Medical doctors have their
Hippocratic oath in which they pledge to heal the sick to the best
of their ability and do no harm. We ecologists have our own guiding
principle: Call it the Leopold oath.
The late Aldo
Leopold, who worked for the U.S. Forest Service and is considered
to be one of the fathers of ecology, wrote several fine books about
what he called the land ethic. But one quote stands out as
symbolizing the ecological mindset: “A thing is right when it tends
to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic
community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise.”
It is
with such guidance that we ecologists interpret the world,
interpret history and interpret current events. The great
immigration debate is the current event of the year, and the border
fence its latest incarnation. And thus, by any measure of a Leopold
oath, I have to call the border fence an ecological nightmare.
It is fitting that this fence is all about immigration.
Immigration, of course, is not just a human activity, but something
that every critter on this planet does to one extent or another.
The fence will stop human immigration, but it will stop most
wildlife migration, too.
The border fence that already
exists in parts of Southern California has wreaked ecological
havoc; the new 15-foot-tall, triple-decker fence will make matters
worse. The U.S. government may have to suspend or completely ignore
most of its environmental laws — the National Environmental
Policy Act, the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, and the
Endangered Species Act — to build and accommodate the border
fence that will separate San Diego and Tijuana. This is the place
where, over the last few decades, the city of San Diego, the state
and federal governments and the Mexican government have spent
nearly $600 million to protect the sensitive ecology of the Tijuana
River Estuary. When the last portions of the fence are built in
this area, the estuary will be ecologically blocked.
The
conflict in Tijuana is only one example of what could happen along
a fenced U.S.-Mexican border that contains a biologically rich
swath of parks, forests, wilderness area, and bi-national wildlife
habitat. Thousands of species, and millions of individual animals,
travel back and forth across the border along daily or seasonal
migration paths. Endangered species such as the Sonoran desert
pronghorn, the Mexican wolf and the American jaguar all move back
and forth across the border in parts of Southern California,
Arizona and New Mexico.
The American jaguar offers a
specific example. Hunters, ranchers and trappers killed every
jaguar in America by the mid-1900s; rural Mexicans to the south did
not. Over the last few decades, a few jaguars have migrated back
from Mexico into America, most around Tucson, Ariz., where there’s
also a heavy human immigration path. The border fence will stop
this jaguar passage, and thereby stop the animal from ever
naturally reinhabiting its native American range.
The
U.S. Senate endorsed its version of a border fence a few weeks ago,
calling for 370 miles of triple-wide fencing that will cost at
least $1 billion. A more elaborate $2.2 billion version is being
discussed in the House of Representatives; it would cover nearly
700 miles through each of the four states bordering Mexico. The
fence even has its own citizens’support group and Web site,
WeNeedAFence.com, that, under the guise of national security, calls
for a fence stretching the entire length of the border.
It is usually during times of political crisis when the greatest
ecological harm is done. The legacy of Cold War nuclear facilities
and bomb-testing, plus the Superfund sites that followed, stands
out as one prominent example. And now we have the border fence.
An ecological way of seeing the world takes a long view,
one untainted by the political vagaries of the day. No matter the
issue — global warming, nuclear fallout, ozone depletion, air
and water quality — nature offers the ultimate verdict. As
for this longer and more formidable border fence, it does not
preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic
community. It tends otherwise, and it is wrong.
Gary Wockner is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a
service of High Country News (hcn.org). He is a
writer and ecologist in Fort Collins,
Colorado.
Republish our articles for free, online or in print, under a Creative Commons license.
