Scientists and conservation groups are pushing for more regulation to prevent mining contamination that stems from the Elk Valley in British Columbia and into the Kootenai River, which flows through Montana and Idaho. (Courtesy of Genny Hoyle)
One thing seems certain following the elections on the national and state level — resource-rich states like Montana are going to be on the edge of the bulldozer blade. That future will present daunting challenges to maintain the wild lands and clean rivers that continue to sustain the same native species that were present when Lewis and Clark Expedition passed through Montana more than two centuries ago.
On the upside, it will likely spell the demise of the conservation collaboration movement that has utterly failed to produce significant results after nearly three decades of failed appeasement to extractive industries and environmentally harmful uses.
For those new to Montana, a little history may be useful.
Collaboration got its start here in the ’90s when then-governor Marc Racicot appointed his hand-picked Consensus Council to ostensibly find “balance” on thorny natural resource issues to end the “timber wars.”
The fact is the industry was losing that “war” since most of the large trees had already been logged. Then Plum Creek Timber decided to liquidate its Montana timber holdings on the checkerboard sections they owned in virtually every valley and mountain range in the state. The liquidation produced massive clearcuts right to the boundary of wilderness areas, thousands of miles of eroding logging roads, and pushed species like the bull trout onto the Endangered Species List.
When Montanans rebelled at the devastation of their beloved landscapes and natural amenities the industry moved to find “consensus” — which then morphed into collaboration. Simply put, extractive industries viewed the process as a way to get at least half of what they wanted rather than fighting a losing battle to get far less.
Make no mistake, although collaboration was spawned by extractive industries, the national foundations that pour millions of dollars into conservation organizations willingly jumped on board, preferring not to fund groups that sued the government when it broke or failed to enforce environmental laws.
When Jon Tester beat Sen. Conrad Burns, sure enough the faux-conservation groups had a collaborative proposal ready to go — the Forest Jobs and Recreation Act. Not only did it open wilderness quality lands to extractive industries, it actually mandated national forest logging levels – a move so radically anti-conservation that even the U.S. Forest Service opposed it.
It died in the Senate, but the same groups leaped to put together another foundation-funded collaborative measure, the Blackfoot-Clearwater Stewardship Act. And once again, it divvies up wilderness quality public lands to extractive and special interests. With Tester’s loss in the recent elections, it’s fair to say the measure’s passage is doubtful since there’s not even a companion bill in the U.S. House.
Hard on the heels of these failures, comes now the Lincoln Prosperity Proposal and the Gallatin Forest Partnership Agreement – both of which again chop up and give away wilderness quality lands to extractive industries and industrial recreation. Long-time conservationists have already rebelled against the Partnership’s plan, aghast at the lands and wildlife habitat the collaborators have sacrificed.
The Trump administration has already pledged to cut loose extractive industries with no conservation sidebars — not even the lame “cut the baby in half” proposals offered by the collaborators.
The good news is that decades of collaborative failures, the Trump administration’s promised onslaught on our remaining wild lands and wildlife, and a growing backlash against the collaborators’ proposals, may lead to the rebirth of true conservation advocacy that fights for wild lands and wildlife, with a hopeful vision for future generations — and that would truly be something for which to be thankful.