 national forests and many more local ranger districts found its head was resting in the path of a truck—or, perhaps, a Volvo—with an urban vehicle registration. And, an agency that defined forest management in terms of science and technology lacked weapons when the need was to figure out what we want to use the forests for.
The first salvos resulted from harvest controversies and the shots were fired by good ol' boy turkey hunters rather that condo-dwelling members of the Sierra Club. The controversies arose because of the concerns of local constituencies that the Forest Service, with their belief in "scientific management" and "timber primacy," was failing to listen to "unprofessional" local views on how the forests should be managed. These were the harvest controversies on the Monongahela National Forest in West Virginia and the Bitterroot National Forest in Montana. Both incidents provoked years of state and Congressional investigations, and, after a lawsuit used the Organic Act of 1897 to successfully challenge clear-cutting on the Monongahela, Congress was forced to act.
Planning: The Solution Becomes the Problem
Congress responded to the controversies growing out of the Bitterroot and Monongahela National Forests with the National Forest Management Act of 1976. As is typical in American politics, the National Forest Management Act (NFMA) was put together by the major affected interest groups, including the U.S. Forest Service. The NFMA required a planning process for the National Forests that included interdisciplinary teams, economic analysis, and citizen participation. The act papered over the harvest practice questions that lead to the Monongahela and Bitterroot controversies but did delete the troublesome language in the Organic Act that had threatened to halt clear-cutting on the National Forests.
With the passage of the National Forest Management Act, the Forest Service, and we who use and own the nation's forests, entered a lengthy period of struggle with forest planning. That struggle amply illustrates the limits of "old forestry." NFMA required a difference in the way in which the Forest Service did business. The problem was not with glitches in the tools of scientific forestry; the problem was with the reliance upon scientific forestry itself. The questions that the Forest Service increasingly faced in the 1970's dealt with how the forests ought to be managed and for whom the forests should be managed. Answers to those questions come not from science but from values and interests.
Put very simply, those responsible for the management of our National Forests were faced with a public that had two concerns: in their layman's ignorance, they thought that clear cuts were ugly, and they also held the view that tree plantations were not forests. I really believe that, in 1976, it was as simple as that; that was all that NFMA was asking land managers to address—some basic political concerns.
However, forest management as the application of science had worked political wonders for the Forest Service for over sixty years and that is how the agency approached implementation of NFMA. Beginning with a Committee of Scientists, a novel group created by the NFMA legislation to offer recommendations, the recommendations of this committee were turned into planning regulations, Handbook materials, and Manual chapters that boggle the mind in their detail and their complexity. What had been a simple political warning from the U.S. Congress to do a better job of listening to people was turned into a nightmare. Millions of dollars - the latest estimate that I have seen was three billion dollars - were spent on planning; an agency that rightly prided itself on "getting the cut out" missed its initial planning deadlines by a decade; and, as the plans finally hit the street, the street turned out to run straight to the courthouse.
The Forest Service was facing questions about what ought to be. Some of the questions were fairly commonplace, pragmatic considerations of who is going to win and who is going to lose. Some of the questions tapped deeply held moral concerns. The Forest Service was learning that, in addition to sterile matters like board feet, recreation visitor days, animal unit months, and acre-feet of water, they were, by their actions, giving or withholding public recognition to particular moral positions on the question of how humans relate to their planet. In this respect, the Forest Service was joining the company of school teachers, public health workers, and art museum directors.
The early and persistent dedication to the use of linear programming models as planning tools epitomizes the inadequacy of "old forestry." Adapting tools that had been appropriate in earlier years when there was consensus on timber primacy, harvest scheduling models were turned into forest planning tools. Year after year, as it became clear that these computer models were not doing the job, the solution was not to abandon the approach. Rather, fancier models were developed, matrices were expanded, additional programming modules were added, and larger and faster computers were sought. FORPLAN was the primary computer model used in the planning process and a review of that effort in the Journal of Forestry concluded: "It appears that undue reliance has been put on the optimizing feature of FORPLAN without seriously pondering the more important question of `what should I optimize?'"1
So, how did we end up in the current situation? "Old forestry" failed because what had been political assets became, in a changing country, major political liabilities.
The emphasis upon timber did not mesh with the interests of emerging groups. Decentralization created a rural bias in an increasingly urban country. And, as amply illustrated in the difficulties surrounding efforts to implement the National Forest Management Act, forest management that relied largely upon the tools of applied science was not up to the political challenges of the last two decades. What lessons can we draw from this?
The causes of the current problem are pretty clear. But, the solutions are very hazy. At least one inference jumps out: politics must become an integral part of on-the-ground forest management.
I will use the distinction between "new forestry" and "new perspectives" to illustrate what I mean. "New forestry" is, currently, a grab bag of principles, research findings, and forest practices. I believe the picture is clear enough, though, to support the assertion that "timber primacy" is ending. This solves part of the political problems with "old forestry." To the extent that "new forestry" rejects the traditional emphasis upon the production of wood fiber, and substitutes sustainability, the "new forestry" will make significant political gains.
Much of "new forestry" appears to follow the tradition of Pinchot in seeking improved forest management through better scientific understanding. When there was agreement on ends, that approach was very successful. However, forest management as applied science is a politically inadequate response to today's challenges.
"New Forestry" is about doing better applied science. "New perspectives" is about more. From what I have read—and recognize that the literature is scarce and the tangible examples even scarcer—“new perspectives” intends to combine both the scientific and the political responsibilities of the public land manager. New perspectives documents do recognize the value of conflict and debate, the need for change in the sociological as well as the ecological concepts being used, and the need to compliment applied science with applied politics.
That is hopeful. "New perspectives" can avoid the trap I have suggested awaits "new forestry" if "new perspectives" embraces political responsibilities. We have to recognize how much more is being asked in "new perspectives" because what is being asked goes against the grain of both history and personal predilection. It goes against the grain of almost a century of agency history. And, perhaps more importantly, it goes against the grain of foresters who are comfortable with questions that can be answered on the basis of "facts" but who are uncomfortable with questions that can only be answered by reference to values and interests.
The necessity that the political components of "new perspectives" be embraced on-the-ground is clear. But, there are even greater challenges to be faced. Suppose we accept the challenge and go about listening and leading and crafting compromises on the ground. Indeed, many have succeeded in doing this. Then what happens? The efforts of the natural resource manager—public or Private—are embedded in the larger political sphere and the ‘adaptive management’ capabilities of that encompassing system is under very serious strain.
There are breakdowns in our systems for governing. It's not in the personalities - the Clintons, Bushes, and Quayles. It goes deeper than that and is much more troublesome - it rests in the fabric of the form of democracy we inherited from James Madison. Madison crafted a delicate balance of relationships between branches of government—the legislative, executive, and judicial—and between the levels of government—national and local—and there are now serious tears in the warp and weave of that political fabric.
Those breakdowns would be the subject of another, hour-long talk. Ross Perrot could probably do it in a 30 minute TV commercial. But, I do want to provoke all of our thinking, and so I will inventory what I see as several of the most serious challenges.
At the turn of the century, Pinchot solved the crisis of his time with a political solution that had threeingredients: scientific management, timber primacy, and decentralization. We need a new solution, a new political recipe and that's where we need to focus our collective and creative thought upon. I have outlined some elements of a potential recipe:
- There is a chasm between what is happening at the local level and what is happening at the national level. The linkage between the national and the local level is broken. You can look at it in terms of forces at the national level interfering with our desires at the local level to make the most productive use of the forests of the Pacific Northwest. Or, you can see that, even as local managers figure out how to merge technical and political information, the resulting plans do not fly politically at the national level. Congress continues to set unrealistic ASQ's and the fallout can be found in whistleblowers, organizations of Forest Service Employees for Environmental Ethics, letters from Forest Supervisors, and the firing of a regional forester. Local and national politics don't mesh.
- In part, this is the result of another breakdown: a politics that relies upon fantasy instead of vision, and promises what are really only pipe dreams. We have come to expect that we have all that we want without having to make hard choices: beginning twelve years ago - and the blame rests in the Republican White House, the Democratic Congress, and our own gullibility as citizens – we believed we could cut taxes and dramatically increase spending without there being a price. In the environmental area, we believe that if we don't like certain tradeoffs, we do not have to have them. Absurd promises are made, immediate benefits consumed, hard issues are avoided, and costs are postponed.
- This leads to a third breakdown: ours is a politics in which symbolic issues are an increasingly important component of the political agenda. Lacking the resources or the will to address our significant material problems,
vulnerable to cheap symbolic distractions offered by such issues as prayers in school, flag salutes, or sexual orientation, and confronted by single-interest groups uninterested in substantive trades and compromises, we conduct a politics that is more and more characterized by contending images, rituals, and myths. Leaders simply joust symbolically with problems. When the issues are too costly politically to be settled by the legislative branch, symbolic legislation is passed that seems to address the problem but that simply passes the political hot potato to the bureaucracy. The bureaucracy is similarly stymied as it casts about for public relations solutions to what may be, fundamentally, political no-win situations. As symbolic politics incapacitate the legislative and bureaucratic decision makers, the branch of government least suited to policy-making, the courts, play a larger and larger role and are forced, by default, to shift more and more from procedural to substantive matters.
Whether you buy the recipe that I hint at is unimportant. That you be thinking hard about what the recipe should be is very important. It's clear that what we have now is not satisfactory and we need all to be thinking about alternatives.
- adapting to the fact that timber primacy is gone and such interrelated concepts as sustainability, biodiversity, and the health of the soil are taking its place,
- embracing, on the ground, the political role as something necessary and positive: listening to and leading people,
- and, my inventory of broader, encompassing challenges hints at other elements: using expertise as natural resource managers to counter the politics of fantasy by educating the public as to the real choices that have to be made; with the breakdown between local and national levels, taking more initiatives at the local level and moving decision making away from the national level; and, I think, moving more decision making away from the formal political processes and into more creative and hybrid organizations that are neither strictly private nor strictly public (the `Salmon Summit' being one example).
Whatever happens, perhaps both citizens and practitioners can benefit by remembering one of the emerging principles of the new forestry: to be healthy is to be changing and major disruptions – even catastrophes - are necessary agents for change. When society underwent major changes, forest management had to change. The disruptions that have occurred in forest management are not symptoms of a failure; rather, they are the unavoidably tumultuous forces of regeneration and renewal.
Endnotes
1.Richard M. Alston and David C. Iverson, "The Road from Timber RAM to FORPLAN: How Far Have We Traveled?" Journal of Forestry 85 (June, 1987) 43-49. Anticipating, perhaps, elements of what we are calling adaptive forest management, the authors do call for smaller models with fewer global assumptions in order to focus upon ecosystem management problems.
*W. Bruce Shepard
Department of Political Science,
Oregon State University,
Corvallis, Oregon
Presented at the "Conference on Endangered Species and Adaptive Forest Management: Possibilities and Realities," organized by the Oregon Society of American Foresters, Umpqua Chapter, November 10, 1992, Roseburg, Oregon. This version updated from earlier one from 1993 Eco-Watch Archives.
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